Chapter 59: Audi Lando

A/N: District Six (and the morphlings) once again, and it's Audi's turn to shine. She's certainly not the greatest of Victors nor is she the most eye-catching. Besides, half the time you couldn't even see her...

P.S. I've opened up subs for my upcoming SYOT! If you want to reserve, feel free to either PM me with your reservation slot or DM me on Discord (if you know my Discord lol).

A forlorn look washed over Katniss's face as she stared glumly at the girl in the photograph. Her eyes shimmered with loss and despair and in that moment, it was as if someone had frozen her brain, and her mind was starting to get blurry with a swirl of emotions. "She sacrificed her life for us," she murmured softly. "And we didn't even know her name."

Peeta gritted his teeth, sorrow and an unspeakable pain etched all over his face. "Audi. How could I forget it? Her name was Audi, and she saved me. She deserved so much more recognition, but we didn't even bother to learn her name."

Katniss nodded, blinking back a tear. "She was so much more than just a morphling addict. She was a hero and a Victor till the end."

Peeta nodded. "That I can agree with. You know, she tried to do the same thing she did in her Games. In the Quell, I mean. Just a shame those monkey mutts came around."

"And then she made the ultimate sacrifice," Katniss said, her voice a low, downcast whisper. "For us. Thank you so much, Audi."

Audi Lando

District 6

Aged 16

3 Kills

Audi sat on the old, dusty wooden chair, quietly rocking it back and forth, her mind lost in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Soon, her mother would return home from Calvin Quincy's shop with a fresh bucket of paint and a blank canvas, stuff she would need for painting. But for now, there was nothing or her to do but to drown in her emotions. She picked up the syringe filled to the brim with morphling and twirled it around her fingers. She knew she was not supposed to inject herself with it, but it was ever so tempting to do so. Audi was an unemployed girl who had been fired from her job at the nearby car factory after suffering a workplace accident that had left her with a broken left wrist. Two long, excruciatingly painful months later, she was in the process of recovery, but her bones were still far from fully healed, meaning she was unable to search for new employment elsewhere for the time being. Most of the time, she spent her days painting with an old brush that had once belonged to her grandfather, who, like her, was an avid painter. Audi had never been able to meet him, but she had been able to see a couple of his paintings and they were simply breathtaking. The tones, the colours that swirled around in perfect harmony with one another, the incredible attention to detail, the little clues and hidden bits that were scattered about each painting, such as the hidden message in his seemingly ordinary painting of a red rose, a plant Audi had read about, but had never actually seen. He was her idol, someone she aspired to be like, but at the same time, someone she knew she could never emulate, for her skills were never going to be recognised so long as she stayed in this slum of hers. She sighed, a wistful, sorrow-filled look in her eyes as she saw fiddled with that old brush. It wasn't even hers. Her brother Joseph had inherited it, but he had contracted tuberculosis a while ago and had passed away, a moment Audi couldn't quite forget after all these years. Joseph, as loving as he was, had never let her use his brush, as he wanted her to achieve bigger, better things in the workplace, casting aside her ambitions towards art in the process. But when he passed away when she was six, her parents had let her use the brush as much as she wanted. Up to that point, Audi had never really appreciated having Joseph around, despite the fact that he spent a whole lot of effort trying to buy her certain toys that many in these slums could never possibly afford, and that he always defended her against the gangs that ran riot around these parts of the District. And when he passed on to a better world, he left behind his brush and a jacket for Audi, both of which were rare luxuries in a poor, worn-down District like Six. Audi clutched her brush as a tear slid down her face. She had never been one who could control her emotions, and let them run riot inside her like the local gangs and drug lords.

Audi sat in front of her new blank canvas, set on a makeshift wooden easel. She picked up her brush and dipped it into her a blot of red paint on her palette. She began to draw an intricate swirl in the centre of the canvas, her eyes glued to the tip of the brush as she made careful, masterful strokes with her wrist. These paintings could be sold for a dollar or so to a Capitolite art collector, or one of those faux artists who bought cheap paintings from District painters and sold them for an extremely high price in Capitol auctions. While this definitely seemed far from right in Audi's eyes, she just wanted the money. The family needed to survive and her paintings could help them do just that. She dipped her brush into a can of water to clean it. The water turned a murky shade of red, the red paint slowly dissolving across the surface of the water like a gradual, pretty burst of redness. Audi then dipped her brush to a bit of blue paint, but before she could continue, her mother came by and tapped on her shoulder. She looked up, an empty look in her eyes as usual. Her mother gazed out at her, her big, brown eyes shining with fear. "Audi dear, it's time to get ready for the Reapings," she told her in that soft, muffled voice of hers.

