Chapter Seventeen.

Launch.

Wintry stars faded, a full moon dipped, and with it the morning sun rose into a purple sky.

Strips of yellow and orange light bathed the house and accentuated its silence. A pin drop could be heard. A foreboding breeze rolled through the fabric of the carpets, the pristine cleanliness of the tiles, dappling the pool in its muted chill.

Today, the Hunger Games would begin.

In an instant, as tributes yawned, stretched arms, blinked the sleep from their eyes, the camaraderie of living together was gone. No one could say a word because no one dared to. Gone was the drinking games and the beach ball blinking colour in the sky. Gone were the veiled insults masqueraded under a mean-girl attitude. Gone were the blankets over couches, wrapped around shoulders as alliances huddled in front of the television. Gone were dinners charred to a crisp that the tributes could laugh about because when had such spoilt kids ever cooked for themselves.

None of that existed anymore. Because today, those that had shared a shower, a living space, time, would kill one another to get to the top.

They were District Two. And today, they would embody what it meant to come from such a place.

Peacekeepers flanked the entire wall of the living area as Svanna and Bex stumbled blearily towards the sink. Though neither liked to admit to their fear, Svanna was doing a better job at hiding it. Bex was paler than Svanna had ever seen her. If Svanna herself wasn't so worried about what would be happening in a few hours, she might have found it amusing.

"Might as well make the most of the tap water they have," Bex mused, sipping from the glass.

Svanna's laugh was forced. "Yeah. It's not bad here."

That was all they had the energy for in terms of conversation. It wasn't that the two regretted their decisions. Bex, though the colour of a ghost, felt the slight beating of her heart, the twirl of excitement in her gut, because this was what the whole purpose of volunteering was supposed to be about.

Getting her to this point. And in the Arena, no rules had to be abided by, eventually her alliance would crumble, and that would be okay.

Manfred, Aurelian and Phobos were sat on the couch, the former with his legs on the table in front, the latter two staring blankly at the wall. Manny was nervous about agitating a Peacekeeper but right now, nothing seemed to be happening as more and more of his fellow tributes meandered out from their bedrooms, dressed in a boring skin-tight training outfit, waiting for something to occur.

He had no idea where Reyan was and right now he didn't need the false positives to be poured down his throat. Neither did Phobos who was doing his best to contain his own sense of excitement for where he was headed. He didn't do the whole veiled threats and murderous glares schtick. He'd prove to everyone why he was a volunteer simply through action. Words were pointless unless backed up and he didn't do the drama that so many of the others fell into the trap of.

Aurelian had no idea the lengths Phobos would go to in order to satiate the desires that lurked within. If he did, he wouldn't have sat side-by-side with his strong-willed ally. If he knew of Reyan's deceitful perspective, Aurelian would have ran away with Manny by his side. It was simply who Aurelian was to play an honourable game. Some might have looked down on him for it, but living his life reared to be a sacrificial pig for his brother created two paths to go down: one of bitterness where he hated the world, or one where he refused to break under pressure.

He owed it to himself to be stronger than that.

A dull tone rang out from the speakers built into the high-ceiling and all the tributes craned their heads to stare at the walls. The bedrooms were now empty. Any clothes or mess would be discarded later when all the tributes were battling it out. Twenty-two of them would never see this city again. Faded memories eradicated at the end of a blade.

"Tributes to stand in order of sector, male then female, in front of the main doors. Peacekeepers will escort you to the hovercrafts that will carry you to the Arena," the voice was a robotic woman's voice, papery and forced; a voice that ran through Ryland's body with stunning clarity. "We hope you enjoyed your stay."

"For real?" Ryland said, pointing at the speaker, raising an eyebrow at Tayte, Kasiani and Brodus. Her allies just grimly shook their heads, almost in unison, none having much to say. They'd been over their plans together – get in and out, don't make too much of a statement, and allow themselves to blossom once they knew they had survived the beginning stage. Though they'd all volunteered for this, they were not in it for the blood-lust or the killing. It was all a means to an end. Each with their own reasons that they'd never really shared. It was a level of bonding that none had thought important to make.

Ryland just shrugged her shoulders and waved to her allies as she slunk towards the front of the queue, behind a rigid and stoic-faced Manny. She jabbed him in the back and offered him as friendly of a smile as she could muster. Something supportive to wish him luck. If it came across in the way she had hoped, Manny didn't really give much away. She could tell he was too much in his head and just for once, Ryland bit her tongue. This was not the time nor place to push people.

The Head Peacekeeper of their shared facility stood in front of the queue and Tayte watched him raise an arm, share some sort of hand signal with another Peacekeeper towards the back, and the main doors opened automatically.

