TW: Suicide

Bayou Hacksom, 18

District 4 Male

Bayou isn't sure how he's going to survive another full day of this.

Shad is, to put it simply, insufferable.

You would think that in the Hunger Games, Shad would understand the need to be quiet. But no. Oh, no, Shad will not shut up.

All night, as the pair wandered through arena, Shad was talking—no, bitching about Panem-knows-what. How much he hates Calista. How much better he is than the other Careers. How he should totally be the leader. How Bayou is a completely useless asset and it would make sense to through him into the lake.

Bayou doesn't have the heart to tell him that he wouldn't even drown.

So here they are, trekking toward an extravagant-yet-run-down mansion in the small hours of the morning, Shad screeching his annoyances to the world.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Shad says, looking at Bayou who has continued to be a few steps ahead of him all night.

They already saw almost the entire area. They explored the tree house, checked out the shops, looked around the river boats, and investigated the tan mountain with the minecarts. Hell, they even checked the ship that Sterne jumped onto yesterday, and found both empty.

Leaving the only part still to be examined this mansion.

Bayou will admit: he intentionally put it off until daylight. What can he say? The place just exudes sketchy vibes.

The sign posted on the wrought iron gates reads, "The Haunted Mansion". Below that, it says "Wait Time: 0 Minutes".

"Come on," Bayou says, starting up the winding path to the mansion. He pauses after a moment and glances over his shoulder. "Shad."

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

The path is narrow but well-kept. It winds through the slightly-overgrown garden surrounding the mansion. It all seems fine until the pair pass by a row of graves, some more readable than others.

The most obvious one reads, "Master Gracey, laid to rest. No mourning please, at his request".

"Master Gracey?" Bayou reads aloud. "Who's that?"

"Who cares?" Shad says impatiently. "Let's just check the house and get back to looking for tributes."

They continue up the path until they reach the porch, where the wide-open doors funnel them inside.

And the strangest thing happens: the doors slam shut behind them. It leaves them standing in small room with a chandelier hanging over their heads. Bayou approaches one of the double doors on the walls and tries to pry it open, but it doesn't budge.

A garbled voice begins to speak to them, making both boys jump in surprise. Bayou listens intently, but it is far too garbled to be understood.

Suddenly, the doors on the wall furthest from where they came in open wide.

"Enter, if you dare," says the voice.

Bayou looks around uncertainly and steps into the room. He glances over his shoulder. "Shad? Come on."

"I'm not going in there," Shad says firmly. "It could be dangerous."

"You didn't seem ta have a problem with the graves outside, so get in here," Bayou answers, crossing his arms. He glances around the room; the ceiling is fairly high, and the walls are decorated with various paintings of regal-looking men.

"Time to step all of the way in, please," says the voice in the ceiling, which prompts Shad to dash into the room beside Bayou. "Make room for everyone, and remember…there's no turning back."

"Wait!" Shad shouts, but the doors slide closed, trapping the pair inside.

Bayou take a deep breath and tries to stay calm. He's never really been one for enclosed spaces, especially not under these circumstances.

"Our tour begins here, in this gallery," the voice continues. "Here, you can see paintings of some of our guests…as they appeared in their lives."

Suddenly, the walls appear to get longer, as if the floor itself is sinking into the ground.

"Oh, no," Shad says urgently. "We're going down. Why are we going down?"

"Shush!" Bayou says. "I'm trying to figure out what he's saying."

"Now, ask yourself…is this haunted room actually stretching? Or is it your imagination?"

Bayou takes another deep breath.

"And now, I serve you this dismaying observation…this chamber has no windows, and no doors."

"Oh my God, he's right!" Shad says. "We have to find a way out of here. This is a trap!"

"Calm down," Bayou says, glaring at Shad. "I thought you was supposed to be tougher than this."

Shad huffs. "I am tougher than this! I just don't want to die to a haunted mansion, okay?"

"And this offers you a chilling challenge…to find a way out!" The voice then lets out a cackle, making both Bayou and Shad flinch in fear.

"Of course…" the voice continues slowly. "There's always my way."

Lightning arcs across the ceiling, revealing a body hanging by its neck from the rafters. It sways slightly, as if being blown upon by a small wind.

Both Bayou and Shad let out ear-splitting screams at the sight of it. "This is not how I'm supposed to die!" Shad yells. He rounds Bayou. "And you! If you get both of us killed with your—your—your silly haunted house trick, I'll kill you!"

"No, no, we're gonna be fine," Bayou says in a shaky voice. He chooses to ignore the redundancy of Shad's statement.

The room goes dark and silent. Bayou and Shad glance at each other before Bayou says, "What now?"

The lights snap back on, and a wall panel to their right slides open. They look at each other and sigh in relief as they carefully make their way into the hallway.

Painted faces stare at them as they creep down the carpeted corridors: their eyes follow them as they walk, and as Bayou watches, the paintings themselves morph into different figures. A woman who was previously smiling now screams in terror. A man on a house becomes a skeleton before their eyes.

"Let's hurry through this part," Bayou says, and Shad, for once, doesn't disagree.