Audi sighed and put her brush down. She didn't want to leave her painting behind, neither did she want to go for the Reapings. But alas, she had to board the train to Winnipeg soon for the Reaping, and she hadn't even gotten ready yet. Putting her palette and brush gingerly onto the floor, right net to the foot of her easel, she walked to a closet right beside her mattress, which itself was only three steps away from her art space. Their house, if you could call it one, was tiny, with only a kitchen, two mattresses, some storage space and a tiny bathroom. There wasn't even a shower, Audi only even really 'showered' when it rained. She took out a dusty, old gown, a plain green one that had been in her family since the days of her great-great-grandmother. It was two sizes too big and Audi didn't like wearing it, but her parents insisted that she do so, in an effort to look nice when the cameras were rolling. She donned the gown and her mother walked over, an old hairbrush in her hand. Audi sighed. "Mom, do you have to?"

Her mother nodded, her face still pale as ever. She was always frightened before the Reapings and could hardly speak in the days before this tumultuous event. The fear of losing her only daughter, it was immense and Audi knew her mother could barely even sleep at night thinking of the possibility of Audi being Reaped. Her mother reached out her hand and began to brush Audi's hair, brushing some of the dirt and grime off of it. Then, she tied it in a relatively neat ponytail and flashed a shaky smile. "It's time to go," she whispered softly.

"Audi Lando!" The words still rang in her head, sending ripples of shock across her brain as she sat in the room in the Justice Building, tears sliding down her cheek, a stunned, disbelieving look painted all over her face. Her mouth was still wide open in shock and her whole body trembled with fear at the thought of the horrible fate that was certain to befall upon her, just like it had befallen on every other female tribute from District Six before her. There was no other possible outcome, she was going to go into that arena and die, period. But she wasn't ready to die! She still hadn't finished that painting, the one she had been planning for weeks! She still hadn't gotten a secure job to help the family! She still hadn't done anything with her life! And now it was going to be taken away from her, in one, cruel swipe, and there was nothing she could do about it but accept her fate and anxiously await the arrival of the angel of death.

Her parents burst into the room, sobbing uncontrollably. They clung onto her, wailing, begging for her to come home. Audi couldn't even react. She wanted to comfort them, or at the very least apologise for being too weak to win, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. Tears continued to flow like a gentle river of sorrow down her face as she stared ahead with a terrified expression. Her father held on to her arm tightly, a wild look in his dull grey eyes. He reeked of morphing and his hair was in a dishevelled mess but Audi didn't care. He shook her arm forcefully as the tears gushed out like a roaring waterfall. "Audi, please, no, don't go..."

Audi sniffled. Don't go. She didn't want to go, she had no other choice! She gazed apologetically at her father and managed to softly choke out, "I'm sorry."

Her mother was still wailing like a banshee, her eyes a bloodshot red and her face buried in Audi's lap as she held on for dear life onto Audi's waist, moaning, "No, please, no, Audi! No! Why? Why did you have to be picked?"

Audi's face was blotted with tears but she didn't care. She clung onto her parents tightly, knowing full well that after another twenty seconds, she would never see them again. "I don't want to die..." she croaked out. "But I'm sorry." Her voice trembled and became squeaky at that last line, her emotions holding a firm grip on her in her final moments with her family. Then the Peacekeepers burst in, and dragged her parents, still screaming her name, out of the room.

And then there was silence.

A deadly silence.

Sorrow hung in the air and all of a sudden, Audi's heart shattered into a million pieces as her parents' crying, wailing figures continued to haunt her mind. They were broken shells, lost ghosts who would never again see their daughter. Audi was not coming home to them ever again. No more pretty paintings to hang on the walls, no more loving hugs, no more tears left to cry. They had bid their final farewell, and Audi had been too shell-shocked to even utter a goodbye.

And the sobbing continued on and on until Audi was certainly a certified train wreck.

