Mercury Harrigan, 16

District 7 Male

No one knows who he is. Nobody knows his name. No one looks at him like he's a dangerous piece of glass that could shatter at moment. No one recognizes his face.

And oh god it feels so good.

It's liberating. He feels like a new person. He feels like he can be Mercury Harrigan again, not just some silent shell of a human being. It's like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders and he can walk like a free man now. Because he is free man! Sure, he's being held against his will and about to go into a televised fight to the death, but it's figurative! He's alive again. He's a human being again, and he never wants this to end.

But…there's a voice in his head that tells not only can he never win the Hunger Games, but even if by some statistically improbable chance that he does win, he's not really going to be the Victor. He's always be the one from the Harrigan abuse scandal, who also happens to have won the Hunger Games. These kinds of things aren't forgotten easily. Heck, it's been years since the story came out, and people still stare at him on the street!

Not even his little district partner, Eris, knows who he is. After all, she would have been eleven when the story came out—hardly old enough to be paying attention to big abuse scandals. And something tells him that Eris has more on her mind than other kids being abused.

He had even considered asking her to ally—he's always had a soft spot for little kids, and Eris is no different—until Larken pulled him aside last night and begged him not to ally with her. He claimed it had begun to be some sort of taboo with their tributes—things never worked out for the 7s if they allied.

Mercury would argue that things worked out for Macy Barker—not so much for Shallow—but whatever. So he now has to avoid allying with Eris, but would it really have hurt to ask? Who knows if she'd even say yes?

It's kind of hard to even look at Eris with the thought of what Larken said last night hanging limp in the air. He's always liked kids. In years of past, whenever a twelve-year-old would get Reaped, he would always feel awful about it. Don't even get him started on the Quell.

He wanted to ally with her. But he's never been very good at disobeying orders, especially not direct ones from the man who is supposed to keeping him alive.

Eris doesn't even know the conversation happened, but surely she can sense a change in Mercury's demeanor toward her. She seems like a smart girl. Which makes his current position slightly awkward, as he and Eris are crammed together in an elevator with the pairs from 11, 3 and the boy from 5. The only good part of this arrangement is that there aren't any Careers in the elevator and that they're all far too uncomfortable to talk.

Except for the boys from 5 and 3, who seem to be deep in conversation even though he's pretty sure they met mere moments ago. But, he supposes, each to their own. He just doesn't know how to form relationships so quickly. His trust isn't an easy thing to get.

But he swears Sterne keeps glancing at him. He's probably looking at Ashe though.

With a cheerful ding, the elevator doors open onto the Training Floor. Mercury files out with the rest of the elevator's inhabitants, thinking of trying the water purification station first when he feels someone tug on his sleeve.

Mercury whirls around and finds himself face-to-face with the boys from 3 and 5. He nervously gives them a half-hearted wave, his eyes darting from Sterne's face to Darwin's.

"Hey," Darwin says. "So, Sterne and I decided to ally and we were wondering if you'd like to join us? We considered asking Quinn but he kind of seems like the loner type and you're also short, like us. So, what do you say?"

For a moment, Mercury doesn't say anything, almost expecting Sterne and Darwin to laugh in his face and say "why would we ever want you as our ally? Ha, gullible idiot."

But they don't. They just continue staring at him expectantly.

Mercury slowly nods, dropping his head against his chest. "Okay." His voice is nearly inaudible, which strikes him as a stark contrast from the way Darwin talks—confident, loud. So many words. He misses those.

"Great!" Sterne exclaims, his cheerfulness seeming rather forced. "What should we work on first?"

Mercury shrugs, content to follow his new allies wherever they feel like going. Calling them his allies doesn't feel right. But they are his allies. Maybe it's just that he has a hard time fathoming that anyone would choose him as an ally over, say, Quinn. Mercury gets the feeling that that was who Darwin and Sterne really wanted, but once they decided that Quinn would probably turn them down, so they went to the next best option.

Somehow, that next best option is him.

After a few minutes of careful consideration, Darwin proposes that they head to the plant identification station, since the trainer looks nice and he doesn't know a lot about plants and blah, blah, blah. Mercury doesn't really pick up on most of what Darwin says; all he knows is that they're going to identify plants.

"Do you know a lot about plants, Mercury?" Darwin says.

Mercury startles. "Um. No—not really."