At the end of the hallway stands some kind of loading zone. Black vehicles of some sort trundle by on a conveyor belt, appearing from a dark tunnel and then disappearing into a similar one.

The voice speaks to them again, this time warning them not to take flash photos, and to keep their hands, feet and objects in the Doombuggies at all times.

"What in the hell is a "Doombuggy?" Bayou asks as they approach the loading zone.

For a few long moments, the boys simply stand there, watching the Doombuggies go by, unsure of what to do next. Eventually, Shad shakes his head and says, "Get in."

"W-what?"

"You heard the dead man. Get in."

Bayou swallows thickly and climbs into the Doombuggy. He pats the empty space beside him, hoping that Shad will get in as well.

Shad rolls his eyes, but takes a seat anyway.

The voice, now coming from somewhere behind them, warns them that the spirits will not materialize unless they stay seated and watch their children.

"What kind of haunted house is this?" Bayou wonders aloud. When he was about seven, one of his neighbors put together a cheesy haunted house to scare all of the little kids. It was bad, and low budget, but at least it didn't feel like it was leading up to something.

The Doombuggy begins to move up a slope, and suddenly they are plunged into darkness.

They round a corner and are greeted by a skeleton wearing armor and holding a spear. He stands beside a seemingly-endless hallway, which Bayou can see his face in when they pass by. "That's not real," Bayou says quietly. "It's done with mirrors or somethin', right?"

Shad doesn't answer. After his freak out in the suicide room, he hasn't seemed very talkative. Bayou is certainly not complaining.

They travel backwards into the next room accompanied by the ominous sounds of slow piano music. Bayou looks over his shoulder, trying to get a view at where they are going in case he needs to jump at a moment's notice.

To his right sits a coffin, covered in overgrown plants. It is placed in front of a darkened window, and something inside seems to be trying to get out.

Suddenly, a knife flies through the air beside Bayou and slams into the gap between the coffin and the lid.

"What did ya do that fer?" Bayou exclaims.

"That thing could have been a mutt, Hacksom. Better safe than sorry."

The sound of someone screaming greets them as they pass through the hallway into the next area. On the same side as the coffin sits a heavy-looking locked door. Something appears to be beating on it from the inside, as if clawing to get out.

Bayou and Shad are frozen as they pass it, hoping that whatever inside can't get out.

More similar doors pass by on either side of the Doombuggy. Various voices and screams are heard from inside them, leading Bayou to hope that is not where they are going to end up.

A large grandfather clock appears to their right. The shadow of a hand seems to be continually passing over it, but when Bayou turns around, there is no one there.

A new voice greets them as the Doombuggy enters the next room. A woman, dressed in a long dress, stands at a table beside a seemingly-floating crystal ball.

Bayou hunches down in his seat, hoping that whenever she notices them, she attacks Shad first.

The woman does not attack, nor does she appear to notice them. They pass by unharmed, but Bayou does not sit up.

And then the voice is back, telling them that the Happy Haunts have heard their sympathetic vibrations, and are materializes to celebrate. The next room features this party: specters dressed in formal yet ripped clothes, dancing in circles through a dilapidated ballroom. Organ music accompanies their waltz.

They pass into what appears to be an attic, filled to the brim with useless junk and boxes of storage. Bayou looks at Shad, trying to gauge his reaction. After all, this room doesn't seem very haunted. He's starting to think maybe this isn't a trap after all, and simply some strange form of entertainment.

A picture of a woman wearing a wedding dress morphs into a skeleton as they pass by, which tells Bayou that they are not out of the woods yet. The rest of their journey may have been safe, but the end is still yet to come.

Bayou notices more piano music and the sound of a woman singing. As they pass the piano, he notes that a shadow appears to be playing it, not a real man.

The ghost of a woman wearing a wedding dress appears up ahead. She appears to be holding a hatchet, which makes Bayou duck down even more in his seat.

Suddenly, the woman lobs the hatchet at their Doombuggy. It seems to be headed squarely for Shad's head before he unexpectedly leaps to the sound and disappears into the darkness.

The Doombuggies stop moving, and voice behind him says, "Your tour will continue once we sort out some…technical difficulties.

Bayou leans over the side of the Doombuggy, hoping that Shad is simply laying on the floor. But he finds him nowhere to be found, and when he looks up, the ghost bride has disappeared as well.

"Oh my God," Bayou says quietly. "Shad? Shad?"

When Shad does not answer his calls, and does not reappear, he expects to hear the sound of cannon any second. But the room has gone eerily quiet; the piano music has ceased, and the singing woman has gone silent.

Bayou carefully steps out of the Doombuggy. He finds himself standing on some kind of track, which make it hard to regain his footing. "Shad?" he calls uncertainly, stepping onto the floor of the attic. "S-shad?"

The sound of someone screaming answers his calls: he whirls around to find the ghost bride hacking away at Shad's legs, holding a new hatchet in her hands. "SHAD!" Bayou shouts, rushing forward. He frantically takes out a spear and attempts to plunge it into the ghost's back, but it simply passes through her skin.

"Bayou," Shad says, face pale.