Audi lay in her bed in the Tribute Centre, crying in her pillow. The Tribute Parade had been a disaster, the audience threw rotten tomatoes at her! Her outfit had been a shambolic insult to fashion. Who the heck thought that dressing her up as a blue tank engine would be a good idea? She had never been more humiliated in her entire life! No one was going to sponsor her now and her own District partner, Subaru, was just a quiet, introverted kid who didn't want to go anywhere near her. She was all alone, a dark, depressed girl from a District that was often seen as a laughingstock in the Games, and a girl who looked absolutely ridiculous in her chariot outfit. Kimi had tried to cheer her up, but it was no use. As the clock struck midnight, Audi found herself unable to sleep, and instead drowned in her pool of tears and sunk deeper and deeper into her sorrows, wallowing in self-pity. Her world had been turned upside down, that was the reality that she found incredibly hard to face. She pulled out her brush, her tribute token, the one thing she wanted by her side when she inevitably died. It was dirty as ever, imperfect, the bristles were frayed due to many years of usage. But to her, it was her final refuge, the final bit of home she had with her. Her eyes shone with longing as she fiddled with the brush. Oh, how she longed to be able to paint one final painting, to be able to finish that portrait of Joseph, to come home and be with her family once again...

Suddenly, she heard a muffled voice from outside her room. Her ears perked up as she recognised a faint voice, that of a woman, but not that of the escort or her stylist. It was Cecelia, the Victor from Eight who had won only a few years ago. What was she doing here, on District Six's floor? Audi's sniffling began to dwindle as she strained to listen to the conversation that was ongoing just outside the door. Cecelia and Ford were talking about something, no, someone, some unknown person named Tia. Audi had never heard about anyone named Tia before, was it some Capitolite lady? Either way, they were having a pretty animated conversation about her, to the point where Cecelia was raising her voice at Ford. "Of course I trust her! I trust her with my life!"

Audi shook her head. This was none of her business. Pulling her bedsheet over her head, she continued to sob underneath the covers. Death was swiftly approaching her and she was nowhere near ready to greet it.

"Audi Lando,"

the voice of Head Gamemaker Ruby Ashgrove boomed across the Training Centre, the voice dripping with horrible malice as it echoed across the walls. Audi glanced up from her seat as the heads of the remaining tributes swivelled around to face her. Her heart was beating wildly against her chest as she shakily stood up, her throat closing up rapidly in a fit of anxiety. Steadily, she took a deep breath.

You can do this, she told herself as she took a nervous step towards the door.

Her family was waiting for her back home, praying for a miracle, praying for any small resemblance of a hope.

A good training score would be just that.

But not even Audi herself had any faith. There was only one skill she could possibly showcase, one skill she had been working on, perfecting, mastering for the past three days in Training. She sighed as she pushed the door to the Training Centre open. Her heart had yet to cease jumping around like a rabid rabbit, thumping, beating wildly against her chest. Her head spun a little as she stood in front of the Gamemakers, all of whom stares at her with a look of disdain upon their faces. They saw her as nothing more than a weak little Outlier girl, possibly a morphling addict too, someone who would die early on in the Games and be forgotten until the end of time. But she had never even taken morphling before and neither had her quiet District partner. The whole stereotype was wrong, insulting, a shameful representation of their District. Sure they may have their fair share of drug Lords and addicts, but not everyone took drugs in Six. Audi would love nothing more than for that stupid stereotype to be abolished for good, because there was so much more than just drugs in District Six.

Ruby Ashgrove raised her pen and tapped it against her chin. She cocked an eyebrow, her face as disdainful as ever. Audi tried to raise her chin in a bold stance. She wanted to try, to at least try and fight for a good score. Ruby glanced at her watch. "You may begin, Miss Lando." It was hard to miss the cold undertone in her voice, especially at the mention of the name Lando. Audi didn't quite know the full details, but the Lando family had been major players in District Six's rebellion against the Capitol during the Dark Days. This meant that the Capitol viewed Audi and her kin as human scum, people who deserved to die the most brutal, horrific death possible in the arena.

Audi took another deep breath. You can do this.

She walked over to the camouflage station and picked up the brush. It was a fine brush, a shiny, brand new brush made with the finest materials possible. And yet, it was no better than Audi's own, rattled brush. It didn't evoke the same melancholic Saudade as the old, timeless brush that had been passed down her family for generations. It felt empty, void of life and energy, an object that the Capitol could simply dispose of without any feelings. Furthermore, it bore the seal of the Capitol, the ugly emblem splattered in glittery white paint on its handle. The white was a surreal yet sickly shade of white. An image of President Snow came to mind upon the sight of this particular shade of white, the man who had ordered the execution of her grandfather. Oh, how she hated that man, that monster.

His calm demeanour that masked his inner savagery, oh that filled her with unspeakable volumes of rage.

His charisma towards the Capitolites, it made her barf.

