VE: Variables of Entitlement- The 101st Hunger Games

by ThePoptropicalGoose

Chance Caishen has never lived a dull life, and he refuses to have a dull death either. From the slums and casinos of a dying District Six, to an island purgatory with his people a thousand miles away, sometimes to win the game, you have to break a few rules. And he's very good at that. So when faced with rebels, murder and mischief, In conjunction with the VV universe. One-shot.

VE: Variables of Entitlement

'In a society where all adventure has been destroyed, the only adventure left is to destroy that society.' Those words scratched into the bar are a remnant of older times. I started living that message. Two minutes is all it takes to make a change. Gamblers can win and lose their fortunes in that single timeframe. It's all you need to live or kill. Two minutes was all I needed to get out into the world.

My name is Chance Caishen, and I won the One-hundred and first Hunger Games.

Rewind.

---

Reaping Area, Town Square, District Six

10:00, June 22nd, HG 101

---

I'm in a stinking people pen with a poker chip between my fingers and a brother to my side, trying to talk to me. I keep my eyes forward and don't say a word. There's time after for whatever I want to do, but there's none of that left.

Staying poker-faced is easy. My odds are safe because I'm not the twin who takes Tesserae. Eighteen years is equal to seven slips, far less than most. Some folks take advantage of the extra slips to trade food for money or drugs since they're in hell anyway. Some parents are forced to pick between extortion and the extra slip, but we weren't one of them. I may as well be home Scott-free. Usually, I game other odds to get my fun, but now that's going to change.

Number crunching was always my favourite thing about throwing the dice. Win or lose, my cash or yours, the thrill is only worth the results.

In a fair world, a Hunger Games victory is something like 23 casualties for every win. Realistically, it's about as lopsided as a Delvac casino's card table when I'm at it. The numbers are about as rigged as all of Six's betting rings. Axel's about to make so much money off of this. Betting on tributes got way more fun when Reaping-age kids started their involvement. They say if you bet and end up reaped, you get everyone else's winnings as pity money. That or the house keeps it all.

I guess I'll find out.

"I Volunteer as tribute."

Crickets. How fucking boring is that?

"No! Chance, don't you dare move." My brother is holding me back by the arm. His face is worn and panicked. "Don't let them take you."

No one weasels their way out after volunteering, and I don't want to try. If he didn't want me to go, then Luck could easily make it to the stage before me. No one would know until it was too late. Our siblings can't tell the difference, Axel's flirted with the wrong twin countless times, and it'd be a miracle if our parents were even here to point out a mix-up. Even the blood samples on our logging sheets are identical. I was late, so he did it for me.

Luck and Chance. We have the same haircut, same eyes and the same starvation for a thrill in a dying District. He just never dares to search for an adventure like I do. Chance and Luck. He stays behind and collapses to the floor. Not so selfless now.

I shove through the crowds, an eye out for Jasper. Kid's fifteen, and when I see him, it's clear what he thinks. Which twin? Who do I cry for? Luck wouldn't do this, and neither would he. Buzzkills, both of them. The crowd outside the pen is silent, but I can hear the sobs. The girl is sniffling her way through the questions onstage. On the dirt, our little sister, Treasure. I pause and catch her eye, smiling at her. There isn't shit Luck can do about it. She's my sister too, and she loves me whether he tries to separate us or not. She wipes her eyes, giving a smile back. But she's going to kill me when she gets that goodbye.

Whats-her-name gives me her arm to help me onto the stage, questions and responses on quickfire. Getting a volunteer for the first time is an escort's dream, and she's already playing favourites. Snivelling on stage is so last year.

After all… that was 'luck-based', so anyone was fair game. A Quell's a Quell even with the new century. Everyone Reaping-aged was assigned a number. The feed was live as the president spun a gaudy flashing wheel to pick the District, gender, age and finally… the number. Six lost three tributes: one of the Voyagers' Morphling runners, some random girl from the air sector, and a boy who cried because his thirteenth birthday would be the day of the bloodbath.

This girl, Elenora, didn't get the memo about crying.

"You got a name?"

I grin at the crowd, dodging my parents' dead eyes.

"I do, actually!" For a moment, I'm tempted to say Luck's name. We used to play that game often, but there's no fun in it anymore. "My name is Chance Caishen. I'm eighteen, the best of District Six… and ready to play this game for all the thrills it's worth."

Public opinion is dwindling quickly, but It's not this crowd that I'm looking to get anything out of. This District is deader than Ela at the incoming Bloodbath.

"Well, we're glad to have you for the most thrilling event of the year."

I turn to Ela and shake her hand. She's cold and trembling but glaring. There's no love here.

"Alright then, District Six! With that turn of events, I leave you to enjoy this Games Season. My name is Camilla Bloodthorn, and I'd like you to give a round of applause for our tributes!"

Her hand on my shoulder tightens when the applause only comes with the twitch of Peacekeeper guns. Somewhere the family of the boy reaped before is jubilant. It's a life for a life. I wave to Axel, who rolls his eyes. He's reluctantly supporting my brother's weight with his shoulder. In five minutes, he'll collect his money. It'll make him a fortune in Delvac Casinos, as long as they don't connect me to Klaxon's disappearance. I'm directed towards the Justice Building, where I'm undoubtedly about to get an ass-kicking.

It's not the first time I've had a Peacekeeper's gun against my back, but it is the first time I've not had to worry about being shot. Ela and I aren't rushed, but they're careful not to let us out of their sight. Last year had a runaway. The Eighty-Eighth Reaping saw both of them run, and folks started refusing to turn up. Luck and I used to wonder if one of us didn't show, whether or not they'd take the other instead. If he escaped, would they'd take me as a punishment? They're not as omnipotent as we thought, but they're dangerous, so I behave. What's the point of volunteering if you don't take part in the main event?

Ela has her eyes on me. We find her Goodbye Room first, and she stops.

"I want a Peacekeeper in there with me."

If she's paranoid about safety, maybe I should be too. Now would be a perfect time for the Delvacs to come sniffing around. They could broadcast a statement about their sway over the District and what happens to two-timers. It wouldn't be the first time, but they didn't kill me that time around either. These windows are bulletproof, I think. One of them relents and follows her, standing post at the door before it closes. That leaves me with one guard. They aren't marksmen, these guys let the weapons do the talking. I could win that fight if the gun wasn't on hand. I won't, because I genuinely do want my goodbyes, but I could. Or maybe that's the adrenaline talking.

---

Goodbye Room 2, Justice Building, District Six

12:00, June 22nd

---

The door and floorboards creak in tandem, and the door is wedged shut. The locks are smashed to bits. It's a perfect reflection of how much our District has gone to the wolves. I took advantage of it where I could, but now it's on to bigger things. This town was never going to keep me forever. It just happened that I got bored before the last opportunity came around.

In the Games, I get my thrills and my consequences. No one else has to deal with me, and money never hurt anyone.

Kaiser Delvac has always had a way with words. When I met him, I was a fledgling gambler who'd just been caught by his muscle for swapping dice. Normally, that'd mean a knife in the back because no one fucks around in Delvac casinos, but I've got a way with words too. One thing led to another. I had a safehouse, a job as a scout and free reign over the ground sector's dealings.

He thought it was love but I knew it was business. That's just the way it goes. It was a dirty little secret, a tearaway gang leader with a suspected rat. People were right, and I eventually got burned. Big deal. The beatings, the spying, and the threats are all worth it because I'd only find what I needed by playing both sides. It stopped being enough three months ago.

I wasn't the one that made me choose the Voyagers in the end. He was.

There's a rule in District Six. You don't walk in shadows unless you want to lose something.

I've already lost today. It was a rough night at the tables, but that's fine. I swear the Voyagers have started rigging my games as well as having Vespa snoop. Victory or Surrender, it doesn't matter. I'll find a new way to break their strategy. I'm a little boozed up, and there are only a few more turns until I get home. I can sleep it off, go see Axel tomorrow and repeat the day. I hope Luck didn't lock me out again.

The footsteps behind me aren't relenting. The Delvacs had some nerve sending Klaxon behind me into a Voyager casino. He's already taken enough of their information. Maybe I'm a little hypocritical, but what else am I meant to do? Not show up? I have to report to both gangs, or I lose my privileges. Card counting just isn't fun anymore. But he's known as the Delvac enforcer, at least I'm only suspected of working for Kaiser.

More casino lights flash overhead. It's Peacekeeper run, and District citizens aren't allowed, but he's gaining, and if I can just hide out he can't make a scene. No. This needs to be ended. If I hide, he'll assume I'm in with the PKs too. Fuck. Where the hell is Vespa when I need her? She'd take him out, she'd understand and get me home safe. She's not here, and I want my big brother. The signs overhead are mirrored, and I see a glint through my side-eye. Loaded, but the safety's still on, and he's waiting for us to pass the establishment. Okay. Two minutes is all I have. I've made hundreds quicker. I'm unarmed, and he's got 40 pounds on me, but I've got what he doesn't. The element of surprise.

I pivot on my heel, taking advantage of his shock to elbow him in the nose, tackling him to the floor. I was going for the jaw, damn it. The gun clatters against a wall, but he's quick on his feet and goes for my stomach. Though I'm winded, I shoot to my feet, bile rising in my throat. He's closer to the weapon, but I'm quicker.

