Cheating Death: Those That Lived

by CragmiteBlaster

To cheat death is to survive in almost impossible odds. Seventy three tributes did it before Katniss and Peeta ever set foot in the arena. Whether they were brave, scared, vicious, insane or simply got lucky they all have a story to tell and all such tales, one per Victor, can be found within. Let it be shown how they made their mark on Panem in their own unique ways. [74/74]

76. Cupid Sol

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.

Note: Here we are, the final Hunger Games of the story. After all the tears, pain, murder and insane twists in-story year after in-story year it's come to this, the grand finale. The ultimate form of penance for the Capitol. …Too dramatic? Perhaps! Hope you guys enjoy this one, it was a lot of fun to work on, what with how the Games unfolded and exploring the Capitol and District reactions to what is going on.

To answer a question of reviewer Red Sting, the youngest 14 year old victor prior to Finnick was Snag, who turned 14 on reaping day (opposed to Finnick being 14 when he won after sixteen days in the arena). However, Rhyder's Games were slightly delayed for reasons already delved into within his chapter, which allowed for his 14th birthday to happen before he entered the arena and won. If not for that Rhyder would hold the title for youngest victor as his birthday is roughly two weeks and a bit after reaping day.

And with that, what more can I say beside my hope you enjoy the chapter and that you like the final victor? Let's get this show on the road!

---

The Final Games: Capitol Punishment

Name: Cupid Sol

Gender: Male

District: N/A - Capitol

Age: 13

Kills: 0

---

Cupid's life had fallen apart.

It all began on the night where Finnick had revealed the disgusting secrets of so many people within the city he had grown up in. Mercifully, none of the secrets were those of Cupid or his own family. They were, after all, fairly basic and had nothing to hide. They were beneath notice for the most part.

But tell that to an angry mob out for blood and criminal mischief and see how far you get. The mayhem and chaos of the night inevitably made its way to Cupid's area of the grand city and waste was laid to it. Gunshots, fire and merciless destruction.

By the time dawn arrived Cupid was the only member of his family left. It hadn't even taken five minutes for his parents to die in the inferno as their house was set ablaze by arsonists. Cupid honestly had no idea how he had survived the carnage.

As he lay hunched up and sobbing for his dead family under the rising sun he rather thought it may have been better if he hadn't survived. Living with this agony was even worse than being dead.

"I want my mom…" Cupid practically choked on his own tears. "Why… why…"

Why indeed. Like many in the Capitol he simply had no idea of the way things truly were. It didn't occur to Cupid that Panem wasn't a great country, but rather a horrific dystopia.

Perhaps this could be understood when one learnt he had grown up knowing nothing aside kindness of his family, social acceptance at his school and a complete adoration of romance.

Romance especially.

Cupid, much like his namesake, was fixated on love. More than anything he loved love when it happened on TV. He'd had his own vlog show all about romance and shipping since he was ten and had a few thousand subscribers, all of whom were just as eager to talk about couples as he was.

Couples in the Hunger Games were no exception to this.

Cupid never did much like the killing part of the Games. He preferred the romances that would emerge in the arena. Sure, most of them ended in horrible tragedy, but wasn't it fun to just focus on all the nice stuff until then and simply imagine it might not end up like that?

He thought it was fun at any rate.

For a long time his celebrity romance fixations were Baron and Runa as well as Spool and Lammy. Victor pairings were about as real as romance got! Many a video was made about them with undying support sent their way.

But it was the Star Crossed lovers who really gave Cupid something to fanboy over.

The love! The drama! The loyalty! The tenderness! The literally everything!

…The way they led a rebellion that destroyed all he held dear.

Cupid cast away such thoughts. Try as he might to keep hope alive in himself, how could he? He was all alone and left to rot.

It occurred to him that many a tribute felt this way over the years. The veil over his eyes had been lifted in that moment. Was the love real? Perhaps. Were the tears and wails of despair real?

Painfully so.

The rebellion came and went, ending with President Paylor coming in to clean up the mess. No more Games, much fairer distribution of resources, a bright future for all who had lived to see the dawn of the next era.

Cupid got shoved into an orphanage with several others who had lost everything. If nothing else he wasn't alone. If nothing else he had a few friends who understood his pain.

Checking back on his vlog was just too much. The memories of a kinder era, one where he had a perfect life and hundreds of thousands in the districts suffered horrifically every day was too much for him to bare.

He felt guilt for how he'd never considered the feelings of those outside the Capitol and assumed that all was well. He'd assumed they were as happy as he was, content to live with love and friendship.

Naïve musings of a life he'd never get back.

Even so, his idealism didn't die out completely. Painful as his own situation was, at least the deaths had stopped. Well, they were not quite so frequent now at any rate. At least there was peace. At least people were moving on.

The deaths that befell citizens under the blanket of night were terrifying, but at least his orphan friends were safe. They weren't alone.

At least the districts hadn't wiped them all out in revenge.

It was midway through June when Cupid realised that, no, it wasn't over. The full extent of the Capitol's long overdue punishment was only just getting started. He'd been walking through the streets, returning to the orphanage with some buns he'd bought from the bakery when it happened.

A live transmission across the entire nation.

Cupid watched as the screen showed President Paylor exited her mansion – about seven miles to his left he reckoned – and walked up to a podium. She surveyed the crowd that had shown up to watch her with an expression Cupid didn't quite understand.

It was like guilt, but without any of the emotions you'd see in a guilty person. She was clearly holding a lot back. But, what was this all about?

Cupid got the terrifying answer he needed not even five minutes later.

"The districts only wanted a better life during the first rebellion. Better pay, better living conditions… a chance to life at all. Only cruel and slave-like conditions led to the rebellion. It could have all been avoided if the Capitol had simply helped their citizens. Instead, they decided to make the nation suffer further and began to kill their children year after year as a 'punishment'," Paylor had said. "Therefore, with the tables now turned, a punishment will be given in turn to the Capitol. A final penance before the fighting can, at last, be moved past."

Paylor paused for a moment.

"The nineteen surviving victors took a vote, one that came back ten to nine," Paylor had, again, paused. "…The vote was for one final Hunger Games using the children of the Capitol."

There had, of course, been rioting and screaming from the very start. Shouts of how it was unfair, how this was pure evil, how the districts had already won and now they were just rubbing it in. Eventually Paylor had sounded an airhorn into a microphone to get everybody to quieten down.

"You cheered over the Hunger Games for decades. You laughed and cooed when our children were murdered. You bet on their lives like it was a game. No matter how many children died, or how awful their deaths were, you only cared if you lost a bet. It was intended to be an endless punishment," Paylor paused for breath. "This is but a single Hunger Games. Once and then never again. This way the vigilante attacks against you might stop. It is, quite simply, trading twenty three lives to spare many more. Reaping day will be July 1st. More rules and regulations on the Games dubbed as 'Capitol Punishment' will soon follow."

The transmission ended and Cupid dropped to his knees, his heart threatening to burst right out of its chest. The chance existed for him to enter the arena.

The arena.

Either die horribly or become a killer. Both options were equally terrifying for Cupid to consider.

So lost in his fear and woe was he that he didn't even notice the panic of the terrifying crowd all around him, all of them finally realising just how evil the Hunger Games were.

Alas, such a realisation was far too late now. They showed no mercy prior and would receive none now.

Cupid sobbed.

---

Spool sighed.

He voted no to these damn Games, why did he have to have any part in this trainwreck?

Reaping day had arrived, and everything had been set up. Pens for all eligible children to stand in, whether willingly or forced. A stage and chairs for the victors to sit on as the ceremony went by. A finalised list of rules for how the Games were going to go. The show was ready to start.

"This is sick," Spool muttered to Lammy, his girlfriend seated in the chair beside his own.