His love for the Games, oh, how she wished that Snow could just nosedive off a cliff at that moment. Now she was stuck in the Games, a pawn in his sick plans, with no hope of getting a good training score. her eyes drifted back to the Capitolite brush. She didn't want to do it, her stomach was churning, her head was spinning with nerves. But nonetheless, Audi had to use this incredible yet strangely wrong brush. She dipped it in some paint and began to paint on her arm, her eyes filled with that strict concentration marked with a tinge of lost hope that she always had when she was painting.

Up in their loft, the Gamemakers peered closer, intrigued by what she was doing. Audi paid them no mind. She had a clear picture of what she was going to do and she was going to stick to it.

Tramm Kane, D12 Male

Tramm stood on his pedestal, his hands trembling, sweat trickling profusely down the side of his ashen face. The sun glared down at him with bright, unrelenting rays, forbidding him from feeling any sense of comfort in this arena.

In the distance, he could see that the countdown had begun.

Oh gosh, this is really happening, Tramm thought, his mind becoming a muddy mess as he glanced around him. Beside him was that girl from Six, Audi, the girl who had gotten a score of six, which was better than Tramm's five. Tramm didn't know how on earth she had achieved it, she seemed like nothing more than a nervous, terrified girl in training, one who remained glued to the camouflage station at all costs, unwilling to move on. Her trembling and unresponsiveness only served to paint a picture of a certain Bloodbath tribute. Tramm looked behind him, at the arena that awaited him with open, deathly arms.

It's foggy as hell, was his initial thought. A thick, soupy fog swirled around him, restricting his view. In the distance, he could vaguely see trees, a forest of sorts, but the trees didn't have green leaves. Instead, he could only see blobs of black above the brown trunks of the trees. He could just about make out a sharp, jagged rock jutting out of the ground, surrounded by a thick layer of grey fog that encircled it slowly like it was performing some sort of ritual. As his gaze shifted upwards, he caught a faint, uncertain glimpse of something tall lurking amidst the trees. A tower, perhaps? It was thin, made of dark material and stood imposing above the trees, shooting high above the canopy like the guardian of this black forest. Tramm gulped. He could barely even see, how was he supposed to survive?

I can't do this, his mind screamed. I'm sorry, I just can't!

An image of his brother, Ben, flashed into view. Ben stared at him with those bloodshot red eyes, a scowl plastered firmly on his pale lips, his black hair as shaggy as ever. "Don't even think about giving up now," Ben screeched at him, but his voice was far away, a distant echo, one that Tramm could barely hear.

Tramm took a shaky breath as the wind howled in the distance, blowing a dent in the thick fog that allowed him to spot his District partner, Jess, about three pedestals away from him, whimpering as she trembled on her pedestal, her bony, hollow cheeks a terrifyingly ghastly shade of pale. Tramm forced himself to look away. He couldn't afford to care about her, he had to focus on his own survival after all.

Only one can win, he reminded himself firmly. And it cannot be Jess. It has to be me.

The countdown was reaching zero now. Tramm forced himself to get ready. The wind blew across his face, flicking a strand of hair across his dark eyes. He quickly brushed it away, determined to keep focused.

Three. He took one final deep breath.

Two. Ben was watching, he couldn't disappoint his brother now, could he?

One. This was it, his time to shine, or his time to perish.

The gong rang and Tramm leapt off the pedestal. He had never been a fast runner, in fact, he couldn't quite recall the last time he had needed to run. His feet landed on the ground and he wobbled a little before dashing forward. Audi ran beside him, but she was slowly swerving towards another direction.

Good, Tramm thought. He didn't want to kill her, or anyone, for that matter. And he didn't want her to kill him either. He ran and ran until he reached it. The fern green backpack that lay on the mist-shrouded grass. He hadn't been able to see it until after he had begun his run. Yep, he had been running aimlessly into the Bloodbath all this while. What a lovely tactic. Haymitch would be so proud of him. Tramm could just picture his drunken mentor sitting in the Mentoring Room, screaming at him to get a move on. He seemed nice at first, but his drunkenness was a huge problem. Half the time Tramm could barely get any advice out of him because he was nowhere near sober enough. Oh well. That was his problem in Training, now that he was finally in the arena, he had to fend for himself. Tramm grabbed the backpack, lacing his bony fingers around its straps. He swerved around to face the dark woods, but before he could run off into the foggy beyond, he heard a loud sucking sound bursting through the Cornucopia clearing, before, he was flung to the ground by a hard, invisible force that seemingly came out of nowhere. He landed with a loud thump. Groaning, he felt an aching pain in his back. Tramm rubbed his sore body and looked up.

