Chapter Fourteen.

Tribute House, Part Five.

Brodus Marcano, 17 years old;
Sector Twelve Male.

Despite the constant anxiety that plagued his every thought, Brodus had begun to find a sense of peace.

His eyes softly opened and locked on the bright red figures on his clock. 06:30. It was still early; the earliest he'd woken up since arriving here. Brodus had planned it, though. And as the days started to grow quicker, moving towards the inevitability of the Hunger Games, he was becoming more and more aware of what was going to happen shortly to every tribute in the house that had tried to make friends with one another.

They were in a bubble-world. A pocket tucked away deep and some were starting to forget why they were here in the first place. He had done the same thing. It was why when he'd first arrived, every step left him feeling nervous about who was looking at him, every furtive glance he sent around the room as more and more tributes became close with one another, he worried about who knew what; if anyone knew his name.

It was silly anxious-riddled thoughts that had no bearing on anything. In fact, one of the reasons why he'd volunteered in the first place was to prove that he was different from the tainted legacy of his parents and that he fit in with everyone else. And it had worked, really. Apart from Ryland's comment yesterday over dinner, no one had batted an eyelash in his direction.

In fact, no one really knew he existed.

Brodus was unsure how he really felt about that.

His feet pattered gently against the bedroom floor, Brodus acting as careful as he could so he didn't disturb anyone. There were some interesting characters in the room he slept in and whilst they were too busy with each other, Brodus had slipped into relative obscurity. Once in the kitchen, he yawned, stretched his arms out and grabbed a towel from a rack not too far from the glass doors.

Behind him, he could hear snoring coming from one of the girls' rooms. Apart from that, however, the world seemed to have stilled entirely and a blissful peace enveloped the entire house. Sure, there were cameras, but he doubted anyone was paying much attention to the house at this time.

It was just Brodus and Brodus alone. He liked it. Away from worrying about the other tributes and if anyone knew who his parents were, the traitorous imbeciles who had tried to burn down academies in the past, Brodus could just be himself. He struggled to really talk to anyone because deep down, he knew on the very edge of his nerves, an anger was bubbling and boiling. Years of being seen as less than had caused that. But he hadn't snapped yet and he really didn't want to.

A lot of the tributes, in fact pretty much ninety-nine percent of them, had proper training. If he caused a stir, he'd be targeted, and so far he was pretty sure he was the only one left without an actual, concrete alliance. He had an offer, but he was still debating it.

Brodus had volunteered to prove to himself he could do it. Now that he was actually here, reality was becoming more and more a burden on that desire.

Stop. Think for a minute. Calm down.

He took a breath and opened the doors as quietly as he could. The bitterness of the morning breeze stung his cheeks as he pattered over to the swimming pool, his bare body aside from his underwear shivering as the smattering of stars blinked down at him.

One foot in, he felt the water creep over his skin and envelop it. The water was warmer than he'd anticipated and with a sigh of contented relief, he slipped fully into the pool and swam to the deeper end, resting against the wall and closing his eyes, head back, mind calming.

At the end of the day, now that he was here, it did not matter at all where he'd come from. He'd spent thirteen years with a new surname trying to break free from the shackles of what his parents had done. Trainers at the Academy had made it clear he was never going to be chosen. People in his life in the pocket of civilisation tucked into the outer-reaches of Two had never given Brodus the time of day. Inside, Brodus had felt it like a sleeping monster, curling around him and threatening to choke the happiness from existing.

It made him hate people. And part of him, looking at the smug girls who hung out together, or the way the tributes from the centre of the District roamed the place as if they owned it, felt angry at complete strangers.

But he was right. It did not matter. People would die soon, life back home wouldn't matter because the present day of the Hunger Games would become their existence, and he could carve his new future for himself. Let the anger be used as a driving force to survive, rather than a hindrance or liability.

If he went about it the right way, Brodus did stand a chance. He had to believe in himself. Whereas the world had told him he wasn't good enough before giving the opportunity to prove otherwise, he had to be his own biggest supporter. No one else was ever going to give him that.