"Okay," Darwin says, raising his eyebrows at Mercury. "I've read about edible plants but I've never encountered most of them. There isn't a lot of vegetation in District 3, you know? It's all gray and dreary and urban."

Mercury nods, unsure of how to answer. He never knows how to answer anymore.

Darwin starts talking to Sterne and the trainer, leaving Mercury standing on the periphery, wondering if he's even supposed to be here. Do Sterne and Darwin really want him as their ally? Or are they just bidding their time until they buck up the courage to ask Quinn and oust him? They certainly don't want him because he's strong, or that he looks like a threat they want to take out. He's just Mercury, but now he's not sure if that is enough.

Tamarah "Tam" Colt, 16

District 10 Female

"There must be more," Tam mumbles as she blindly gropes around behind the pipes in the kitchen sink. "there must be more."

She continues to feverishly dig through cabinet after cabinet, her hands trembling and her head pounding. "There must be more." Her breathing is heavy as she moves from cupboard to cupboard, tearing open drawers and dumping their contents on the ground. "There must be more."

The grating sound of utensils hitting the ground, scraping and screeching, makes her want to scream, but the overwhelming need for more overrides that. "There must be more."

Her head hurts. She wants to go home. She misses home. Home is where the alcohol is.

She never knew she was this dependent on her liquor. It was a hobby, a way to pass time…she never knew how hard it was to survive without it. She just liked the feeling, that's all…this was never supposed to happen. She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be here, frantically searching through the entire District 10 apartment just to satisfy the insatiable need for more. "There must be more."

But there isn't more. There isn't any. There's nothing, absolutely no alcohol.

Tam doesn't know how to survive without it. It's been so long since she was really sober—she always did her best to be at least a tiny bit buzzed at all times—and now…she's stone cold sober, with no preparation, no slow and gentle weaning.

Just nothing. Absolutely zip. Zero. Nada.

What is she without her alcohol?

What is she at all?

"There must be more," Tam mumbles again as she leans hard against the wall, slowly sliding toward the floor. "There must be more…"

"What in Panem are you doing?!" the voice is harsh and unforgiving, hardly the kind of thing Tam would like to hear right now.

"Making excellent life choices," Tam murmurs, covering her eyes with her arm. It's probably Rhett, her mind reasons. Surely Celinda wouldn't care…

Celinda!

Celinda must have something, right? She must have some kind of alcohol; beer, wine, hard liquor, whatever! She must have something! Something that can calm this…this…this need for her vices.

"You're supposed be at training!"

So it's not Rhett, Tam muses, keeping her arm in front of her eyes.

"Of course I'm not Rhett! Who do you think I am?"

Tam finally removes her arm from her face and finds her escort, who absolutely has a name but Tam has no idea what it is, staring down at her. "Oh. Hi."

"Why in Panem have you made such a mess? Come on, girl, get up!" he barks, pacing toward the chaotic kitchen, with its overturned drawers and emptied cabinets. "Honestly…I thought I left the druggies behind when I was moved out of 6."

"I'm not high," Tam mumbles, cautiously getting to her feet. The world sways nausea as she stumbles toward the couch and flops onto the cushions. Obviously, she's not drunk either, which would be preferable…but if her escort is offering…? She's not adverse to doing some drugs, as long as it shuts down her emotions for a while.

"Awful district scum," the escort mutters before turning to an Avox stationed at the wall and demanding they clean up this "horrendous mess" that was made by "a disgusting district trash bag".

Tam finds herself wondering how exactly this man has kept his job.

"Now go to training, girl!" the escort finishes, waving his arms madly.

Tam squints at him. "And if I say no?"

"Then I'll drag you there by the ear," he says, seeming completely and totally serious. "Why don't you do me a big favor and win this so that I can get promoted out this meat-packing hellhole?"

Tam glares at him, weighing her options, before she decides that she'd rather not cause a huge scene by having her escort scream at her the whole way down to the Training Floor. She angrily jams a finger at the button on the elevator panel, glaring at her escort the whole way.

After a moment of slightly awkward glaring, she steps into the elevators and punches the button for the Training Floor.

After a few moments of jazzy elevator music, the doors open on District 5's floor to reveal the girl from said power district. "Oh. Hello," she says, likely for formality's sake alone as she steps into the elevator. "I was just speaking with my mentor."