Tayte's stomach flipped and the nerves began again, butterflies tickling his insides. He hadn't said much to Syrella since the first night and they'd both gone their separate ways, but in that moment, he turned around and found comfort in their shared familiarity. They all came from District Two, but he knew Syrella, probably more than anyone else did because of the Academy they were a part of.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

She wasn't quite focusing on anything until Tayte spoke. At the sound of his voice and the sudden movement of the long queue of tributes attending their death march, she blinked and wiped a strand of wet, flaming hair from her face. She offered Tayte a hesitant smile. In her eyes, he was now nothing more than the enemy, and a strong one at that. Distance had always been best when it came to preserving her desire to look past those around her.

"I'm fine," she said, doing her best to keep in line with the queue slowly moving forwards. "You?"

Tayte, like Syrella, and like so many others, could not admit to his own fear. It felt hypocritical almost to admit to any sort of negative emotion. Syrella herself was scared about her alliance's inevitable imploding with everything going on between Bex and Callisto. But she had Palatine and he was the rock she needed to anchor herself to something real and tangible.

Tayte had that in spades. His alliance didn't need any drama because they weren't those sorts of people.

He nodded with his own smile. "Fine. Good luck today."

"You too."

And that was all either had to say to the other.

They were in the large cavernous area between where the chariots had ended up after their parade, and the red carpet that led them to the house. This time there were no cameras, no avid Capitolites doing their best to get as close to the tributes as possible. It was the Peacekeepers and the tributes, with two large metal monstrosities in the makeshift landing zone, ready to whisk them to their deaths.

And for two of them, their victories.

Unlike so many others, Vinicius allowed himself to feel his fear. It trembled throughout his limbs, his tongue felt heavy and when he tried to respond to Damali's question, he simply couldn't bring himself to do it. He was leaving the Capitol with the lowest training score, the lowest expectations, and the only untrained tribute in a midst of wannabe killers.

He hated it. He hated them, he hated the Capitol, he hated everything about what he had been forced to be a part of. Yet, amongst it all, he'd found an alliance that was potentially his saving grace. He did not need Damali's kindness as the two separated into different queues, heading for their own hovercrafts. He ignored the wave she gave him as he did his best to keep his head high, catching Ozias' long hair somewhere halfway down his line.

Ozias was giving him purpose. He had Sivan, a tribute he could share his pain with, and two unconventional volunteers that would do their best for the alliance as a whole. He had no idea what path they were about to go down but Vinicius was not ready to roll over and give up. So, he allowed himself his fear, because fear could be useful, fear would be what kept him alive.

Damali stood in front of Tavius, River in the opposite queue, and as her wave to Vinicius was ignored, she let her arm hang limp by her side and bit her lip to stop the wobble.

"Scared?" she heard Tavius whisper in her ear.

It sent a shiver down her spine. She'd decided she hated him. She didn't know him but she didn't want to know him. River hadn't been so keen to abandon her sector partner so soon in the Games, but she'd sown the seeds for them potentially leaving soon after. She wasn't here to play a manipulative game by any means, but something told Damali that Tavius was bad news, and she needed to listen to that voice in her head.

Tavius only saw a weak girl quivering in her place on the concrete. He saw the shiver down her spine at his question and wondered if she would survive today. It perplexed him that she'd volunteered in the first place.

At least she was something for River to enjoy for as long as they both lasted.

"It's okay to be scared," Tavius said confidently. "And it's okay not to be. Embrace how you feel."

Damali nodded her head as a Peacekeeper gave a loud call and the hovercraft doors opened, stairs descending to allow entrance for the tributes. Inside the vehicular behemoth, Tavius knew his fate awaited, and he was thrilled. His game had only really just begun within his alliance. He still loathed Ozias and Reyan. He still detested that it hadn't gone entirely to plan, but it was something.

And something was better than nothing.

Aboard the hovercrafts, some of the tributes fell into conversation. No-one had too much to say to each other, but it was better than allowing silence to be the last thing they had to remember of one another. And though not many cared to admit it, they had shared something in the last few days that no other batch of tributes ever had.

Kasiani had relished it. The conversation, the amicable air, the lightness to her journey so far. It had given her prime opportunity to see the tributes for who they really were. It made her feel smarter than she usually gave herself credit for. Even now, the kid next to her, quiet and shaken up, she could tell there was more than met the eye.

If Kasiani were arrogant enough to see a reaped tribute as easy cannon fodder, she would dismiss him entirely. But she was not that sort of person. So instead, she tapped Palatine gently on the shoulder, and offered him a comforting smile. It was a smile she'd worn so many times before. Her trademark.

Palatine admired her ability to still be positive but right now he was feeling anything but.

In the latter half of his time in the Capitol, he'd done his best to cement some sort of relationship within his alliance that wasn't tainted with crudeness and mock-superiority. He didn't care for Bex's hypocrisy. And though Svanna was clearly happy to be confidently herself, it bordered on obnoxious. Even Syrella wore her last name like a badge that would protect her.

