A/N: Welcome back to the Games! We're officially here for our ninth day, and there's eight tributes left. With so few kids left and a day of inactivity during the interviews, you know there's bound to be some conflict today...so I hope you guys enjoy it! There's some serious graphic descriptions of gore this chapter as well; there is in all Hunger Games stories, but I feel compelled to mention it just in case some of you are feeling a bit queasy today. So if that's not something you can handle, be warned. However, I think y'all should enjoy it, and I hope it's a good, exciting read.

Fuji LaMac, 17

District Three Female

I sigh as the sun begins to glimmer over the horizon, watching as the soft golden light casts its warming glow across the grassland that surrounds me on all sides. I'm on the very edge of the arena like I have been for almost a week now, the grass so short it's barely the length of my ring finger. I glance down at said finger with that thought, seeing the engagement ring glistening in the dawn light as it rests delicately on my hand. I twist it around slowly, watching as the sunlight leaps across the small diamond and gleams against the polished silver. It's the umpteenth time I've done it since I've gotten into this arena, and it always leads to me imagining the girl that got me it. I think of her kneeling on the cracked cement and then the blur of lips and skin we were afterwards, the way the stars in the night sky seemed to glow with us that evening. I try to hold onto that image so hard, wishing with all my might that I'll get to see Cartenya again and feel her, warm and euphoric, against me. But the specter of her fades from my mind quickly, and I'm left alone again in the endless prairie, no one to speak to and nothing to do besides wait and wait some more.

I've been itching to do something for days, and now that it's the Top 8, I know I need to get moving. I've been spared, thankfully, after I took my fate into my own hands and murdered Ivy on the first night. I had to do it, I know I had to, but her screams still ring in my ears whenever I try to close my eyes and go to sleep. It was horrifying, killing like that on the very first night of the Games, like some monster. I wonder, not for the first time, what my family and Cartenya thought back home, but I brush that away. They won't care as long as I come back, and to come back, I'm going to have to do more than kill one girl eight days ago. Sure, it probably made me popular for a bit, but I've seen what happens to tributes who make one big move and then go cold. Mutts, traps, arena disasters. You name it, they've tried it. The Capitol hates nothing more than a potential hero or villain who stops playing their Games. I've been lucky enough already to get to lay low for so long, and if I want any hope at surviving much longer, I'm going to have to do something besides lay here aimlessly on the ground.

I force myself onto my knees with a groan, my body creaking with the effort. I haven't moved much since the anthem two days ago when the Six girl was in the sky. I wasn't surprised to see her there; honestly, I was surprised she wasn't there sooner. There's been plenty of surprises, though. Three Careers gone already, and from what, I don't know. I haven't seen a soul since I ran away from Ivy's bloodied corpse and Omri while he slumbered on watch, eight days ago. There's been so much going on in this arena, and I have no idea who's with who or what's been going on with what. It's a bit terrifying, to know I've missed out on so much, but it's also relieving that there's potential I can get out of here missing some of the more traumatic events of the Games. Seeing Ivy gurgle blood beneath the dagger she and Omri gave me was traumatic enough. I shove the image from my mind yet again, forcing myself to think about the fact I'm going to have to do that again if I want to get home to Cartenya and Adata and my dad.

I can't even think about my family, not now. Cartenya is painful enough, but I can't think about my disabled twin and my drunkard dad in that sad little house. I won't ever get up again. So I just pull myself to my feet from my crouch on my knees, stretching my arms and my legs with several more grunts and moans of soreness. I've tried to move around a little bit each day, but yesterday I didn't move an inch, knowing they wouldn't send anything after us with only eight of us left. I guess most of the others took the same message, because the sky was empty yesterday evening. Today's not yesterday though, and it's time to try to do something before the Gamemakers get bored and rip me to shreds with their little toys, whatever they may be. I make myself keep stretching until the tension in my muslces has eased enough for me to scoop up my mostly empty pack and start walking.

I don't know where I'm going, but that doesn't really matter. I just have to make it look like I'm going somewhere, and hopefully they won't fault me and throw anything my way. I survey the area around me casually, but I can't bring myself to be incredibly observational and catalog every little detail I see. Not that there's much around me, anyway, just fucking grass. But still. I know I need to pay more attention, but I've been paying attention for eight days, and the only thing I've seen are bison and this one weird mutt that tried to attack me while I slept. It looked like a crackheaded cross between an antelope and a rabbit. I was able to kill it with my dagger pretty easily, and I was honestly glad for the small distraction, because it was better than just wandering or staring. I always thought I'd be grateful to be safe and doing nothing in the arena, but now I understand why some tributes go crazy by simply hiding out alone. The stress and isolation can be absolutely destructive. I'm just lucky I've been through enough hurdles in my life back home that I'm able to keep my cool here and not lose my mind. If I survived things like my mom dying and being falsely accused of assaulting that rich girl, then I can handle walking through a fucking prairie. I'm not going to let some grass break my mind after all of that, no way in hell.

Time seems to come to a standstill as I walk. I keep checking the sky, but the sun seems like it's not even moved an inch every time I glance up. The grass is endless around me, and my eyes focus on the horizon, where the glimmering sea of golden stalks meets the clear blue sky. Today, a few puffy white clouds drift along lazily, but they just increase the contrast of the vibrant colors of the arena, and they never cover the sun. Its rays are hot against my skin, and I take out my last water bottle and drain the last drops from it. Another reason to get moving and do something; I'm running out of supplies, and if I'm going to die, I'd rather not kick the bucket from dehydration or starvation. I've seen how those go, and I'd take a good old butchering to that any day.

Thinking about being butchered brings the other tributes into my mind, and despite myself, I can't help but wonder how they'll try to kill me when they find me. I'm hoping I at least don't run into the Career boys. The one from Two seems less crazy, but he's still trained to make deaths brutal and long. And I don't need to see Chavez again before I die. I'd slit my own throat before I'd let him do whatever sick shit he'd try on me. The girl from Four, Cordelia I think, she wouldn't be as bad. She'd still probably kill me, but she doesn't seem like the type to drag it out. Neither do the girl from Ten or the boy from Twelve, and I could take those two if I see them. They're probably the other two big surprises besides myself making it deep. Killing a little thirteen year old would feel disgusting, but I'd rather see my family again, I think, then let her go. I could definitely handle taking out the cocky Twelve boy, though. He's probably on his own, the Ten girl too, so they wouldn't be too hard to take out. A fair one on one fight.

My mind then flashes to the guy from Six who almost joined our alliance back in the Capitol, but Ivy refused to let him. Fender might be tougher to beat; he's probably alone too, we all are at this point I'd guess, but I saw how he threw knives at training, and his muscles aren't a joke. He might be able to take me out, and he's one of the few people I met in the Capitol besides Millard that I actually considered to be a good person. I think back to his warm laugh and wide smile as I watched him from across the Training Center. I know he must be liked in the Capitol, for his boy-next-door persona. He's one of the few that doesn't seem to deserve to be here. Still, there's no room for hesitation here. I keep trying to remind myself of that. If I hold back the moment I see another tribute, my odds go from small to smaller.

My mind flickers to the person I'm avoiding, the person I've been avoiding thinking about for the past week, but he still worms his way into my brain. I see Omri Plower sleeping on the ground nearby in my mind's eye as I shove the dagger into Ivy's throat, and I remember looming over him for a moment before running away. I should've killed him too. Maybe I'd have more supplies now, and I'd be so popular I wouldn't need to be walking around like a zombie every day. I don't know Omri well; we may have been allies, but you don't get to know anyone well in a week, especially when you're all about to go into a death match. Still, he seemed to show some sort of strong loyalty to our alliance. I wonder how mad he was when he woke up and saw Ivy dead and me gone. I wonder what would happen if I saw him again, if he'd let me go, if he'd want to work with me again, or if he'd want me dead before I could even blink.

A flicker of movement on the horizon suddenly snaps me out of my deep thinking. I tend to ramble off in my mind sometimes and lose track of the time these days. That's only natural when you're alone in a monotonous arena like this. Still, I know I've been lost in my thoughts for much too long; the sun has shifted three whole finger-widths through the sky, and there's two dark figures that I cannot make out on the horizon. I quickly hit the ground, staying as low as possible, but the grass out here is so short that it does nothing to cover me. My mind races as I glance up and see the figures continuing to move in my direction. They're far away, so I can't tell if they're walking or running, if they've seen me or not. Two people, together? Who'd still be allied right now? The 4s? Chavez and the 2 boy?