The water rippled around Brodus and he heard it, a gentle splash from the other side of the pool, and Brodus' eyes snapped open from his meandering thoughts.

A hulking presence had drifted into the water, resting against the side just as Brodus was, looking at him in silence. For a moment just by sheer size, Brodus thought it was Tavius. But with the sun now starting to replace the canvas of the moon and stars, he realised it was Sterling Milano, someone that was supposed to be mentoring the male tributes. Brodus felt a stinging sense of fear in his chest at the sight of such an intimidating person.

He wanted to leave immediately. Brodus had come into the pool because it was a way of escaping for just a moment. Time for himself and himself alone.

Sterling smiled and it looked odd. As if he hadn't smiled much before in his life.

"In my defence, I didn't know you were here at first."

Brodus' throat felt thick and claggy. He worried that the words would come out strained and peter out, embarrassing him. Still, as intimidating as Sterling was, he was also a winner of the Games. He was everything Brodus wanted to be and more.

"Would you like me to leave?" Brodus asked sincerely. "I should probably go have breakfast anyway."

"It's still early. I bumped into one of you lot but everyone else appears to be sleeping."

"Oh, okay."

Sterling continued to just stare at him but with kindness, as if allowing Brodus to direct the conversation. If he didn't want to speak, he was sure Sterling wouldn't mind. He didn't appear like the type to actually enjoy saying much. Brodus wasn't the sort either. A lot of the other tributes were so loud – Ryland one of them – and whilst he didn't mind that, sometimes it all became quite overwhelming.

This whole experience had been overwhelming.

Before he could stop himself, Brodus found himself asking a question, something that he'd been worried about since the offer had been put out there yesterday.

"Did you have allies in your Games?"

Brodus thought of Sivan now with an alliance and he'd been pleased for her. It wasn't for him, the two people that had arrived to speak to her, but she carried a different experience on her shoulders. He felt sorry for her but without really wanting to admit it to himself, he was also pretty sure that Sivan was stronger than he was even if he had volunteered and she was one of the few reaped tributes.

She'd found a group. Brodus was still left in the background.

Sterling nodded his head. "I did. I wanted to protect everyone I was with. It was stupid, really. My last ally was Iridium and Jasper killed her. I thought I'd hate Jasper. In fact, before she killed Iridium, I tried to kill her. But we're winners, now. We survived. So I don't hate her anymore. I understand."

"Do you regret having allies?"

Sterling paused and a flash of sadness warped his face. Brodus almost apologised before Sterling then shook his head. Both turned to look as they heard louder voices coming from inside the house, blurred at the edges by the windows between them and the rest of the tributes.

He saw Ryland with her frizzy hair even more frazzled having just woken up. Kasiani was with her and Tayte just by her side. They were talking. It was almost too perfect a coincidence. And yet, it made the most sense out of everything Brodus had experienced since arriving here.

When Sterling shook his head again and smiled, relaxing his shoulders so it was just his head above the water, Brodus couldn't help but reflect the smile.

"I don't know if I would have won if I hadn't have had allies," Sterling confessed. "Some people think they can do it without them, but I think everyone needs someone in the Games. Away from the lies and the manipulation and the strings being pulled, there are genuine groups inside that house. You might find someone who can really help you."

Brodus looked once more at Ryland, Kasiani and Tayte, and realised that the latter was looking right at him, smiling and jabbing Kasiani in the shoulder so all three turned to stare at Brodus.

"I think I have," Brodus said.

He didn't say goodbye to Sterling as he pushed himself up and out of the pool, grabbing a towel and wrapping it round him. He walked towards the glass doors and knew, in his heart, that it did not matter where he'd come from, who he might have once been, because it was the here and now that would dictate Brodus' future.

The path wasn't clear just yet, but these three made sense.

They waved at him as Brodus entered the kitchen and he walked towards them, a sense of elation vibrating through every nerve, like he was hovering above the tiles.

It couldn't last forever, but right now, Brodus knew the path he wanted to take.

And it was here, with them, his new allies.

Palatine Linott, 16 years old;
Sector Six Male.