"Mmmhmmm," she agreed, flinching at she looked at the crowd. "It's only going to get worse."

Spool didn't disagree. If nothing else, he could take comfort in the fact this was the very last Hunger Games that would ever happen. After this the decades of war and Games would finally end.

All he had to do was mentor some poor kid to victory.

The rules would be revealed on a need-to-know basic and for the most part the reaping would be the same as it always had been. An escort – one who managed to survive the rebellion – would reap the tributes, but this time volunteers were banned. There would be no escape if picked.

As the Capitol did not have tesserae the replacement was hat extra slips would be added containing a tribute's name if they were closer related to somebody who had harmed the districts or been deep into the old regime.

Notable was that twelve of the tributes, six boys and six girls, had been forcefully volunteered. They'd been closely related to some truly vile monsters, alive and dead, of the old regime that their fates were sealed from the start. There would be no mercy shown to them, but per the norm of a so-called soft fix they'd be given an equal chance to win when the gong went off in the arena.

As for the other twelve, they would be reaped normally to ensure every single Capitol child and family had to face the terror of a reaping. Two reaping bowls were set up, one for girls and one for boys, as always… but there was now a third reaping bowl added. When each tribute was reaped a slip would then be taken from the third reaping bowl. This would determine who would mentor each tribute.

As there were twenty four tributes and only nineteen victors the remaining five spots had been filled with a few back-ups, of sorts. Gale was deemed to be deep enough involved with the rebellion to be given a spot and Trevy, having been a tribute even if not for the actual Games, had earned another. The next two mentor spots went to Harp and Acre, Snag's eldest daughter, for their helpful aid in the rebellion.

In a situation Spool almost found laughable the final spot had gone to the real Chuff Mitchell who had been the intended male tribute for the Forty Fifth Games. Chuff wanted no damn part in this shit, but his objections were overruled.

In the end Spool cared nothing for the rules of this fiasco. He just wanted it over as quickly as possible. Screw everybody that had voted yes. Screw them for having valid reasons he had difficulty in hating.

At this point the twelve tributes related to the worst of the old regime's monsters had been forced to the stage and assigned their mentors. If nothing else there were some interesting combinations going on.

Pietro Dully, seventeen years old, son of one of the arena designers. A complete Hunger Games fanboy who had always bragged that he wanted to be a tribute, he fell to pieces and literally shit his pants when he was put on the stage. Johanna was to be his mentor and quickly edged away from the stinking once-fanboy.

Goldie Mendez, eighteen years old, the daughter of Richford Mendez, the owner of the biggest Games related gambling casino in the nation. Flirty and more than willing to use sex appeal to save her own skin, she'd ended up mentored by Platinum.

Malvin Sleek, fifteen years old, son of one of the heavy betters on the Games. Morbidly obese and rarely one to leave the house, he was not looking to have the best odds by any stretch of the imagination. On the other hand he would probably be the least likely to die of starvation. He was to be mentored by Crown.

Melodie Cromwell, thirteen years old, the daughter of Alissa Cromwell – a surviving small time gamemaker who ended up getting life in jail over death. Melodie was wailing and crying for her mother from the moment she was forced to the stage. Alas, her mother was not permitted to see Melodie for even a moment. Melodie was to be mentored by Spud.

Blaze Royale, eighteen years old, grandson of a man that had made several successful petitions to cut the pay of district citizens several times over. The boy hadn't said a word since the day had started, too overcome with complete shock that this was happening to him. Him! Blaze was partnered with Beetee.

Tallulah Prime, eighteen years old, was the niece of a recently woodchipper'd man who made a sport out of 'district hunting'. The tables were turned and now Tallulah, boasting a ten person body count after her first 'hunting trip', was the prey. She screeched and screamed at how this wasn't fair, how the districts had taken everything from them. Her selected mentor, Wattzon, told her to shut up.

Alvorn Wake, thirteen years old, was condemned because his mother was the living person who had bought the company of the victors the most times, all who initially outranked her now being dead. He had been born lacking a left arm and thus had been given a cybernetic prosthetic. Alas, the rules of these Games meant the fake arm was quickly confiscated, leaving Alvorn with only a few tattoos to boast about. His odds were grim, but his mentor Olga would do her best regardless.

Acacia Gnome, fourteen years old, was a girl with an avid love of photography and had gotten several of her photos published already. Too bad being related to one of the top mutt breeders had condemned her to the arena. The only upside to the weeping girl's current situation was how she'd been paired with Gwenith.

Miles Templesmith, sixteen years old, the nephew of Claudius Templesmith. As arrogant and smug as his uncle, he was furious at his situation… but, he believed he had a chance. It was more than some others believed. The arrogant boy was drawn to be mentored by Gale.

Hellania Saint, sixteen years old, daughter of one of Snow's personal assistants. She saw the districts as nothing but vermin and these Games only further made her see them as a pack of savages. Pointing out the hypocrisy given her own joy of seeing them die in the Games was met with a snarl. She had ended up being paired with Chuff.

Stinn Bone, eighteen years old, son of a sadistic peacekeeper captain. Just as sadistic as his dad, this boy had no fear of entering the Games. He believed simple observation of his father's example and beating up a few restrained prisoners was all of the training he needed. He was paired with Rhyder, not that he believed he needed a mentor.

Rhonda Snow, twelve years old, the granddaughter of President Snow. She was the youngest of all tributes thus far and had done little but helplessly cry. The poor thing was to be mentored by Crimson who had zero intent to do anything but mock the girl.

Spool looked over the twelve tributes so far with a disgraced look on his face. Was this what they had fought for? Was this really what their rebellion and desire for freedom had led to?

Why hadn't Paylor just held off throwing the ministers and gamemakers into the woodchipper and hurled them to the arena instead? Spool wished they lived in such a timeline.

"With half of the roster filled by our… brave volunteers…" the escort choked on her own nerves and bile. "…It's time for the second half of the reaping to begin. When your name is called please make your way to the stage. There will be no volunteers permitted."

Spool watched as, one by one, the tributes are selected and mount the stage. Most of them are in tears or scream of the injustice going on. They are ignored. One by one the remaining mentors sitting around him rise when their own names are called. As with the first twelve there are some interesting match-ups going on, none of them what Spool would call good.

Kids didn't belong in arenas even if they or their families were awful people.

The girls were reaped first.

Ponty Lumiere, fourteen years old, had been a gambling addict prior to the rebellion and bet on the Games every year. She was a close friend of Goldie and her gambling had gotten her just enough extra slips in the bowl to condemn her to the arena. She was to be mentored by Katniss.

Zunilla Norvus, eighteen years old, had been a spoiled brat who had always gotten whatever she wanted whenever she wanted it. The rebellion had taken all of that away and reduced her to a constantly crying and snarling shell. She was paired up with Acre.

Nix Fowler, eighteen years old, was addicted to body modification surgeries. At the time of the reaping she had gotten cat eyes, dragon scales, a snake tongue, purple hair and a fairly useless pair of angel wings on her back. The random drawing had given her Enobaria as a mentor.

Sawyer Nocella, sixteen years old, was one child among six. All of them were obsessed with mutts, especially the ones that were known for painfully devouring tributes. Now that such a thing could potentially happen to her she'd lost all the love she once had for the horrific monsters. She was to be mentored by Harp.

Romanita Toriff, sixteen years old, had wanted to be a surgeon. Specifically, the sort that gave the Capitol citizens the crazy body modifications they loved so very much. She'd tried to perform this on herself, working from a textbook, and ended up blinding herself. The rebellion that began the next day prevented this from being fixed, and now it was too late. She wept as her name was called, knowing that without sight she was almost certain to die. She was set to be mentored through the nightmare by Lammy.