Tam looks at her oddly, having little care for 5's explanation. "Okay."

"10, right?"

"Yes," Tam says, wondering why 5 is so interested in conversation. From what she's seen of the girl so far, she doesn't exactly seem like the type to make friends.

The elevator shudders to a stop at District 2's floor, but the doors don't open. Both Tam and 5 stare at them for a minute before Tam says, "They're supposed to open."

"They are," 5 agrees. "Whatever. I'm sure they'll open any second."

The doors, however, do not seem to agree with that statement, as they remain resolutely closed.

Tam starts working her jaw as she leans against the glass walls of the elevator. At least the view is nice.

"How ironic would it be if they never get us out and we starve to death in an elevator instead of dying in the Hunger Games?" 5 asks, laughing. "I'm Liesel, by the way."

"Tam."

"Quick question," Liesel says. "First off all, do you have any good ideas of a place to hide keys?"

"Uh…no?" Tam says, looking at Liesel like she's gone insane. "Why?"

"Because I stole these keys from my dad and I'd like a place to hide them." Liesel brandishes a ring of shiny keys.

"Why?"

"Something to remember me by," Liesel says off-handedly.

Tam swallows. "Here. Give them to me. I'll hide them in 10's apartment."

"Great!" Liesel says, handing Tam the keys. "Do you like girls?"

"What kind of question is that?" Tam exclaims. It's not that she doesn't like girls. Of course she likes girls! Who wouldn't like girls?

"A legitimate one." Liesel shrugs. "So, I have an ex, right? She cheated on me a few months ago, and I'd really like to rub this in her face. "See, Noor! I can find love in the middle of a death match! I don't need you, bitch." See what I'm getting at?"

Tam grins mischievously. "I one-hundred-percent do."

"So…you wanna be allies, then?" Liesel asks.

"Absolutely."

Tam can always get behind quests for revenge. She opens her mouth to say something else, but before she can, the elevator springs back to life and brings them to the Training Floor.

Lana Meadows, 14

District 3 Female

Lana has been…well, not "watching", per say, but more "observing" Ashe and Ainsley all morning, and has finally bucked up the courage to ask to join their alliance. She knows that in most Hunger Games alliances, you have to be invited in. You can't just invite yourself. But after watching them pick up Eris, Lana feels obligated to give it a shot.

"Hi!" she says cheerfully as she approaches them. "I'm Lana. District 3."

"Ashe, Ainsley and Eris," Ashe answers, seemingly sizing her up. "Do you need something or…?"

"I was actually wondering if I could join your alliance," Lana says, trying to seem calm and collected. She's not calm. She's not collected. But Ashe doesn't need to know that.

Ashe glances at both Ainsley and Eris before she says, "Sure. Okay."

Lana breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah, we're great and everything," Ainsley says impatiently. "So do we want Lyndie or not? 'Cause if we've got Lana in…"

"We need all hands on deck," answers Ashe, her hands on her hips. "Lana, Eris, will you offer Lyndie a place in our alliance?"

"Sure," Eris says. She grabs Lana's wrist and pulls her across the Training Floor to where Lyndie is being taught to make snares. "Hi, Lyndie!" Eris marches right up to her, earning the pair a glare from the trainer who was teaching Lyndie up until she was so rudely interrupted.

"Hi," Lyndie says uncertainly, setting down her half-finished snare. "Do you want to use this station or something?"

"No," Lana says, cutting over Eris. "We're here to ask you to ally with us, Ainsley and Ashe."

Lyndie looks at them for a moment as if expecting them to yell "Haha! Psych!" and laugh in her face before she says, "Are you serious? Yes!"

"Great," Lana says. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to get this snare to work," Lyndie says, examining her snare sadly. "I don't think it's going to work, though. Can I come with you guys, wherever you're going?"

"Yeah, of course," Lana says. "Come on. Let's try the agility course. It's like a playground, right?" It's probably more interesting than the playground back home, since all there was at the school for the little kids was a single slide and some swings. And if Lana is going to be dead in a few days, she may as well have a bit of fun before she goes, right?

"Let's go," Lyndie agrees cheerfully, but Eris legs behind, seeming reluctant.

Lana stops and turns to her. "Eris? Are you okay?"