Click. Bang!

I didn't mean to shoot him here and now. I've never held a gun before, but I think I'll have to keep this for protection. Klaxon writhes on the floor, blood flooding from his left leg, his favoured one. The casino is in an uproar, military-grade boots stomping downstairs. The very militia I'd hoped to avoid.

Beg as he might, I have no choice. Either he dies or we both will. Curfew was over hours ago, and I'm running out of time.

Bang!

Running from the Peacekeepers was a different kind of thrill, but I'm not sure how I feel about the other one.

"Chance Caishen. You're meant to be dead." It's snarky, but I know that tone. He was going to show up, even though the place is swarming with Peacekeepers carrying a warrant for his arrest. A rookie move from the cartel Cassanova. "One of my men is dead. I hope you didn't think I wouldn't find out, you know me better than that."

"Shouldn't have sent that prick after me, then. You should've done it yourself. What made you think your muscle would ever get me twice? Klaxon wasn't worth the brains on the pavement, and he's dead becaue of you. We both know damn well I always win Russian roulette." I groan, he's eating up my time. "You can't touch me here. You can't touch them. We had a deal. Get out."

"I couldn't just let you get away with it, Chance. You've no sense of sides, and that needed an example. I only told him to kill you if he caught you, and that's how it went down. I didn't throw us away. You did." He crosses his arms, forehead creasing. "You wouldn't learn with a slap on the wrist. Other measures had to be taken, and I'm sorry it had to be like this."

"Look, whatever. Get out. If I die, you get your wish. If I don't, you get your money. You don't touch my family. I fucked over everyone, you're not special. We didn't last, and that's the end of it. Nothing we can do about it now."

"You never learn, Caishen. One day, it'll bite you in the ass. I just hope you'll come home to see it happen."

His lip curls and he turns on his heels, storming out. He has one hand on his cheek, and I hear the other make contact with the doorframe. It's a veiled threat, but that doesn't mean anything with the stakes at hand.A few minutes before my siblings enter the room, Luck trailing last. We don't need to talk about them to know our parents aren't going to show up.

"Chance!" Treasure tackles me in a hug, a foot shorter but just as fierce. I lean down and squeeze her shoulders. I won't cry. I need this, and even though he's never said it, I know Luck doesn't need me to look after them.

"Heya kiddo." I peel her off, ruffling her lopsided fringe. She's taken the craft scissors to it again. "C'mon, none of this. You'll be alright."

"But what about you!" She blurts, and our brothers wince. Our baby sister's loud when she's upset, and I don't want her getting in trouble. I get in enough shit for the four of us.

"What about me?" I crouch to her height. "Treasure, you're gonna be fine. You, Jasper, and Luck are gonna enjoy this world, and you'll be safe. Listen to Luck, and if anyone hurts you, I've got a bat with their name on it. But… you have to be brave, okay? I… I need to leave for a while."

I catch my twin's eyes over her hair and watch as Japer avoids looking at me.

"I have adventures to voyage on… and when I come back, I'll be brand new. Okay? I just need to go out and find what I'm about. One day you'll do that too, but you'll do it all your way. And we're all going to be so proud when you do."

Gamblers' fallacy says that if I've lost so consistently I must get a win soon, but I don't think my family would be too pleased with that reasoning. I know it's bullshit. At some point, I have to tip over the edge one way or another. When Kaiser sent Klaxon after me, I knew it was over, but this is on my terms. One final throw of the dice. Jasper pulls her from the room without another word, lip curled in disgust. He has every right, at least Luck let him know me enough to hate me. Speaking of, my twin seems unable to move, matching my nervous stance. Since I started leaving the house, he kept trying to suppress the mirroring, but neither of us can help it. We spent too much time together pretending we aren't alike.

"I could still go for you, you know? If we swapped outfits. Two… two minutes doesn't age me that much." All of a sudden, the times calling him 'big brother' come rushing back. The time I squandered. "You don't have to go, Chance."

I lean against the wall and find I can't look at him anymore. He knows he's the one our siblings love, the one they depend on. Jasper hates me for never being home and Treasure… we're alike, but she only loves me because she's too young to know any better. Stupid, stupid selflessness.

"Don't be ignorant, Luck. I've picked this path. What happens if you get caught? They wouldn't survive without you. We both know what would happen if you left them with the junkies."

Before I started going out, we were the parents because ours refused to be. I'm not going to let our siblings lose another guardian.

"There…" He shakes his head, grabbing my shoulders. "There has to be something. Fuck… why'd you have to do this?"

His voice rises. I've never seen him like this, but as I go to speak, he backhands me across the face. It's weak since he's never fought in his life, but it's enough to snap me back to reality.

"Fucking… you selfish bastard. I only ever wanted you to be safe, and you go and do…this!" His breath grows weaker and he shakes my shoulders as if that can erase everything. The neglect, the gambling, how he was parentified and I was railroaded. It's the only thing stopping him from hitting me again.

"I'm-"

"No, Chance. You shut me down at every opportunity but now I have to talk because it may as well be the last time. What the hell am I meant to say to Treasure when you don't come back? How's Jasper meant to feel when you've effectively abandoned us like they did."

"Luck, it's not-"

"I spent all these years fighting for you, trying to look after you. I'm the big brother. You're not meant to live like this. The fighting and drugs and booze and volunteering in over your head. I just… I wish I could have stopped you. Kept you safe. But now you've taken it out of my hands. It's suicide."

He stops, breaking down in tears for the second time today. Softie. I wrap my arms around him, eyes watery. But these aren't tears of fear or upset, this is seeing him like this. We don't see eye to eye. I'm too 'reckless' and I'm on the wrong path and I'm the reason he makes sure our siblings never go around without a guide. But he is my brother, and dull and stifling as he is, I love him. I can win the Hunger Games. I have a chance, it's in the name.

"Hey..." I pat him on the back and push him away, only lightly. "You underestimate me, Luck, you always have. I'd prefer to die knowing I took this opportunity for myself, than waste away here. I have nothing here except you guys that I can't find anywhere else. When I win, I'll finally know I've done all I can, I'll know who I am. This can only change me."

He nods his head, but he doesn't understand, not as Axel or Vespa would. I can see it in his eyes. Even so, it's clear he doesn't want to fight when we're about to be so far apart. I don't talk about losing because it's not on the table.

"Right… it can only be for the better."

Optimism looks right on him.

"I'll see you down the road, Luck. You know I'll always come back home."

It's what I've always told him, and I won't stop now. He gives me one last hug and flees, the door swinging gently. Outside, I hear the anger in Jasper's voice that Luck got to hit me and not him. Like he actually would. He follows our brother's word like Gospel, so he'll be safe as can be in this place.

I'm not sure if Vespa will be willing to show. Surely she'd've seen Kaiser lurking, and she's smart enough to know he'll have some goons about. But I did pick the Voyagers in the end, and she never breathed a word about what she knew, so clearly that's worth something, right? It'll hurt like a bitch if she doesn't show. She's been a mentor and big sister wrapped in one and dealing with my bullshit, but I can't expect her to put her life on the line. The Delvacs have never been scared to shoot on neutral territory, and because I'm not an idiot I didn't mention her to Kaiser. But that makes her fair game if the tensions grow in the square., and goddamnit I hate to say it but sometimes I wish we were back when the thrill only came from dirty dealing and not turf disputes, if only because the crossfire could only hit me back then. But I'm in too deep already and if you hand me a shovel then damn right I'm going down until I strike gold again.

"I thought hell'd freeze over before you ever got stuck in your head." The tone isn't teasing, but it's not malicious either. Just straight forward and baritone, that puts me right to sleep when a night out's managed to temper me down.

"Ever the romantic. C'mere you." I grin, seeing my boyfriend for the first time in almost an hour. "Did you win?"

"Can you name the last time I didn't?" He pulls his arm around my shoulders and a wad of cash from his pocket. "Beats trying to sneak around the PK's card scanners."

As if that's even an issue for him anymore. Card counting was the first of many tricks he taught me, and I get the feeling even if he got sick of me he'd stick around. I'm just special like that.

"You've gotta count up all that money though… I heard there were some shady characters around."

He rolls his eyes, unwinding his arm to hide his smile. Defrosting. But, as quick as that happens, he's serious as ever, sitting me down to talk strategy. To be honest… it's a nice sense of normality. I know how this story goes.

"It's a game of odds, is all. Rigged to shit. That's why no one whose odds are actually perfect takes the crown."

"Tell me something I don't know, Ax."

"I'd need a whole other lifetime-" I jab him with an elbow. "Fine. We'll do this your way. Ever play Tesseract as a child?"

He knows I haven't. I went straight to the big boy games as soon as I knew I'd be able to afford it. Started small with Blackjack and Poker in the back alleys, all the way up to Russian roulette to prove my loyalty to Voyagers before turning right back around and drawing knives as lots to prove the same to the Delvacs.