I know I should be on my feet, and I know I should be running towards them eager to fight. However, I can't take two people, even if they were the two weakest tributes in the Games. My muscles ache to run away, but if I start fleeing, and they spot me, they'll chase me down, and I'll have no choice but to fight them. Yet, if I run at them, I'm losing my advantage of surprise if they haven't seen me, and I doubt I'll be able to take two people at once. Just laying here on the ground does nothing for me either. There's no good move, no escape. I pull my dagger out from my pack, squeezing its cool chrome blade between my palms in an effort to calm myself. I've already killed someone before, and I can do it again. I can do it again.

I peer over the grass, and suddenly the two dark figures are much closer than they were before. The moment they're close enough for me to make out some vague details, I can tell they're running towards me and not walking. That means they've seen me. My heart starts to thump in my chest, and I quickly scrabble to my feet, my instincts taking over. I begin sprinting in the opposite direction without a second thought; there's no point in laying in the grass and waiting for them to find me. I can't take two tributes, especially not these two. Their muscular frames make me think they must be male, and the only two boys who would still be together are Chavez and the Two boy. I'm not standing my ground against two Careers. I'm going to have to fight someone eventually, but I'm not willingly fighting two Careers unless I have no other choice.

I shrug my pack off of my back as I run, as it has nothing in it but some scraps of food at this point, and it inhibits my movement as I run. With the pack gone, I swing my arms harder and pump my legs faster. The grass is crushed underfoot as I sprint in a diagonal, running towards where the grass is longer. Maybe I can lose them if we get into the longer grass where it covers my head. That's a far way away, and I don't know if I can run this fast for that long, but I have no other options. I can't face them. I can't let two Careers have their way with me.

I chance a glance backwards to see how close they are, and I curse loudly as I see that they are much closer than before. As I whip my head back and focus on sprinting towards the taller grass, my mind wriggles with confusion. From the glimpse I had of them...they didn't seem as tall or as muscular as the Career boys. And they both certainly had darker skin.

No. No, it can't be. My mind panics instantly; it must just be the shadow of the sun. It's the Careers, of course it is. There's no way...but Omri did like him. Omri wanted him in the alliance most of all, and he was all alone after I was gone. The two strongest Outlier boys, of course they'd team up. Of course they'd team up, and now they're chasing me as hard as they can through the prairie. That definitely means they don't want to be friends with me or let me go. That means they want to kill me.

One last glance backwards, and Omri is close enough that I can see the malicious grin on his face. Our eyes lock for one second, and then I glance down at the shining silvery thing in his hands, and my heart stops. What the fuck is that? My legs slow despite my mind screaming at me to keep moving. The grass is already at my waist here, but it's not tall enough yet. Fear roots me to the spot no matter what I do. Is...is that a chainsaw, in his hands?

I realize suddenly that I've stopped running entirely, gaping at the two muscular boys sprinting at me with hard set looks on their faces. Omri, looking at me with murder in his eyes. Fender, with an undecipherable expression on his face. And in Omri's hands, a chainsaw spattered with dried blood. All of that, coming right at me as fast as it can.

No more thoughts. I turn again and keep running into the taller grass. There's nothing I can do but run away now. I lift the engagement ring on my finger to my lips and kiss it once. Cartenya's beautiful face flashes in my mind for a moment before I run faster than I ever have in my life.

I love you, baby I think in my head, breathing too hard to say it out loud. Please don't watch what's going to happen next.

Omri Plower, 18

District Eleven Male

My feet pound hard against the golden grass as I eagerly chase after Fuji. Usually the chainsaw would feel heavy in my hands, and it's awkward to carry it while sprinting through the arena after her. Usually, my body would be aching and straining from the nine days of stress and battering that it's been through since I rose up into the arena. Usually, I'd be more careful about attacking, weighing my options and deciding if it was worth it to engage with whoever I spotted on the horizon.

This is Fuji LaMac, though, and I've been waiting for what feels like an eternity to face her.

I can tell she hasn't done much but waste away since deserting our alliance and murdering Ivy. She's thinner than ever, and I don't see any significant injuries on her. She must've been able to steer clear of the other tributes, which is surprising. I'd assumed the Gamemakers would've forced a proven murderer to do something more by now, but I guess now is her reckoning. I wonder if they've been saving her for me, saving her for this confrontation that is bound to happen no matter how long and hard she runs into the taller grass. I hope they have been. I won't let them down with this.

There's a half-wild look in her eyes whenever she glances back at us, and I can't tell if she's lost her marbles being alone in the arena for so long, or if she's just that absolutely terrified of us. I mean, if I were her, I'd be terrified. I have a fucking chainsaw, after all, just swinging along in my arms, and for the first moment I notice that it was smart that I was too lazy to scrub the jackalope blood off of the blade. It makes it look like we've already killed someone. Fender's also by my side, and no matter how strong you are, it's still terrifying to be in a two-on-one fight, especially with a mechanical weapon involved.

The way she weaves through the grass as she sprints as hard as she can away from us leads me to believe that she's not completely out of her mind. She seems to have some sense of direction and strategy, trying to get into the higher grass where I'm assuming she's hoping she can throw us off. It's not a bad idea, from the options she has. The grass is waist high now, getting higher by the minute, and if we don't catch up to her soon, she might be able to give us the slip. I can't let that happen. I can't let her run for miles from me, from the short grass of the edge to the towering stalks of the center. I won't let her go, not again. I won't let her escape her retribution. I'm going to bring this bitch to fucking justice for her cowardice, no matter what it takes.

Fender sprints a step behind me, his breathing labored yet somehow steady as he sprints alongside me. I know the same fire of vengeance and anger does not run in his veins towards Fuji, but he's been a good ally, and I doubt he would shy away from a fight this late in the Games, especially against a weaker opponent. We're both stronger than Fuji, and I know Fender knows it too. He also knows I'm the one who has a score to settle with her, and I'm the one with the chainsaw, so he's not going to have to do much today. He gets to help me out and reap the rewards of the carnage I'm deadset on causing today. I think I can trust him, from the way he keeps up with me and doesn't say a word to question me about what we're doing. When we saw Fuji on the horizon, he didn't say a word when I said we had to go get to her. I think that he'll help me with this, and he should, if he's smart. He should want to see her killed, for what she's done, and so that we can finally go home.

Still, I make sure to glance back at him every now and then to make sure he's keeping in step with me. It's the Hunger Games after all, and people are fickle and unpredictable. Fender seems level-headed and mellow, but there's only eight of us left, and you can't predict when someone might snap, especially in the tense moments before a fight. I know I'm thrumming like a live wire right now, and my head isn't all the way clear. You've just got to be careful, simple as that. You never know when anything could go wrong. I'm intent on making sure nothing goes wrong today though, not when Fuji is this close to being in my grasp.

The chase goes one for at least ten more minutes; Fuji looks tired the whole time, but by either pure drive for survival or some talent I didn't know she had, she keeps running as fast as us. The gap between us is about fifty feet, and I rush to try to close it as the grass gets taller and taller. If she's that far away from us when the grass goes over her head, we might never reach her. I can hear Fender grunting and groaning to keep up, and he starts falling back several steps behind me. He's not driven by the need for vengeance that fills my every fiber, so it makes sense. He can fall back if he want. I'm the one that has to catch Fuji, I'm the one that has to do this. I press my body harder and harder until I feel my lungs beginning to burn and it feels like there's blood in my mouth. I feel woozy and like I want to lay down or stop and chug my water bottle. I ignore that, running until I begin to close the gap between us and I'm only feet behind Fuji.

She senses it too; I can see her straining to run faster, but she's burnt through her stamina already and then some. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, and her gleaming brown skin is slicked with sweat just like mine. With effort, I take a couple more galloping steps, and suddenly I'm right behind her. With the hand not holding onto my chainsaw, I reach out and shove her to the ground hard. A small scream erupts from her throat as she falls sideways, landing on her right side. She props herself up with her right arm and desperately scurries to her feet, holding out her dagger towards me with both hands grasping the handle once she's stable on her feet. Her eyes flicker worriedly around her; the grass is at her neck at this point, and she seems to ache to run away, knowing she is so close to escape. However, her eyes keep glancing down to the chainsaw and the belt of throwing knives at my waist. If she tries to run away now, I can take her down, I'm sure of it. We're only feet apart now. Still, she begins to back away slowly, compelled to try to escape from me. Her arms shake slightly, and I watch as the tip of her dagger wavers in the air. It has to be the same dagger that killed Ivy.