"Mm. Yeah," says Eris, raising her head. "I'm fine. I'm just not very good at climbing, that's all."

"…okay," Lana says uncertainly, giving Eris an odd look before she powers on to the agility course. They pass the girls from 6 and 12, as well as two of the Careers, and Lana can't say it doesn't make her uncomfortable. It's hard to look at her competition, knowing that any one of them could end her life in a matter of days. For all she knows, Lyndie or Eris could be the ones to kill her!

She doubts Lyndie has it in her, but Eris seems like a wildcard. While both of them seem determined, if either of them is going to kill her, it will be Eris.

She lets out a sigh and hopes that that never comes to pass.

"Who wants to go first?" Lana asks as she steps toward the monkey bars on the agility course.

Silence.

"Alright, I'll go first, then," says Lana, laughing. She puts a hand on the first bar and starts to pull herself across, all the while chorusing a lovely mantra through her head.

Don't look down don't look down don't look down don't look down don't look down—

She doesn't look down. She makes the whole way across, glad to have her feet on solid ground again. "Eris? Lyndie?"

"I'll go," Lyndie volunteers, stepping forward and pulling herself onto the bars.

Lana nods and goes onto to the obstacle; monkey bars, but the bars replaced with ropes. She takes a deep breath before she grabs the first rope, finding herself dangling by her hands since the rope is too short for her legs to grasp. She steels herself and grabs for the next rope, then the next, and the next and the next and the next.

Her feet reach solid ground once, and she looks back to see Lyndie still on the monkey bars, about halfway across.

Lana swallows before turning to the next obstacle and—

THUNK!

She whirls around and sees that Lyndie is no longer on the monkey bars. She's nowhere to be found. "Eris!" Lana exclaims. "Where's Lyndie?!" She runs over to the ladder on the side of the platform and quickly descends it, her feet pounding the ground as she rushes toward the mats beneath the monkey bars. "Lyndie? Lyndie!"

Lyndie is lying on the mat, cradling her left arm to her chest. "It hurts. My arm, it hurts."

Lana looks up to Eris, who is still standing on the first platform and looking at them. "Eris, go get one of the medics."

She watches as Eris dashes off, and then she notices the boy from 1 and the girl from 4 laughing at Lyndie. "Hey!" she yells, stalking up to them. "The hell are you laughing at?"

"Incompetence," Shad answers simply, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, really?" Lana cries angrily. "And how is falling off the agility course "incompetent"?"

"You're wasting your time, sweetheart," Shad says, leaning closer to Lana's face. "It's not like any of you are going to win, broken bones or not." Both he and Ottilie start to laugh, despite the fact that Shad's is much more raucous than Ottilie's.

Lana spots Ashe and Ainsley coming over as the medics tend to Lyndie's arm. Her glare deepens and she turns back to Shad. "What makes you so much better than Lyndie?"

Shad balls his fists at his sides. "I'll have you know that I've spent my entire life training for this moment!"

"Uh-huh, and when was the last time a trained Career from 1 won the Games?" Lana snarks, crossing her arms across her chest. "What was it, Alexandrite Hildebrand, over a decade ago? What makes you think training puts you so much further ahead?"

Shad raises one of his fists, a vein in his neck dancing spastically. "You'd better watch who you're messing with, bitch—"

"Okay, Lana, time to go!" Ashe says suddenly, grabbing Lana's sleeves and pulling her away from Shad. "Let's not get punched today. There will be plenty of time for fistfights in the arena."

Lana throws her off. "Ashe, please stay out of this." She turns back to Shad. "Why don't you get off your high horse and realize that you're not the only human being in the world?"

With that, she stalks off, followed by Ashe and Ainsley, watching the medics carefully examining Lyndie's arm. She feels awful for Lyndie; injuries of any kind can be the thing that causes you to die.

But another, tiny part of her, the part that will do whatever it takes to win, says better her than me.

Calista Abbey, 18

District 1 Female

It has becoming extremely apparent to Calista that the Career pack is one-hundred-percent fucked.

Shad hates her.

She hates Shad.

Scoria hates Wonder.

Wonder is…well, Wonder.

Ottilie hates Bayou.

And, well, who knows what Bayou is thinking?

So, yeah. Pretty much one-hundred-percent fucked.

Just once, Calista thinks as she follows Ottilie and Shad into the cafeteria. Can the Careers have a normal year?