"It's a little like Morphling, another Capitol product that turned sour. From what I've read, it was based on one of those old-timey horror movies, Cuboid, or something similar. It's meant to be a team game, starting with specific bets and cards, say… we both bet two credits and have a quarter of the deck each. The rest of the cards are put in a box. The rulebook states to work out the randomised algorithm, matching or beating what card the box spits back at you. Pushing one of three buttons produces a card and the box scans the one you present. Originally, the only punishment you'd receive was an electric shock, maybe having to input more money. But like everything tech-based... the Capitol didn't consider any game warping. They knew the way it was played would be warped, that's the truth, and they were right. More and more… teammates would throw each other under the bus in misdirection or force, as the stakes grew higher and the boxes punishments and algorithms became nigh unintelligible. It was apparently a smash hit in the big city. Capitol kids thrive on 'safe' violence. Until kids started dying, the box's punishments stained influential minds. Every so often, the torments of the game would lead to surrender to it, the increasing pain just too much. Air shot between the toes, pushing and prodding mental differences until one player or another snapped and took themselves out. More often though… teens would kill each other over these games, betting entire fortunes in the hope to appease the box and be the sole winner, watching their teammates face punishment rather than do so themselves."

He takes a breath, meeting my eyes.

"It. Was. Addictive. The authorities cracked down when the news of one of its bloody tournaments made the news during a Games season in… the seventies, I want to say. And, like all failed pleasures… production was recalled, but the remaining games got dumped on us. Like Morphling, we made our own versions to sate our boredom. Like Morphling, it killed us. Like the Games. No one ever won, not really, except them."

My boyfriend's never been the best at subtlety, he covers his game cheats with poker faces and a lack of microexpressions, but he's also never as hot as when he's rambling, cold face masking genuine interest and need to share. My mind sits still for a minute. And that's when I get it.

"But… the box only prompted the violence. Like the arena." I breathe slowly, watching him nod along. "But if you played for too long, it'd drive you to violence anyway, or just kill you outright. That's Gamemaker interference."

I can feel myself start to smile when he confirms my suspicions.

"Everything the Capitol creates, consciously or otherwise, is a manifestation of the Games. Fun for them until one of theirs gets hurt, and then they punish our people for it. The strategies people use in there are of their design, and it becomes you against another tribute instead of you against the arena."

"I don't do strategy, Axel…" I raise an eyebrow. "But that's not…. Huh. Clever bastard, you almost got me there."

"Guilty." He shrugs. "I can't tell you how to win, but I can tell you how to play. I couldn't stop you from doing this if I tried, and I've tried, and I can't say I'm not grateful for the opportunities this… moronic decision will bring me. But I can give you advice. Don't ever play the game the way the house tells you to play it."

"Well, I'm not about to start doing that now. What are you saying?"

He shakes his head, gently kissing his way from my cheek to my lips. I know he's thinking about the clock on the wall as much as I am. He plays strategy, I just do whatever the fuck I want, that's how it is. In a way, the whole metaphor was for his peace of mind more than mine. It's just how his brilliant mind works, and I need a little time to figure out where that final piece of the puzzle falls into place. If the rulebook says it's about algorithm and strategy, then there has to be something else. A loophole, a way to break it all open, win or lose. He's figured it out, but there are cameras in here, and going from talking dodgy strategy to downright Game-breaking treason… that's a line I can't cross.

"I'm saying whatever it is you want me to say." He gives me one more kiss and a surprisingly tight hug. He stays there until we hear the telltale squeak of boots outside the door. "Goodbye, Chance. I'll… take care of them for you. As much as I can."

"Don't get in any trouble when I'm gone, okay?"

"Could say the same for you."

"Fllirting with Career girls trouble or treason trouble?"

"Either or." He's grinning like a maniac behind his hand, I know that look in his eyes. "Besides, I don't get into trouble. That's your thing."

"I'll see you soon, loverboy." I roll my eyes, taking his hand from his face and holding it in mine. "Don't seduce my brother."

"Don't seduce half the Capitol."

"That's cruel, driving me such a hard bargain-"

"You literally set me up to think you were your brother for like… a month. It can't be your trump card."

"...Touché"

"Goodbye, for real this time. I'll be watching you."

"Stalker."

"Shut up."

When he finally leaves, dragged out by the collar by a Peacekeeper that must have hated our version of flirting, he doesn't struggle. Axel meets my eyes one last time before the door closes, and I blow him a kiss. There's no anguished breakdown because that was yesterday's problem when he realised I was Volunteering. There's no 'I love yous' because we already know. Because having that be the last thing he hears from me puts such a sour taste in my mouth that it's all I'd be able to think about.

Luck may be my mirror, my twin, but Axel completes me. Equal but different roles in my life, and even if the former's got a stick up his ass and the latter can't do romance to save his life, they're my people, and I know they'll be there for Jasper and Treasure when I'm not. They're my people. Not the gangs- Vespa's half an exception, but Kaiser can go to hell- not the druggies, not the schoolmates who laughed at my undersized shoes and then begged for a lower interest rate on their debts. And not my fucking parents, that's for certain.

I hear a thump come from the other room, a scuffle and the sound of Peacekeeper comms going haywire. I take a peek through the door to watch one of them carried away, a gash through their side and a bloodied knife blade in their pocket. Behind them, my new District Partner, missing teeth and spitting blood, hands cuffed tightly behind her back, and I'd bet anything they're double locked as a precaution.

Not so defenceless after all, Ela. Well-played.

---

Sleeping Room 2, C-6 Train Route

23:45, June 22nd

---

I tend to get in with new people through crime. So really, what else am I meant to do but go and break her out of those cuffs? They only let her have one hand free when eating, but seeing as she was getting a whole bunch of shit from our mentor, she didn't seem to have much appetite.

"How is it any time I get a tribute who isn't lost cause I get two of them the next time around? How is that fair?"

I'm more than used to Morphling-addled adults going through the asshole stage of withdrawal, but seeing as I'm not sure either Delvacs or Voyagers have been supplying to the Victor's Village, either he's just like this all the time, or he's getting the premium stuff straight from the hidden labs in the fuel block of the ground sector. Neither bode well for Ela. I'm not listening anyway. Mr Termini's whole thing was playing the game like it was hide-and-seek, and while it'd make for good watching if not for the murder, it's not my style.

"If I was going down I was taking one of 'em with me." Ela snarls, picking at the green stuff on her plate. I can't even name half the stuff here, and odds are it'd kill me if I even touched with how much our Escort's been talking about the sugar content. "It's the only choice I get now, ain't it. Kill people or kill evil people. I was just gettin' ahead n' hurting those who deserve it. I'm not like some sickos here on purpose."

"I have a name, Ela-"

"Don't talk to me."

"Rude." I press on anyway, there's nothing else to do. "At least drop names. It's not fair you're here, but that's life. I'm not here just to kill people."

"Great. Who cares." Our mentor cuts in, coughing and pointing an accusatory finger between us. "Look, kid. I don't care that you killed her. I care that you got caught. Way to make life harder for both of us."

He turns his gaze to me, approximating. His face seems to soften, and I'm suddenly very self-conscious. Dickhead. Being watched is the least I need right now. Shouldn't have changed into a short sleeve shirt. It's not the needle marks, every other kid my age has them. It's the bruises. Vespa brought orders down from the boss to collect some debts last week, and it got a little uglier than usual. Quite literally. I still won and got my money, but that doesn't mean I don't look like I got beaten to shit. He should see the other guy. Bats over batons.

"As for you…" He starts, and I wince. I do not want to have this discussion. Because I know exactly how it looks, and my neighbours are all terrible gossips. "The fuck'd you volunteer for? Because if my ears didn't fucking deceive me, and rarely do they do that, I'd think you were about as suicidal as Saturn Brunn, with half the 'noble' intentions."

Who? Whatever. We have an equally annoying, but less painful conversation.

"You heard me right. I'm not here to kill people, I'm here to play the game. I'd rather get the chance to do something new and make something of my life instead of getting mugged by some other junkie."

There's disapproval, but also understanding in his scowl, and he gestures for me to leave. That's enough, we're done. I'm just the kid who's resigned to death, and he has a more promising tribute in the one he knows can kill. There's no use playing my cards too early, so I let it be.

Camilla hugs me goodnight, directing me to my room, and I only hear scraps of Termini's strategic wisdom.

I've been feigning sleep since then. Patrols come around every fifteen minutes, but they don't check the rooms. They put Ela in her room about half an hour ago, about eleven, and I heard the demands to be unrestrained fall on deaf ears. She's been tossing and turning ever since.

I slip off my bed. With as tough as she acted at dinner, that crying must have been a ruse to get that Peacekeeper to lose her guard, she mustn't be a stranger to getting into trouble. But anyone who'd thought this through would know how to slip those cuffs. Either way, I came prepared… and they didn't search me.

The doors open silently, and the noises of the wheels are enough to mask my steps. I think if I was quick enough, I'd get through to the alcohol cart. As much as it's legal now, I'm under curfew, and as tempting as it is, I have a District Partner to get to not hate me. It's sketchy as hell how the doors just open with a tap, but that works in my favour.

What doesn't is how she opens her mouth to scream.

"Shhhhhh. Please don't freak out-" Damage control.

"What in Snow's fresh hell are you doing in here?" She's just as threatening when whispering. Good to know. She and Vespa would get along like a house on fire.