"You killed her," I gasp. I can barely speak; my body is completely exhausted from the chase, and Fuji is similarly tired, her chest heaving up and down with enormous effort. Fender arrives behind me, stopping a couple feet away and surveying us warily. He also breathes heavily, and for a couple of moments the only sounds are us panting and the wind sweeping through the golden grass. I stare at Fuji, expecting a retort or a response, but she says nothing, just desperately gulping air into her lungs and slowly inching away from me. Her eyes are wide open, and I can see the whites of her eyes starkly against her dark skin and even darker irises. I narrow my eyes at her, but still she says nothing.

"You killed her," I try again, this time adding more ferocity and venom to my tone. "You killed her, Fuji! You killed her like a fucking coward, while she slept!"

Fuji remains silent, although my roaring voice makes her begin to tremble harder. The dagger shakes even more, and I watch as the blade jerks around anxiously in her hands, watching as the tip that she sunk into Ivy's throat carves little jagged arcs through the air. Her silence is worse than anything. I want her to scream at me or fight me, but she's silent, and I see that she's not sorry or even pleased with what she did. She's just there, panting and shaking and waiting for me to kill her, and it makes the rage swell into me more than I ever thought possible.

"I'm going to fucking tear you limb for limb," I growl, my voice steadier now that I've begun to catch my breath. Fuji and Fender's panting is slowing as well. "I'm going to make you feel what she felt, and what I felt. Do you understand me?"

Fuji just stares at me, stares so hard at me that her gaze feels like two stones being pressed into my skull. She still says nothing, and I swear I see red as I roar again.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!" I scream. "I'M GOING TO MAKE YOU UNDERSTAND!" And the vision is my head again. Waking up and realizing I've slept through my guard shift. Seeing Ivy's still body laying alone only feet away. Crawling over to it and finding her throat slashed open and gooey, half-dried blood covering everything around her. Trying to help her, but finding out there are no supplies left, and that Fuji has left us. Realizing what this bitch has done to me, done to us, done to everything.

"I...wanted to survive," Fuji manages to choke out, her voice husky from underuse. "You...were...going to...going to kill me, Omri."

"If I killed you, it wouldn't have been like that," I spit out, snarling. "I wouldn't have slit your throat in the night. I would've let you fight for your life and give you a fair death. That's what I'm going to do now, too. I'm going to give you a fair death, and I'm going to make sure it fucking hurts."

"I let you live," Fuji murmurs, staring at me stonily. Her breathing is almost normal now, and she seems to have steeled herself, her usual toughness beginning to cover up the absolute terror I witnessed earlier. She clears her throat before speaking again, more clearly now. "I could've killed...killed you, too, but I let you...live. If you want to be...fair, then...be fair, and return the favor. Let...let me go."

The dark laughter that erupts from my mouth is involuntary, but I don't mind it. I chuckle loudly, shaking my head. Fuji seems tense, her mouth curling into a nervous frown, while Fender looks still and unreadable next to me, a throwing knife clutched tight in his hand as he glances between Fuji and I, waiting for the real fight to begin. I guess I shouldn't waste anymore time and give her any other chances to talk her way out of this. Justice must be served. Vengeance must be swift, all for Ivy.

"I wouldn't let you go, even if it meant I'd get to go home," I growl, my voice gravelly and booming. "You're going to regret killing her, Fuji. You're going to regret all of it."

"I know," she says simply, her eyes flickering around for an escape again before she settles on the fact that she cannot. She cocks her head to the side and squeezes the handle of her dagger as if to assure herself. Her voice is clear of its cobwebs when she speaks again. "Well. What are you waiting for then, Omri? Kill me, if you're so eager. Let's get this over with."

"Oh, we won't be getting this over with anytime soon," I snicker with a small smile on my face, feeling all the blood in my body bubble to the surface and make my sweaty skin gleam with heat and fury. My head swims with the heady feeling, and I grit my teeth together into a menacing smile as my fingers deftly reach across to the throttle on the chainsaw. With a single pull, I turn the thing on, the growling sound of the motor kicking to life roaring through the prairie around us as its wickedly sharp blades whir to life.

My laughter is deep and dark as I watch Fuji tense, her eyes locked on the chainsaw as I take a step towards her. Her eyes slowly lift to meet mine, and her mouth moves soundlessly as I make one last comment before lunging towards the girl I've dreamed about killing for longer than I can handle.

"I'm going to make sure this lasts."

Fender Hopkins, 17

District Six Male

I watch with bated breath as Omri leaps towards Fuji with the chainsaw turned on all the way. The motor spits and coughs but remains strong, the blade cutting through the stalks of grass in front of him with deadly accuracy. The sight sends ice into my veins, so I'm not surprised when Fuji turns and flees out of instinct. Omri quickly rushes after her, not bothering to turn off as the chainsaw as he runs. I quickly scramble after him, making sure not to lose them in the sea of grass.

He bellows after her as she leaps through the grass with newfound speed. "You can't run forever, Fuji!" Omri shouts shrilly, in an almost sing-song voice, something I've never heard from him. The terror pounds in my head as hard as the blood, and I feel a little sick as I follow them as best as I can. Fuji runs in a jagged, zig-zagging pattern, and it hurts to keep shifting directions as we sprint through the grass. Soon, the stalks start to brush over my head, but I can see that Omri is still feet behind Fuji even though I'm much farther behind the both of them. He's not going to let her slip away, I understand that. I can completely understand it all now.

Part of my brain screams at me to run away while I still can, and leave Omri to do whatever he will with Fuji. I owe nothing to the Three girl, and I'd be foolish to try to help her. It's not something I've even considered. She's someone who has to die if I want to go home, even if she has a fiancee back in Three and a crippled little sister from what Omri's told me. And, anyway, getting in between Omri and the girl he's ravenous about killing while the chainsaw is roaring in his hands is like asking to get myself killed. I know he won't let anything get in his way of getting to her, not even me, no matter how well we've worked together. I'm not even on his mind as he chases after her, and I know I could slip away so easily and run away in the other direction right now if I wanted to.

I know I probably should. We're at the Top 8 already, and most alliances usually break up around this time so that they don't have to kill each other. Sure, there's still Careers in the arena, but it's still potentially the smart thing to do. And the thing I saw in Omri's face and heard in his voice from the moment he spotted her on the horizon until this very moment is...chilling. His voice always gets hard and his expressions dark whenever he talks about her, but there was pure murder in his face. I could tell he was just so eager to find her and to kill her. It was the look of a Career going after a little Outlier during the Bloodbath, the look of a lion prowling its prey. It was terrifying. I've never seen such bloodthirst from him before, and I'm scared to see what he does to Fuji. He has a dozen throwing knives and a fucking chainsaw, and she has a flimsy little dagger. She doesn't stand a chance, and from the way Omri has been acting, I don't expect him to make her death short. He's going to drag it out like a Career, just because she killed his ally, and that's terrifying to me. If he can do that to her, what is he going to do to me?

Still, for some reason, I keep following them, even though I gradually slow down so that I get farther and farther back so I don't get entangled in the initial clash. Part of me is even more terrified of going alone in this arena than seeing what Omri does to Fuji. There's still Chavez and Tyberios and the tiny Four girl left, and they're all trained killers. I know the pack most likely has split, but even facing one of them alone means probable death for me. Staying with Omri means that I have someone else who is a bigger threat and a strong fighter by my side. We can take down a Career together, I think, especially with the chainsaw. Alone, though, I doubt either of us has much of a chance.

I also know, if I abandon him now, he won't hesitate to kill me the next time we meet. He's the only person in this arena that isn't my sworn enemy at this point, and even though I know I need to start fighting for myself and not for the two of us, I can't bring myself to abandon him yet. We need each other, I think. Or maybe I've just convinced myself of that, over our days of laughing under the hot sun and fighting off the jackalopes together. We're good friends at this point, and maybe it's because we haven't seen real danger yet that I feel safe enough to keep following him. My animal instincts want me to run away, and my gut churns, but I know strategically I need to stick with him, and part of me feels comforted by the idea too. I need companionship, if I'm going to come home. I'm not sure if that's really true, or if I really believe it, but either way my mind has been made up, and I continue to follow my ally as he hunts down the girl that's wronged him.