It seems as if the world is conspiring against (normal) Career Victories, at least as of late. Year after year after year the Careers are an extremely volatile mess of teenage hormones and knives, and it's leaving Calista wondering if there is even going to be a Career pack this year—she talked to Ottilie, Scoria and Bayou earlier, and at least they all agreed to be begrudging allies, but Shad is another thing entirely. It's not that Calista wants to work with Shad, but there is strength in numbers. The only thing that worries her about it is that Shad will turn on them.

She has to hope there is enough honor in that stupid, tiny, tiny brain of his for him to decide that killing her in her sleep isn't a good course of action. She knows how he works. He wants to be adored if he returns to District 1. He should know that no Victor who betrays their allies like that ever becomes revered.

It's never made sense to Calista. For all of her life, honor has never applied, and the last place she feels she should learn to uphold it is in the Hunger Games.

"The roll, please," Calista says, pointing as she shifts her hold on her lunch tray.

She turns around, looking for wherever the Careers are camped out at. Her eyes catch on the alliance of little girls, which she has a much higher respect for after watching the girl from 3 seriously tell off Shad.

Calista has never been the gloating type, but damn does she want to rub it into Shad's face. He got told off by a fourteen-year-old girl, and it's clearly bothering him. Maybe it's because he's finally realizing that he isn't an immortal god who is adored by all as well as feared by all. Maybe reality has finally come knocking at his door, and he'll become at least slightly tolerable.

However, Calista won't get her hopes up.

She's known Shad since day one, and he hasn't changed a bit. It's a little bit late in the game to do so now.

With a heavy thunk, Calista sits down at the table that Ottilie has claimed. She sighs as she sets down her tray and picks up her fork, but she doesn't start eating.

Bayou sits down next to her as Scoria joins them on the opposite side of the table, but Calista notices that Shad is noticeably absent. "Where's Shad?" she asks, looking around the cafeteria, wondering if Shad is still getting food.

After a moment, she spots him sitting alone near the wall. "The hell is he doing?" Ottilie demands, angrily dropping her fork. "Abandoning us? We're already down one; we can't afford to lose Shad as well." She lowers her voice and meets Calista's eyes. "And, Shad's got strength to him."

Calista wrinkles her nose. "I'll sleep better at night knowing he's not a part of our alliance."

Ottilie shrugs and opens her mouth to say something, but is interrupted by Bayou. "Maybe we should try ta get some outliers?"

"Absolutely not," Ottilie says firmly. "We'll find a way to get Shad back."

"How do you expect us to do that?" Scoria growls. "He abandoned us. Simple as that. He's not going to come crawling back to us."

Ottilie huffs, aggressively stabbing her fork straight through her bread. "Whatever." She rounds on Bayou. "And, we're not going to stoop so low as to take in outliers. Besides, none of them are worth it."

"What about the guy from 11?" Calista offers, her eyes dancing toward said guy from 11. "Didn't he volunteer?"

"Yeah, he looks strong," adds Bayou quietly.

"We're not taking in any outliers!" Ottilie cries, slamming her fists on the table.

"Who died and made you our leader?" says Scoria annoyedly.

"I'm simply the best for the job," Ottilie says, crossing her arms.

"And who decided that? You?" Calista says. "You don't just get to appoint yourself the leader of the Career Pack. We're supposed to decide someone who will actually do a good job at it."

"And I will!" Ottilie says indignantly. She looks from Scoria to Bayou to Calista, as if searching for someone supporting her. After a moment, her scowl deepens and she powers to her feet, weaving through the tables of tributes before she disappears out the doors. Calista watches her go, her gaze wandering through her competition. She notices the girl from 8 cradling her arm, which is now held in a bright green cast. For a moment, her heart pangs with sympathy before it reminds her of where she is. This is the Hunger Games. She's a Career, trained for this moment, and there's no room for sympathy.

"So…" Bayou says, tapping his hands nervously on the table. "Anyone wanna ask the boy from 11?"

Scoria raises her eyebrows at him. "No."

"So we're a trio?" Bayou asks uncertainly, his eyes jumping back and forth from Scoria to Calista. He continues to drum his fingers on the tabletop, seeming too nervous to sit still.

Scoria bites her lips, looking toward the doors where Ottilie disappeared into. "She'll be back. She's not stupid. She's just prideful."