"Busting you out of those." I grin, holding up the pin I stole out of Camilla's hair when she hugged me earlier. Even Capitolite touchiness can have a use, I guess. There's another in my pocket, Axel told me to bring one just in case the Peacekeepers identified me as a gang affiliate, but this one will work better.

She goes quiet and stands up, her back turned to me as she shoes her wrists.

"Double locked. Be careful, they sqeaked when they put me in them."

"I'm not an amateur, Ela." I love being right. I place the end of the pin into the lock, bending it slightly. I twist it slowly, first towards her wrist, then away until they're loose enough to come off, but not come apart. It'd just look like she wiggled her way out. And given how slender her wrists are, I'd believe that if I wasn't the one who just freed her. "You're welcome."

She resists the urge to rub at her wrists, but the gnawing at her cheek betrays the pain.

"Thank you, Caishen." The apology is flat, but the gratitude is there, and that's enough. "Now get out."

"If you snitch on me, I'll leave you in them next time." It's not a threat, but a promise. I've got no interest in being locked up like the petty criminal I fit the bill for. Either way, I wait until the boots come around and respect her wishes, slipping into the hall and back to my room. I don't stay long.

Turns out there are emergency buttons by our bed. Med team, Peacekeeper team, one for your mentor and one for your escort. I press the last one, holding it for two seconds. In no time at all, I hear the click-clack down the laminate halls. She knocks, thank the devil, and I meet her out there.

"Is there anything wrong, Chance? Or are you just testing buttons? I know I did that on the way to your District. There's just so many…"

She trails off, seeing the sombre look on my face, the way I won't meet her eyes.

"Chance?"

"I… I'm bored n' lonely, I guess. Homesick. I'm sorry, it's stupid. I just wanted to go to the end of the train but I've woken you up and wasted your time and…"

Yuck. But if sounding insecure gets me what I want, I'm not above it. There's very little I am above doing.

"Hey now, don't say such things!" She sounds horrified. "This is my job, my livelihood, my career." Those are synonyms but okay. "Of course, you can. I'll bring you there. No one will say a word if you're with me."

It's… surprisingly kind. I'd expected it to be harder than this, for flouting the rules to need preparation and probably crocodile tears, but here we are. I guess she's just that starstruck for getting a volunteer the first time around. Maybe that can be to my advantage.

"Thank you, 'Mila." I keep my eyes to the floor, and she hooks an arm around my elbow, guiding me to the end of the train.

"Not to worry, he's with me!" Peacekeepers part at her order and I wonder, is that what it's like to have power? "Good evening Levi, I didn't think you'd still be up! Don't mind us, just passing through."

My head does snap up at that, and I barely meet my mentor's curious stare as we pass through. The walk feels surprisingly long. I think the air in here is getting to me. I can't be homesick already. We reach the end, and she slides the door closed and a window open. I'm drawn to the open sky beyond the glass with its fresh air breezing through and tousling my fringe.

It's a cruel sense of freedom after I've effectively signed mine away, but I need it. I lean my head next to the opening and watch what my Escort is doing. She fiddles with a small pouch, drawing out a cigarette and lighting it out the window. It's just nicotine, but it brings me back to highs and lows in the gambling dens.

"You don't mind, do you?" She tilts her head, tapping ash out of the opening. Seems she's caught me staring, and hands me it without prompting. "Here, try it. You must not come across these in the Districts. I want to make sure you get some quality experiences before arena-time."

Snow alive, we're District peasants, not Dark Age dwellers. Despite that, I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth and copy her actions, even exaggerating a little cough to sell the effect. It's enough to snap me into game mode. If I don't want Termini prying, then I'll have to depend on Camilla for my Games necessities. He'll have his hands full with Ela, and I doubt he'll want a tribute who'll eventually ignore most of his advice. It's a win-win.

"Why did you pick this job, Mila?" It's a safe question to build a rapport.

"Same reason as you, I suppose…" She sighs wistfully. "For the thrills, the frills… a bit of adventure away from home. I'd have flown the nest long ago if the training for this didn't take so long. Nineteen and still at home, I was screaming to get out. And… here I am."

She giggles, but I don't see the humour. She's like… a warped mirror. The kind of girl I wouldn't mind a flirt and a drink with, but there's something about why I'm here that makes the idea sicken me. I don't like it, but I've got to grit and bear it.

---

Lounge, Floor Six, HG 101 Tower, Central Capitol

21:15, June 26th

---

My allies are fucking weird, but the nice kind. There's Ela, she's grown attached now that she's figured I'll be useful. Not that that's a bad thing, even if Termini's been warning her of a knife in the back. One thing we have in common, we don't like authority. Which is one of two threads linking our little Murder Squad. The other isn't too difficult to figure out.

"That's a kill shot if I've ever seen one. You were really going for it, huh?" My voice makes the kid jump and he scatters his darts on the floor. "What'd that dummy ever do to you?"

He stays quiet, waiting for the intimidation tactics the three Careers have been shooting for. God, the blow-up earlier was so funny. That's not what I'm here for.

"Where'd you learn to throw like that? Didn't think they let shrimps from Three into the Capitol for demonstrations." It sounds mean, but it gets results. He puffs his chest up and crosses his arms, keeping the remaining darts clutched in his hands.

"They don't." He huffs, looking around before lining up for another shot. Whenever a Career looks his way, he fudges the shot on purpose. "It's none of your concern."

Except it is. It's been two days, and he's been on this station without fail. Never hitting a bullseye but hitting his mark where, whether it takes two minutes or two hours to bleed out, it will kill. Or at least distract. No semblance of a fight, only a target and ambition. I don't need to know how he got this good to want him on my team.

"Who do you have in your alliance?" It's like he's not even talking to me, mouth barely moving. He hasn't even looked at me since I got here. "You're on borrowed time, Six, some of us actually want to train."

"Me, my partner, Seven's girl, Two's girl and you, Theo." Smug? Maybe. Presumptuous? Hell yes. But it's a taunt I can make when he's been made no other offers and ditched by his District Partner as a lackey for a half-baked Career Pack.

"I'm sorry… rewind that for a second. Two?"

We learned on day one that I have to be the one doing the talking. If we want the Cornucopia, which we do, we have to create one hell of a hivemind. Trying to recruit one Ten led to a Capitol suck-up's half-hour tirade, which is about five years taken off the back of my life. Twelve's boy went from cynic to nihilist real quickly, and it didn't help when Ela punched him in the face for predicting she'd be a bloodbath. So we decided the negotiations should probably be on me. Especially when we ended up with our trapper.

"You're from Six. Chance right? The fucker that volunteered?" The girl's voice is booming but not threatening, the kind that makes you stare at the noise but not cares about the conversation.

"In the flesh. Do you have a name or am I just gonna have to call you 'Seven'?"

"Fifi. I need… a favour. I heard you talking about taking out the Cornucopia. I… I think I can help you with that. I just need you to bring something into the arena for me." She hands me a small strip of ribbon with pen markings on it. "Don't read it until we get to the tubes or I'll know I can't trust you. But… in exchange… I'm good with snares! And…"

"And?"

"Back home, sometimes the PKs have to use explosives for logging purposes…"

Fifi and Ela are straight-talkers. They're blunt and well-meaning, but it drives away the timid. Which would be a good thing if the timidity wasn't an act. Looking at you, District Two. Phillippa (or as I call her: 'Pippa') acts more outlier than Career, and acts as our liaison for one simple reason: she, and by extension, we can piss off her Career coworkers in a way that puts them right where we need them. Because let's be real, with a united Career Pack, your alliance is dead in the water, and Theo wasn't going to touch us with a mace if we couldn't prove we were a threat.

"Looks like you've got your hands full there, huh Pip?"

"What's it to you?" It's not the first time I've had a knife pointed at me by a pretty girl, but Vespa would rather die than cry in front of me. This one's been doing nothing but that. Volunteering? Tears. Parade? Tears. Training sim? Tears. Picked on by her District Partner and the Ones? You guessed it.

But when their backs are turned, when one Four is down in the infirmary and the other has made his goal clear… I see the seething hatred that Jasper's directed toward my face. The one I've given my parents whenever they bother to show up. These emotional shows are her strength when all the humanity has been bred out of her allies.

"One killer to another, I wanted to compliment you for not getting caught." I'm only half full of shit here. That about her not getting caught. The rumour going around is that, as a test from Two's Academy, she killed a trainer that had been embezzling. Whether or not that's true, I don't know, and I don't care. I have no room for doubt if I want our group to take what is, effectively, the Career Pack's place.

"Meaning? How much did they pay you?" Her hands are shaking.

"Chill out. No one sent me, no one paid me. I mean, me and my friends placed bets on which Career you're gonna kill, but that's it. I've got a proposition for you. Join us, and you get to avoid being the weakest link for the three stooges."

"Not a chance," But she nods to the affirmative, aware of the ears around every corner, the way Two's delegated One's Elysium to watch and note her weaknesses to take her out quickest.

"If that's what you choose." I step back as the bell for lunch tolls, hands spread in surrender. "But there's always a seat at the table if you want it."

All we have is me and Ela for the moment, but given the notes I've been slipping under doors and glances I've been getting, I don't think it'll stay that way for much longer.