Belle Singh, thirteen years old, had wanted to be a rapper. She wasn't exactly talented at this, granted, but she had plenty of enthusiasm for it. Being reaped and likely to die had crushed her pep. Numi was declared her mentor and, while psyched that Belle shared her passion for rap, felt this to be an additional punishment for straying from Bentley's pacifistic message. She'd do her best for the kid.

The boys were reaped second.

Cnaeus Raspberry, eighteen years old, a vandal from the seedier side of the once-great city. With a disregard for authority and a history of thuggish behaviour and actions he seemed like a boy with some sort of a chance. He was no stranger to wielding a crowbar and, anxious as he was, appeared satisfied to have Haymitch as his mentor.

Raptor Ourang, seventeen years old, had been the most popular boy in his school. He couldn't comprehend that something like this had befallen him and not the losers at the bottom! Still, perhaps being the official final victor and only victor of the Capitol was to be his ultimate achievement? He was all about words, not fighting, but maybe he could learn how to throw a punch with a mentor like Peeta?

Victor Rupee, fifteen years old, ironically seemed like one of the least likely candidates for becoming his namesake. He'd been relying on prosthetic legs for the last seven years since a nasty car crash. Much like the prosthetic arm of Alvorn these had also been confiscated. If he was to win he would have to think like Snag. Perhaps such a thing could come true, given Snag coincidentally was his mentor.

Leamus Jump, sixteen years old, was an expert with all things mechanical. His family were hovercraft pilots by trade, a thing practically in their blood. He expected a life of being up in the air, not a short existence where he'd lay dead in the dirt. He'd win these Games out of pure spite alone for the new government! Perhaps his chosen mentor, Annie, would be able to help him with that?

An incident occurred when the second to last tribute, Jeiss Donroy, was reaped. It turned out that the purple skinned fifteen year old was the escort's own son. The women screamed and screamed, wailing for mercy. Pleading for her boy to be spared. Shrieking how this was all wrong.

She was held at gunpoint and demanded to pick a paper slip from the mentor reaping bowl. She was not permitted to cry, not when she'd gleefully done the exact same thing to district families for approximately fourteen years and sometimes outright teased the tributes during the following train rides. No sooner had the escort selected Trevy as the boy's mentor she passed out.

Everything was silent for several long moments. What would they do now? The escort wasn't coming around any time soon and there was a schedule to keep to. The crowd were going to be getting restless soon, more than they already were at any rate.

For a minute Spool sat alone, awaiting instructions on what to do. All but himself now had tributes and he was in no rush to meet the kid whose fate would be in his hands. He'd never been a particularly good mentor, only having one victor to his name and now poor Cecelia was long gone. He just wasn't ready to feel the always familiar feelings of defeat again.

"Spool?" a soldier, one from Thirteen based on the accent, repeated.

"Huh, what?" Spool said, finally paying attention.

"As you're the only mentor left there's little point taking the last slip from the mentor bowl," the soldier then pointed to the boys' reaping bowl. "Save us some time and embarrassment, could you? Pick a name?"

"What? Hell no! I didn't vote for this, get somebody else to do it. One of the people who said yes… or, hell, you do it," Spool crossed his arms, unimpressed. "No way."

Alas, Spool's own complaints were unheard. With the soldier soon forced to help his comrades quell the screaming and wailing crowd and nobody else coming to take the escort's place, it all fell to him in the end.

He alone stood before the reaping bowl.

He alone had the power to choose who would be the very last tribute to ever be reaped for the Hunger Games.

He, a man who was never supposed to be in the arena in the first place, had the power to decide how this was ended.

"What a lot of damn irony," Spool quietly said to himself. "Please be somebody badass, please be somebody built like a tank."

With a shaking arm Spool reached into the reaping bowl and quickly took out a single slip of paper. He wasn't going to draw it out and make the poor kids suffer more.

He opened the paper slip, trying to keep his nausea under control.

"Cupid Sol."

Spool felt his heart sink as a small boy made his way out of the thirteen year old boys section. He could only grimace as the skinny boy of pale skin and golden hair mounted the stage and moved to stand beside him.

"Hello Spool," Cupid whispered, his teeth practically chattering from fear. "Nice to meet you at last."

"Nice to meet you Cupid," Spool said with about as much confidence as a typical District Twelve tribute. "I'll be your mentor, and mark my words you're going to win this thing."

The two shook hands moments before Cupid and the other tributes were forcefully taken away into the president's manor to await visitors and transportation to the tribute building. Everything happened so fast and before Spool knew it the final reaping was over.

He had just enough free time to find a nearby alleyway and vomit from all the stress.

---

A first for the Games, the parade had been entirely skipped. It was ruled that this was something that the Capitol would enjoy and which may distract from the entire point of these Games being a punishment for their decades of cruelty and benefitting from district pain.

The tributes were unceremoniously herded into armoured trucks and taken to the tribute building, no fanfare given whatsoever. Not a single tribute spoke to each other in that time, all of them too shaken by the reality they'd found themselves in.

The most interaction that happened was Cupid gently laying a hand on Rhonda's shoulder.

Cupid bought up the rear of the pack when he and the other tributes were let out of the trucks and into the tribute building. They stood as one small crowd with armed guards all around them, no doubt looking for any excuse to start opening fire. At least, that's what Cupid believed.

It wasn't long before the twenty four mentors arrived and took their places off to the side. Following that it was practically no time at all before President Paylor arrived, taking her place on a slightly raised platform before them.

"Welcome to the final Hunger Games, dubbed 'Capitol Punishment'. I won't mince words; none of you are happy to be here and while I could claim to be unhappy this is happening, that won't change the fact it is," Paylor had to speak loudly to drown out early complaints from the tributes. "By all means, complain as much as you would like after the rules are explained."

"Rules? What rules?" Sawyer asked. "The only rules are to be the last one standing and not eat each other."

"This is messed up," Stinn hissed.

"Got that right. You savages have no right to do this to us!" Hellania screeched.

"You all took away our children for decades and had them killed. Is this really so different now that the shoe is on the other foot, so to speak?" Paylor paused to sigh. "Like I said, no interruptions."

"She has a point," Cupid mumbled. "Is it really so different? Same number of tributes, same age group… it's really just like a quell or something."

Several of the tributes eyed Cupid for a few moments, but soon their attention was back on Paylor.

"Cupid is right, at least in my opinion. For better or worse," Paylor took out a list from within her pocket. "Now, as you are all from the Capitol and thus cannot be split into district pairs, we'll be doing things a bit differently to work out which floor you and your mentors will be staying on until the Games begin."

"Do you even have an arena?" Miles asked.

"We do," Paylor replied, shortly. "Now, here's how this will work. Each of you will be put into one of twelve teams, a boy and a girl filling up both. These teams will essentially be stand-ins for the normal district numbers. The teams have already been decided entirely at random. When I call your name, come and stand beside me. You will be given your colour coded buffs – that is to say, neckerchiefs - for the training days."

Cupid watched as the other tributes were called up in pairs, each given their team number and colour that would represent them in the arena. Some teams were much stronger, and scarier, than others were.

Team One, given red buffs, consisted of Miles and Rhonda. Miles was trying to act confident and like he was indifferent, while little Rhonda hadn't stopped sobbing even for a moment. Her fate was all but sealed already.

Team Two, given orange buffs, consisted of Cnaeus and Goldie. Goldie wasted no time in trying to put on a little flirty charm with Cnaeus, but the thug seemed utterly disinterested in what Goldie was offering him. He merely folded his arms and grunted.

Team Three, given yellow buffs, consisted of Alvorn and Sawyer. Alvorn looked especially vulnerable under the stares of others with his prosthetic arm taken away while Sawyer tried to glare toughly at those around her. It was obvious both were scared shitless.