"How do you know so much about her?" Calista asks, but she never gets an answer. A bell rings from somewhere in the ceiling, signaling that lunch is over. Calista sighs, realizing that she never even ate anything as she gets up and dumps her tray.

On her way back to the cafeteria, she finds herself beside Shad. She glares and turns toward him, shoving an arm against his chest and pressing him against the wall. "What the actual hell was that?"

Shad exhales sharply through his nose and shoves Calista away. "I don't see a reason for any of us to be friends, so I sat alone."

"In case you haven't noticed, none of us are friends," Calista snarls. "Hell, Ottilie walked out on us because we refused to let her be the leader."

"Well, that sounds like a personal problem," Shad says.

"It concerns you too," Calista says darkly. "You're part of the pack as well, aren't you? It doesn't matter where you sat at lunch. And if we're down two people, we're sitting ducks."

"Well—"

"I'm not done. So how about you do all of us a favor and just agree to cooperate? We'll all live longer if we play nice for a while." Calista crosses her arms and takes a step back, waiting for Shad's reaction.

"Whatever." Shad shoves Calista away and stalks down the hallway, looking remarkably similar to an unhappy and extremely tall toddler.

"Coward," Calista mutters as she follows him back in the Training Center. Yeah, the Careers are royally fucked, and Calista has never been a very good mediator.

Larch Tyre, 18

District 6 Male

He's decided to call it the touch of death.

It seems to follow him everywhere, taking everyone he loves, and now it's come for him as well. It's not that he's ever really feared death, despite the fact that no one around him can ever escape it, but it's become a very real possibility. He isn't sure how to feel about it. How is he supposed to feel about it? Afraid? Nervous? Confident?

He doesn't feel any of that. The touch of death has come for him, but he isn't afraid of it. He isn't nervous about what's beyond death. He isn't confident in his chances. Death has come for him, it's so close, but he finds himself nearly incapable of caring. Everybody else has died, so what's the difference if he joins them? Mom, Dad, Sage, Sorrel. Dead. He'll just be the last round of Tyre corpses to be delivered to the graveyard. There won't even be anyone around to mourn him.

Larch knows that he's supposed to feel something. Even if it isn't because he might die, but because there will be no one left to mourn for him, but he doesn't.

He doesn't feel anything.

He doesn't feel anything.

He doesn't feel anything.

He's sure he's supposed to feel something.

Everybody else feels something. They feel afraid. They feel nervous. They feel confident. They feel something further than indifference toward their impending, likely-gory demises.

Larch, apparently, is not one of them. He doesn't feel anything about the Games. Well, that's not exactly true. The Games are an abomination, a sadistic farce of a punishment that has lasted far too long, but he doesn't feel anything about being a part of the Games. He'll die, just like everybody else in his family.

"Would you like a sparring partner?" the swords trainer asks, tapping Larch on the shoulder. He startles, realizing how long he's been standing here cradling a gladius in his hands.

He silently shakes his head and returns the sword to its' rack. Weapons don't feel right in his hands anyway.

Larch starts towards the agility course, seeing the ropes as a good place to sit and observe. That's one thing that Larch has always been good at; he's good at watching. Interaction has never really worked for him, and observation has just always made more sense. He can sit and watch all the live long day and never have to worry about people.

It takes him a few minutes to scale the ropes course, but once he reaches the top, he relaxes against the wall, satisfied. It's like an observation deck. Perfect for watching and waiting.

He tiredly follows the movements of the group of little girls, watching them go from one station to another, wondering if any of those girls could ever put up a fight. His eyes catch on the bright green cast adorning the girl from 8's arm. He crinkles his eyes slightly at the sight, his mouth twisting into a frown. It's not that he saw a lot of potential in the little girl before, but now…she'll be lucky to make it out of the first ten minutes. Broken bones are no laughing matter, especially not in the Hunger Games.

Larch pulls his legs toward his chest, his gaze jumping to the Careers. The pair from 1 are apparently arguing about something or another—he's noticed they seem to do a lot of that—and the girl from 2 seems to be resolutely ignoring the world. He can't say he blames her, since her entire alliance seems like they hate each other.

It doesn't seem like a very good year for anyone. Not just in the fact that they're here, about to go into the Hunger Games, but hardly anybody is even pretending to get along. It just makes Larch even more content with his decision to stay wary and avoid inter-tribute interaction as much as physically possible.