We haven't been able to hang out together as a unit, given they all have District obligations and Pippa has the Pack to deal with. But scores went well, and Augustus Flickerman bounced off of each of us perfectly. By tomorrow, we'll be a force to be reckoned with. Two sevens, an eight, and a ten put a perfect target on us, even though Theo took a four to keep his skills a surprise. As long as the arena doesn't fuck us over, we have a pretty sweet gig going on. But I don't get comfortable, I get edgy because that's how you prepare for a royal fuck-up, and turn it into the best idea of your life.

---

D6M Podium, Island Zero, Arena

09:00, June 27th

---

Normally, I fucking hate arenas that give strength to District Four. We get it, you never got over Finnick Odair's victory. That doesn't mean every other arena has to be fucking water-based. Beleive it or not, it doesn't favour them as much as it typically does. The Careers dumped the girl as soon as she got to the parades and went down with some fever, knocking her out of the running. She's leaning against the glass as it retracts down, down, down. Unable to support her weight. I avert my eyes and wonder if she'll hit anyone else's mine on the way down

Boom!

Who holds the record for the quickest Hunger Games death? Not me at least. She's the first person down, but there will be many more before the day is done. Each podium stands six feet apart, worryingly close. We're in a randomised order, but Four's boy was more than close enough to watch his partner go boom. He'd threatened it in training whenever she fainted in training, screaming at Peacekeepers:

"If you don't make her better, on Snow's rotting fucking casket I will ruin you. She didn't train just to be denied."

Our platform is massive, easily enough to hold our podiums and the Cornucopia. This year, it's sapphire blue, opaque, and glinting with the seas behind us. We're surrounded by a choppy, unforgiving sea. Above, ladders slowly lower from floating islands in the sky, attached to the forcefield. Each has multiple bridges between them, and one leading to a steel platform with a ladder leading up from the Cornucopia. Eleven, but Twelve Districts. I guess they thought the sea would be enough for District Four to thrive. But they were wrong.

Four's going to do it. It's just a matter of when. Speaking of… I unwrap Fifi's note from my poker chip: 'DUCK!'

I try to catch her eyes, but can't. She's too enamoured by- there he goes. It's slow, calm, and methodical, the way Four prepares to jump. He picks a target, ignoring the pipsqueak Nine girl to his left. Instead, the Ten boy has incurred his wrath, the one espousing Capitol ideology since he hit the stage. He rolls his shoulders back and slides his foot to the edge of the plate, taking advantage of the two-foot diameter. Whether it's rage or anguish, he powers himself across the gap to the other podium, tackling the boy before he knows what's happening. They tumble, flailing, into the mines. For one slow, horrifying moment, I wonder if this is why a mine suicide is common because it's so easy. If avoiding them, no matter what you do, is possible.

Boom!

Both cannons are hidden under the explosion. Blood and revenge aside, I stare at the note and back at her, a few podiums away but still somehow so far. I duck anyway, crouched precariously with my hands for support. But I look at, Theo and Pippa, both poised to run like normal people. Another missing piece of the puzzle. Maybe the plan has changed.

Ten.

Cowering isn't going to put on any sort of show. That's not how I wanted this to go, letting someone else play the game.

Five.

Two's boy and Five's girl stand poised to run on each side of me, none-the-wiser.

Zero.

It's too late to get up now. An object sails over my head, clocking Two in the forehead as he tries to sprint forward. The thing clatters as the gong sounds, a small, wooden ornament. A duck. Fucks sakes, people.

But he's still breathing, still moving, and it's my turn to make a move. I launch on his back, fists whaling on his head. This can not be helping that concussion, but I keep going. The Cornucopia is our prize. It's how we make our statement, and eliminate our most significant threats, all at once.

Boom!

It's not him dead, he's still kicking and biting like a motherfucker. Why are sharpened teeth still in fashion? Make like this guy and let it die.

"Chance!" As the guy finally rolls me off him, Pippa comes to back me up, kicking him away and passing me a bat from the weapons hold, before dashing back into the fray. An unsuspecting girl from Twelve gets on the wrong side of her axe.

Boom!

I grab him by his ankle, bringing down the wood with a sickening crunch. The intention before was never to kill, but extenuating circumstances apply. I stand with help from the podium, kicking him between the legs for good measure. That one's for you, Pippa. Quick as I can, because he's still writhing in the dirt, I bring down the wood again, and again, and again, and agai-

Boom!

Once more, just to make sure. It wouldn't be the first time a tribute used someone else's cannon to keep themself alive when shit got rough. Finalists have won through such a tactic. But all I see are post-mortem twitches, so I leave him be, wiping the blood spray from my eye. There's no chance to stop and think. Most outliers booked it to the ladders, but the Ones are closing in on my allies at the Cornucopia. I'm not having that. In the mess of blood and weapons, I thwack the girl from behind with a blow to the shoulder, narrowly missing her head.

I pay for it just as quickly, receiving a staff to the jaw so hard my eyes start failing and the world starts spinning backwards, but the distraction is enough. Pippa brings the hilt of her sword to her eye and the other to her leg, slicing down in a vertical amputation. It's enough to bring her to her knees, and for Ela to take a knife to the girl's throat. Blood burbles from her mouth, and it's over.

Boom!

And just like that, there's only One left. Elysium. He retreats reluctantly, fists still balled and full of holes from where Fifi's mace has torn skin open. Covered with darts from where Theo had perched on the Cornucopia ladder.

"I'll fucking get you for this, Two, mark my words. And if I don't… then I promise that they will." he gestures upwards and runs for the nearest ladder. I move to follow, but Ela grabs my arm. We're all wounded and in need of recuperation. Besides, it's not like the morning's over. It's not even noon yet.

A figure screams on one of the ladders. There's a mop of red hair scrambling up it, a blurry figure atop the island. The ladder sways more than before, jolting and swaying as threats and begs are exchanged. There's no way of seeing clearly, but I don't need to see to know what's going on when the rope snaps, sending the climber into freefall. Maybe he could've survived if he hit the water but…

Boom!

The cannon fired before he ever hit the ground. If only that could've been One, but the brunette is climbing up on the opposite side, probably taking notes. Like we should be. Advantages don't always last, so the others want to take advantage.

"What do we do now?" Theo pipes up, banding his darts together with a slip of velcro.

"Where's the med kits?" Ela goes for the sensible route, the Career route, but I interrupt.

"We patch up, get our shit, then blow this sky high." I meet Pippa's curious stare. Being the oldest is a bitch, I hate having to explain myself. "Eight dead. We make up five of the remaining. That's a third of the potential bodies. If we stay here, we'll get in even more shit. Why have the sea if they aren't going to use it? I guarantee, there's a storm coming our way, but that means all eyes on us. If we leave this all here, someone else will take advantage. And because audiences are predictable, it will be Elysium and he will dodge any consequence when he hunts us. The Makers will try to use the arena, but as long as we're banded like we are, nothing bad can happen."

It's only half a lie, but I trust Axel. As long as I use my teammates, the arena is escapable. And if I feel a kinship with them and their daring misadventures, the way our experiences have shaped what we just did, then maybe that's a good thing. They're the type of folks I could see as my people, but I can't just say that aloud.

We have a game to play before everything else. As I said, there's a storm on the horizon.

"Fifi… you know what to do."

Back home, she works to clear the mines left over from Peacekeeper logging operations and even rebellion days. This should be child's play. Pippa and Ela work to gather our supplies, Theo and Fifi go to dig up some mines, and I stay as lookout and supervisor all at once.

It's.. nice. Almost domestic. I hear arguing and tussles, but no screaming, or worse, frosty silence. I've missed out on it… and I might never get it again. But I think… I can count this as a win. It's my first in a while. I can't control the future, and I'm not looking to, but it's not so unfair for me to look to the sky in its cloudless glory and ask for another lucky streak.

---

Island Twelve, Arena

19:00, July 4th

---

So that was a bunch of horseshit wishful thinking. The detonation went fine, with smiles all around. Use a dart as a positive safety pin, pull it, dump the mines, grab your shit, climb the ladders, and throw shrapnel from the earlier explosions until it hits home. Celebrate, move on, kick ass. That is how it should have gone. Is how they planned it to go, but you should never explain a plan unless you want to fucking doom it to failure.

I was right that we were to be punished by the powers that be, but I did what I always did back home, in a habit I thought I'd kicked. I assumed to know better, and now Theo's paid the price. That first night, I remembered my place. Steps one through three went just fine, but when our backs were turned…

We'd forgotten those mines could be remotely activated and deactivated. No one since the seventies ever touched them after the Bloodbath, so why would we think about that?

Killing him with the tracker would've been too easy. They had to make it hurt, make it divide us because that's what they do. There'd be no gang war in Six if people could just survive. There'd be no trouble I'd they could just let life be fair. Theo wouldn't be dead if I'd shut my fucking mouth. The Cornucopia's gone, but so is he, and that's the least fair trade I've ever seen because it signalled the beginning of the end for us. The world kept spinning, tributes still died around us and I still killed, but my life stopped when I watched his eyes close.

Boom!