Team Four, given dark blue buffs, consisted of Victor and Tallulah. Victor looked especially helpless, forced into a wheelchair with his legs having been taken away. He looked like he was going to start crying. Tallulah, meanwhile, looked at Paylor as though she were vermin and gnashed her teeth in fury. The fight wasn't taken from her yet.

Team Five, given green buffs, consisted of Blaze and Romanita. By now the shock had left Blaze and he was started to enter anxious deep thought, as if trying to work out a plan. After a moment he began to smirk, as if hit by realisation. Romanita, meanwhile, was devoid of all hope. She could only cry, knowing that her life was already over.

Team Six, given cyan buffs, consisted of Stinn and Hellania. Stinn gazed over his competition, hardly giving much emotion away. He regarded them like how a citizen of Ten may regard typical lifestock. He was confident of his chances. Hellania, of course, was still seething and snarling. She made her contempt clear, sneering that a 'district monkey' like Paylor wasn't a real president. This mess would be sorted out soon. Alas, she was wrong.

Team Seven, given gold buffs, consisted of Raptor and Belle. Raptor put on a smile and tried to outwardly look confident and accepting of his fate. Perhaps if he were one of the few to not make such a fuss he'd get treated better? Image was everything. Belle lacked his confidence, but was nonetheless trying to put on a perky smile. Happy tributes got sponsors, right?

Team Eight, given pink buffs, consisted of Malvin and Zunilla. Malvin was so out of shape that he was out of breath by the time he'd walked over to Paylor and then off towards Crown. Running for his life was going to be a serious issue. Zunilla, meanwhile, was teary eyed and constantly muttered that this wasn't fair. The rebels took away all of her status, and now they wanted her life too? She hadn't even done anything!

Cupid stepped forth when his own name was called to fill the male slot of Team Nine. He was handed a purple buff, one he chose to wear like a bandana. He wondered if his mother would've called him dapper or smart looking. Such thoughts hurt.

He was joined in his team by Acacia, the poor girl shaking madly from her surgically added ram horns to the soles of her fluffy boots. It was all she could do to not cry. Cupid needed no prompting to gently take her hand and lead her over to where their mentors were standing.

"I've got your back, even if you don't have mine," Cupid whispered.

Acacia sniffled, but managed to nod and weakly return Cupid's offered fistbump.

The two youngsters stood silently between Spool and Gwenith, watching as the remaining six tributes were sorted into teams. The wait they had been put through and their sheer nerves were making the final quarter of the roster appear physically ill.

Cupid thought it was rather unfair for them to suffer even more. Hadn't they all had a terrible enough day?

Team Ten, given, brown buffs, consisted of Pietro and Melodie. By now Pietro had recovered from his earlier pants shitting and was trying to look confident. He'd watched every Games a dozen times, surely he could learn from example and do what the best victors had done, right? Melodie, meanwhile, had entered a panic attack and was having genuine trouble with breathing. Indeed, she ended up vomiting from stress and passing out.

Team Eleven, given white buffs, consisted of Leamus and Nix. Leamus stalked forth with furious eyes and clenched fists. He wasn't going to even try and act nice, not when he'd hardly even watched the damn Games over the years to begin with! Nix shakily made her way forwards, reaching back to try and feel her angel wings for any sense of support. She felt like she was going to follow Melodie's lead and faint.

Team Twelve, given black buffs, consisted of Jeiss and Ponty. Jeiss didn't react much, just glumsy sighing as he approached the president. He looked lost in his own thoughts, and few of them were good. Ponty paid little attention to her teammate, her gaze more drawn towards her friend Goldie. An alliance was all but certain between them. She narrowed her eyes, her spirit not broken just yet.

With all of the teams sorted out Paylor ordered the tributes to the elevators that would take them to their rooms. There was nothing more to be said.

Cupid didn't mind this. He was in no mood for talking, not when he was far too busy with running into his bedroom and burying his face against the pillows, crying his eyes out.

It briefly occurred to him this same bed had once been used by the very first victor that there ever was – Mizar Aldjoy.

Cupid hoped some of Mizar's luck may smile upon him as well, but he doubted it. He was almost certain to end up dead in the dirt.

After an hour of sobbing Cupid came to an epiphany. Was he doomed? Probably? But were the Games the very next day? No.

Even if he was done for, at least he still had time to do something nice for somebody else.

It was high time that, for the final time, he helped another couple get exactly where they should be.

---

Spool hadn't slept well the previous night, too overcome with the guilt that came with reaping his own tribute. He'd not wanted to, but fate had forced him into the absolute worse spot to be in. Then again, maybe it was his own fault. It had been his own choice to enter the arena prior to becoming a victor, hadn't it?

Lammy had been supportive as always, but pillow talk could only do so much. Especially when she had her own tribute to support. A tribute with even worse odds, being blind and all.

All this nasty emotion was why Spool found himself awake shortly before dawn with a mug of coffee in hand, practically slumped over the dining table. A big gulp did nothing to help and neither did a second.

Spool was about to get another mug entirely, only for Cupid to leave his bedroom at that moment and beeline his way over to the table. For a moment the middle aged man and the young boy sat across from each other, silently staring into each other's eyes.

"I'm sorry" Spool said at the exact same moment Cupid said "I want to help you."

"…You first," Spool said, setting his coffee aside. "Help me with what?"

Spool let Cupid lay out his plan. It was… so painfully innocent. Enough so that if Spool were a less hardened person he might have even shed a tear.

The boy had seemingly given up. Not only did he think he was simply too weak and young – thirteen and two months old – to win the Games, but he refused to kill another person. He refused to even cause injury or try to fight. It was wrong.

No, he was a pacifist and a romantic first and foremost. In his final days he had only one goal… get his favourite victor, Spool, to propose to Lammy at long last. If the best couple in the history of the nation were engaged before he died then he could leave the world without regret.

Well, not as many regrets at any rate.

"So, how about it?" Cupid asked, pouring himself some lucky charms. "We have three days of training and then interview day to pull this off. You ready to work with me here, Spool?"

"…You know, I thought I was the mentor here," Spool said, momentarily stumped.

"Why mentor a hopeless case?" Cupid asked, quickly eating a mouthful of his cereal. "I can't win. But you? You can win. Lammy's hand in marriage that is."

"…I guess I have delayed asking her. I don't think she'd say no," Spool said, mostly to himself. He shook his head quickly. "Why the interest in my love life? Why not your life in general? That's what's at risk here."

"Because I don't have a chance," Cupid replied. "And… I just don't have it in me to kill people to save myself."

"Can't, or won't?" Spool asked.

"Both, but honestly… moreso won't," Cupid glanced off to the side. "I can't justify ending lives so that mine won't. I just… I mean… is that stupid?"

"No, it's human. I mean, some may call that stupid, but I don't think it is," Spool downed a mouthful of his coffee. "Thinking of going for a pacifist victory? It's never been done before, but in theory you might be able to pull it off."

"You really think so?" Cupid asked.

"Maybe. If you're really committed to winning without any kills at all… now would be the time for it," Spool finished his mug of coffee with an unceremonious chug. "Your opposition lacks any careers at all and few of them are going to be putting up any sort of a fight. You might be able to win if you can outlive them; let hunger, thirst and infection wear them out"

Spool gave Cupid a serious look.

"Memorise everything at the survival stations. Please, do not make the same mistake hundreds of tributes before you have," Spool said, his tone grave.

"I won't," Cupid promised. "I'll do whatever you say."

"Good," Spool got up, starting to pace. "Now, if your plan is outlive them then you'll need sponsors. I'm not sure how that will work, only that it's different than the normal method. You'll need to be memorable, and I'll do my best to get some interest pulled your way."

Spool ceased his movement, noticing that Cupid had gone ridged. A cheesy sort of grin was etching its way across the young boy's face, one Spool knew from his own personal experiences to mean a plan was close at hand.

"What's the plan?" Spool asked, retaking his seat.