The next object of his attention turns out to be the trio of boys—who are all eerily similar heights—from 3, 5 and 7. The boy from 5 is trying to figure out how to hold a spear correctly, despite the fact that it looks like he can hardly lift it, while the boy from 3 is trying (and clearly failing) to get the boy from 7 to engage in conversation.

Eventually his gaze wanders to his district partner, making her way to the bathroom. The girl from 12 is watching her go.

See, that's something Larch is having a hard time understanding. He's been watching those two all morning, been watching Jayce from the moment he met her. They're a pair of enigmas. He can tell that they know each other—he isn't sure how, but they definitely know each other—and that there is something not exactly…right with their relationship. It's something with the way Jayce has been carrying herself, the way the girl from 12 seems almost fanatically obsessed with Jayce. Just watching them makes Larch uncomfortable.

"Can you move?"

Larch looks up, surprised to find himself face-to-face with the boy from 11. "What?"

"You're kind of blocking the next part of the course," 11 says, raising one of his eyebrows.

"Oh." Larch starts to move. "My leg's asleep."

"Alright? And?"

"Whatever." Larch slides over to the edge of platform, letting his legs dangle over. The ropes course sits extremely high off the ground. Like, high enough that if one of them fell off, they could potentially break their neck.

It scares Larch more than he'd like to admit that the thought came to him of pushing the boy from 11 off. He's never really considered what it would feel like to take someone else's life. He's always been the survivor, not really the victim, but he's never been on the killing end of things. He saw the light leave Sorrel's eyes, yeah, but he'd seen it coming. There was nothing that could have been done for Sorrel at the time.

Larch watches 11 start on the next piece of the ropes course, wondering if, perhaps, he could be looking at a Victor. Any one of the tributes he has watched today could be a Victor. Larch would like to think that he, too, could be a Victor…but he has never been one for optimism.

Navarro Lune, 12

District 8 Male

This may be one of the best days of Navarro's life.

And he has had some pretty goddamn fantastic days.

Because murder. Is. Fucking. Legal. In. The. Hunger. Games.

Navarro has a hit-list with twenty-three names on it, and there will be absolutely no discrimination in how he crosses off those names. He can kill as many tributes as he wants with no legal opposition—not that there's been a lot in the past—in any way he wants, for however long he wants, and he gets rich once it's done.

What's not to love?

Well, there's that tiny part of him that says you might die?

But Navarro has never once in his life feared dying. He's killed people before. He's caused people so much torment and has always gotten off scot-free. What's to stop it from happening again? He always gets off. It will always turn out fine. That's just how it works.

It's also insanely fun to stalk around the Training Floor with a couple of knives, examining his prey. He's carefully making mental choices—who does he target first? Who might pose a threat? Who might put up a fight? Who would make a fun kill? Who does he want to get rid of? Who would be easiest to kill?

He's still laughing and grinning like a maniac after watching his pitiful little district partner break her arm. How could she be any more incompetent?

Well, he's also come to the conclusion that she couldn't be any more incompetent. He's torn on whether or not he wants her to be his first kill. On one hand, she'd be exceedingly easy to do away with. Hell, he could do it right now if he wanted to. She's vulnerable, she clearly doesn't know how to put up a fight, broken arm or not.

However, on the other, it wouldn't make a statement. Sure, killing your own district partner, who happens to also be twelve-years-old would definitely say something, but not the right thing. It would prove him as a maniac, not as a formidable adversary. That's not what he wants. He wants to be feared, but only for the right reasons.

Which is why someone like, say, the boy from 3 would make a good statement. He could go for the boy from 3, maybe grab one or both of 3's allies, then get one of the little girls' alliance. If he's lucky, he may even get the chance to take out the girl from 4. She's young, and although she has some height on Navarro—sadly, most people do—he bets he could take her down, easy. He'll be the Victor of the One-Hundredth, Fifty-Third Annual Hunger Games in no time.

He stalks over to the knife-throwing station and starts lobbing the various daggers he's carried around all day at the targets. It's getting to the late afternoon, time bleeding into the evening, which means he only has a little bit of time left today. He likes to think that he's done a good job of intimidating people, since, despite his small stature, he is not someone to be messed with. You just don't mess with Navarro Lune. It will likely be the last thing you ever do.