Bayou does the only thing he can think of: he grabs Shad by the shoulders and runs.

He wraps Shad's arm around his shoulder and drags him around the bend. They pass a man holding a hat box and enter a large, dark room. As Bayou runs down the incline into the room proper, he realizes that it is a graveyard.

With a quick glance over his shoulder, the sight of the ghost bride, bloody hatchet in hand chasing after them spurs Bayou to move faster.

He rushes by a man holding a lantern, standing beside an emaciated dog, and suddenly trips over a gravestone. Both him and Shad go flying: Shad lands behind a separate headstone a few feet away, and Bayou lays disoriented on the ground.

As he stumbles to his feet, his eyes catch on the words on the gravestone he tripped over.

Memento Mori.

It's a saying he has heard before; oddly enough, from the same neighbor that made the haunted house. That neighbor spoke some language he called "Latin", and would teach the Backwater kids some of the sayings. Marjorie had once dragged Bayou over to his house to ask him what "Memento Mori" meant, and man's answer was that it was too dark for children as young as they were.

Bayou staggers a few feet toward Shad, who appears to be knocked out cold. He spots the ghost bride searching through the graveyard for them, and makes a break for the exit.

He runs past a whole ghost band and several mausoleums without giving them much note. A hatchet goes flying past his head, embedding itself in the Doombuggy to his right. He rushes through a stone arch and down a long, straight hallway covered in mirrors.

The ghost bride is mere feet away from him now, almost close enough to touch him. "Come on, Shad! Wake up," Bayou pleads, racing past what he assumes is an unloading zone and up another conveyor belt.

The spectral hand of the ghost bride closes around the hood his sweatshirt as he bursts into the daylight. A hatchet swipes across his back, leaving a shallow cut in its wake, and the ghost is gone.

Ishtar Marmaduke, 18

District 12 Female

Ishtar thought she knew what pain felt like. The pain of watching Jayce leave. The pain of learning Jayce no longer loved her. The pain of anything that involved the girl that she…loves? Used to love? Ishtar simply doesn't know anymore.

But this.

This is a thousand times worse.

In the confusion of the Bloodbath, the desperate grab for supplies, for Jayce, for a place to go, she lost her.

She lost the only person who ever cared. The only person who ever made her feel special, feel noticed, feel important.

She lost her.

The sight of that heinous katana in Jayce's back, the blood that pooled on the ground around her, and the girl from 5 in the center of it all.

Ishtar can't stand the mere thought of Liesel Leenheer. The girl that destroyed Ishtar's only chance at love, at salvation, at mattering to someone for once in her life.

It makes Ishtar want to take everything that Liesel loves from her. What better place to start than Tamarah Colt?

She wants to make Liesel feel some sliver of the pain she feels now. The agony of knowing that Jayce is gone—that she isn't just in District 6, biding her time until they can be together again. No, that Jayce is really, truly dead, and there is nothing that Ishtar can do about it.

She wants Liesel to suffer like this. Killing Liesel is not enough; Liesel has to live with the pain before she dies.

Which is why Ishtar has been scouring the arena in search of them. She will sniff every inch of this Panem-forsaken place if she must; she will find Liesel, and she will make her pay.

She has been wandering around the areas called Adventureland and Frontierland all morning. It has given her a few pieces of knowledge:

One. Don't go in the mansion.

Two. Shad Marcum will be of no threat to anyone for quite some time.

Although, when the boys from 1 and 4 came through the area, she did hide. It wasted precious time, in which someone else could be killing Tamarah and Liesel, but what she supposed to do? Hold up a big sign that says, "Come Kill Me"?

Even then, all she had to do was crouch behind a bench until they left the mansion covered in blood and sweat.

She can still see the trail of vermillion that indicates that Bayou dragged Shad back to the Cornucopia. She steps gingerly over it as she makes her way over to the river boat boarding area. The sign calls it The Jungle Cruise, which doesn't make a lot of sense, since they are clearly not in a jungle. Although, Ishtar doesn't really know where they are.

A large tree with wooden pathways wrapping around looms ahead. It is the one place in this area she hasn't yet checked, save for the full route of the Jungle Cruise and the expanse of the temple behind the treehouse.

The sign above the entrance brands this place as "Tarzan's Treehouse". Ishtar doesn't know what a Tarzan is, or presumably who, but none of the place is enclosed, so she has confidence that they will not try to kill her.

In the distance, Ishtar can hear bongo music. She pauses before ascending the first staircase, trying to find the source of it. She can't imagine it's hostile, but better safe than sorry.

After a moment, she starts up the staircase, which quickly turns into a spiral-of-sorts around the first tree. At different vantage points, she can see other buildings in the area. Once she reaches the end of the staircases, she heads across a wooden bridge, which takes her to the treehouse proper.

Across the bridge is small, open-air house. Below her, she can see a miniature waterfall, and on the other end of the house hangs a bell. Beside the bell is a book that appears to be made entirely from plastic.

Ishtar reaches out and touches it; surely enough, the book is cold to the touch, and she can't turn the page.