"Romance worked for Katniss and Peeta, it'll work for us too," Cupid said, balling his small fist in upmost seriousness.

"Uuuuuuhhh…" Spool awkwardly looked at himself and Cupid, quirking an eyebrow.

"Eep! Not that, I didn't mean that!" Cupid exclaimed. "I mean… how about you say something like 'if Cupid wins then Lammy and I will get married'? People love you guys and you didn't… uh… actually, did you-"

"We didn't vote for these Games, both of us voted no," Spool quickly added. "You know… that's not a bad idea. I mean, even if you… lost… I'd still ask her, but as they don't need to know that…"

"So long as you guys are happy and in love, I'm happy," Cupid assured his mentor. "A war just ended. We need love now, more than ever."

Spool couldn't even begin to disagree with his tribute.

Before long Gwenith joined the breakfast table and soon after her Acacia quietly sat down at well, her face stained with numerous dried tears.

Breakfast was a sombre affair, only slightly lightened when Cupid suggested he and Acacia work together. He repeated his vow of pacifism, one he would under no circumstances break, and said he had her back.

"We could at least survive the bloodbath together," Cupid said, shyly. "And… well, maybe it'll be easier if we're not all alone in the arena?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" Acacia took a deep, shaky breath. "Alright Cupid, I'm in. Let's d-d-do it."

The two tributes were soon done with breakfast and, not overly long after that, were called down to the training centre. Cupid dared to lightly smile, while Acacia seemed close to tears all over again. It wasn't like either of them were going to be able to score particularly highly or master any real skills.

Spool waited until they had left down the elevator to let out a weary sigh. Gwenith sat sown beside him, clutching her own mug of coffee in her shaking grasp. Neither mentor was in a particularly good mood.

"Their odds aren't looking good," Gwenith mumbled. "I thought we were done with this. Why did they vote yes? Why…?"

"A lot of them were badly hurt over the years," Spool said, grim. "I guess it's up to us to make sure our tributes have the best odds possible."

Spool finished his last mug of coffee and headed for the elevator.

"Where are you going?" Gwenith asked. "Sponsor duty?"

"To a degree. But first, I need to talk with Lammy," Spool replied. "Cupid gave me an idea."

---

Cupid stood with the rest of the tributes, listening to what the new Head Trainer was telling everybody. It was a soldier from District Five of all places that had taken the job, but she clearly knew what she was talking about. She and the dozens of trainers are individual stations all knew their crafts incredibly well.

Besides, a staff reset was needed due to all of the prior trainers being dead. Atala had been forced into the woodchipper face first and the others had followed not long afterwards.

Cupid couldn't help but feel that it was a tad messed up that the new president had inherited the woodchipper the previous two presidents had owned and was making harsh use out of it already.

"You have three days to learn as many skills as you think you will need. On the third day you will be getting the traditional private training session where you shall be scored from one to twelve," the women from Five explained. "What you learn is entirely up to you. I'll warn you now, though, if anybody is thinking of trying for a double victory by using some sort of poison… don't. It will not work, the Games would just end without a victor. The nation at large would not care."

A few of the tributes looked either helpless or annoyed at this announcement. Some plans were clearly going to have to be changed. Cupid gave Acacia a sad sort of look. One of them – probably both of them, if he were being honest – would have to die.

"As always, no fighting with each other before the Games. Arguing is fine, so long as it does not become physical," the women gestured to the training centre with a sweep of her arm. "You may begin."

The tributes were quick to split apart from each other and head off in separate directions. The stronger tributes – Stinn, Cnaeus, Raptor, Hellania and Tallulah – were quick to approach the training stations for swords and axes. The weaker tributes – Rhonda, Victor, Romanita, Malvin and Melodie – hesitated to move anywhere, either frozen in fear or sobbing in despair. The rest of the tributes slowly made their way to training stations of their own choice.

Cupid soon found himself at the edible plants training station. He sat beside the only other tribute who had come to this same training station, Miles, and paid rapt attention to everything the trainer told him.

"The basic idea is that if you aren't certain of something being safe to eat then you shouldn't attempt to," the man explained. "Granted, if you're starving and need to eat then always choose something without berries. There's approximately a forty percent lower chance of such plants being poisonous to a lethal degree."

"Is nightlock going to be in the arena?" Miles asked.

"I'm not allowed to tell you things like that. It may or it may not," the man stated. "My advice? Learn to identify it just in case."

"Nightlock is black, right?" Cupid asked.

"That's right. Hang on, I have a card that explains about it somewhere around here," the trainer turned away, flipping through several identification cards.

Miles sighed, his expression a mixture of anxious and angry. Cupid, of course, was the sort to be quite in tune to the emotions of himself and others. He therefore asked Miles what was wrong.

"Uh… we're in the Hunger Games?" Miles said, scoffing. "When I win this I'm making a counter attack and putting it all back the way it was."

"Think you can win?" Cupid asked. "Those guys look scary…"

Miles and Cupid glanced over to where Stinn and Hellania were making mincemeat of several dummies with their swords. Miles flinched, but didn't let fear show on his face.

"The strongest tribute doesn't always win. The best one does, and I'm the best there is. My uncle says so," Miles gave Cupid a dry look. "What, think you could win?"

"Nope. I'd never be able to win if it came down to a fight," Cupid replied, shaking his head. "I'm not a killer."

"Not with those skinny arms," Miles agreed.

Shouting got Cupid's attention a moment later. He watched as, at the far side of the training centre, Rhonda had been surrounded by Goldie, Alvorn, Sawyer, Zunilla and Leamus. The five Capitol teens were all screaming at her and spitting, nothing but hatred filling their faces. Cupid left Miles and the trainer behind, coming over to get a closer look.

It wasn't like anybody was making any move to stop the altercation.

"This is all your grandpa's fault!" Goldie screeched.

"He doomed us! He just had to underestimate those fucking district monkeys!" Sawyer yelled, balling her hands into fists.

"When the gong rings you're the first one to die!" Leamus held a fist up to Rhonda's face. "If we can't pay back your damn grandpa we can sure as hell take it out on you!"

Alvorn and Zunilla humph'd their agreement and shoved Rhonda to the floor. This was enough for the trainers and the guards to come over to break it up. The five instigators were swiftly led away for a one hour time out before they could resume training. Rhonda was left on the floor, covered in spit and tears.

Almost everybody ignored her, whether they blamed her or not.

Cupid was not amongst them. The small boy approached Rhonda and offered her a tender hand.

"Come with me," Cupid offered her. "When the gong rings, come with me. We don't have to fight."

Rhonda's response was a broken sob and wordlessly taking Cupid's hand. When at rock bottom and having lost absolutely everything in life it truly paid to have at least one person who gave the tiniest damn.

Cupid only did what came natural and did not regret his choice to show kindness to Rhonda, in spite of the vile man she was descended from.

Even the way several tributes were glaring at him for this display didn't break his resolve to do the right thing, no matter what.

---

Spool spent much of the day out of the training centre, trying to gather up some interested sponsors for his tribute. Of course, there were a few little issues that were giving him a hard time in pulling this off.

Firstly, sponsors were not going to work in the same way they used to. Money was not to change hands for these final Games. No, it was all about points. Every day the nation could cast votes to who they wanted to support. Every thousand people meant one point and each mentor would buy equipment with these points. The points carried over day to day and, depending on how long the Games went on, week to week.

The second problem was that many amongst the districts, who now had the overwhelming population majority, had zero intent to cast votes and raise points. They wanted to see these children suffer horrifically for the crimes against humanity the Capitol had gleefully caused for generations. Why would they help them?

The third problem was that, while the Capitol citizens were all going to cast votes, they would be inclined to vote for those who either had living family or were well known public figures prior to the Capitol's fall. Cupid was in neither category. Sure, he had a romance themed blog, but that was small potatoes at this point. Especially when compared to Rhonda, Miles and Goldie.