"What the heck?" he murmured, a baffled look on his face as he glanced around. To his shock, the fog was gone. The grey swirls of thick fog that had blanketed the arena, it had suddenly disappeared. In its place was a cloud of thick, red smoke, but not as thick as the fog that had once shrouded the arena. It was still hard to see, but at least the visibility was slightly clearer. But what had the sucking sound been? He decided that he didn't want to know. He didn't have time to figure it out either. The other tributes, all of whom had, like him, been thrown to the ground, were slowly recovering and getting onto their feet. He had to escape, before it was too late. Staggering onto his feet, Tramm whirled around to face the forest and ran off. In the corner of his eye, he could see Audi making a beeline for the forest too. He was frankly surprised that she was even still alive. Oh well, she would be gone soon. But now Tramm had to find a place to hide, lest those horrible Careers find and end his short, miserable life.

Tramm lay against one of the many multicoloured rocks that jutted out of the ground, his backpack on his chest, his stomach growling like a lion. Six days had passed and he had not been able to eat any food. His backpack consisted of a bottle of water, a pair of night vision goggles and a blanket, all of which were pretty useful, but certainly couldn't satisfy his growing hunger. Being from the Seam, he was used to going hungry for days, but still, after narrowly escaping the Careers the other day, he needed food to sustain himself. That chase had been long, brutal and he only escaped when three of the Careers tripped over the smaller jagged rocks and injured themselves in the process. It had been an incredible stroke of luck, but the chase itself had left him exhausted and starved of calories. Now, he lay there, weakened, famished, void of much hope. At this point, he was awaiting death, either by starvation or at the hands of another tribute. Surely there was no way he could survive? His mind whirled back to Ben, who was probably anxiously watching back home, screaming at him to search for food, but he couldn't. He could barely even move. He simply didn't have the energy.

Maybe someone will find me and end this soon enough, he thought, a forlorn hope in his chest that he would get a swift, painless death. He knew that the Careers would no doubt torture him when they inevitably found him. Over the years, he had grown up watching these Games and had seen all the horrible acts those awful monsters had done upon the poor, defenceless tributes. Even if said tributes were weak, crying twelve-year-olds, they wouldn't be spared from a long, painful, drawn-out demise. Tramm shuddered at the thought of his own death. Oh, he dreaded that moment.

But I'd rather get it over with than sit here waiting, he decided.

Just then, he heard the familiar sound of footsteps crunching through the forest. A tribute, or perhaps a mutt? Either way, he was dead meat. In the distance, surrounded by the swirling red smoke, he could faintly make out the boy from Five trudging through the woods, clutching his stomach, groaning in pain as he stumbled on a loose rock and nearly fell to the ground. Tramm could vividly remember this particular boy. His name was Watt, a thirteen-year-old boy who had talked with him in training, but ultimately decided against allying with Tramm, to Tramm's dismay. He was pretty polite if not a little stubborn at times. The most memorable incident, however, was when he got into a fight with the now-deceased girl from Eight. Oh, that had been an exciting one to watch. Tramm peered closer at Watt's silhouette in the distance. Watt's stomach was bleeding, perhaps he had gotten into another fight? The girl from Eight had died in the Bloodbath, so she couldn't have done the deed. In any case, Tramm watched as Watt lay against a rock, groaning in pain. Tramm considered shouting out, calling his name to grab his attention. After all, he wanted Watt to kill him, to get it over with, right?

Before he could do so, however, Watt let out a bloodcurdling scream as blood squirted out of his body, shooting into the air like bright red fireworks. His body jerked a little and collapsed into the red smoke beneath. Tramm blinked, bewildered, as the cannon boomed in the distance and a shadowy figure leapt out from within the ground and raced off. "What the heck?" he murmured, letting out a shocked gasp as Watt's body crumbled to the ground. He couldn't quite see who the figure was, or what had exactly happened, but he did see that Watt had a backpack with him, which meant that finding food was a huge possibility.

Food.

That one, golden words buzzed in his ears. Food, glorious food. It could be right there, in Watt's backpack, waiting for him, a divine gift just begging for him to take it. His eyes lit up with hope as he staggered towards Watt, ignoring the throbbing pain in his stomach, and scooped up the mustard yellow backpack. Unzipping it, he nearly let out a shriek of delight when he found a packet of crispy, golden-brown crackers sprinkled with a tinge of salt. Oh, food, glorious food! After all this time, he had finally been saved! He could eat and go home, alive! He could actually win, he realised, as he found something else in the backpack.