That's not a fucking canon. A shower of glass and metal and…blood covers us all. My ears ring like they've been boxed, and I have experience, but it's my eyes that have to be deceiving me. They've been fucked up since that Cornucopia fight. He's lying amongst the wreckage, hands burnt to cinders and mouth parted in shock and pain, but his legs let me know it's over. One landed where Ela sits up, recovering, and she screams, but I barely hear it. The other landed behind him, the band of darts strapped to it scattered with the remnants of others' weapons.

He's still breathing, but only just.

"Chance?" His voice is weak, and he coughs with every syllable.

"What happened, Theo? Don't… hold on." We don't have anything that can heal this, and we both know it. We both know what happened, that they did this because Theo's the most steady-handed of us all, and like hell would he have set it off.

"'S just like the games at home… I can tell them how it really feels."

That dumb training sim he helped to play test back in Three, the one that sharpened his vision and his nerves. He's not even panicking, unresponsive to the pressure I put on his chest, seeing where the shrapnel has cut. I can't do anything. Jasper's watching on a screen back home, and he's talking about how he's right. That I'm just like them, unable to do anything but hide behind a thrill, useless when I'm needed. And he's right. I can't make it right for him, or Theo… but I can make it easier.

"Come here…" I try to ignore the bloody stumps, focusing on his face and pulling him into a hug. Even smaller than he was before, but no less focused on what lies ahead.

"'If ya cut off my head, it'll go quicker." Great time to become a jokester, you dick. There's so much I want to say that wouldn't make a damn difference.

"Not the time, buddy. I heard if you go while asleep… it hurts less. Give it a try for me? I don't… we don't want to see you hurting. I can't kill you."

He shrugs, and I know that's his surrender. He closes his eyes, wriggling in pain, but still manages to find sleep. We stay there for hours, and I hear the drumbeat of his chest grow weaker and slower. His dreams are troubled with the pain, and his breaths give out. I can't tell if it's the bleeding or the impact that's killing him… but there's not long left.

Boom!

I can't tell the difference between canons and explosions anymore. They mean the same thing, right?

I haven't smiled since. It's been two full days of nothing but violence… I don't even think they've had to bust any mutts out other than for chasing purposes. I do what I said I was going to do. I play the game my way and warn the others that I can't risk us all. I stumbled out of the wreckage, Theo's body in my arms, and warned them of the risks I was to take, that it was neither safe nor sane but I was out of shits to give. I didn't come here to win I came here to play. And if I died, let that be a message of my hubris and idiocy, but I wasn't dead yet, and I'd killed two people, so the game wasn't over.

Pippa took that as a challenge, used to betrayal and abandonment, and left the platform, ripping through each island with a vengeance.

We're down to six.

Boom!

Make that five altogether. That could be Pippa, it could be Ela, even though she's been trailing behind me, one wrist limp and broken. I don't have the medical knowledge to properly set it.

Fifi went after Elysium herself. Brave, brave and stupid. She snapped the day after Theo died and tried to kill me, torn between blame and guilt. I left empty-handed but for my bat, fleeing the scene. Ela had stayed to try and reason with her, following her around the ladders and islands until she found One the next day.

She found him on a rickety bridge with rotting boards. Ela knew a fight she couldn't win and retreated, hiding amongst the trees that represented island seven, but our trapper went straight for him, an ambush on impulse and fuelled by rage. She should've won, with him losing an eye when all she lost was stamina. But it was the adrenaline that decided it, with Elysium making a last-ditch attempt on her life, he rammed his weight against the ropes at the side, flipping the bridge and watching her surrender, drowned in the waves below. She was killed in the storm I predicted.

I'd seen that body fall, as I had most, having pushed the Twelve boy back to his podium from his island fortress in the sky. I'd started exploring the islands after she attacked me. It wasn't until this morning that I knew it was her body.

I did the stupid little puzzles for each island, beating back snakes, wolves, and wildcats in each area until the bat splintered and left me with hurriedly crafted stakes. They were like mini-games, warmup rounds where the bets mean nothing. Just to feel something that wasn't the blood from his body and the swipe of her mace. My face still doesn't appreciate it. My left cheek still drips no matter how much I staunch it.

I got lucky with my opponents. I'd at least been right in saying that a destroyed cornucopia would weaken others, but I didn't have much on hand either, so I could hardly take pride in it. It became autopilot. Kill them if they attack you. Draw out the fight, but not the kill, give them the show and yourself the adrenaline, and forget what you caused for the kid who trusted you.

Move, sleep through the night, repeat.

I almost killed my District Partner when she showed up, chased by Three's sole survivor. She'd ditched the Careers during the Bloodbath, and recently been ordered (threatened) into finding targets for Elysium while he recuperated. Namely Pippa or I, but he wasn't picky. At the end of the day, the Hunger Games isn't solely a numbers game. You can't just 'but the odds' your way out of it. But two on one with more nourishment on our side doesn't take a psychic to predict the winner of.

"Where's your friend gone?"

"Which one?" I turn slowly, pleasantly surprised at who I see. It's the boy from Nine, and Ela's looking at him with suspicion, but neither of us is dead yet.

"Tall one, blonde." He shrugs. "Figured I'd ask. Last I saw her she was with you… but that was… a week ago, maybe?"

"We haven't been here a week, don't talk shit." I roll my eyes. I'm not in the mood for mind games. That's what the arena is for.

"Chance…" Ela speaks firmly. "I told ya… the sun won't set right here… we've been here for eight days."

It can't be right. But nothing about this is.

"… How many people are dead?"

"There's seven left, so you do the math. There are sea mines in the water, and they went off twice. Got stupid confusing with the cannons until I nearly hit one myself." The other boy shrugs, oddly casual for how easily this place, or we, could kill him. "That's… actually why I'm trying to find your friend, but you two work just as well! That uh… what's his name… basically, One scares the shit out of me. He's the biggest threat and… I'm out of options. I can't take him but… I at least want to try and go home. Him dying gives me my best shot, and it helps you guys too! I mean… four against one… and that forest boy's not doing too shabby alone."

Forest boy? Fifi's District Partner, it must be. Unless one of the other Districts has forests I'm unaware. Ela nods at me, standing up to leave.

"You have weapons?"

"I have one and a half, technically. Kinda… picked through the Cornucopia after it went boom. Made a shank, just in case. More importantly… this washed up from the shore." He pulls a machete from the strap on his back. Clean and sharp, like it's never been used. "That good enough?"

"More than good enough." Ela nods knives at the ready.

We follow the boy down to the podium above the once-Cornucopia, and he directs us towards island three, clambering the indestructible ladder with ease. Because if these things could survive that explosion without a dent, I'm willing to call them indestructible.

We weave our way through a sparking maze of wires and lights, peeping past the edge of the island to its bridge to number five. It's the perfect way to sneak up on him, as he has his back turned, fighting a boy with only a branch to his name. He must have been carrying that around for a while, given that the storm knocked out half of the foliage anywhere. He's skilled, but Elysium's whip is cruel, and it's around the other boy's throat. We move quickly, and Elysium stops as if he's about to turn and catch us in the act. But this hellhole has taken a toll on all of our senses, and I think it's only me who can hear the way the leather of his boots creak on the boards, feel the vibrations as the bridge holds far more than it's meant to.

The boy- and I need to get a name from him because calling him the boy sucks and 'Nine' is boring- moves forward. He goes first, ramming the machete into One's back with a ferociousness I didn't think such a soft-spoken kid was capable of. This arena has taught me not to believe what the cards are saying even when they're on the table. He wrenches it out, twisting as he does to open the gash. I can see bone and- eugh- not looking there again.

Ela stays back and I stoop as she releases her barrage of throwing knives, pincushioning him as the Seven boy continues to struggle against the choke of the whip, face turning purple and lips going blue. I jab my stakes into Elysium's neck, twice for good measure, and then his hand, forcing him to release the whip. He stumbles and sways, and it takes me just a moment too long to realise why the bridge is swaying too. I recognise the snapping motion before he does and drop on my face, grabbing a board while Ela and the other boy flee back from where we came, but the tension doesn't hold and the rope's not slack enough. They make it back to the island, scrambling for purchase and making it. But my enemy isn't done yet, and he takes one lumbering, pain-filled step towards me, eye sockets staring at nothing.

Crack.

The board underneath him breaks in two, sending the final member of the Career Pack plummeting. Like most, it's not the sudden stop that kills him, it's the heart attack on the way down.

Boom!

I shake away visions of Theo and landmines and the mix of the two and try to stand back up and help the Seven boy. The whip's grown tangled in the rope railing, but I make the same mistake Elysium did: I move.

Snap.

It sends the entire thing ricocheting before snapping into two sections, the longer rocketing us towards island five. We both cling on but I can see the speed we're moving at, the way there's no purchase for him other than the whip around his windpipe and-

.

My hands are slipping from the blood on them, but I can hold on, just barely-

Boom!

I can't see, but that's not me, I'm not dead, not yet. I have so many more lives to live for. I can't look up. I know how hanging as an execution works. The length, the sudden stop, the severing between mind and body. It's Seven instead of me, but I can't be thankful.

I climb up slowly, painfully. Step by step, up the new ladder. I don't look at the body. I don't have time or the capacity to do so when my vision is fucked, I'm perceiving shapes and colours with no meaning or detailing. I shake my head, and that clears it a little, but I can't help but feel a little damaged. Hah. When I finally reach the island and roll on it, I put my hand to my head and find new gashes around my hairline. I must've cracked something open when we hit the island, or when the explosion happened, or when Twelve tried to ambush me on his island with the makeshift landslide. All manner of horrible things that are only affecting me now.