Within a minute, I know that he's caught up to Fuji, because I hear several earsplitting screams and then pained moaning and incoherent begging. My legs feel like they're stuck in blocks of cement, and my heart leaps into my throat, but I keep making myself jog forward until I'm in sight of where Omri is looming over Fuji. The moment the full scene comes into view, the churning in my stomach becomes so violent that I feel bile creep into my throat. I try to force it back down, but then I watch as Omri brings the chainsaw down again, and the vomit spills out of my mouth no matter how hard I try to hold it back.

Fuji is on the ground, screaming, crying, and trying to claw her way through the dusty dirt as Omri brings the chainsaw down onto her. Parts of both of her legs are already cut off; the right one has been chopped off at the knee, while the other is cut off at mid calf. Blood gushes out of the two uneven stumps of her legs like twin crimson floods. There are several shallower slashes with the chainsaw's blade across her stomach and back, and the girl's skin looks like it's deep red instead of brown. I watch in horror as Omri presses his boot onto her back before grabbing her by the hair. Fuji screeches and thrashes, but it's hopeless; there's nothing she can do to escape, and her eyes go wide like a pig about to be slaughtered as Omri brings the chainsaw down.

However, Omri slices off her hair with the chainsaw instead of cutting off her head like both myself and Fuji expected. I watch as he throws the wad of hair away, chuckling maniacally. I catch a glimpse of Omri's face, and all the kindness and warmth I've seen in it is gone. All that is left is a naked, gloomy expression that I can't make any sense of. Still, the look terrifies me to no end, and I watch with horror as Omri uses the chainsaw to chop off both of Fuji's hands. The Three girl's pained screams have turned to muted gurgles, and I can see her body beginning to shake as the blood empties out of it. I watch as Omri kicks both of her severed hands away from the stumps that are left on her arms, and more bile comes out from my stomach and splatters across the ground. My body screams to do something to stop this savagery, but my jaw feels like it's wired shut, and I can't make any muscle move, stupefied by the pure gory horror in front of me.

I watch as Omri slices into either side of Fuji's ribcage with the chainsaw, and I cringe, dropping my throwing knife and pressing my hands to my ears as I hear the sounds of bones cracking and flesh tearing like wet tissue paper under the chainsaw's whirring blade. I squeeze my eyes shut, unwilling to see any more of the slaughter; Fuji's body is already butchered, and Omri is still cutting into her. I pray and pray for it to end, and thankfully I hear the cannon a couple of moments later. With a sigh of pained relief, I drop my hands from my ears and open my eyes.

Fuji is still on the ground, although I wouldn't call what's left Fuji anymore. The thing that's left looks more like a gory, unrecognizable pile of guts and flesh, the body so cut up and mashed together that I can't make myself believe it was a living, breathing person only minutes earlier. Omri still stands over it, and I watch as he continues to cut into the thing with the chainsaw, chuckling under his breath and shouting every now and then at it. Tears, hot and warm, begin to streak down my face as Omri continues to cut into the disfigured body of the girl that is so obviously already dead.

"Omri, she's gone!" I shout as the tears begin to pour thicker down my face. "She's fucking dead already!" He doesn't seem to hear me, continuing to chop up the bloodied remains with his chainsaw while taunting it with curses and kicks. I want to slit my own throat at the horrifying sight, and my stomach lurches again, but there's nothing left to come up. I dry heave for several moments before stumbling towards Omri out of instinct, everything inside me screaming to get him to stop what he's doing right now.

Within moments, I'm right beside him. The foul stench of...the thing, so close and already buzzing with flies, makes my stomach lurch another time, but I steady myself and force myself to speak. "Omri it's...it's over! Stop! Please, Omri, please! Stop!"

Omri suddenly looks up at me, and there is no awareness left in his eyes. They look glossy and flat, just like the eyes of a doll that my little sister Kyva carried around with her everywhere when she was a toddler. His blank eyes are contrasted with the gore spattered across his dark face, and his mouth is curled into an ugly half-smile, half-grimace that makes my legs begin to shake.

"You're still here," he breathes, his hands gripping the handle of the chainsaw as the blade continues to whir through the empty air, flinging a spray of blood and gore over us. Some of it splatters onto me, but I ignore it, forcing myself to look directly into Omri's emotionless doll-eyes and speak.

"Yes, Omri, I'm still here, I'm still here," I croak, feeling so vulnerable and terrified with the warm tears pouring down my cheeks. I make myself press on. "Yes, I'm still here, buddy, and you have to step away. She's dead, Omri, she's dead. You did it. You can stop now."

Omri stares at me blanky for a couple of moments, and I see confusion working its way into his expression. He cocks his head to one side, his eyes surveying me slowly, before he turns back to the bloodied heap on the ground behind us. I watch with disgust as he ignores my words entirely and moves to cut into the sodden lumps of flesh again.

"OMRI!" I scream, and without knowing what I'm doing, I grab the back of his shirt in my hands, the bloody fabric bunching up in my fists as I shake him. "SHE'S DEAD! LEAVE HER ALONE! LEAVE HER ALONE!"

I let go once the words rip their way out of my mouth, backing away quickly, but Omri is already turning towards me. There is no longer confusion in his face, and the dull gleam in his doll-eyes is more terrifying than ever. His lips curl up to reveal his yellow-white teeth, and it feels like I'm looking at a wild dog defending its spoils and not another teenager that I once called my friend.

"Why are you defending her?" Omri huffs, his fingers flexing tautly around the handle of the chainsaw as it continues to whir. I watch as the thing sprays blood through the air, and then back into Omri's still eyes, and I can't make the words come out of my mouth for long moments. I just keep slowly backing up until I'm near the ground where I dropped my throwing knife earlier.

I drop to my knees, quickly scooping the blade into my hand as I speak, always keeping my eyes on Omri as I do so. "I'm not helping her. She's dead, Omri. You have to...you have to stop, it's already done. The cannon fired, bud, she's dead. You did it, you beat her. It's all over. You need to step away from her. Leave her alone."

I just kept talking and talking, and I curse myself for rambling. He's obviously not in his right mind, and chattering on like that isn't going to get the message across through the muck that his mind's become. However, I quickly realize that he has understood some of what I've said as I see his lips curl even higher. The sight makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and I can feel the tremors of anxiety and fear spreading throughout my body as his yellow-white teeth glint in the midday sunlight.

"You are helping her," Omri breathes, ragged and bloody, and in his eyes are a million more accusations he has neither the energy nor awareness to put into words. I can only imagine what's racing through his broken mind, shattered by the violence and vengeance he's sought after for so long, finally sated. I can only imagine what he thinks of me now, and I know there's no way it's anything good.

"I would never," I plead, hating how my voice sounds like I'm talking to a child, but I can't help it. There's no sense left in Omri, I can tell that now. I should've ran away while I had the chance, but I was more foolish than I could've ever predicted. "I would've never," I say again, in a quieter voice.

"Yes you would," Omri gasps. "You put her up to it. You put her up to it, didn't you?" His voice rises with each mounting accusation, and he takes a lurching step towards me. I instinctively crawl backwards at the motion as he continues roaring in my face. "You told her to do it! You told her to do everything! You...you...you!"

He leaps at me suddenly then, the chainsaw's blade flying through the air, and I barely have time to scream before the whirring edge slices into the flesh of my left calf. With a scream, I roll across the ground, pulling my leg free from the rotating blade. I scream again, hot tears streaking down my face as I look back and see the blood gushing from the deep cut in my leg. My chest heaves up and down, and my head spins, but I force myself to try to crawl away. I won't let him get me like this, not now, not ever.

Still, I begin to beg him to leave me alone as I crawl, knowing I'm not going to be as fast as him with my leg spewing blood everywhere. "Omri, please, Omri, go do whatever you want to her, please, I don't have anything to do with this, Omri, please, I'm telling you, leave me alone, leave me alone, I didn't do anything, I didn't do anything, Omri! OMRI!"