With a look of confusion on her face, she turns to the right and heads up the next staircase.

The bongo music becomes louder, but now it is accompanied by a different sound: something almost like growling. It creates an uncomfortable sense of foreboding as Ishtar scales the stairs.

Ishtar rounds the bend and sees something that makes her stop clean in her tracks.

Up ahead, in an absolutely trashed covered outcropping, stands a large, spotted cat of some sort. Ishtar has never seen anything like it, but she doubts that it is friendly.

She takes a tentative step forward, glad to at least know where the growling was coming from.

Carefully, she removes a small knife from her pocket and creeps forward. The cat isn't looking at her; instead, it seems fascinated by some unseen point in the distance, and Ishtar would like to keep it that way.

Her foot lands on a floorboard that creaks loudly. The cat whips its head around, meeting its surprisingly expressive eyes with Ishtar's.

Without any warning, the cat springs forward, claws poised to kill.

Ishtar starts to madly swing her knife, feeling the creature's claws dig into her shoulder and pull. She cries out in pain, at last managing to stab the foul beast in the side.

The cat whimpers in pain and drops to the ground as Ishtar stabs it again and again. Eventually, it stops moving, but its claws have done their job.

Gritting her teeth, Ishtar lifts the corpse up to the railing and pushes it over. It lands a few moments later with sickening sort of squish, and Ishtar keeps going without looking down.

She takes a deep breath and glances skyward, hoping for some bandages or medicine or, like, a cotton ball. Anything to show that the Capitolites are watching and want to help.

When nothing drops from the sky, she continues forward, moving straight down another wooden bridge, taking careful steps. Whatever the cat was looking at might be a real thing—or a real tribute.

Below her, she notices a trail of blood drops leading in the direction she is heading. It only reinforces her idea that the cat was on watch.

At the end of the bridge is another plastic book sitting on an equally plastic barrel. Ishtar passes by it with little pause.

She goes down a set of stairs this time, and spots something curious. The corpse of a dead gorilla sits inside the thatched-roof hut. There is netting all over the floor, as well as puddles of blood.

Ishtar takes out her knife again and steps into the hut. It is dark inside, the only light coming from a strange sort of fire. She examines it closer and realizes that it isn't fire at all—it is simply red and orange light, in a flame grate. That's odd, she thinks.

And then she turns around and finds herself face-to-face with Afandina Hariri. However, it takes a moment to realize who he is, because his face is covered in blood and bruises.

"Hi," he says in a small voice.

Ishtar gapes at him. After a moment, she surveys his body, finding his right shirt sleeve is ripped clean off, and some sort of cloth has been tied around his shoulder which is slowly turning red. His left is black and his right is ringed with black and blue. His legs appear to be fine; both denim pant legs are still intact, and the only thing wrong with his shoes is that they're now partially red.

"Oh my God," Ishtar says quietly.

"Did you kill the cat?" Afandina asks after a moment. "It was prowling around outside and making it so I couldn't get out."

"Yeah," Ishtar says, still baffled by this situation. "It's dead."

"Oh. Good," Afandina says. "You don't happen to have any, like, extra cloth, do you? I need to change the bandages on my shoulder and I don't have anything left."

"No," Ishtar says, almost regrettably. "What happened to you?"

"Well…" Afandina says, followed by a short pause. "I was coming up to…set up camp, and ran into that jaguar-thing. I almost killed it, but it got me in the shoulder, and then the monkeys showed up…" He stares off into space for a moment.

"Wait, monkeys? Like, plural?" Ishtar asks, looking around as if she could miss the body of a whole-ass gorilla.

"Oh…the other one is down the path," Afandina says quietly. "Those things can pack a punch. I managed to get them both down, but as you can see…they, uh, did a number on me. But I'm still alive! I'm gonna be f-fine."

Ishtar looks at him dubiously. "For some reason, I don't believe that."

She makes to leave, but Afandina calls out to her, "Wait! Don't go. I don't want to die alone."

"I thought you said you'd be fine," Ishtar says, back still turned to him.

"I—er—I, uh," Afandina stammers before he seems to regain his words. "We can be allies. Once I'm all better, I'll have a lot more to bring to the table."

"Yeah, like what?"

"I—I can fight. I'm intelligent. I'm clever—I've never lost a game of cards before," Afandina brags, puffing out his chest.

Ishtar turns to him. She sighs and says, "I'm out for revenge. Liesel Leenheer killed the love of my life, and I want payback."

"I can help with that," Afandina says. "Besides, maybe our team-up will garner both of us some sponsors, eh?"

As if to accentuate his point, the sound of sonar begins to play, drowning out the bongo music, and Ishtar watches as a small parachute makes its way through the tree cover.

Ishtar pulls it down from the branch it stuck on and opens the top. Inside sit two fresh rolls of white bandages and a tiny vial of anti-infection medicine. After a short moment of consideration, Ishtar offers the medicine and one roll of bandages to Afandina. "…welcome to the team."

Eris Rowan, 13

District 7 Female

Eris is glad to be back on solid ground.

That rickety, old, crumbling track was great and all, but now that she and Lana have gone out looking for food, she feels a thousand times better. Not "safe", per se, but better.