"Tributes – attention. Attention tributes. You have three hours until mandatory private sessions begin. I repeat, three hours. Please be in the central living area promptly. Peacekeepers will be there to give further instruction. Thank you."

The voice was piercing over the intercom. With another buzz, the static-y sound went silent, and a wave of noise rippled through the training hall once more.

Palatine, as he promised himself yesterday after Tavius had disarmed with little effort, had a sword in his hands. Next to him, he watched as Syrella huffed and puffed her way through slicing various dummies of all shapes and sizes. They were attached to motorized fixtures in the ground and would move in a variety of different speeds depending on difficulty setting.

So far, Syrella hadn't impressed Palatine too much, but he wasn't one to talk. He was worse than she was at keeping up with a sword.

"It was a good idea to do this," Palatine said, intent on keeping up Syrella's spirits. The last thing he wanted to do was for her to start to doubt herself even more than he'd come to realise she did. Not that she'd ever actually said as such, but he could see it, he could see it in a lot of the more outwardly vocal tributes. It helped being someone people forgot about easily. "The others seem to have taken it well."

"Hm?" Syrella said, looking over her shoulder as she slit the throat of another dummy, not quite listening. "You say something?"

Palatine chuckled. "Yeah. It's good to know I have a very focused audience."

"Oh, shush."

"I was saying that Bex and Svanna aren't ripping each other's throats out, and Callisto seems to actually be focusing on training instead of… well y'know what she's like."

Syrella nodded and pursed her lips together. As her eyes scanned around the room, taking in their bomb-waiting-to-explode alliance, Palatine couldn't help but inwardly feel a sense of elation. For a long, long time, he'd been the quiet nobody with his nose buried in a book. And he wasn't even against the idea of being a nobody because that label meant he could go unnoticed in a world of much louder voices. It didn't really matter – for him, his parents had pushed him to be the sort of person who went from a to b using his mind, rather than his voice, and doing everything he could to make the most out of a situation.

He wasn't used to being in the company of people like Syrella, Bex, Svanna and Callisto. Or any of the others. And he loved it. He secretly absolutely, one-hundred percent, positively adored it. Because there was freedom here that he'd never seen before. Freedom he'd never experienced. An outside-the-box smorgasbord of people who just did not care about where they'd come from or who they had to be.

Palatine was still not loud, or very interesting, or much of anything in the eyes of those around him, but he felt it. And it was fiery adrenaline in his veins.

"I've been thinking, Palatine."

"Uh-oh," Palatine said quietly, though with a sarcastic smile. He was becoming more the person he'd always wanted to be around Syrella. She wasn't as strong as people might have thought she was with her last name attached to her, but she was the smartest person he'd ever met besides himself. He felt a genuine connection with her. It was the strangest feeling in the world. "Never a good sign."

"I'd be careful speaking like that. I think Bex would rip your head off."

"Good for me you're not Bex. I'd like to keep my head on my shoulders."

Syrella grinned. "Well, as I was saying, I've been thinking about the others. It was a good idea suggesting that we actually get as much training in as possible before this afternoon. Take a leaf out of Svanna's book."

"She's actually smart for doing that," Palatine agreed. "There's a lot of people here – Bex and Callisto included – who don't seem to care all that much about training."

"Which brings me to my thought."

Palatine grimaced. He knew what was coming. Though on the outside they painted a picture of primadonna camaraderie, just by the way Bex poked Callisto, or the way Svanna couldn't help but glare daggers whenever Bex or Callisto spoke, or even the way they stared at Palatine without Syrella in his presence. He could tell fractures had been present right from the off.

And with the Hyland money as well as Tyriage's, the protection of Syrella might not be enough for Palatine to feel so safe in an alliance of hungry she-wolves.

He knew he didn't fit in and whilst part of him felt excited at the idea of pushing himself out of his comfort zone, it was called a comfort zone for a reason. Being outside of it made him uncomfortable.