A knife. His eyes shone with gratitude as he slipped the knife into his belt and tore open the packet, stuffing two of the largest crackers into his wide-open, drooling mouth.

All he could say was, the crackers were heavenly.

Tramm didn't want to go. But it was mandatory to attend the Feast. Claudius had just announced it as Tramm was relieving himself behind a particularly large rock. The sound of Claudius's loud, booming voice echoing across the forest had stunned Tramm initially. Thinking it was a tribute, he had instinctively whipped out his knife, before realising that it was just Claudius Templesmith, the Games announcer. Heaving a sigh of relief, he put the knife back into his belt and listened as Claudius announced the details of the Feast.

"You will find something very special waiting for you at the Cornucopia..." Claudius had told them, his voice dripping with unforeseen mystery, the slight chuckle at the end of his sentence hinting at something Tramm wasn't smart enough to figure out.

Shit, the Careers are going to be there. Tramm groaned just at the thought of it. He would have to face those bloody Careers, the pair from Two, both of whom were still going strong and racking up the kill counts, at the Cornucopia. Audi would be there too, but surely she would be of no harm. The Careers were the real threat, the menacing beasts lurking at the clearing, relishing for the chance to spill his blood. Tramm shivered just at the thought of it.

Don't overthink it, Ben's voice asserted. Tramm took a deep breath. He would be fine. He was coming home. He was going to stay alive.

And one way or another, he was going to take down the Careers.

Tramm hid behind a tree, observing the Cornucopia carefully. It was awfully quiet, except for the sound of crickets in the distance. Little did Tramm know, those crickets were murderous and had killed the girl from Four the day before. At that moment, he thought of them as nothing more than harmless creatures, a negligible part of the arena setup. The place was eerily quiet. No sign of either of the Careers or Audi. Tramm took another nervous glance around, half-expecting someone to swing by and stab him in the back, but no one did. He got up and braced himself in a running position. He couldn't quite see what was on what he imagined to be a table inside the Cornucopia, but he knew that he had to make his move now. Gripping his knife tightly in his left hand, he glanced up at the sky for a moment. I'm coming home, Ben.

Then he ran.

He charged forward, bursting through the thick red smoke, running faster than he had ever run before in his life. Admittedly, he was impressed that he could even run this fast, even though he was sure his current running speed wasn't even that fast in the first place. But for the first time in his life, his body felt a little weird as he ran. He felt like he was- flying. He felt as though he could take a brave leap and all of a sudden, he would float in the sky and be able to soar away from the arena, away from Panem, away from everything that stood against him in life. Of course, there was the stupid forcefield but surely there had to be a few gaps in the great big mantle of a forcefield, ones that allowed the hovercrafts that took the dead corpses of tributes away from the Cornucopia.

Stop that! Ben's voice roared in his head. Tramm snapped back to attention. No, that was an impossible dream. He couldn't fly. And even worse, he realised, his heart sinking as he did, the Careers had arrived at the scene and were making a beeline for the table.

Oh, right! The table! Tramm had completely forgotten about it, a true statement of his genius. On top of the shiny, silver table made of hard metal were four pieces of mouldy bread.

MOULDY BREAD?!

Tramm felt as though he was about to explode in rage. Mouldy bread?! All this, for a piece of mouldy bread? He uttered a strong, forbidden curse underneath his breath as he dove forward and grabbed a piece of bread, before swerving around and dashing off as fast as he could. The Careers were catching up, he could see them out of the corner of his eye, pushing through the smoke, charging, running at him, swords raised high above their heads, a loud battle cry blaring from their parched lips. His heart raced, thumping wildly against his chest like a loud drumbeat.

Drumbeats. His mother had been a drummer, a well-respected one, for that matter. Tramm's heart ached as his mind flashed back to her death at the hands of the Peacekeepers. That had been a dark day, a dark, dismal, miserable moment for both him and Ben, and one he certainly didn't need to remember as he was escaping those bloodthirsty Careers!

His feet tore through the clearing. The woods were close, oh so close. But the Careers were quickly catching up. They were right on his tail. He could hear their loud grunting and snarling from right behind him.

Shit, I'm screwed, he thought. They were going to catch up, weren't they? Tramm braced himself for the inevitable, but he wasn't going to give up just yet. He ran and he ran, and then he heard the scream.