Spool entered the sponsor garden, ready to do the same job he'd already performed over thirty times prior and get some people on his tribute's side.

The atmosphere was far different than it normally was.

There was no frenzied cheering. There was no eager giggles over animated discussions of how the tributes would die. There was no money changing hands or drinks being passed around in great excess.

The Capitol crowd looked miserable, trudging around like they were the walking dead. The reality was smashing them in the face.

This was really happening.

Their children were going to die.

They had laughed over this when it happened to others for over seventy years.

Spool noticed the families of some of the tributes here and there, going around and pleading people to help their own tributes get points and thus more supplies. The tears and sobs were all raw and real.

Spool noticed some of the other mentors were already there, having gotten an early start to the day. Some of them seemed to be getting small crowds together to make pledges of support for their tributes. Numi improvised a 'mercy rap' to help Belle's odds improve and seemed to be doing a fine job of it. Elsewhere Crown was handing out free candy to a large group of people, all for the sake of aiding his own tribute Malvin. Even Chuff had shown up, utterly lost and out of his depth with the situation he'd been tossed into, and had a group of seven or eight people on board to vote for Hellania. It was obvious he did not like the district racist he'd been paired with, but he was sucking it up and doing his job regardless.

Lammy soon approached Spool, having arrived about a half hour earlier. She looked upset and in great need of a hug, something Spool was more than ready to provide.

"This is awful," Lammy whispered. "Nobody wants to help Romanita. Suddenly they feel sorry for how a blind tribute is in the arena, but that's not why they don't want to help her."

"Why not then?" Spool asked.

"It's less about her being a 'poor investment' like it normally would be, and now it's just that they don't think she can win. They want to help somebody that may stand a chance," Lammy covered her face, shaking in Spool's hold. "What do I do Spool?"

"I might have a plan. It was going to be for Cupid, but I think it might work for both of our tributes," Spool started to smile. "It's all your choice in the end though. Only you have the right to make the choice."

"What do you mean?" Lammy asked, curious.

"Cupid gave me the idea this morning," Spool said as he and Lammy moved to sit down on a solid gold bench. "He's really invested in our love life, you know. He called us the best couple in the history of the nation."

"Oh, did he now?" Lammy asked, giggling as he cheeks turned a shade of pink. "But, what's that got to do with his sponsor idea?"

"Everything," Spool stated. "He suggested that we tell this huge crowd something like 'if Cupid wins the Games then we'll finally get married'. If we switch the wording to include Romanita as well then both may stand a chance."

"Wait… married?" Lammy started to smile, her eyes widening somewhat. "Spool, of course I'll-"

"Sssshh, not just yet," Spool said, unable to hide his smile. "If we promise these people a happy wedding if one of our tributes win then we'll get all the points we need. If we get engaged right now then Cupid and Romanita get nothing."

"So…" Lammy paused for a moment, thinking it over. "Just to clear, even if our tributes die, then-"

"We'll still get married. I think we'd both wanted to ever since we were twenty or so," Spool said, chuckling. "But a grand celebrity wedding? One of ours winning is the price."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Lammy said, giggling. "So, how're we gonna do this?"

"I might have an idea," Spool said, winking.

Spool stood upon the backrest of the bench and clapped his hands to get all eyes on him.

"May I have your attention everybody?" Spool yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. "I have an offer for you guys! You've known me for decades, albeit by a fake name. You've known Lammy for even longer. You watched us grow and fall in love. You now know we had nothing to do with these Games as, full disclosure, we both voted no!"

Spool paused, waiting until all were silent and staring his way. He smirked, always loving being the centre of attention. It was time to drop the bombshell.

"I implore you, please support Cupid or Romanita! They're good kids, and if one of them ends up surviving… Lammy and myself will get married! The whole celebrity wedding she-bang, the entire works! An event the nation has wanted for, like, decades really? All it takes it lending us a hand one more time," Spool spread out his arms widely. "So, how about it?"

There was silence for a few moments, save for Lammy's embarrassed mumbling.

Not long after that a hoard of Capitol citizens, the sort with nobody to personally lose in the Games nor a friendship with the family of a tribute, began to make their way over to Spool and Lammy. It wouldn't be an hour before the first thousand was met and after that, who knew, Spool figured it to be possible that they could exceed five thousand.

Despite all the early success going on with his final shot at mentoring, there was one particularly sombre note he couldn't help but notice.

Johanna was nearby and, by the looks of it, was mocking her tribute's family. Indeed, Pietro's parents and sisters had come over in hopes of her pulling off something like what Spool did. Johanna's response had them in tears.

"Help you? Ha! I'm gonna put my feet up and let the little bastard die. Nobody said I had to help him if I didn't feel like it," Johanna sneered and turned to leave. "My family was killed because I refused to sell my body to freaks like you. You deserve what you've gotten."

As much as Spool understood Johanna's anger he knew he wouldn't do the same. Whatever the Capitol cost him, it wasn't worth taking it out on a kid.

He'd let Johanna, Crimson and any others similarly vengeful play the game they wanted to play. But Spool? He was playing to claim a victor.

---

By the time the second day of training was three quarters over Cupid had begun to notice that several alliances were forming amongst the tributes. Some had known each other prior to the Games while others shared a similar sort of ideology.

For some it was a joy of causing pain. For others it was a desire to have friends in the little time that remained.

Cupid's own alliance consisted of himself, Acacia, Rhonda, Romanita, Melodie and Malvin. All weak and small, all with very little chance at winning the Games.

All with just about nothing left except the tentative friendship they had with each other. Gwenith could only fondly smile, going misty eyed as she called them the second coming of the 'Loser Alliance' from her own Games so very long ago. She still missed her old friends Prongs and Shrimp.

They were far from being the only tributes to have an alliance, of course. While Cupid focused most his attention on the water training station there was still a part of him that just couldn't help but watch the other alliances go about their training.

The strongest, meanest tributes had formed a sort of career pack. Despite not being trained murderers per-say, few would disagree that Stinn, Helania, Tallulah and Cnaeus had both brawn and cruelty in plentiful supply. The quarter butchered the dummies and swung the weapons far better than anybody else could.

Goldie and Ponty had obviously allied together, being friends prior to the Games. They trained with knives as best as they could, though it was clear neither was anywhere close to an expert. Goldie was shamelessly trying to seduce several of the trainers with her charms, though nobody was taking to her. There would be no mercy gained through sex appeal.

Pietro and Miles had also allied, more out of their arrogant natures and senses of superiority clicking than any other reason. Being near each other had, if nothing else, made them confident and fairly sure of themselves.

As for the rest, they were seemingly flying solo for the deathmatch that loomed ahead. All were doing their best to train, but few were looking to be high scorers in the making. A lifetime of excess and wanting for nothing hadn't gifted most of the kids with powerful bodies, or even moderately passable ones.

This was all too obvious to Cupid when he looked to where Victor was dragging himself along the floor. The legless boy had been unable to do much of anything since the Games had begun. He'd not even been given a wheelchair to get around.

The districts were truly out for blood with their revenge.

"Poor Victor," Cupid said.

"Poor all of us," Melodie sniffled, her hands over her face.

"We're gonna… die…" Rhonda trailed off into despair filled sobs.

"I don't wanna die… I don't want to bleed!" Melodie sunk to the ground, crying even louder.

Romanita stood off to the side, in silent depression as usual. She didn't see a way out of this nightmare, metaphorically and literally. Malvin was much the time, silent aside the occasional tearful weep.

Only Cupid had not broken yet, if only as he'd accepted his death was inevitable. He could try to outlive the rest, sure, but in his heart… he had a strong feeling he was not going to make it.

He was alright with that.