"I think I'm going to talk to Callisto," Palatine found himself saying, before Syrella could finish her thought. He knew what it was anyway. With fractures beginning to show, allegiances had to be made, and Callisto was as transparent as she was mistrustful. "Hold that thought. I won't be long."

"Are you sure?"

Palatine felt a tingle of fear in his gut but if he wanted to push himself further, he needed to make bolder choices and not just stick to his books. He loved them, especially the idea of strategy because it was just how his mind worked. Pushing pieces around a chessboard. No one expected much from him except a bookworm and whilst that was fine, making connections with his other allies couldn't hurt him. And Callisto was the one perpetually under fire from everyone else, even if she sometimes didn't realise it.

"Yeah, I'll be back in a bit."

Palatine saw her beautiful mane of ice-blonde hair from across the training hall. In her hands she was struggling to load a crossbow. The trainer was trying to help her but in typical Callisto fashion, she was pushing him away, adamant that she could do it.

She could not.

He knew he had to be careful around her. Bex and Svanna were clear threats. Svanna a no-shits-given threat. Bex a mean-girl but able to back up her vicious words threat. He knew he could trust Syrella – the only person he really could trust. Callisto, though she tried her absolute best to appear strong, was the weakest one in their group aside from Palatine.

At least he knew that. It was her delusion that was dangerous. If pushed too far, she would snap eventually.

"I read a book once on crossbows."

Callisto's head glared over her shoulder and if possible, her eyes narrowed even further. Away from trying to impress Bex and the two richest girls in this Games, Callisto was clearly hostile, and if Palatine had been back at home, he might have run away.

He didn't. He kept his tail firmly between his legs.

"They're actually pretty difficult weapons and take a while to load. It's why not many arenas have had them in supply."

"If they weren't going to be in the arena, then they wouldn't be here for us to train with. What are you an idiot?"

He bit back his sarcasm. It was a trait that some of the people back home that he'd gotten somewhat close to had begun to like about him. There were so many parts of himself that he was still trying to explore. Like a baby deer walking for the first time. He had to taste each idea in his mouth. Explore it. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.

With Syrella it did. With Callisto, he wasn't entirely sure.

"I know you don't want me around, Callisto. But I think as an alliance going into a Games with so many strong, trained tributes, it might do us some good to at least be on the same wavelength."

Callisto sneered. "I don't understand why Syrella likes you so much. She's a Tyriage and you're just a… I don't even know. I don't understand why you like books so much and it's boring and you were reaped. I mean – reaped. Why did she bring you to us?"

As she ranted, the crossbow left her hands in a clatter, but she didn't even notice. Her attention was now focused entirely on Palatine because, and Palatine understood this very well, focusing on someone like himself made it possible for Callisto to yet again ignore her insecurities.

Palatine knew that her delusions ran deep but there was only so far for them to run. Eventually they would hit a brick wall and that would be dangerous for Callisto. She was a fragile girl hiding within a glass house. Her anger came from the fact that she did not have Bex's bite, or Svanna's self-confidence, or Syrella's smarts. And Palatine was liked by Syrella.

Maybe Callisto was jealous of that too.

"It's a bit odd, isn't it?" Palatine sat down on a bench by Callisto, meeting her eye and letting the corners of his lips twitch upwards just to show that he could be friendly. "I'm not exactly a prime candidate for winning this. There aren't many reaped tributes and you've put together a very strong alliance of very strong characters. And then there's me. But that doesn't mean Callisto I don't care about you, or any of the other girls. I'm going to do my bit using what I know I can do. I'll leave what I can't do to those that can fill the gaps. There are strengths you have that I couldn't dream of having."

A girl like Callisto needed to be reminded that though she might have her weaknesses, there were things she could do. Because even a girl like Callisto could do something. Palatine didn't have to like her, but he didn't want her hating him for no reason other than her delusions clouding everything. He wanted an alliance that could work.

Syrella would surely understand. Her mind was partially tainted by the machinations of a career system like the one they had in the very centre of the District. Girls like Callisto were potential victims to a back-stabbing plot. But it did not always have to go that way.

He'd read enough to see that there were alternatives.