He's looming over me, the chainsaw spraying its blood through the clear air around us, and I know it's my time to die. I've never believed in a god before. I mean, I'm prouder of District Six than most of the people from there, but I still wouldn't believe there's someone looking out for us after seeing everything that goes on there. The gangs, the drugs, the rape, the starvation, the poverty, the exploitation. It's evident to anyone with half a mind that there isn't anyone who cares about us besides ourselves when you live your life in a District like Six. Still, I find myself praying to something. I don't know who or what it is, if it's a man in the sky or the wind ruffling the grass around me or the dice of fate rolling in the heavens above me. Whatever it is, I pray and pray as I keep crawling away and Omri looms over me with his chainsaw spewing gore through the air. I pray that it will save me, and that I can be let go without being butchered like Fuji was.

"You're going to regret helping her," Omri pants, the vein in his neck popping out as he clenches his gleaming yellow-white teeth together and slowly brings the chainsaw down towards one of my arms. With a strangled scream, I give a desperate effort to get to my feet and run. I'm able to dodge the blade of the chainsaw, but I don't even make it two steps before collapsing back onto the ground, my wounded leg buckling with a fierce shooting pain beneath me. I can't even scream, I just gasp at the red-hot searing pain that seems to overtake my entire body as I thud to the dusty ground.

Gritting my teeth through the pain, I force myself onto my back so I can keep my eyes on Omri. He steps towards me again, and he clucks his tongue as he lifts the chainsaw over his head to bring down on my leg. The look on his face is almost...pitying. No, it's exasperated. It's as if I'm wasting his time by not laying down and dying for his broken mind.

"There's no point in running, Fendy," Omri trills in his shrill sing-song voice. I cringe at the little nickname, the exact same thing my mother used to call me as a little boy, and I clench my fist tighter around my throwing knife. "I'm always going to get you, Fendy. I'm always going to get the bad guys, no matter what."

He lifts the chainsaw above his head to bring it down on my uninjured leg, and although I do my best to pull myself away from him through the scratchy golden stalks of grass, I know it's not going to be enough, and I'm not moving fast enough either. I brace myself for the bite of the chainsaw into the back of my knee, the feeling of my entire leg being severed off, and all of the brutality he will inflict on me after that. However, it never comes; I keep crawling like a frightened mouse through the grass, and nothing attacks me.

I heard an irritated scream from behind me, and I look back to see Omri throwing the chainsaw to the ground with a roar as the motor sputters and chokes. The tears spring back up in my eyes, but this time they're from relief as I watch the chainsaw slam onto the ground. The motor gives a few more puffs and shudders, and then the blade falls still. The contraption has run out of fuel, I'm sure of it. My mind reaches out to the man in the sky and the wind in the grass in thanks as I watch Omri slam his foot into the thing in anger. They've saved me, thank God or gods or dice of fate or whatever else. They've saved me.

My feeling of freedom and relief does not last long, however. After slamming his foot into the chainsaw, Omri turns back to me with the most vile expression I've ever seen on another person's face. It's all petty rage mixed with vindictive bloodlust, and so many other things I don't have the attention or desire to name. He cracks his knuckles as he stalks towards me, every footfall heavy and forceful as he makes sure to terrify me with his advancement. My mind trips up on the fact that this...creature, I guess that's what he is now, that this creature was once my ally and friend. And now he's stalking towards me with pure hatred written on every crease and line in his haunting face.

"I need nothing but my hands to kill scum like you," Omri hisses, the doll-eyes flaming with passion and heat now, and I know this is my only chance. With a grunt, I push myself up into a sitting position. My abs ache at the position, but I know my legs won't hold me now. This is the only way I have the opportunity to take him out. With another grunt of pain, I lift my arm that holds the throwing knife, aiming it right at the very boy who helped me learn how to throw it only two weeks ago.

"I'm sorry," I manage to croak before I send the knife hurtling through the air towards him. Omri seems surprised when the blade slams into his gut, his eyes wide open in confusion and shock. It's almost like he forgot that I had a weapon, or that I could even defend myself at all. His hand closes around the polished chrome handle with sickly curiosity and confusion, and I watch as he rips the blade from his stomach, tearing a bigger gash as he does so. He stumbles as the blood begins to pour out of the wound, and the throwing knife rolls from his hands and thuds softly on the grass. Groaning, he presses his palms against the gushing slice in his stomach. He staggers again, this time falling to the ground. He sticks out a hand to catch himself before easing himself to the ground. I let myself collapse too with a huff, now that I know he's down.

I let the tears drip down my cheeks, scalding hot and salty, for several moments as I gather my strength. Then I force myself to flip over onto my hands and knees. My left calf screams at the movement, and I feel more rivulets of blood gushing from the wound. I squeeze my eyes tight to try to abate the pain, but it still remains, burning fiercely.

I know I need to move. I need to get away from Omri; he may be laying on the ground, his chest rising and falling as he struggles to suck in his next breath, but he's still stronger than me, and with a broken mind, I have no idea what he'll try to do to me. Even more concerning is the fact that we've been making so much noise, and we're so much closer to the Horn than I realized. The grass is over our heads here, which means we can't be more than a mile from the center of the arena. We've been screaming and begging and fighting for a long time now, all accompanied by the loud, growling noise the chainsaw's motors emits. If anyone's anywhere nearby, they've heard us, and they're coming to investigate. With my fucked leg, I have no time to waste. Thus, I force myself to begin to crawl away, my breathing labored as I do so.

As I begin to leave Omri and the pile of flesh that was Fuji behind, my mind skips a beat and I realize I'm being foolish. I have no weapons, no supplies, and I doubt I'm going to get anything from the sponsors for crying and screaming like a baby these past couple of minutes. If the Careers are coming for me right now, I can't just be crawling here without anything. I need something, anything. Thus, I make myself crawl back towards where Omri is laying, even though my instincts scream to go in the other direction from my old friend. I'm not leaving this all behind without some weaponry and a proper goodbye.

Omri doesn't even look my way as I crawl through the grass besides him, his eyes trained on the sky as his body shudders with the effort of living. The wound in his gut is ugly, long and puffy and still spilling blood everywhere, making his already bloodsoaked clothes absolutely saturated. My entire body shakes as I crawl over to where he has dropped the throwing knife I sent flying into his stomach, only feet from him. He doesn't even flinch as I quickly snatch up the knife before doing my best to scurry away from him. My hands shake as I wipe the blood and bits of gore off of the blade against the golden grass. Still, Omri says nothing, does nothing. He just lays there, eyes staring at the sky blankly. It's more terrifying than when he was roaring spittle and curses in my face minutes before. It makes me realize he's really about to die, and I'm probably not that far behind him. Our perfect illusion has been shattered, and the game is over. The real Games have begun now, it seems.

With that in mind, instead of crawling away from Omri, I make myself move towards him, the still half-bloodied throwing knife clenched tight in my fist. When I'm next to him, so close I can feel his hot, musty breath against my face, he finally meets my gaze, but he does not move to fight me. His eyes are still flat and doll-like, but there is no hatred or anger in them, just blankness and confusion that seems to paralyze him to the spot.

"Where...?" he manages to choke out after a couple of seconds, blood dribbling down his chin as he spits out the words. I don't answer, just looking into his dark doll eyes and feeling tears pooling into mine.

"I'm sorry, Omri," I whisper, and I lift the throwing knife above his neck, ready to give him the finishing blow and put him out of his misery. His eyes open wide, but it's not human fear, at least not the self-aware, adultish fear that I'm accustomed to seeing. It's the fear an animal sees while it's being led to the slaughterhouse, the fear a child has when they don't know where their parents are. Basic fear, so primal and so pungent it cuts to the core of my soul as I stare into his terrifed eyes. I know I need to kill him, for the Capitol to lavish me with gifts and medicines, and it'll be doing him a justice, taking him out and ending his pain. But those eyes seem to fill my entire vision, and I just can't do it.

"I'm going to show you mercy," I say, even though I've never thought the words before in my mind. Still, they resonate in the warm prairie air around us, and I realize they're kind enough, close enough to what I really feel. Mercy. I'm going to show him mercy. I'm going to leave him, and let him fight for his life. He's not a person, he's just a creature now, a childish one, a scared one. There's no honor in killing that. And...well, he's a childish creature with the face of the guy who was my best friend in this arena. No matter what I do, I just cannot make myself drop the blade into his throat and end it once and for all.