I have to keep moving. You play until you win or lose, that's the only rule I'll follow. Limbo isn't fun for anyone, least of all me. I want this over. Two down… that makes five. Ela wouldn't lie to me. Me, Ela, Nine. Then it's two out of the trio of Pip, maybe another Nine, and an Eight I think. So many numbers. It's not safe to be grouped up like this, but safety isn't really on the cards anymore. If I die, I die, but I'm not going down easy. Klaxon learned that one.

I struggle to my feet, shielding the sun with my hand. Ela and Nine wave back, heading back through the island, I assume to find me. It only takes around an hour, and by then I'm drowsy. If they were right about my perception of time being fucked, then there's no knowing how long I've gone without sleep.

"I'll keep watch."

"Me too."

It's good to know Ela still has her wits about her. I sure don't. I still manage to ask a question.

"Do we get your name, Nine? Or do I get to learn it as a ghost?"

"Nah." He shrugged. "I don't really like my name. Brings back my parents' horrible adherence to the whole 'grain names run in the family' thing that started in the 50s. But since you're my friends… you can call me Reaper. Don't ask, it's a long story involving a scythe accident, an abandoned grainery and my best friend's attempt to revive a cornsnake."

We have time, and with enough prompting from Ela, he tells it anyway, but he's only through to the part where he got concussed after being spooked by a stranger in the fields before I'm out like a light.

---

Island five, Arena

00:10, July 11th

---

Annoyingly, when I wake up, sunset's finally beginning. Reaper and Ela are bustling, cleaning weapons and using the model hydro-dam to collect water. One of them places a stick of half-roasted something into my hands, and I chow down.

"Morning, Chance!" Ela's no longer as chirpy as she was during training, but she tries. "We heard a canon while you slept. Not sure who… but it's sunset, so we'll find out soon. Could only really be one of two…"

She's worried about Pippa. So am I, but she did the right thing for herself by leaving. She managed to avoid Elysium, and we've taken care of him, so she's got a good path through. But I'm not giving up when there's still a game to be played. I can't tell what would be worse, finding out she's dead or watching a friend kill her or being the one to kill her.

All of the options were always terrible, but it just gets more terrible. Adventures are meant to have a climax, but not like this.

Bzzt!

I instinctively kick out when something lands on my leg, choking back a shriek. What the fuck.

Reaper picks it up like it couldn't be an explosive, given the prevalence of those so far. But it's not… Is it a parachute? I'd forgotten those existed.

"Holy mother of-"

I struggle to my feet in time to watch Ela catch one, and I catch one of my own. We tear them open, warm meals from home and disinfectant for my facial wounds.

I turn and watch the skies for a fourth. It lands on island ten. Either it's Pippa or whichever Eight made it this far.

"What'd you get?" Reaper glances over my shoulder at the package. "Other than food, obviously."

Along with my antiseptic, Ela's received morphine for her various battle wounds, and Reaper's gotten an antidote for something.

"I got in a fight with a snake on the way to find you guys." He blushes. "I should know better but forest snakes and corn snakes aren't as similar as they sound."

He jabs the needle into his arm without preamble, me and Ela fix our wounds. We're quite content, ignoring what's to come.

Something else lands at my feet. It brings up wisps of smoke and the smell of… meat? No, more specific.

Duck.

"What the fuck is this, Fifi coming back to haunt me-"

Ela slams her hand over my mouth, and I'm tempted to bite it, but she points upward. The force field is descending, and fast, frying anything that touches it, including island structures. We're such idiots. Given that they've had seven-man finales before, the respite was positively polite and we've squandered it.

"Move!" Reaper's order is redundant, as we're both two steps ahead of him, looking back only to use the ladders. We finally land back at the wreckage of the Cornucopia, and I crane my neck back to island ten, waiting for a figure or a cannon or something. At the same time, I'm wanting nothing at all… because that means the beginning of the end for us as allies and survivors.

Ela spots her before I do, with my still-ruined vision.

"Pippa?"

And she's right about who it is. Our… (former? Current?) disputed ally comes flying off of the island, dropping through the ladder to use each rung as a swing. Like when she fights, I'm reminded she was trained. That, as sympathetic to our cause and sweet in nature that she is… she's a trained killer.

Self-defence, a minefield accident, a crime of passion and murder by proxy… the rest of the Murder Squad didn't want to kill until they had to or it was out of their hands. Mine can be disputed, but the others' hands are clean. The failure of the training sim safety protocols wasn't Theo's fault, that a person could set off an anti-tank wasn't Fifi's, and I'll never begrudge Ela when she knew she had nothing to come back to and the only way to make a mark was to rebel.

Maybe Pippa and I are similar in that we're ultimately selfish. I know that now. The choice to be here can't be justified, not like the thrills before. The punishment for this is the death penalty, but I don't know if I can even face it.

She lands near us, face contorting when she sees me.

"I'm not late, am I?"

"No… you're just on time." Our exchange lacks any bite or snark, it's simply flat. There's nothing to quip about, nothing to hope for. I just have to keep going. Maybe I get stabbed in the back, maybe I go into some sort of poetic frenzy. Who knows, who cares?

One last shot to give the audience a show…

But life has a cruel reminder that it's not up to me.

Ela makes a horrible, pitchy noise from behind me. Pippa's gaze immediately snaps that way but I'm afraid to look. Her frown turns into a glare but it's not aimed at me. The telltale squishing of sinew and muscle tells me all I need.

"… Someone had to do it. I can't die because people who are strangers to me have a history."

I twitch at that, and while he doesn't laugh, he may as well.

"You should've known better, Chance. We were a group of three in the final seven and I wanted to maximise my chances."

"You're talking a lot for someone with a snake-bite."

"Tch." He looks to the sea bubbling around us, thrashing against the forcefield. "I didn't get bitten… and I am sorry for lying about it. I had poison from an earlier drop. I'd gone back and forth about what to do with it, drop it in someone's food, the water, put it on the machete… but that was before I found you guys. I didn't really think we could take him out. Even if we did, I thought you'd leave me for dead. So I took it, because if I was going to die I didn't want to bleed out for hours, I wanted it done. It was slow-acting, I don't even think I was half-way through when the antidote came. You both had good reasons to have yours so I made one up to save face."

Pippa nods along, bored before her eyes are driven back to me. They're both looking at me like a newbie at the roulette wheel.

"Oh come on."

I take a step back. Appealing to the better nature of both isn't an option, and my sight still isn't fully restored. Reaper looks rejuvenated from the antidote, and Pippa doesn't look like anyone's touched a hair on her head. Even if she's lost her sword and her axe is dripping with blood.

I'm fucked. This is where the journey ends. As much as I hate to say it, it's clear on my face and they both know it.

"I'm scared. Aren't you both scared?"

"Terrified." Reaper's look softens for just a moment. "But just remember that you wanted this, not me."

I can't even argue. Pippa doesn't say a word, and her face is unreadable. Though she wears most emotions like a family crest, even before Theo's death, she wouldn't talk about fear. It'll remain forever unknown.

We each take out our weapons. I have two stakes, she's got an axe, and he's got both the machete and the shank still on his person. Pippa's undoubtedly scarier, but Reaper's shown to be more unpredictable.

The 'team up' on the biggest threat idea seems scarier when I'm not sure anyone knows who that is. It's the surefire formula to weaken yourself by overexertion before turning around and being stabbed through the gut.

But… I'm overthinking this… aren't I? Patience, it's not my best quality, but it is what I need.

When they both lunge, I'm ready for it. I duck under Reaper's blade as Pippa swipes for him, and it's on. There's no stopping now. I get in close, staking him in the calf and then the foot for good measure, the air whipping as Pip's axe goes flying between us, spinning.

More blood starts pouring, my wounds reopening, but the handle's impact took him to the ground as well, so we're on equal footing.

Get up. Get up.

I use my weapons as leverage to stand, to swipe when Pippa comes nearer, but my vision is failing me, my body is disobeying. She steps past, seeking Reaper's death, and finds it in one large arc of her weapon. It's lodged in his head, but he keeps fighting. He knows he's dying. I know I must be dying.

He continues to slice at her until he no longer has the strength, watching the cuts bleed and her face turn as discoloured as ours. She may be trained, but his wish to survive is equal to hers.

Boom!

She takes a moment to breathe, to evaluate the way her bones are visible in her hand, how every sliver of blood is more time lost. She takes the machete and throws it to the force field. It begins closing in again. She turns to me, a warrior goddess on a mission, and I feel my heart stop.

I never thought that I would get this far.

What was it I wanted Axel to say?

It's not about strategy, it's not about appeasement, it's not even about luck. It's about preparing for the consequences of what you do to yourself.

The last time I faced true consequences back in District Six, I killed a man who was gunning for me. This isn't so different but it can't be the same.

Take the risk, don't get caught.