But seeing his new friends crying? That was something he couldn't abide by. But how could he lessen their suffering? What was there that he could say?

Nothing could be done aside from giving each of them a hug and words of assurance.

"We can't give up. If any of us are going to live then we need to try," Cupid's voice wavered as he spoke. "We need to give it our all! Think about it, we survived a nationwide war. The war was all of humanity! This is just twenty four people… if you think about it, the hardest part is behind us. C'mon guys, we've got this."

Alas, none of Cupid's allies shared his optimism. Sure, his words were met with weak smiles and the slightest glimmer of gratitude, but it didn't change obvious facts such as their own sheer weakness or how Stinn and Tallulah were so powerful with sadistic streaks a mile wide.

The lattermost fact was made evident with how the pair sneered and spat upon victor as they walked past him, moving from the sword training station to the halberd training station.

"I'd say run for your life, but we know that's not going to happen," Stinn said, nothing but coldness in his eyes.

"You have no chance. None whatsoever, little boy," Tallulah added.

Cupid knew there was only one thing to do. As soon as the older, scarier tributes were gone he scampered over to Victor, kneeling down to offer him a hand.

"Allies?" Cupid offered. "We have room for more."

Victor let the tears fall freely down his face, but nonetheless he accepted Cupid's offer and let the younger boy help him away towards the Anti-Despair Alliance.

The title was a work in progress. Cupid was sure that it would get better.

---

Spool wasn't entirely sure what to expect when he sat down with Cupid to watch the training scores be announced. Had the boy scored high? Had be scored terribly? Would it even matter if his entire plan was to outlive, not outfight? And what of the scores the other twenty three tributes would receive?

One glance at Acacia cowering and sniffling in her spot beside Gwenith told him that, if nothing else, Cupid was unlikely to be the lowest scorer of the lot.

"So, what did you do in training?" Spool asked Cupid.

"Showed them that I know all about surviving in the wold. Poison identification, water purifying, food finding… you know, survival skills. I said I wasn't going to hurt people, I was going to win this thing the right way," Cupid glanced off to the side. "Was that a bad idea?"

"Well, if nothing else it's bold to say that you won't fight," Spool said, hesitating for a moment.

"I figured it'd be okay. The gamemakers are from the districts… maybe they'd like seeing somebody who won't hurt people. That's why they hate the Capitol right? All of the people it hurt," Cupid shrunk in his seat a bit. "I thought, maybe, a pacifist would be something they'd like."

"We can only hope," Spool said, patting Cupid on the shoulder. "Chin up, things are far from over. Your plan for sponsors worked, you know. Over twenty thousand on your side already."

It was a relief to Spool that Cupid had begun to smile upon hearing these words. After decades of being a rebel there was really only one thing Spool couldn't handle these days – his tribute crying. Well, two things. He'd not be able to abide Lammy crying either. Still, Cupid was currently a close second.

The show began, revealing Caesar Flickerman on screen. Unlike every prior Games he had no hair dye nor modifications to his appearance. For the first time in forever his natural brunette hair was on display to the nation. He looked ever so tired, lacking his typical pep.

After all, he no longer had to force himself to act liker an eager host. After so very long he could finally allow himself to openly show his own pain, his own guilt, his own self-loathing. It had stopped being a game years and years ago. This realisation and how he used his position to try and help tributes – and how he'd not been working for Snow per-say – saved him from the woodchipper or prison. Claudius was forced to chill out in jail for the next ten years, so Caesar would be flying completely solo for these final Hunger Games.

Spool was alright with this outcome. He and Caesar had always gotten along quite well.

"As always, the scores have been graded from one to twelve. The new staff of district born gamemakers would like to make the disclaimer that the criteria used was much the same as used in the past. All tributes were marked fairly and hours went into ensuring the correct score was given per tribute," Caesar paused for a moment. "Rest assured, families of those in the Games, all tributes have a chance to make it home. Hope is lost for exactly none of them yet. Don't forget that."

"You guys hear that?" Gwenith said to Acacia and Cupid. "You both have a chance. You're by no means 'doomed'. If I can win the Games… if Snag can win them… who can't?"

Cupid smiled, feeling a small spark of hope within his heart. A spark that had potential to, as they say, catch fire. Acacia didn't react. Indeed, the green haired girl was completely blank and defeated. Still, it was a step up from crying.

"I won't hold anybody in suspense any longer. Now of all times we don't need anything to be drawn out," Caesar said, his tone sombre. "And so, we begin. Starting with the male from Team One and working down until we reach the girl from Team Twelve…"

A picture of Miles' smug face appeared on-screen with a red background.

"From Team One, Miles Templesmith with a score of… seven."

A picture of Rhonda's miserable face appeared on-screen with a red background.

"From Team One, Rhonda Snow with a score of… one."

A picture of Cnaeus' glaring mug was shown on-screen with an orange background.

"From Team Two, Cnaeus Raspberyy with a score of… nine."

Spool winced, concerned over how high Cnaeus had scored. A moment later Goldie's flirty, slightly lewd face appeared on-screen with an orange background.

"From Team Two, Goldie Mendez with a score of… six."

A picture of Alvorn's grim face was shown on-screen with a yellow background.

"From Team Three, Alvorn Wake with a score of… five."

A picture of Sawyer's sulky face was shown on-screen with a yellow background.

"From Team Three, Sawyer Nocella with a score of five."

A picture of Victor's resigned face appeared on-screen with a dark blue background.

"From Team Four, Victor Rupee with a score of… one."

Spool watched Cupid discreetly wipe away a tear. How was he going to react when his little alliance inevitably died, ideally without him meeting the same fate? They both looked back at the screen to see Tallulah's cruel face displayed on-screen with a dark blue background.

Spool did not often hate minors, but the fact this girl saw district citizens as animals and literally had been on a 'hunting trip' to murder people made him sick to his stomach. His darker side thought she deserved what she had gotten.

"From Team Four, Tallulah Prime with a score of… ten."

Spool and Cupid did. For one it was fear, for the other it was dread of living in a world where this girl would get away scot-free with her crimes.

A picture of Blaze's cocky face appeared on screen with a green background.

"From Team Five, Blaze Royale with a score of… five."

A picture of Romanita's helpless, unseeing face appeared on screen with a green background.

"From Team Five, Romanita Toriff with a score of… two."

Spool felt his heart pang. He wondered how Lammy and her poor tribute were feeling at that very moment. No doubt both felt awful.

A picture of Stinn's cold and heartless face appeared on screen with a cyan background.

"From Team Six, Stinn Bone with a score of… eleven."

Spool felt his eyes widen. Even though Stinn had been the son of a highly effective and sadistic peacekeeper he'd not thought such skill would have passed onto him. Clearly he'd been wrong, and worse yet Cupid had paled and Acacia had started to weep.

A picture of Hellania's furious face appeared on screen with a cyan background.

"From Team Six, Hellania Saint with a score of… ten."

"Seems like Team Six are the ones to beat," Spool muttered. Cupid could only silently nod his agreement.

A picture of Raptor's sneering face appeared on screen with a gold background.

"From Team Seven, Raptor Ourang with a score of… seven."

A picture of Belle's almost-but-not-quite perky face appeared on screen with a gold background.

"From Team Seven, Belle Singh with a score of… three."

A picture of Malvin's tearstained face appeared on screen with a pink background.

"From Team Eight, Malvin Sleek with a score of… two."

A picture of Zunilla's grumpy face appeared for on screen with a pink background.

"From Team Eight, Zunilla Norvus with a score of… four."

Spool and Cupid sat upright, knowing that Cupid's score was next on the list. Spool clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white while Cupid started to tremble and become short of breath.

Just what score was a pacifist from a destroyed regime worth to the new world order?