Omri says nothing as the throwing knife drops to my side and I begin to back away slowly. His eyes return to staring at the clear, robin's egg blue sky above us, and I glance up and notice all of the clouds have cleared, and I swear that the sun seems to be shining a little bit brighter. The sunlight glows across his dark curls and warm brown skin, and it also glimmers over the glistening blood that continues to leak out of the gash in his gut. I suck in a breath at the simultaneously horrifying and mesmerizing sight before forcing myself to turn away and leave Omri to the mercy I've promised him.

I've already wasted enough time as it is, and I expect Chavez or Tyberios or the Four girl to come bursting out of the grass around me at any moment, their blades ready to finish the job I couldn't and take me out, too. There is nothing, though. The grass does not move, and the wind dies down so that everything is still. I tuck the bloody throwing knife into the waist band of my shorts before starting to crawl in the opposite direction of Omri and the center of the arena, clenching my teeth tightly as the wound in my leg screams in protest.

Before I leave, however, I spot the chainsaw on the ground nearby. It's covered in blood and gore, and my stomach lurches at the thought of the thing burying itself in my calf. Still, the logical part of my mind pushes through the haze of fear and pain to reason that it would be smart to bring the chainsaw with me. It's not broken, it's probably just out of gas, and maybe I'll be lucky enough to get some as a sponsor gift. The thought makes me chuckle a little bit; I doubt I'll be able to get much at all. Still, something compels me to grab onto the handle of the chainsaw before I crawl off into the grass, and I don't question it. It's a useful tool after all, and I don't want someone stronger than me to be able to have it.

I consider looking back one last time at Omri, but I decide not to. It's not worth it, and I've already made my choice and said my goodbye. Thus, I drag myself forward through the grass, pulling the clunky chainsaw with me. My arms ache at the effort of bringing it along, but I still carry it, even if it slows down my pace even more. I crawl and crawl for Snow knows how long. It might only be ten minutes, it could be ten hours. Every movement makes my sliced open calf scream with unexpressable pain, and my entire body longs to curl up into a ball, doze off, and never wake back up. I keep my arms and legs slowly moving as I crawl, though. I can't give up now, just like this, even though I know I might have lost too much blood already from the wound in my leg. If I'm going to stop, I should've done it a long time ago, all the way back at the Bloodbath when I stepped off my plate. If I wanted to let myself die, I should've done it then, and I didn't, so I have to keep moving now. I've made my bed, and I'm going to lie in it.

After a while, I hear a light twinkling above my head, and my heart thuds with joy as I watch a small, silvery parcel drift down from the mid-afternoon sky. I put down the chainsaw besides me before turning up towards the sky. I stretch my aching fingers out towards the parachute, sighing in relief once I don't have to strain any longer and the cool silver container is in my hands. I screw off the cap as quickly as I can, finding a roll of bandages and a small red tablet inside.

"Thank you, Calla, thank you everyone," I mutter, my voice cracking with gratitude. I quickly pluck the folded slip of paper from where it's tucked beside the two sponsor gifts to see what the tablet is for.

You've lost a lot of blood; the tablet is meant to help build more red blood cells I read in my head to myself. Wrap up your wound tightly. This is all I've got.

I understand immediately what Calla means as I eagerly pop the tablet into my mouth. This is all I've got. She's got nothing more to give me, especially after I didn't polish off Omri. I'm on my own now. No more gifts to save the day. If I hurt myself, I'm out for the count. There's not even antiseptic or quick-heal medicine here, either. Just bandages. I might already have an infection, and there's nothing I can do about it. I push that thought from my mind, instead swallowing the tablet. It's gritty and bitter, but it makes my mind clear a bit, and I'm thankful for it.

I roll over into a sitting position so I can wrap up my leg. I want to vomit again when I see the condition my left calf is in, but I make myself keep the bile down; I can't throw up the blood-cell tablet now, or else I'm done for. With a shudder, I pull out bits of grass that have gotten stuck in the wound while I've been crawling, each one feeling like I'm pulling a red-hot stick of iron out of my calf. There's dirt and dust crusted around the gooey, bubbling wound, and I know I'm going to be lucky if it isn't infected. Still, I know there's nothing I can do; I don't have anything to clean the wound with, and every moment I leave it unwrapped, more blood leaks from my body. Thus, I grit my teeth and wrap the wound as tightly as I can. The pain flares, sizzling and overbearing, but I don't let myself falter, wrapping the entire roll around my calf until the wound is hidden beneath swaths of smooth white fabric. The pain still sits hot and heavy in my leg, but it feels a little better with the bandages snugly concealing it.

Once I'm done, I feel myself collapse backwards, my eyes beginning to flutter closed. The sun's going to set in an hour or two, and I know I should keep moving and get farther away from the center of the arena. The grass would still be around my neck here if I stood up. However, I can't make myself move. It's been a long, long day, and I can't make myself do anything else.

As my eyes slip closed, a thunderous cannon suddenly shatters the stillness of the arena, making me jump. I shiver, the air suddenly feeling cold, and I realize Omri must be gone now. His wound was ugly, and he doesn't have any bandages or red-blood cell tablets. Even if he did, he probably wouldn't be in the right state of mind to do anything with it. He's probably dead now, and I was the one who did that. The thought makes me shiver again as the reverb of cannon fades from the air, and I force my eyes to close, trying to fall into sleep as quickly as I can. Still, the now-silent cannon rings in my ears, and I realize that I'm probably not going to get a wink of rest for a long, long time.

Tyberios Palatium, 18

District Two Male

I wrench the blade of my axe out of the chest of the boy from District Eleven after his cannon fires, watching as blood spurts from the wound. I remember his name is Omri, even though I know I shouldn't think of him like that anymore. He's dead now, so there's no point in thinking of this body as a person. Still, morbid curiosity makes me look down on his still, bloodied body for a couple of moments. His once-handsome face looks like a wooden mask now, all spattered in blood and dust. His dark brown eyes are glassy and open wide in confusion, his lips forming a perfect O of shock and pain from the fatal wound I've given him. I let myself stare into his vacant eyes for a couple of moments before turning away, letting the small bits of guilt that flutter in my chest evaporate into the cool evening air.

He was as good as dead, anyways. My eyes glance backwards at the jagged gash in his stomach. It's ugly, still dribbling blood even now that he's dead. If I hadn't come to finish the job, he probably would've been dead by the anthem anyway. I was just putting him out of his misery, and I'm happy I was the one that got to do it. Things have been slow for the past couple of days, ever since the break-up of the pack, but now I've been able to polish off the strongest Outlier left in the Games, and there's only six of us left. I'm well on my way to Victory now, and it almost feels like the air is getting colder and thicker as I breathe it into my lungs. It's getting serious. We're almost to the endgame now.

I begin to survey the area around where Omri's corpse lays, still and cold. Back at the Cornucopia, where I was deciding when to abandon the supplies, I heard the screaming and some guttural, almost mechanical sound. I didn't even think; my training took over, and I quickly suited up and ran after the noise. Before I even hit the grass there was a cannon, but I still heard shouting and the rumbling sound of something, almost like a car's motor. It took me about an hour to sprint through the grass until I found the right place. By the time I got here, however, whatever made that noise was gone, and I spotted Omri laying on the ground with the debilitating wound in his stomach. He didn't even seem to notice me when I put the battle axe in his chest. Maybe that's the reason I was unsettled the most, and the reason I couldn't tear my eyes away from his while he died.

I shake those thoughts out of my head, dislodging the picture of the vacant gleam in Omri's eyes from my memory bank. I scan the area around him, and my eyes quickly settle on a heap of sodden, bloodied flesh and bones that makes my stomach curdle. My headaches have been receding from the adrenaline of killing Omri, but they slam hard into my forehead at the gory sight. I've had years of training, and I've seen every Games a dozen times, and I don't remember many things as horrifying as this thing in front of me.

I walk slowly towards what must be the remains of the tribute whose cannon fired earlier. The bits of skin I can see that aren't doused in blood and guts seems dark in tone, and suddenly I spot a dismembered hand kicked far away from the rest of the pile. Striding over to it, I see that the skin is indeed dark brown, and glittering on the ring finger is a gorgeous engagement ring. That confirms what I suspected; it's the girl from Three, who I remember was allied with Omri before the Games. My mind can't pick out her name, but that doesn't matter. I remember they were allied at the start, and that's enough. It makes sense that they were most likely still together if they're both lying dead only a couple of yards apart.