You could make the argument that she is less safe now, roaming around the arena in broad daylight, but Eris has already seen that the Careers are down for the count after the boys from 1 and 4 came back. They are the least of her worries right now.

"There's some bags of something up by the check-out counters," Lana says, startling Eris from her thoughts.

They are currently searching through some sort of store. The walls are painted purple and green, and there are images of strange, alien-ish figures all over the place. All of the shelves are made from what look like repurposed rockets, excluding the check-out counters. Those look like someone turned a train upside down and covered it in lilac paint.

"This place is so weird," Eris comments as they make their way through the shelves. The merchandise ranges from ear headbands to t-shirts to light-up sticks. Eris picks up one of the aforementioned sticks and clicks the button the handle. The blade lights up and emits vroom sounds. Eris quickly turns it off and replaces it in its spot.

"Hey, Eris!" Lana says. "Come over here. I think I found some food."

So far, the only they have found is ice cream and drinks. There are plenty of food carts all over the area that are filled with popsicles and water bottles, but those will not tide them over for the next few weeks.

"What is it?" Eris asks, walking up to Lana's shoulder.

"There's some pretzels, and chips, and whatever this is." Lana lifts up a clear, bright-yellow plastic bag that seems to be filled with popcorn of some sort. The bag is shaped like a head with two circles on top. It reminds Eris of her headband.

Eris kneels down beside Lana and says, "What should we take?"

"I mean, none of it is very healthy," Lana answers. "but we'll starve if we don't take something, so…the popcorn bags?"

"Works for me," Eris says with a shrug. She takes two of them off of the hooks, once dark blue and the other red, and slings them over her shoulder. "Alright, let's go. Maybe there's a restaurant around here or something."

The pair make their way back through the aisles of green alien merchandise and exit the store.

"Heya!"

Lana and Eris freeze and glance at each other. Eris discreetly begins to look around, trying to find the source of the greeting.

That's when she sees it:

A trashcan.

An inconspicuous trashcan, white and purple in color and slowly rolling toward them as if propelled by wheels. It appears to be made of metal, and the word on the flap reads "PUSH".

"Um," Eris says uncertainly. She takes a step toward the trashcan, hearing a strange noise coming from inside it. A metallic sort of sound, like two knives being rubbed together.

"Heya, I'm Push! You guys must be some of the tributes," the trashcan says. No part of it seems to be moving when it speaks, almost as if someone is hiding inside and trying to hold a conversation with them.

"Um," Lana says, equally as uncertain. "What in the…"

"How are things today?" Push asks them congenially.

Neither girl says anything.

"Gosh, you guys aren't very talkative, are you?" Push says, trundling closer to them.

Lana and Eris back up.

"Come on, I just wanna chat! Jeez, no one around here wants to talk a guy like me," Push commiserates, rolling back and forth as if it is pacing. "Help a guy out, maybe?"

"Um," Lana says again. "We're gonna…go now. It was nice to…er, meet you, ehm, Push."

"Ah, come on, you guys can stay for a bit!" Push says loudly as Lana grabs Eris's hand and starts to pull her away. "I don't wanna hurt you! I just want someone to talk to! I'm a lonely ol' trashcan!"

Lana keeps moving.

"Wait!" Push cries, starting to roll faster.

"Go on, Lana, run," Eris says in a low voice. "It's catching up."

"STOP!" Push roars, rocketing toward them with surprising speed. It stops in front of them, effectively cutting off their path to the track. "Come onnn," Push whines. "Stay for a little while!"

"Eris, get behind me," Lana commands.

"What? No!" Eris exclaims, standing her ground.

Push's flap opens and Eris figures out where the noise was coming from. The sound gets louder as Push gets closer to them, and Eris sees the spinning blades inside of him.

"Lana, run!" Eris shouts. "It's going to grind us up!"

"What?" Lana cries, but she runs anyway.

Push chases them back into the gift shop. They pass the shelf with the light up sticks on it, and Eris grabs one. She turns it on and jams it into Push's mouth, hoping to stop the blades.

Instead, Push gobbles it up and keeps going.

"Eris, through here!" Lana cries, pointing to a doorway that leads to a long hallway. "There's gotta be an exit somewhere down there!"

The pair sprint up the ramp and past several cardboard bins adorned with the image of sunglasses. The hallway comes to an end with several rows of thin, gray doors. At the moment, the doors are closed, and they don't appear to have knobs.

Both Lana and Eris begin to bang on the doors, desperately trying to pull them open as Push passes the sunglasses boxes.

"Come on!" Eris yells. She pushes on the door, and suddenly, all down the row, the doors open. She falls forward onto the floor of a…? There are several lines of seats, with doors at the other end and a metal panel at the front. It doesn't look like anything Eris has ever encountered before, but what about this arena does?

"Eris, come on!" Lana yells, already at the other end of the room. "Get up!"

Eris stumbles to her feet and glances over her shoulder. Push is only a few feet away from her. She takes a deep breath and hurriedly squeezes through the seats.