It was all a lot for someone like Palatine to handle but he couldn't deny the thrill it sent, like lights pulsing in his brain as he pieced together different bits of this and elements of that. A clearer picture would soon expand once the Arena began and he wondered how it would go.

He liked that he was seeing sides to himself he'd always wanted to explore yet had always felt was never acceptable. So even though Kasiani did smile at him, and even though he wasn't feeling up for conversation, he did his best to mirror her courtesy and kindness.

Nothing needed to be said, but for the two of them, that was enough.

On the other hovercraft, Viorica tapped her knee impatiently, unable to take her eyes off the tribute opposite her. She wasn't meaning to do it in a weird or unsettling way but right now, her brain was doing all sorts of crazy things and she couldn't stop thinking about what was to come.

Had she done enough? At first, she'd thought playing around in the pool with Valdis was a good way of letting off steam from the competitiveness that she'd lived her entire life around. But even with so much training behind her, she wished she'd done that little bit more, anything to make her feel one-hundred percent about the game she was going to play.

Juliet didn't like the way the girl opposite him continued to stare. The hovercraft was now moving steadily towards the Arena and all he wanted to do was slump his head against the back of his chair, close his eyes and do his best to stop himself from feeling travel sick.

How funny would it be if I vomited right now? What impression would it give?

He wasn't immune from seeing the entire spectrum of what humanity had to offer. He wondered why Viorica was staring at him but he almost didn't really care. Let her look. If it had been anywhere else, he might have said something to her, something charming or something hostile, he wasn't too sure. He didn't. Now was not the time.

"Arm please."

Briel didn't respond at first. An official looking woman, clinical almost, stood over her carrying some sort of huge injection. Briel could deal with most things but the injection looked horrific and she hated the way her entire body seemed to react to the sight of it.

"You want what now?"

"Your arm," the woman said, gesturing with her fingers for Briel to offer her arm to be injected. "This is compulsory."

"And if I don't?"

"Just offer your fucking arm," another voice spat.

She was sat next to Sivan and was shocked at the bite in her voice. Sivan was her ally but she hadn't really said much since they'd known each other. Briel wanted to snap back that she should mind her own business but knew right now was not the time to put up a fight with a Capitol-worker. For all she knew, anger could get back to the Gamemakers, and a simple word could make her game that much harder to play.

"Fine."

Sivan rolled her eyes at Briel's wilful attitude. It wasn't necessary. Yet, Sivan could also understand it, and at times even admired Briel's ability to feel the way she wanted to feel whether that was good or bad. It was exactly how Sivan tried to live her life. Unbottled. Without instruction.

"Arm."

Sivan offered it without a word and bit her lip at the cool bite of the injection as she watched a light blink once beneath her skin then fade entirely. She knew what it was and as the hovercraft started to shudder slightly, the voice in the back of her head told her she was getting closer and closer.

Own my fear. Those were Jasper's words. Now, more than any other time, those words would make or break Sivan's future. So, she did just that. She owned her fear.

Another ten minutes passed before anything else happened. Most of the tributes' conversations were now dying down and as the outside world faded to complete blackness, silence once more fell upon both hovercrafts. Their passengers held their collective breaths, their hearts hammering, their nerves playing twisted games as everything went still.

Then, in unison upon both vehicles, the doors opened and light poured through.

Reyan blinked furiously in the bombardment of their new surroundings. The belts that held them all in place upon their seats relaxed immediately and he stood up shakily, forcing his way to the front and out the doors. He caught sight of Phobos coming out from the other hovercraft and raised a hand at him, smiling for his murderous ally. Manny wasn't too far behind him and though the smile still remained, Reyan felt it waver internally.

He did not like Manny. Not in the slightest. He'd have to go and the sooner the better.

Callisto stumbled down the last step and almost landed face-first on the concrete. Someone laughed and she felt a hot blush creep up her neck and attack her cheeks. Now was not the time to have more people laugh at her. She was not the joke. She made the jokes, or pointed the finger, or offered the crude laughter.

She patted the dust from her outfit and waited as the tribute before her was escorted by a Peacekeeper down a concrete corridor. In her gut, she could feel her meagre breakfast making all sorts of gymnastic movement. Don't you fucking dare, Rius. Her hands balled into fists and she thought of the girls at home that had sometimes told her she wasn't good enough.

She would show them. She would show Bex, Svanna and Syrella. And when she thought of Palatine, a different thought went through her mind, and it was a thought that she did not like.

It was a thought she refused to cling to.

Kaia stood in front of Valdis as their queue became shorter and she quickly turned her head over her shoulder to nod at him. She wasn't the type to do the smiles and laughter that Valdis and Viorica shared in abundance. But she liked them. More than she had probably intended. It was good that they seemed to like her back. Hopefully that meant when they eventually decided to cast her away, or worse, it wouldn't be so easy.