Still, something about the situation nags at my brain. It doesn't make sense that the girl from Three would look like...that, and Omri would just have a simple slash wound in his stomach and nothing more. The way Omri got injured doesn't bother me, but the way that the girl from Three looks like raw meat does. I have no idea what could've caused this; not even Chavez would be this vicious killing someone, and all he has are throwing knives. I don't know how blades like that could do this serious of damage. It would take at least something like a sword or an axe like mine to chop someone up this messily, and even then, this looks worse than that. And then there was the rumbling sound I heard too, between the screams. Rumbling, like a motor of something. I shake my head again, turning away from the Three girl's sloppy remains. They wouldn't let another mechanical weapon into this Games after the rifle, would they?

My mind briefly considers if it was the little girl from Ten, but there's no bullet wounds in either of them. Not that I'd be able to tell from what's left of Three, but still. I doubt a thirteen year old Outlier is going to butcher a girl like that if she's already shot her dead. If Omri was still allied with Three, he probably wouldn't have done it either, and there's nothing around that he could've killed her with, not even a knife. That's the other thing that bothers me. I see the metallic shatters of a broken dagger strewn among Three's bloody remains, but I don't see any other weapons. Maybe Three injured Omri, and then she was killed by a mutt? That wouldn't make sense either; the sound I heard was definitely unnatural, and the mutt would've probably gone after Omri too once it was done with Three. Instead, she's left looking like this, and he's almost entirely whole.

As I puzzle over the circumstances of what happened here, I come to the conclusion that there had to have been a third, maybe fourth person involved here. Who, I don't know. I don't think any of the others left would've been this vicious to Three, but you never know what the Games do to people. They break tributes down and turn us into monsters, that's the purpose after all. Maybe Chavez finally lost his marbles on a power trip and decided to take out his wrath on her. Maybe fucking Cordelia's more devious than I imagined; she did poison the pack, after all, so I wouldn't put it past her. Or maybe one of the other Outlier boys, Six or Twelve, went beserk on them. That still doesn't explain how Three was absolutely butchered or why Omri didn't even glance my way when I killed him. The whole situation is unsettling, and for some reason I feel compelled to try to solve this mystery. If there's someone or something else involved, they might not be far away, and I could potentially slim the numbers down to five if I find them. The numbers are so small now, and I have to take every opportunity to advance myself.

I stop for a moment to take out a water bottle from the pack slung over my shoulders, taking a long sip. The cool water rubs away the incessant throb of my headaches for a couple of moments, and I groan in relief at the lapse of nothingness before the pounding returns. Then I stuff the bottle back in my bag before surveying the bloody, matted down grass around me with a critical eye. There has to be another clue here, I'm sure of it. A girl doesn't get torn to shreds like that without whatever did it leaving behind some kind of clue.

After glancing around the area for a couple of moments, I notice that the grass is matted down behind where Omri's body lays. Streaks of bright blood that are already drying and flaking off cover the area. For a moment I think it might be from Three or Omri, but as I get closer, I see that the trail continues away from this spot and farther into the grass. A small grin works its way onto my face as I begin to follow the little trail deeper into the arena. Whatever or whoever else was here, they're obviously wounded, and they've left a path for me straight to them.

I clutch my axe tightly in my right fist, making sure to keep the blades from hitting my legs as I break out into a brisk jog. The sky is beginning to darken little by little, and if this is some monstrous mechanical mutt or Chavez with some outlandish contraption ready to kill me, I don't want to face them without good lighting. It's also been at least an hour since Three was killed, so they could be far away by now, so I need to be speedy. However, as I run, I notice that the bloody drag marks on the ground seem labored and jagged, as if the person or thing creating them was running out of energy. Good. That means they're weakening, and that also means they can't have gotten too far.

After about five minutes of jogging, the grass is about at neck's height, and I can tell I'm getting close to my target. The streaks of blood have little pools every now and then where it seems the injured person or thing had to stop to catch its breath. I slow down to a walk, creeping quietly along the small, matted down trail through the grass. The setting sun causes the millions of stalks around me to gleam like polished spires of gold, and the beauty makes my heart quicken a little more. The pounding pain in my head ebbs away entirely as I hear soft breathing ahead, and I know that my target is in reach.

I crouch down in the grass and peer between the stalks to where an injured male tribute is laying on a flattened area of grass. His arms are folded behind his head as he stares at the darkening sky, and his face seems to be in a trance-like state, almost asleep. His body is covered in dirt and dried blood, and his skin is a warm, medium brown; I recognize him as the boy from Six. On his left leg, bandages are wrapped tightly around what seems to be his major injury, the blood already starting to soak through them in some places.

And then the kicker. A fucking chainsaw of all things, sitting on the ground next to him and coated in dried blood and bits of gore. Fuck, fuck, fuck. So that's what tore up Three into a pile of processed meat.

I must have sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of the bloodsoaked chainsaw, because Six instantly sits up, looking around and completely alert. He winces a little as his injured calf brushes against the ground while he looks around, and I watch as his left hand closes slowly around the handle of the chainsaw. Meanwhile, his right hand seems to linger at his hip. There's the bulge of a throwing knife's handle there. Instantly, I wonder if that's what injured Omri. It must be. I have no idea why he'd brutally kill one of them with the chainsaw and then slash the other with just a knife. I don't even know how he'd take on two people on his own. He has some muscles on him, but he's lost a lot of weight in the arena, and he has no training. He shouldn't have been able to take Three and Omri on his own, even with a chainsaw at his disposal.

"Who's there?" Six croaks out, continuing to survey the area around him. I bite my lip, unsure of what to do. If I move, he's going to hear me, and I'm not behind him where I can attack him before he realizes it. If I jump out at him, I'll be right in range of his chainsaw. He'll just have to turn it on, and he'll be able to tear me to bits just like Three. Maybe I'd be able to sink my axe into his skull after he'd cut off a leg or something, but even one injury from that chainsaw is going to be fatal down the road. I'm not going to beat Chavez or even Cordelia if I'm missing an arm or a leg.

I consider running away, but that's foolish. I already haven't hunted since the break-up of the pack because I've been collecting myself after everything that went down. Because of that, the Capitol is probably already not the biggest fan of me at the moment. If I slide away without confronting Six, they're probably not going to like me even more, even though I've just killed Omri. Obviously Six is a killer now, and a proficient one, and they'll want to see our showdown if we're only a dozen feet apart. Fighting is risky, running is foolish. Neither option is great, but I have to stick to my guns. I'm a fighter, and I won't run from an battle, not this close to Victory.

I try to be as silent as possible as I leap from my crouch in the grass, but of course I'm going to make some noise. No amount of training can make someone as tall and muscular as me quiet as a mouse when moving through a sea of dry grass. Six's head instantly snaps towards me, and his eyes lock on the blade of my axe that is singing through the air straight towards his skull.

He quickly rolls out of the way, the blade of my axe thudding into the dusty ground. I have to give it to him, he has some good reflexes for being an untrained Outlier. I quickly wrench my axe out of the ground as Six scrambles to protect himself. With a sudden movement, he stabs his knife into the ground at his side before swinging the blade of the chainsaw towards my throat, keeping it off. At the same moment, I twirl my axe around until it's sailing towards the intersection of his right shoulder and his neck.

Just as both of our weapons are about to hit home, we stop in sync. The bloody blade of his chainsaw his inches from my neck; as I gulp in air greedily, my throat expands enough to almost brush against the sharp edge. Meanwhile, the head of my axe sits in the crook of his neck, resting against the collar of his shirt. Our eyes lock, and there are no words for long moments until I clear my throat noisily.

"Well. It seems we are at an impasse," I chuckle, doing my best to exude bravado and confidence despite the white-hot fear coursing in my veins due to the fact that a chainsaw is poised inches from my throat.

"You should leave me alone," Six says darkly, his nose scrunching up as his lips curl in a fierce snarl. He's doing his best to intimidate me, I can tell. Smart. It doesn't shake me, though.

"Are you trying to threaten me?" Six says nothing, just glaring at me harder. I can see the wild, wild fear pounding in his gleaming brown eyes. "Well, I guess I've seen what this thing can do."