Push is mere inches from the doorway, but so is Eris. And then every door in the room slams shut.

"NO!" Eris shouts, desperately banging on the metal in front of her. "LANA!"

She sinks into the seat behind her and notices that Push did not make it inside. It is a small blessing.

"Star Tours Flight Fourteen-O-One, you are cleared for departure," a masculine voice says in the ceiling.

"NO!" Eris shouts. "LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! LANA!"

At the front of the cabin, a small screen to the right lights up with the face of some kind of golden man. "Oh, oh no," the golden man says, fidgeting around robotically. "No, no, the captain isn't on board!"

"Initiating auto take off sequence," a metallic-sounding female voice answers.

"No," Eris says, her face draining of color. "No, I can't go anyway! LET ME OUT!"

"No, no, I am not the captain, I am C-3PO!" the golden man, or C-3PO cries in panic.

Eris gets to her feet and climbs over the seat in front of her as the metal panel at the front of the cabin opens to reveal the golden man himself. He sits beside a large, blurry screen which currently shows a docking bay of some sort.

A strange, floating robot holding two orange sticks appears in front of them, as if guiding them somewhere.

Suddenly, Eris feels herself get lifted into the air. "Oh my God," Eris says. "Oh my God, we're flying. We're going somewhere. Oh my God."

"R2-D2, you know I am not programmed to fly one of these things!" the golden man exclaims, looking around at the seats. "I'm just going to turn us around and…"

The cabin starts to move forward, leaving Eris to drop into the seat behind her. However, it only lasts a few seconds before a man in all black, surrounded by soldiers in white armor stop their flight path. "Stop," the man in black commands. "and prepare to be boarded."

Eris freezes and kneels on the ground. She hides behind the back of the seat in front of her, glancing at the doors, expecting for someone to burst in at any second.

"We know you have this rebel spy with you!" the man in black says. The screen to Eris's right lights up with a photo—a photo of Eris.

"No!" Eris yells. "I'm not a rebel spy!"

The cabin begins to move again as the man in black yells something about escaping. Bright orange lasers begin to fire from the front of the ship, and Eris is thrown backwards. Her head bangs against the seat as the cabin rockets backward into some kind of black void. It looks like the night sky.

Flying gray triangles explode and more lasers, this time green, are fired through the air. The ship lurches forward, and Eris is thrown over the seat in front of her. She lands on her head and lays there, dazed. She stares up at the ceiling as the cabin twirls around, making her feel slightly sick.

After a minute or so, she sits back up and looks back to the blurry screen. The ship has finally stopped moving, now seeming to float in an inky, dark expanse of nothingness. A hologram of some sort appears in front of her, saying something about being Princess Leia and needing the survival of the rebel spy.

"I'm not a rebel spy!" Eris repeats, staggering to her feet and climbing back over the seats. "Let me go…"

Something beeps, and the golden man says, "What do you mean, "we're going to be making a slight detour"?" And then Eris is thrown through the air again, landing almost perfectly in a seat behind her. Her head ricochets into the chair's back, making her vision momentarily spin. One of the plastic popcorn bags snaps off of her shoulder and shatters on the ground.

The ship slams to a stop in front of another floating, gray triangle that shoots lasers. They slowly drift through what appears to be a flying battlefield, carefully dodging the various shots and ships careening through the air. Something slams into the front of the ship, leaving little metal bugs crawling all over the windshield.

Eris screams and ducks behind the chairs in front of her.

"It's in the controls!" C-3PO cries in terror as the ship starts to drop.

Eris screams again, holding onto the arms of her chair so hard her knuckles turn white. Something about the fall feels off, but Eris hardly notices. The ground gets steadily closer as they plummet, and Eris continues to scream.

She braces for impact, but they stop mere feet from the ground and right themselves. She breathes a small sight of relief and pulls herself back into her chai.

The ship clips past several flying vehicles as they rage through an enormous city. Eris barely peeks over the top of the chairs, fearing that they may fall any second.

At last the ship comes to a stop on solid ground. The voice in the ceiling commends the captain on getting their spy there safe as the metal panel closes and the golden man disappears.

Eris slowly gets to her feet as the doors open. There's no way any of that was real, right? She didn't really go to space, and isn't really on another planet right now, and—

The sight of Push gnashing its flap on the other end of the ship brings Eris to what reality she is in. It appears that Push is too thick to fit inside the cabin, leaving Eris to slowly creep out the way Lana went.

"Eris!" Lana cries in relief. She gets to her feet, leaving her seat on the floor. "You're okay!"

"Gosh," Eris says, looking around nervously. "I thought I had gone to a different planet."

"What happened in there?" asks Lana uncertainly.

"I don't really know," Eris says tiredly. "Something about a rebel soldier, not being the captain of the ship, and a lot of lasers. Also, I lost one of the popcorn things."

"That's okay," Lana says with a small laugh. "We'll just have to send Ashe and Ainsley to get more."

"There's a way out of here?"

"Yeah," Lana answers. "There's a bend through here, and I can see daylight in the next room."

Eris lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "That's good." She brushes her shirt off and adds, "Let's get out of here."