"But," Palatine continued, "there are also things that I think I can do that could help you. It's okay to need help sometimes. And that's what I want to do."

"You want to help me?"

Callisto's voice wasn't pointed or even rude. It was more curious than anything. And her built-up defence had started to waver, Palatine noticed, because she took a step, then another, until she was finally sat next to him. There was still a large gap as if she'd catch something off of him, but Palatine could deal with that.

As he had just previously thought, they didn't have to like each other. He just needed her to start to see things through a clearer lens.

"I want to help my allies because it'll help my own chances. It's not selfish, it's just real. And if we have people trying to fight their own sort of battle, then I've seen enough and read enough to know it usually doesn't work their way."

Callisto paused and Palatine saw it in a flash. The glass house starting to shake. A wall beginning to crack. When her eyes met his, he saw sadness, an unbearable sadness that he was sure had always existed yet had been living dormant.

She sighed, deeply, and shook her head. "I don't think I'm as strong as Bex is. Or Svanna. Or even Syrella. And I'm trying. I have always tried, and no matter your opinion on me, I refuse to have someone argue with me on that fact. It's just no matter how hard I try… something is always blocking it."

"Sometimes listening can be the best sort of training you can receive. And it's okay to make a mistake. I made one yesterday, which is why I've tried with a sword, and though I'm rubbish, I'll keep trying for the next three hours."

Callisto nodded her head. Palatine didn't want to take up too much of her time. He knew that away from this conversation, Callisto was not about to have some ground-breaking moment where she became a rose amongst thorns and floated ethereally above the ground. This wasn't a fairy-tale. But as long as she knew he was there, not judging, not casting her aside, and acknowledging her struggle, then it could go a long way.

When he took a step away from the bench, he looked back over his shoulder and smiled at Callisto. Though she didn't return the smile, there was no anger there, no bitterness or sharp remark. Instead, as she picked up the crossbow and tried again to load it, she called over to the trainer who had been clinging to the shadows away from Callisto's bombardment.

He took a step back towards Syrella.

"Hey, Palatine!"

Over his shoulder, Callisto was staring straight at him.

"Thank you."

With a nod, Palatine walked back over to Syrella, sat down cross-legged, and as she arched an eyebrow, he just shook his head.

"She didn't bite your head off?"

He wasn't about to give away everything that had happened. Not even to Syrella. Keeping some cards close to his chest could always help him. It was something he'd learnt growing up in a system like Two where no one really saw him. They only saw a nerdy boy holding books.

Syrella would never understand what being unseen felt like.

"Nope. But she can't use a crossbow. Let's hope she doesn't try in the Games."

Syrella laughed and just like that, they went back to training like nothing had happened.

He'd done his best.

He just hoped he'd done enough.

Phobos Arroyo, 18 years old;
Sector Three Male.

Their little drinking games didn't last long, did they?

It was the busiest the training hall had been since they'd first arrived in the house. Trainers actually had to do their jobs. Dusty weapons were actually being used. Peacekeepers lined the walls in case of a disturbance.

Phobos felt detached from the entire thing.

He was in his own little bubble, tucked away in the top right corner of the hall, a belt of knives round his waist and a pair of throwing axes in his hand. He'd taken them from the station somewhere near the centre and brought them this far away from all the noise because right now he didn't want, nor could he bothered with all the shenanigans and volume that came from living with his competitors.

Some of them he knew he'd kill. Some of them might even put up a proper fight. And maybe, if things didn't go his way, someone in this very room could kill him instead. He didn't intend on it but he didn't fool himself either that he was inevitably going to claim one of the two crowns. In his element, watching as an axe penetrated the central ring with ease, the others couldn't have been further from his focus.

Every swipe of his knife, whistle of the breeze and rip of fabric, sent a shiver down his spine that reminded him why he'd gotten into training in the first place. It had always been there, a small part of him tucked towards the back of his mind, that through handling weapons and realising that it existed, cultivated the voice that told him he was cut from a different cloth.