I motion towards the chainsaw with my head, bringing my neck dangerously close to the blade. It makes me want to scream, the way the blade almost brushes my throat, but I keep it inside, doing my best to continue to intimdate him. If I crack, and lose this battle of bravado, I'm done for.

"You've seen..." he trails off, seeming confused for a moment. "Oh. You killed Omri?"

"The Eleven kid?" I ask even though I know his name, to remind Six of how irrelevant he is to people like me. "Oh yeah, I killed him. I was confused why you didn't finish the job like you did with...the other one."

His brow scrunches in confusion for several moments before suddenly his face shifts to understanding and then brash confidence.

"I got tired," he sighs, and I can tell he's trying with all of his might to appear as threatening as possible. "Decided to let him bleed out nice and slow."

"You had enough fun with the girl?" I ask, quirking my brow. "You made a big mess of her."

"I just want to go home," is all he says, and the depth of those words makes him seem stronger and more child-like all at once.

"So then why haven't you turned this thing on and killed me already?" I inquire, again motioning with my head to the chainsaw hovering right above my throat.

"Why haven't you killed me either?" he shoots back, and I can tell the question is genuine. I'm not sure I know the answer either. I should have killed him already; his guard has been down enough for me to send the axe through his neck, but I haven't. Suddenly, the puzzle pieces start to click together in my head of why I haven't. I know how to get out of this alive without seeming like a bumbling coward.

"Well, I know things you don't," I sigh, my voice light and conversational as if we're not in a death match with weapons pressed against each other's necks.

"Oh? What don't I know?" Six sniffs.

"Well, I'm assuming you know Chavez is still alive." Six nods shortly, making sure not to let the axe press any deeper into the crook of his neck. "Well, he was uninjured last time I saw him, and I'm hoping you run into him before me. I'd assume you'd feel the same way about him meeting up with me before you."

"I guess you're right," Six murmurs. "It's better for both of us to leave someone else to face him."

"That's not all," I sigh. "You're going to want to hang on for this one. There's also a gun in the Games, and the girl that has it is still alive."

"A gun?!" he laughs, incredulously. "You're making it up."

"You have a chainsaw," I say seriously. "Why's it so unbelievable?"

Six pauses for a long moment before responding. "I guess it's possible. Who has it then? Miriam, I'm guessing."

"If that's the girl from Ten, then yes," I mutter.

"It is," he replies, chewing his lip for a moment and betraying his true nervousness. "We talked a bit during training."

"Ah," I say, not knowing how else to respond. "Well. Let's just drop it and go take care of the bigger threats. What do you say, Six?"

"My name's Fender." He stares at me for long moments, likely weighing the chances I'll kill him before his chainsaw hits the ground. "We do it at the same time."

"Obviously," I chuckle. "On the count of three."

We count together. "One. Two. Three." Our weapons both drop to our sides, and we stare at each for long moments, both heaving in deep gulps of air. I hadn't realized how much I was sweating or how hard I was breathing. Having a chainsaw pressed to your neck does that to you.

We both begin to back slowly away from each other, and I keep my axe ready in my hands to fling into his head at any moment if he tries to attack me. However, he keeps staggering backwards, and I remember suddenly about his injured leg. I could easily throw my axe into his skull now that I'm out of range of his chainsaw, or I could attack him and make him fall pretty easily with that bandaged calf. I'm not even completely convinced the chainsaw works; he hasn't turned it on during our whole encounter, even when he was trying to intimidate me as much as possible. Still, I decide not to attack him. I meant what I said. We both have bigger fish to fry, and if he can slaughter the girl from Three like that, he might be able to cut up Chavez enough to make him an easier opponent for me.

"Well, good luck Six," I tell him once we're far enough apart that I can barely see him through the grass separating us.

"It's Fender."

"I hope you find Chavez first, or the girl with the gun."

"Same to you."

With that, I watch as he suddenly flees, staggering away as quickly as he can through the grass. I don't pursue him, although my body aches to. Instead, I make myself climb to my feet and watch until he's out of sight before I turn and walk back towards the Cornucopia. The entire way back, I feel jittery, my mind playing over and over finding the corpses of Three and Omri, and tracking down Fender and having my confrontation with him. It's thrilling and terrifying and despite myself, I want more. I didn't feel my headaches for a single moment the entire time his chainsaw was hovering right by my neck. It was the most free I've felt my entire life, and I can't stop playing that moment over and over in my mind as the headaches begin to pound once more in my skull. I'd do any to experience that type of rush again. Anything.

By the time I make it back to the Horn, darkness cloaks the arena, and my fire has burnt away to a couple of glowing embers. I play the day's events over again in my mind as I break up some of the last wooden crates and throw them onto the embers, coaxing the fire back to life. As the flames lap over the dry wood eagerly, I decide that it's time. It's time to become a real hunter and leave behind the comforts of the Cornucopia. It's time to go out into those dark fields of endless grass and feel that rush again. It's time to go out there and win these Games.

One by one, I drag anything and everything left in the Horn that will burn into my fire until I've built a giant pyre of burning supplies. I watch for a couple of moments as the flames roar over the last creature comforts left in this arena, reveling in the way that the heat of the fire coats my skin and makes me feel even more alive. Then I turn away, swinging the two packs I've filled with food and water over my shoulders. I wrench my axe from the mud at my feet, and then I stalk off into the dark sea of grass before me, a small smile working onto my face.

"It's time," I murmur to myself, my small smile growing to a grin as I slide into the sea of grass and begin the final hunt.

A/N: Whew. That was a lot of action and fighting and strategizing, and I hope you guys enjoyed it and it wasn't overwhelming. This was the longest chapter yet, but I felt like it was worth it for all the conflict. There's only six left now, and so little time left before our Games finally come to a close!

8TH - FUJI LAMAC, 3F - Killed by Omri

Fuji was a character I loved so much. Her backstory was rich and complex, and her romance with Cartenya was beautiful and heartbreaking to write. She had a great personality, and she had her shining moments like being with Millard and getting to murder Ivy at the beginning of the Games. In another arena, another year, another batch of tributes, I firmly believe Fuji could've been my Victor. She's definitely a character I hold near and dear to my heart. However, she never felt like the right Victor for this story, and I felt like her arc culminating with a messy final showdown with Omri made the most sense for her. Still, I loved her so much, and I'm so sorry that I murdered her so violently and graphically ahhhh

7TH - OMRI PLOWER, 11M - Killed by Tyberios

Omri was another amazing character. His alliance with Fuji, Ivy, and Millard was so much fun to write, and then him teaming up with Fender was a blast as well. I loved their brotherly bond, and them joking around and fighting the jackalope mutts was some of my favorite writing of the story. However, I knew that was the calm before the storm. The moment I came up with the idea of Fuji killing Ivy on the first night and the revenge plotline between her and Omri, I knew Omri was going to go crazy over it at the last moment. I felt terrible making him go insane from bloodlust, but I felt it made sense with the story, and it made an agonizing chapter even more agonizing. Rest in piece, Omri. You were a complex character as well, and I appreciate it.

Kill Count:

Chavez Belasco: 4 (Baron, Jayce, Calico, Libby)

Tyberios Palatium: 3 (Bernie, Carmen, Omri)

Trinity Vegas: 2 (Rufus, Gaia)

Zircon O'Dile: 2 (Soya, Millard)

Cordelia Nile: 2 (Ardin, Trinity)

Carmen Ionique-Astron: 2 (Ardin, Trinity)

Ardin Varnell: 1 (Sage)

Fuji LaMac: 1 (Ivy)

Miriam Park: 1 (Zircon)

Omri Plower: 1 (Fuji)

Arena Events: 1 (Luke)

Well, here we are! Six tributes left! Who's it going to be? Tyberios, Chavez, Cordelia, Fender, Miriam, or Lord? What did you think of the big fights? Let me know everything you're feeling! This chapter was a long one but I hope it was enjoyable, and I can't wait to hear your thoughts and predictions for how these Games are going to shake out with only a handful of chapters left until we have crowned our Victor!

Thank you again for all of your support. It's been a long journey to this point, but I'm awed and so grateful for the continued support from readers from almost half a decade ago. You're all absolutely the best, and I hope the action-packed ending of this story is making up for the long wait. Please stay safe out there!

Until Next Time,

Tracee