Daring to peek behind him for a brief second, he let out a gasp as he saw the girl from Two on the ground, a knife in her back. Her District partner was crouched beside her, screaming her name but it was no use. The cannon boomed and she was gone forever, sent to a better place far up in the clouds. A place Tramm too would end up in if he didn't get a move on. He continued running, but he couldn't look away from the scene before him. He saw a wisp of smoke being blown aside, before an unknown, mysterious figure emerged from within the Cornucopia walls and ran towards the table, letting out a soft whimper as it snatched a mouldy piece of bread, before it shared off towards the trees. The boy from Two let out a roar of absolute rage, a blaze of indignation burning furiously in his hard eyes, which shot the escaping figure a hard, sinister glare. The temperature seemed to almost rise as his balled fists started to turn white at his knuckles. Then, the chase was on, leaving Tramm on his own at the Cornucopia. He blinked, still unsure of what had just happened. Like with Watt, a mysterious figure had leapt out of nowhere and had killed a tribute. Then it dawned on him. It all made sense now, why the figure had snatched away the piece of bread, why the figure had whimpered, why the figure kept on popping up for the kill.

It was Audi.

The moment Tramm hear the cannon, multiple things flashed across his mind all at once.

He could go home, he thought, a glimmer of hope igniting in his heart as he thought of Ben and his father watching him back home, cheering him on. He was in the finale, he could win this!

The boy from Two is probably still alive. That one thought alone was enough to dash all of his hopes of a victory. Of staying alive. Of ever seeing his family again. The boy from Two, the eighteen-year-old monster of a tribute, he could easily finish him off, that was for sure. His heart sank as he further contemplated this, contemplated his certain death, contemplated the inevitable pain that he would suffer at the hands of this fiendish, heartless serial killer. He sat down, the light of hope fading rapidly from his eyes as he heaved a mournful sigh. There was a look of despondency on his face as he stared up at the sky, blocked from his view by the thick red smoke. There was no coming back. It would be better if he killed himself right there and then. A quick, painless end, much more humane end than the boy from Two could possibly give him.

Audi could still be alive too. It wasn't likely, but his final competitor could well be Audi. That wasn't much better, was it? Audi was a camouflaged trickster, a sly, cunning tribute, a chameleon who could not be seen. But she was also significantly weaker than the boy from Two. And she would have likely only just killed him, which meant that she could be hurt, or might not have had the time to camouflage herself again once more. Once again, that faint spark of hope reignited itself somewhere in the dark chambers of Tramm's heart. He could win. He still had a shot, he could still win this. No matter who his opponent was, he could still win. There was always a chance. Colt, Gwen, Blight and many more had won their final battles against the odds, and he could do so too. Haymitch had done it, a Seam boy from Twelve just like him. If he could make it out, so could Tramm.

Yes, you can do this, Tramm, Ben's voice shouted from the distant winds beyond. Come on, tough guy, win this thing!

Tramm stood up, clutching his knife. Yes, he could do this. He took a bold step forward. He was going to track down that final tribute and kill him or her.

Tramm Kane was going to win this!

Before he could take another big stride towards victory though, a dark shadow emerged from a tree right beside him and zoomed by, sending a gust of wind that blew his shaggy dark hair. Then, his back exploded with pain, and all of a sudden, the world became a dizzy blur. He could feel his body sinking rapidly into the ground, a cold sensation rippling across his body as he fell, a choked gasp blurting out from his lips. His vision became red, red like the smoke around him, red like the blood that was on his fingertips, red like the blood dripping from the blade of Audi's knife as she stood before him, a terrified expression on her face. She seemed to be muttering an apology, but he couldn't hear it. In fact, he couldn't hear anything apart from a soft, ringing sound in his ears, a ringing sound that gave him a splitting headache. The shock had numbed Tramm, the pain wasn't as great as he had expected it to be. His body hit the ground, but he kept on sinking, and sinking and sinking, further and further into the soil, further and further into an unknown void, into the black beyond that awaited him.

No...

He realised where he was sinking into. The realm of death. The realm of the afterlife. He could hear Watt's laughter faintly in the distance, alongside the soft sniffling from the Career girl from Two.

But neither Ben nor his father was there.

And he would never see them again.

The feeling of failure swallowed him up. He had a chance to win, a shot at victory, a shot at coming home alive to be with his family.

And he had failed miserably. Tears trickled down Tramm's face as he continued sinking and sinking and sinking, knowing full well that wherever he was going, he would not meet Ben or his father there. They would be in the realm of the living while he, the failure, would be in the dark, dismal realm of the dead.

However, someone else was there for him.