Kaia liked the easy life, but she did not delude herself in the slightest. No matter the obstacle, she would overcome it. She would just do it in a Kaia-like way. Her own stamp on this world.

"See you soon," Valdis said with a farewell sort of grin on his face. Though he hoped that farewell was only temporary. "Remember. Viorica then out. We don't stay long."

Kaia disappeared down the corridor, lingering behind her allocated Peacekeeper, and Valdis took a deep breath, steadying himself. Though he wore the badge of a reaped tribute, that was not who he was or the expectations from everyone around the country that he would accept the burden of. He didn't live his life trying to prove to people that he was anything other than himself but right now it would do him good to fit the mould of someone that could win these Games.

If only for the next hour.

"In here."

Brodus was shoved into a room rather harshly and met face to face with his stylist that had only just yesterday told him that he wasn't going to make it out alive. He was the last person Brodus wanted to see.

"You look pathetic."

Brodus' fists clenched and he felt the all-too familiar anger boil deep within his gut. It was the anger that ravaged and raced through his veins in a fiery hot tempest whenever he was reminded of what people sometimes thought of him. If he could, his stylist would be on the ground, a bloody pulp. Not because he liked violence, but because he couldn't get out of his head, and those emotions were so close to the outside he couldn't force them back down even if he tried.

Brodus took his outfit in his hands, knowing that his stylist wouldn't help him. Another comment was thrown his way but Brodus let it deflect off his back as he shimmied out of his training outfit and into his new Arena clothes.

Interesting.

In a room not too far from Brodus, Ozias had the same thoughts as he felt the material relax against his body. Looking at himself in the mirror, Ozias wouldn't have thought he was headed into the Hunger Games. In fact, it was a look that befitted where he just came from: the relaxation of a house shared with a bunch of teenagers.

A baggy blue top and denim jeans was what he had on him. Smart-casual shoes that wouldn't look out of place in the inner shopping streets of Two. He looked like his age. Not like a Career, nor a mountain-top leader, nor the special one that his mother had ingrained into his self-belief system for so very long.

"Thank you," he politely said to his stylist, who nodded his head and took a step back.

Ozias was ready for this. The next hour would determine what way his journey would take but he would do everything he could to protect Vinicius and Sivan. They were the key to this: the reaped tributes he had to do his best for. Juliet and Briel would play their roles and Ozias would play his.

Inside he just had to believe he was the something special he'd always believed. If not, the dark cloud that hovered was thunderous in its wrath.

"One minute. I repeat, one minute until launch."

River almost barfed up her breakfast there and then.

It wasn't because she was nervous or scared. It wasn't even because she was against what she would have to do, perhaps even in the next ten minutes if a tribute got in her way. It was simply because she hoped that at home, her precious girl was being looked after, and that her mother was doing her best for the life she had left behind only briefly.

It was a mother's love that made her knees knock together as she stood on the pedestal. It was a mother's love that made her raise a hand to the glass tube as it closed around her, pleated dress now adorning her from head to toe, and her stylist meeting it on the other side with his own hand.

"Good luck," he mouthed.

She nodded and bit her lip.

No matter what happened, she would do her best for herself.

Damali was her friend, but Damali was also another tribute. Yes, two could win. Yes, she wanted to win with Damali. But if things did not go that way, she refused to beat herself up about it to the point that she forgot about why she was really here.

River was who she was because she refused to be anything but.

In the Games, that mindset was what would carry her. The strength she had. The resolve and desire to make it home.

It took her a moment, trapped in her thoughts, to realise that the pedestal she was standing on wasn't heading up, but it was heading down.

Darkness became her world and a sharp whimper escaped her mouth in a breathless puff of air.

Lakilynn, for you my love, I will return.

But also for herself.

All twenty-four tributes had their own stories behind them, their own families and friends and reasons for being here. All twenty-four had their own games prepared, their own journeys carved, and their own futures that awaited.

For twenty-two, their future was all-consuming and eternal darkness.

For two, hope that they would survive through to the end.

Only time would tell who those two would be.

Let the Hunger Games begin.

Shiiiit we are here. Folks about to drop.

I hope this chapter was okay. I kept a list of tributes on a separate doc to make sure that I included everyone and I really hope I didn't forget someone. Either way, that is launch now done, and the next chapter brings about the beginning of the Games.

With that said, here are the standard questions!

Who do you think will die in the bloodbath?

Who do you want to die in the bloodbath?

The alliance poll is now closed so check out the results on my profile. I'm not sure when I will post the bloodbath. I might give it a few days just to allow some people to catch up? I don't know really what people were intending but now that we have reached the Games, it'd be nice to hear from more of the submitters what their thoughts are so far.

Up to you guys! You do you!

Thanks everyone for sticking with me up until this point. Next chapter: the bloodbath!