The knives smack into the target, one after another, over and over again. He doesn't hit a lot of bullseyes, but when you're throwing a weapon at someone, you don't need to have amazing accuracy. The knives never miss the target, and therefore, if it was a human being, he would have hit some part of them.

Navarro has been in enough fits to know that being stabbed in any body part will cause someone to pause. That shit hurts. Navarro hasn't been stabbed many times, but he has enough scars to know how it feels. And any moment of hesitation can be used against someone in a fight—so, basically, you stab them in the shoulder, the arm, the stomach, the dick, wherever, you're probably going to win. After all, Navarro has yet to lose a fight yet. If he had, he likely wouldn't be here right now.

"Would you like some help with your accuracy?"

Navarro whirls around, startled, and presses one of his knives to the neck of whoever just spoke to him.

The trainer stumbles back, her face draining of color. "Put down the knife, please!"

"What the fuck do you want?" Navarro growls, picking up another knife from the ground. He's not adverse to slaughtering this woman right now. After all, Capitolites aren't real people, and murdering fake people isn't a crime.

"I was—I was going to offer you help!" the woman splutters, still terrified. He notices that she's shaking from head-to-toe. He turns up his nose at her terror, at her incompetence, at her lack of readiness to face death. He's been facing death his entire life, and he's more than prepared for that kind of outcome! Not that it will ever come, obviously. He's going to win even if it's the last thing he does.

"I don't need help!" Navarro shouts, his eyes narrow. "Why in Panem would I ever want help from someone? Tell me! Why would I?"

"I don't—I don't know—"

Suddenly Navarro feels arms hook under his shoulders. "What? Fuck!" he shouts, failing wildly as the Peacekeeper drags him away from the pathetic "trainer". "Let go of me! LET GO OF ME!" He hates having people touch him, no matter what part it is. "LET ME GO, YOU SICK FUCK!"

He tightens his grip on the knife and digs it into the Peacekeeper's side. "Oh! Shit!" the Peacekeeper shouts, dropping Navarro in his hurry to get the dagger out of his skin.

Case in point, Navarro thinks as he dashes across the Training Floor and toward the elevator. Peacekeepers aren't real people either—if they were real people, they'd know to fear Navarro. They'd know that you don't mess with Navarro Lune, since it's always the last thing you'll ever do.

Navarro slams his elbow against the up button. The elevator arrives a moment later, and Navarro leaps inside, slapping his hand against the floor eight button.

As the doors close, another Peacekeeper arrives, trying to grab Navarro and probably prosecute him or something, but the doors close before he can. Navarro grins and drops his other knife, noticing that he got some of the Peacekeeper's blood on his jacket. He carefully takes it off and examines the little vermillion stains.

He's always liked the sight of blood, especially if it's blood he made someone bleed.

And, boy, oh boy, is he going to make more people bleed. Maybe he'll start with his pathetic, incompetent little district partner. Or perhaps he'll snatch the life right out of the lungs of the girl from 2. Who knows?

The only thing Navarro knows is that he will be the one coming out on top.

A/N: I'm sad because I'm listening to the whole Dear Evan Hansen soundtrack (previously I'd only heard like three songs) so I'm sad now. I already said that. Whatever. I'm happy though because I also listened to Be More Chill and that musical is like a fever dream.

1. Favorite alliance formed in this chapter?

2. Least favorite alliance?

3. Are the Careers completely screwed (again)?

4. Is Lyndie screwed as well?

Random Question of the Chapter: I have a golden retriever that shares a name with one of our tributes. I'd tell you the dog's gender but I don't think anybody would get it right if I did. So, whoever guesses it first gets my respect.

ALLIANCES:

We're Actually Extremely Volatile This Year: Calista (D1F), Shad (D1M), Scoria (D2F), Bayou (D4M), Ottilie (D4F)?

Flower Power: Lana (D3F), Eris (D7F), Lyndie (D8F), Ainsley (D9F), Ashe (D11F)

Sad Lesbians: Jayce (D6F), Ishtar (D12F)

Disaster Lesbians: Liesel (D5F), Tam (D10F)

5'6 Gang: Darwin (D3M), Sterne (D5M), Mercury (D7M)

Also, there is a new poll on my profile.

-Amanda