His eyes flickered open, and all he could see was a regal white. Nothing but white, white and more blinding white. He shielded his eyes as a bright light flooded the place, the white space he lay in. He looked down and gasped when he saw that the blood and grime had disappeared from his clothes. In fact, he wasn't even wearing his arena clothes. No coal black jacket, no black T-shirt, no pair of leather jeans, no thick, brown boots. Just a plain, white toga. Then, he heard the drumbeats, quickly followed by the soothing voice of a lady in the distance, a lady who was all too familiar to Tramm. His eyes shone with tears.

"Tramm, it's time to eat."

Katniss and Peeta held a minute of silence for their fallen Victor counterpart from District Six. They were at a complete loss of what else to say about her. There was only the feeling of guilt and regret that hung in the air, soaking them up and burdening their hearts as the memory of Audi's death continued to simmer in their minds. It was still fresh and they could not possibly forget it. These memories, they had a knack of clinging onto you for a long time, until you simply couldn't bear the pain and shame anymore, or you were lucky enough to forget. Forget. Katniss's lip trembled. "Audi, she couldn't forget what she did..."

Peeta nodded, a grave look on his face. "She turned to drugs to forget. Just like how Haymitch turned to alcohol."

Katniss shook her head. "If only..." But she couldn't speak, couldn't bring herself to wallow in the what-ifs that raged through her mind.

Peeta flipped the page, unable to look at Audi for any longer without feeling the urge to cry. The next Victor was a tall boy who towered above his escort, a plump lady who seemed politely bored. The boy had a mop of dark blonde hair on his head and blue eyes that shone with relief. Those blue eyes did, however, hold a tinge of sorrow, but the boy held a brave stance and didn't seem as burdened as many of the other Victors, at least at first glance. He had what Katniss would call a 'resting happy face', in the sense that he seemed somewhat happy even as he stood before the crowd, although the way he fiddled with his fingers betrayed his nervousness. Behind him, Blight, Birch, Jill and Olive stood together in a row, contented expressions plastered on all four of their faces as they gazed proudly at the boy who had, against the odds, survived the horrors of the arena, and in much better shape than some of the other Victors too.

"James Silva."

VICTORS

District 1-Sapphire Huntington(4), Onyx Hibonite(9), Franc Montgomery(14), Crystal Montgomery(21), Sterling Jones(25), Luxe Carmichael(36), Geneva Cooper(37), Cartier Cooper(44), Valkyrie Montgomery(54)

District 2-Ragnar Sveinsson(5), Reyna Boudicca(6), Draco Hadley(10), Scipio MacAllister(17), Freya Carson(22), Hercules Nichols(28), Julia Dawson(39), Brutus Gunn(42), Lyme Sveinsson(45), Evan Fortis(55)

District 3-Nikola Johnson(13), Gadget Schroeder(24), Beetee Latier(40), Wiress Jansen(47)

District 4-Marina Bluebell(1), Mags Flanagan(11), Jolien Fisher(31), Timmy Fisher(32), Iris Fisher(33), Rafael Fisher(34), Coral Thiller(41), Poseidon Nakamura(58)

District 5-Shocker Crimson(8), Switch Kim(19), Flash Morrison(27), Porter Tripp(38), Marie Meredith(52)

District 6-Ford Hamilton(20), Kimi Bentley(51), Audi Lando(59)

District 7-Hassan Greenwood(2), Jill Wilson(15), Olive Sanchez(26), Birch Davison(35), Blight Gavin(53)

District 8-Woof Casino(16), Calico Pepper(48), Cecelia Rheys(56)

District 9-Gwendolyn Whitfield(18), Laurel Flamsteel(29), Miller Thompson(49)

District 10-Ringo Alvarez(7), John Gatwick(23), Mare Trybull(43), Colt Dias(57)

District 11-Orchid Bloom(12), Seeder Crue(30), Chaff Mitchell(46)

District 12-Axel Millar(3), Haymitch Abernathy(50)

Victors that are underlined are deceased.

A/N: There we go, Audi Lando comes home! The sneaky, 'invisible' girl with a cunning plan, she seemed so weak at the start, but she certainly proved herself to be a worthy Victor at the end! Well, she was one of the few I actually planned out beforehand, but portraying her was harder than I thought ngl. Plus, I've been told I need to improve on my paragraphing, so I tried to experiment on improving it here with shorter paragraphs and stuff. Hope you enjoyed this and if you did be sure to leave your thoughts in the reviews and until next time, stay tuned, James Silva is coming up next. Cheers :)