Others looked down on those tributes that enjoyed the brutality of what the Games were. Phobos didn't understand that. For one-hundred years, tributes had been dying. And for maybe ninety of those years tributes from Two had volunteered. He was not the only person to have ever felt something good from all the bloodshed.

Even in this room, there would be those that in the heat of things, would enjoy the battle. If they didn't, they were lying to themselves. And those that weren't here for fighting, they were either reaped or deluded.

At least Phobos knew who he was. No bullshit.

He saw the trainer approach him from the corner of his eye, one of her fingers pointed upwards as if to catch his attention. Phobos threw another knife, didn't even bother to watch where it landed, and looked at her coldly. Maybe not even coldly. Blankly was a better word. There was nothing in his eye and for that reason the trainer scuttled away scared shitless.

"Cute."

Shit. How did she sneak up on me?

He knew the voice because he'd heard it enough on the train, on their chariot, and during the three days they'd now spent living together. He'd been hoping he wouldn't have to hear it for very long once they hit the Games, but karma could be a complete bitch, so knowing his luck Bex would be around a hell of a long time just to plague his ass with her incessant, obnoxious attitude.

He gave her the same look that he'd given the trainer and as he expected, nothing came from it except a giggle, and with that giggle lingering in his ears like a banshee's shriek, he lowered his arm and turned to face her properly.

"If you're here to do that thing you girls have done where you try to poke holes in a tribute to get a rise out of them, just do it so I can get on with my training."

Bex laughed. He wondered what it would be like to rip her eyeballs from her skull. Would she laugh then?

"Your friend is over there," she said, pointing towards the edible plant station, where weirdly enough tributes from Two were actually paying attention to what it had to offer. "I think we all caught your little show yesterday."

Phobos saw Juliet with his ally Briel and Phobos just shrugged his shoulder. "I don't do that thing you girls do."

"And what's that thing that girls do?"

"Revenge bullshit. Holding grudges. It happened, he hit me in the face, move on. I'll probably end up stabbing him so let bygones be bygones."

Bex actually snorted with laughter and the noise sent a different kind of shiver down Phobos' spine. "You're telling me by wanting to stab him, you aren't holding a grudge? At least I'm honest when I say I want to stab him because he looks like a serious threat and needs to go."

"I'm not here to talk strategy with you."

She pouted and threw her head back against the wall, rolling her shoulders as an audible click sounded. With a grown, her eyes landed once more on Phobos, and he did his best to ignore the little flickers of her lips as they peeled into a shark-like grin. "You're so boring."

"I want to train. Now if you'll excuse me…"

When Phobos raised his arm and threw another knife, Bex watched with an impressive whistle of her own as it sunk into the centre once again. She didn't leave, though, which was exactly what Phobos wanted of her. All the girlish nonsense that circled Bex – not even girlish, but stereotypical dramatic Career shit – he didn't want it near him.

Juliet would die because he'd be a good fight but he wouldn't necessarily seek him out either. Bex had probably made more enemies than Phobos had just by being her natural self during their stay here. If anything, she should worry about potential knives in her future.

"You know—"

And yet, she continues to bleat on.

"—I reckon your alliance and mine are the two strongest in this Games. And we can't exactly share the Cornucopia. I wonder what's going to happen…"

Her tone sounded playful, but Phobos could sense the viciousness under it, and for that reason Phobos knew he had to take her seriously. She was competition and she was right – her entire alliance was as well. There were weak links in both, but they represented two separate Career packs, and for that Phobos genuinely had no clue what would happen in the bloodbath.

Two rival alliances could not hold the Cornucopia together. And both alliances were made up of such egos, he couldn't see how it was possible that one would just scutter away.

Bex tossed her hair over one shoulder, beamed at Phobos in an eat shit kind of way, and stalked off.

"Think about it!" she cried, and replacing her, Reyan sauntered over.

What part of solo training do they not understand?!

He wanted to scream in his face but at the end of the day, as much as he didn't care nor trust the Nalara kid, he was an ally. He had his uses.

"She's rather loud, isn't she?"

Phobos nodded. "She mentioned the beginning of the Games and what's going to happen with our two alliances," he said. He was never one to beat around the bush.