Quinn Bayers, 18

District 11 Male

It has been a very, very long day.

The sun is finally beginning to cower behind the horizon, leaving the arena in that period between night and day. The horizon is dark, but the sky is pink. It beats down upon Quinn's back as he searches for a place to set up camp for the night.

If he were to look up, he would see the shadows of stars starting to come out of hiding. They dance up there, high in the sky, out of reach. Safe from anyone's hands.

Quinn does not look up.

His eyes are trained on the steadily darkening-arena, searching for not only a safe place to sleep, but the dangers of the other tributes. He has made his way around the back half of the arena and is now stopping in the fantasy fairgrounds or whatever. He doesn't really care what they're called, as long as he doesn't end up sleeping in a plastic elephant.

He glances at his feet as he walks, realizing that he just stepped in blood. Furrowing his brow, Quinn kneels down, wondering whose blood it was and how they died.

Well, he assumes they're dead. None of the tributes he's come across today have seemed injured in the slightest.

He spotted Lana and Eris heading into the terminal with the tracks splitting off it earlier. It's a clever hiding spot; no one ever thinks to look up. Right about now, he wishes that he would have thought of it first.

The Careers remain at the Cornucopia, tending to the boy from District 1's wounds. He isn't quite sure how he got them, but he certainly wouldn't have been passing through magic unicorn carnival land.

As far as he knows, there has yet to be a cannon today, and the anthem should only be a few hours off.

Quinn's stomach rumbles as he passes a well-lit restaurant of some sort. The sign above the door, made of wood and covered in carvings of flowers, reads "The Red Rose Tavern", and the smell coming from inside is practically heavenly.

He glances left, then right, and heads inside. The tavern features many fancy paintings on the walls, and they almost seem to be telling a story.

The place feels slightly cramped, but it adds to the atmosphere. It feels cozy, almost like a home.

Quinn quietly weaves through the tables to the counter. He finds that the menu is printed on the wood, like some kind of very strange engraving. With a puzzled expression on his face, Quinn peers at the words and leans his arms on the countertop.

Suddenly, a ceramic plate full of food drops from the ceiling and lands with a clatter in front of Quinn. He cringes, glancing around to make sure that no one heard it.

In the eerie silence of the dark arena, he hears nothing.

After a moment, Quinn picks up the plate and notes that his elbows were on the words Beast's Forbidden Burger. With a shrug, he climbs over the counter and eats his food there.

One part of him says that it could be poisoned. The other argues that there is no food in his backpack, and stands covered in popcorn and ice cream outside. What are they doing there, if they aren't intended to be eaten?

So, he eats the burger. It isn't bad. Actually, it's surprisingly good for food in the Hunger Games.

Once he finishes, he takes the plate into the kitchen. He almost just leaves it on the counter, but realizing he'd rather leave no mark of his presence, he instead picks up a sponge and washes it. He sets it in a cabinet with the rest of the dishes, glad to see that it doesn't stand out.

The arena has gone fully dark when he steps out of the Red Rose Tavern. Light pours from the various store fronts and restaurants around him, which certainly helps. Pleasant but regal music plays everywhere he goes, which is definitely beginning to get on his nerves. There are spotlights on the spinning plastic elephants, which frames them in an eerie way as they spin around and around and around.

Quinn looks around and decides he need to find a place to stay the night. This place seems like some kind of town square; maybe there is an inn he could hide in?

He passes by the carousel and spots someone crouching on the ground up ahead. They seem to be kneeling on the edge of the water that feeds into the giant plastic whale's mouth. Their hands are in the water, and they are clearly looking down.

Quinn slows his pace and gingerly steps further down the pathway. As he approaches, he notes the hair color the tribute—dark brown—and that their ear headband is still on their head. Their shirt is maroon and they are missing on their shoes, which is probably the strangest part of the situation.

After a moment of quiet observation, Quinn realizes that the boy—he's sure it's a boy, he can't remember any female tributes with that short of hair—is seemingly washing his hands in the water. Every few moments, a boat leisurely floats past but the boy doesn't seem to notice.

It would be an easy kill.

Quinn isn't quite sure where the thought came from, but he knows that it is right. It would be simple; push the boy into the water, hold his head underneath the surface, possibly slam it against one of the boats. It would quick, easy—not exactly painless, but it wouldn't take long. If Quinn is going to kill someone in these Games, he'd rather they suffer as little as they have to.

But something stops him.

For some reason, some awful, Panem-forsaken reason, he doesn't move. He simply watches the boy manically scrub his hands into the water for who-knows-how-long. Eventually, the boy gets up and stumbles away without even noticing that Quinn was there.

It leaves him feeling terribly on edge.

He stands there for a long, long time. Completely still. A perfect target for a late-night wandering murderer.

The thing that finally startles him back to the land of the living is a voice.

"Hi, I'm Olaf and I like—"

Olaf never gets to tell anyone what he likes, as Quinn suddenly snaps a knife out of his pocket and throws it at him without looking.

Surprisingly, it hits the mark and impales the small…snowman? The creature makes sputtering noises before its eyes go dim and silence once again reigns over the arena.