So instead of standing my ground, I run towards her, chest taking a slice from her axe while she takes a puncture wound from one stake, and takes a broken nose from the blunt end of the other. I slip past her as she tries to catch her breath, rifling through Reaper's pockets and finding exactly what I need. The force field sizzles by my ears and I scuttle back, head crashing into the backs of her legs where she gets back into the action.

I feel tears wallow in my eyes as the handle of her axe hits my head again, the blade only barely missing and burying itself into the dirt. We've moved towards my old podium, back right where I started. The tears won't stop and I can't tell if it's the threat or the failure or the beating I've taken… but it's not worth this.

"I'm sorry…" It's truer the more accurate it is to be. "Tell them I'm sorry."

She walks around to face me, curled up on the floor.

"I will." And I know she's telling the truth too, but I can say sorry to those at home when I return. I can't apologise to Theo or Fifi or Ela, or even Reaper. Not those I killed or the Seven boy I couldn't save.

She stands forth, axe pressed to my neck to line up a perfect shot. I don't move. She brings it away, feet planted. I don't move.

She swings, and I jump.

Reaper's shank goes into her throat, and her scream is cut off by a ruined voicebox. I have to drop my stake to catch the axe as she flails it back around, but it works. I wrench it out of her bloody hand and she struggles, hands still punching, scratching. It's not enough.

I lean in close to her ear, axe at the ready.

"I'm sorry Pippa…"

We didn't know what we wanted when we volunteered, not really, and we're both paying the price.

I swing, one clean cut into her side and the way she stumbles and lands on her back tells me all I need to know.

Boom!

I leave the weapons, there's no further use for them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your Victor of the One-hundredth and First Hunger games is… Chance Caishen from District Six!"

It's the kind of fever dream you never want to wake up from because you don't know what's going to happen next. I don't want to fall asleep, I don't want to wake up.

---

Train Lounge, C-6 Train Route

15:00, July 13th

---

I woke up in darkness. My eyes have grown sensitive to light, and when it's too bright I'm forced to wear sunglasses. Not to see, to mitigate the damage already done. It's a consequence, and I have to deal with it.

The crowning ceremony, the interview, the paparazzi… unbearable. Reliving the deaths means I'm getting about as much sleep as I did in the arena, never able to readjust to a circadian rhythm.

But that's fine. It's not, but it's manageable because we're on the train back to District Six. Back home. Staring out the window.

Camilla has a hand on my shoulder.

"…" She lets out an airy sigh. "I can't believe I won't see you until the Tour."

"Hmm?"

"They're transferring me back for Capitol duties after this… turns out even a first time volunteer hasn't boosted me up enough. But I'll get there. Maybe if I get to pick a District, I'll come and see you!"

"That's… that'd be really nice, Mila. Thank you." I never got to thank her for the parachutes, for the way my audience cheered and screamed for me in the interviews, for how when I got out, she'd managed to twist everything I'd done into a success story for the tabloids.

"Don't thank me…" She grins. "Thank yourself. You got yourself here, Chance, only you did that. Come now… you're almost home."

The train is slowing towards Six's station. I feel like I can't breathe, but I must be doing it just fine. It's crowded with cameras, Peacekeepers, and politicians. And… my people.

When the doors slide open, I shove past the flashing cameras, even when they send my head spinning and my eyesight to fuzz. It's all enough, things are finally okay when my little sister blurs through the scene and launches herself into my arms. And even when seeing her crying face reminds me of the kids I couldn't save, I have her, and the deals I've made in the Capitol will keep her that way.

Treasure holds on like we're both dead when we let go, babbling about how proud of me she is and how she knew I'd never lie to her about coming back. It takes Jasper to pry her off of me, kicking and complaining. He doesn't make any parade out of it, barely even looks at me.

"I'm glad you're alive." I'm not forgiven, I don't know if I ever will be. If I could, I would work to show him that, despite all my actions to the contrary, I'm not like them. I'll never do anything to hurt him again. "Don't leave again. Luck was in hysterics every time you got looked at wrong."

"I'll bet." I ruffle his hair and push gently past, to where my twin stands, looking almost alone and certainly lost with the crowds.

"Heya Lucky…" He looks past me, no, through me. I have so much to fix. "Come on now, you knew I'd be back. Here I am."

"Chance?" He's crying, fuck. I wipe his face with my sleeve because otherwise I'm going to cry, and that's going to make him cry more and we'll be here forever. The lights aren't helping. He holds my wrists and squeezes like he did when we were kids. "You came back…"

"I'm your little brother, I'm always going to come home." A lie, but a kind one. When the whip cracks, I must obey, and if the Capitol wants me there, I must go. But I can make life as good for us as it can be. He deserves that as a minimum. Because while they're safe here in the District, the Capitol will come for them the moment I step out of line, and I've already crossed a lot of them. These are my consequences and I will bear them, not my people.

His speech is slurred and babbled, variations of 'I missed you' and 'I love you' and 'don't ever do that again you fucking dickhead you scared the shit out of me'. That's my brother, in the flesh. I'm here, I'm home, and I've never been happier to see Six's smog-smothered skies in person.

Vespa's face pops here and there around the cameras, a wink and a wave and then she's gone. I'll have to catch up with her later.

But my brother finally lets me go, and steps aside, letting me see Axel in all his smug, sharp, lovable glory.

"I'm back, lover boy. Missed me?" I lace my hand with his and he groans.

"Get back on the train." But he nudges me when he says it. "I was right. That was a moronic decision."

"Maybe." I grin, squinting as the sun comes out. That'll take some getting used to. "But you also saved my life there."

His eyebrow raises at my exaggeration.

"Okay, okay, your advice saved my life there. I'm me, I'm… mostly whole, and you're here. That's all I need. I didn't play it for them, I played it for you." I glance at my siblings, being accosted for interviews while they let us have a moment. "All of you. I'm just sorry I did it wrong."

I'm lucky they let me live. Tracker explosions have been pulled for less, but that's mostly for inaction. Maybe I just pissed them off so much the show was worth the disrespect. I don't know. But I do care, because now it's not my life on the line, not really.

"No, you did just as you meant to do. There's no use apologising, Chance, what's done is done." We wander away from the crowds, him guiding me towards an empty track. "The only thing that matters is how we play it now."

He's not naïve, thank god. While I'd rather my siblings not know the shit I'm in, Axel's known two things since I told him I was volunteering. One, I was going to get myself in deep shit if I didn't die. Two, he couldn't stop me because I thought I wasn't going to make it anyway.

"They… they haven't threatened you yet. Just Luck and the others."

"They will." He looks towards the tracks. "But I'd rather get out of the line of fire before they do."

"I wish I could come with you." They kept the tracker on me as an extra precaution. Something about not trusting the wiles of someone who was so suddenly doing as he was told. That's on me. "When…"

"As soon as possible. As soon as necessary. I don't want them to use the kids against you. Or me. This is the first Games fuck up since the takeover, Chance, I can't take it lightly. I know how to disappear. You've just gotta make sure we're alive to do that. Keep anyone else out of it."

How he plans to disappear with three siblings of a Victor, I don't know, and I shouldn't do. They can't get information out of me that way.

"Will I ever see you again? After?" My question sounds pathetic, and it is, but it's too important to pretend. His face is contemplative, pained, a mix of I don't know what thrown in.

"I hope so. I'd rather die than lose you forever. If I could, I'd stay, but I know how you are. The minute they got a hold on me you'd be finished. Because as much as you pretend…" He puts one hand on my chest and one on my cheek. "I know that your heart beats for others, and not for yourself."

---

Official Caishen Residence, Victor's Village

00:00, July 10th, HG 101

---

The day they escape there is an uproar, gunshots from Peacekeepers in the streets. Axel must've bundled my siblings, half-asleep, to the night-time train. An unauthorised hovercraft flew over and was shot down, a diversion that woke the whole District, but I was only watching the tracks behind the village. Slowly, quietly, the steamer rattled past, and from window to window, I waved at my people.

They're safer this way. In a way, so am I.

The phone rings. I know who it is.

"Mister President!" The smile in my voice is evident. "To what do I owe this honour?"

"Don't act cute-"

"Aw, you think I'm cute-"

"Don't be dense Caishen. I want you on the next train, it's being sent now. My office, one pm tomorrow. If you're late, you're dead."

He's a shit bluffer, President Lustrum. He needs me alive.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

The line goes dead, and I begin packing my things. I can't say no. But all the while, I grin. Because this is a new journey of its own, and they can't dangle anything over me but my own life. And after facing death like that, I'm not scared anymore.

Do your worst, I'm playing this game my way too.

---

AN: I be doing a white rabbit cosplay with my lateness. Anyway! Hi Void 3 This one's for you. Chance was a delight to write and beat up. This year's VE was a standout, and being late to the party I want to apologise, and also thank the mods keeping the show running and also giving me grace through the back-half of the final week that left me wifiless.

Anyway! Chance Caishen was provided courtesy of the lovely TheWatcherOfTheVoid here on (and also you cannot believe how annoyed I was when she were active in the Ve channel and I couldn't talk about this little fucker 3). Check out her own VE stuff. Do it. Or be drowned in poker chips.

This is also. Very unbetad. It will be continuously edited when I see this in the site format and see a billion typos.

Will I be back any time soon? Maybe! Either way, have a nice day/night from your fantabulously late goose friend.