In response, Reyan's smile faltered and his lips sunk together, a grit to his teeth and a clench in his jaw. Phobos knew the type of game Reyan was playing and Phobos didn't actually mind. To Manfred and Aurelian, Reyan was a sprinkle of positivity and infectious enthusiasm. The type of leader that encouraged his followers. To Phobos, he offered the same sort of encouragement, but it was muted because he knew Phobos hated the idea of small-talk and pointlessness.

Reyan was using Phobos. He was using Manfred and Aurelian too. Whether those boys saw it or not was not Phobos' concern. All Phobos wanted to make sure was that when Reyan did the inevitable and turned on him, Phobos was able to catch it before it happened. He was pretty confident he could. He was strong, but also fake as fuck. Others might have enjoyed the game he was playing, pieces on his chessboard, but Phobos was not.

He didn't play any games except the one he had volunteered to win.

"Tell me who you think we should target during the bloodbath?"

Phobos arched an eyebrow in response to such a blunt and cold question. Looking at Reyan, he could see the type of person that held the Nalara mantle, and he was silently impressed.

Looking around the room, without even trying to search for faces because Phobos had observed them enough as it was being the silent figure that he'd always been, he immediately latched onto potential threats to his triumphant game. Threats that would offer the sort of fight Phobos couldn't wait for.

"Juliet is one. As is the guy that runs their little group. He doesn't look like much but they cling to him."

"Ozias, yeah…" Reyan said, thoughts racing through his mind, his eyes clearly distracted.

Phobos continued. "Bex and her group, minus a couple of them. Together they'll be annoying. I think the most prominent threat though, clear to everyone, would probably have to be—"

"Tavius."

"Tavius."

At the same time, his name passed between them, and both Reyan and Phobos knew they were on the same page. If Reyan was going to manipulate his way to the top, he had to use the muscle he had accrued to get rid of threats that could wipe away the smug smile he wore. In a game of cat and mouse where the mouse had no idea it was being chased, Reyan could win. In a game of cat and mouse where the cat had huge pectoral muscles and arms the size of tree-trunks, Reyan would be utterly squished.

In the chaos of the bloodbath, where fleeting thoughts of strategy didn't really matter through bloodshed and death, it was the perfect opportunity to take out someone who later on in the game might be tougher to get rid of.

"So we agree?" Reyan said.

Gone in Reyan was the nervousness over what Bex had said, or the looming danger of Ozias. It was replaced by a knowing smile. The smile that had drawn in many a victim to Reyan Nalara's scheming.

"I guess," Phobos said, with a shrug. "If he dies first, great. If I have to kill him later, I'll deal with it."

"But we could—"

Phobos interrupted. "I would like to get back to training."

There was only so much conversation Phobos could put up with. When he reached his limit, that was it, and he didn't care if he hurt feelings or annoyed others. Reyan was too smart to show if he was irritated but if he was, Phobos couldn't give two shits.

Soon enough, the two of them would clash, and it was a fight he was pretty sure he would win. It was a fight Reyan would try to force into the shadows, but Phobos knew how those sorts of people played, and he could easily bring it to the light.

"I'll leave you to it then," Reyan said, smiling as he walked off. "See you in about an hour."

Ah yes, the private session in front of the Gamemakers.

Phobos was sure he would be one of the top scorers.

He took his training seriously. He had his head in the game. And he loved what he did more than anything in this world.

The thrill of the game was in his bones, coursing through his blood.

And in less than two days…

Let the Games begin.

Yo guys! Very near to the end of this fun journey through the Capitol. I'm enjoying every second of writing it!

Alliances:

Reyan + Phobos + Manfred + Aurelian
Svanna + Syrella + Bex + Palatine + Callisto
Tayte + Ryland + Kasiani + Brodus
Ozias + Juliet + Briel + Vinicius + Sivan
Kaia + Valdis + Viorica
Damali + Tavius + River

With all the alliances now confirmed, there is a new poll on my profile asking for your favourite one. Please go over and vote!

Cheers guys!