Quinn sighs annoyedly and walks over to the roof that the snowman is perched upon. It was a good shot, at least, he thinks as he tries to figure out how to the climb the building. After a minute of contemplation, he pulls himself up via the trellis full of flowers on the side of the house and retrieves his knife.

It gives him a good view of the area despite the late-night darkness. He glances upward at the moon, wondering what time it is.

That's when he hears the first explosion.

It makes him jump in surprise and recoil as if his hands were burned. He shuts his eyes, crouching behind the mangled snowman, half-expecting to be blown to bits.

The sound of another explosion bursts through the sky, prompting Quinn to open his eyes and look up.

Large balls of color shoot across the sky above the castle, exploding into blasts of sparkles and falling into nothingness. A garbled, female voice talks slowly in the distance, but Quinn can't quite make out what she is saying. Something about magic and wishes.

Quinn watches, practically transfixed, as the colors continue to shriek across the sky, cracking and banging. He can't quite decide if it's beautiful or terrifying. It certainly isn't anything Quinn has ever witnessed before.

The show lasts several minutes. Once the last crack screams through the arena, the silence that follows feels foreboding. As if something is waiting in the shadows, just out of view, ready to sink its bloodied teeth into Quinn's neck.

Nothing happens. Quiet continues across the arena, the last, distant ring fading into obscurity.

Quinn stands up and dusts off his jeans. He climbs down the roof and continues down the path toward the huge, tan mountain.

As he approaches said mountain, he notices that every few seconds, trains of minecarts go screaming along the tracks that wander through the rocky spires. The sound quickly becomes cumbersome as Quinn follows the path around it.

The area beyond the mountain quickly turns into a formal-looking square of sorts. To his right stands a river and a rustic island.

The island seems like a relatively safe place to spend the night. Quinn heads over to the railing and peers into the water separating it from him. It sloshes around, dark and murky, and likely unforgiving should he get stuck. He considers it and decides it isn't worth it. Besides, there could mutts in those waters, and he isn't in a position to take that kind of risks.

Suddenly, the sound of a loud horn startles him. Up the river, an enormous, elegant boat is slowly making its way toward him. Steam shoots from a stack on the top, which is presumably the thing making all of the racket. It screams again as the boat drifts toward a dock that stands several feet away from Quinn.

It slows to a stop and the plank drops, seemingly without prompting.

Quinn takes a careful step toward it. A boat wouldn't be a bad place to spend the night. Unless someone is watching right now, he doubts anyone would be able to find him. If they did, they likely wouldn't even be able to reach him.

After a quick glance at the surrounding area, Quinn steps onto the boat. He wanders around the lowest deck as the ship sets sail once again, pushing off of the dock on its own and beginning its journey down the river.

He finds an enclosed room with cushioned seating inside and decides that it is as good of a place as any of sleep. There is a door that he can close, and windows on the opposite wall that he could break if he had to. Of course, he'd have to go into the water then, but if he is forced to crawl out of a tiny window to survive, getting wet would be the least of his problems.

The lazy swaying of the boat as it floats, seemingly, in circles around the island makes Quinn feels practically exhausted.

Or maybe it is simply because Quinn has been awake for almost twenty-four hours now. That probably has something to do with it too.

Quinn sits down on the long, cushioned couch and stares off into space. He stills feels slightly shaky from the shock of the explosions in the sky. He's sure that if he had been expecting it, it would have been a non-issue. But the fact that it came out of nowhere, and he had no prior indication that it wasn't going to kill him made it far more terrifying than it should have been.

He lays down on the cushions, using his small backpack as a pillow. It certainly isn't ideal, but he would guess it's some of the best sleeping conditions in the entire arena. Everything here seems to be made of plastic for no discernible reason.

Eventually, he drifts off into a light sleep, the nervousness of needing to move in a split second keeping him from really getting any rest.

A/N: Yay for long chapters! Seriously though, I did not realize how long it would take to describe entire rides plus fight scenes in one POV. Guess that just means everything is going to be really long from now on.

1. Do you think Bayou and Shad's experience in the mansion together will change their dynamic at all?

2. Is Ishtar agreeing to join Afandina a good move on her part?

3. Do you prefer Lana and Eris together, or Ashe and Ainsley?

4. Which tribute did Quinn run into in Fantasyland?

ALLIANCES:

Spooky Scary Skeletons: Shad (D1M), Calista (D1F), Scoria (D2F), Bayou (D4M), Ottilie (D4F)

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

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

For Peace of Mind: Everett (D9M), Geo (D12M)

Sad Lesbian + Dead Weight: Afandina (D10M), Ishtar (D12F)

Oh. Fuck: Sterne (D5M)

Overpriced Maternity Shirts: Wonder (D2M)

Killed Olaf: Quinn (D11M)

KILL COUNT:

Shad: 1 (Larch)

Calista: 1 (Larch)

Scoria: 1 (Larch)

Larch (deceased): 1 (Mercury)

Navarro (deceased): 2 (Lyndie, Darwin)

Ashe: 1 (Navarro)

-Amanda