"From Team Nine, Cupid Sol with a score of…"

Spool and Cupid leaned forth as one. Cupid's own slightly smiling face was shown on screen with a purple background.

"…Three."

Spool felt like he'd been punched. His first reaction was to watch for Cupid's reaction, but the boy wasn't really seemingly overly upset. Moreso just a little cautious.

"I mean… I was never going to score high with my skinny arms and pacifist plan," Cupid said, anxiously shrugging. "I didn't score the lowest, or even second lowest… if Snag won with a one and Gwenith won with a two, maybe a three will be just enough?"

"That's the spirit Cupid," Gwenith said, warmly smiling. "It could happen. That goes for you too Acacia."

"Gwenith's right," Spool agreed. "You both have a chance."

Spool oh so badly hoped the elderly victor wasn't wrong.

Acacia's whimpering face was shown on screen with a purple background.

"From Team Nine, Acacia Gnome with a score of… two."

Acacia tried to force a smile. The way her eyes leaked out tears and the corner of her mouth twitched painfully only made Acacia seem more miserable than she already was.

Gwenith wasted no time in giving her young tribute a much needed hug.

Caesar continued with the scores as a picture of Pietro's energetic face was shown on-screen with a brown background.

"From Team Ten, Pietro Dully with a score of… six."

A picture of Melodie's weepy face appeared on screen with a brown background.

"From Team Ten, Melodie Cromwell with a score of… two."

A picture of Leamus' bitter and vengeful face appeared on screen with a white background.

"From Team Eleven, Leamus Jump with a score of… eight."

A picture of Nix's barely human-looking face appeared on screen with a white background.

"From Team Eleven, Nix Fowler with a score of… five."

A picture of Jeiss' conflicted looking face appeared on screen with a black background.

"From Team Twelve, Jeiss Donroy with a score of… seven."

Caesar seemed to be relieved that only one score remained to be read out. A picture of Ponty's slightly skittish face appeared on screen with a black background.

"We now come to the final score reveal of the night and, indeed, for the rest of our nation's existence. It was a struggle for our tributes to earn these scores, just as it was for all who preceded them. But don't forget the real struggle is yet to come and that all of them, whether they scored high or low, will need help from sponsors," Caesar took a deep breath. "From Team Twelve, Ponty Lumiere with a score of… five."

Caesar looked dead on at the camera, filled with the upmost seriousness.

"There you have it. Do with those scores as you may. Who is the worthiest of your support? Or, perhaps you'll split your support twenty four ways? It's all up to you," Caesar sighed, weary and ever so tired. "Goodnight Panem. I will see you again at the interviews tomorrow."

The screen swiftly went blank and all was silent. Spool glanced between Cupid and Acacia, the former getting increasingly nervous and the latter moments away from bawling.

Spool wasn't sure how they were going to handle the interviews the next day.

He was similarly lost as to how they would handle the arena. If only he knew what it was, but even the victors had no idea what the temporary staff of rebels-turned-gamemakers had in mind.

All he knew was that it was going to seriously hurt.

---

Cupid stood in the backstage area waiting for his turn to be interviewed. He gulped, wondering what the nation was going to think of him.

It would be easy to make the Capitol like him, probably.

But this time it didn't mean squat if the Capitol liked him. The districts were likely to despise him and it was them who held the overwhelming majority. Power had shifted hands and it was Cupid who had to pay the price.

Unless, of course, he could charm the nation with kindness, love and the power of pacifism.

He had to try.

Already everybody from teams one through to eight had been called forth and Zunilla's interview was winding up. It wouldn't be long now until it was Cupid's turn to talk to Caesar.

It was honestly strange to see Caesar so sombre and… real after seeing him be such an energetic stage presence for as long as he could remember.

The interviews had been a varied grab bag so far, but the common trend was that nobody was happy at all. Miles had put on a forced act of confidence and expressed his sadness that his famous uncle was jailed, Rhonda had wept throughout her whole interview, Goldie's flirting was ever so empty, Victor was beyond the 'despair event horizon', Tallulah screeched and snarled at the district citizens in the audience, Stinn wasn't afraid but nonetheless vowed to make somebody pay for what was happening to him, Hellania didn't acknowledge the district citizens as being people and demanded the 'monkeys' get out of the Capitol, Belle performed possibly the saddest rap ever heard on Panem and Malvin was too depressed and weepy to do more and plead for his mother to save him.

Soon enough the buzzer sounded and Zunilla left the stage. Cupid straightened out his interview get-up – a salmon pink tuxedo – and tried not to tremble.

It was his potentially last moment to shine and he wanted to make the most of it.

"He's named after a being who spread love throughout the world and I have it on good authority that he is quite the loving, kind person to be around," Caesar began. "Please, join me in giving Cupid Sol from Team Nine a warm welcome to the show tonight."

Cupid was pointed out towards the stage by a burly security guard. He forced a smile as he exited the backstage area and walked onto the flashy stage. Lights were everywhere, the noise was ever so overwhelming and armed guards were impossible to miss. There was no way for the Capitol to escape its fate.

Cupid saw no way to escape his… so what better way to greet doom than with a smile?

Few ever smiled at doom, so was it a wonder it was such a cruel thing?

"Welcome to the show Cupid," Caesar said, shaking Cupid's hand as he sat down in the empty seat.

"Thank you Caesar," Cupid replied.

"How are you feeling?" Caesar asked. "By all means, be as honest as you would like. There is no need to fake a thing anymore."

"Well… I'll be honest, I don't like my chances. It's going to be hard to be the last one standing. Maybe close to impossible," Cupid began to wring his hands.

"Do you not think you can fight your way to the top?" Caesar asked.

"I don't, but it's a bit more complex than that," Cupid replied. "I won't fight."

There was silence around the audience. So far the tributes had either declared they were ready to fight, hadn't hinted at their poor chances or had just spoken about other things. Cupid was the sole tribute who had said, in no uncertain terms, he would not fight.

"There's been enough fighting and killing. It's time for it to end," Cupid said, filled with determination. "I won't fight. I won't kill. Under no circumstances will I cause harm to a single person."

"But.. how will you win?" Caesar asked, torn between being impressed and feeling bad for the boy and his highly futile plan.

"By living the longest," Cupid had started to gain confidence in his words as he spoke them. "It's not a rule that I have to kill. It's not a rule that I have to make other people suffer. After the war we just went through… the last thing I want is to create even more pain. That won't get us anywhere."

Cupid looked out at the crowd, mixed with those from the Capitol and people from all of the districts.

"I can do this. I can win by survival and working with my friends… and if I do die, at least I'll have never caused pain. I'd still be me right to the end," Cupid paused for a moment, trying not to shiver under all the gazes. "It almost happened once before, long ego."

"A pacifist victory? In which Games?" Caesar asked, intrigued. The man appeared fascinated by all that Cupid was saying.

"The Second. Pliny only scored a kill because she wanted to prevent the remaining person left alive from suffering even more after losing his arm," Cupid explained. Nobody missed how he did not use the word 'tribute'. "Had she not given him poison by his own begging she'd have scored zero kills. So, I know it can be done. I know it's possible. Even if it's a million to one, well… the one is all I need. There's still a chance."

The interview soon moved on from this, covering topics such as Cupid's upbringing and his hobbies. But, inevitably, it came back to his family. The fact they were all dead was impossible to avoid.

"They were good people," Cupid said as the interview began to wind to a close, a tear trickling down his face. "They would not have wanted me to become a killer, so I won't be. I'm not going to disappoint them."

"We wish you all the very best of luck Cupid," Caesar said. He turned the audience. "Right, everybody?"

Unlike most years there were few who called out a response. But unlike most years, the responses weren't just for show or utterly fake. Several people really did wish Cupid all of the best.

Cupid wondered if it would make a difference. He could only hope. At least the ability to hope hadn't been taken away from him yet.

---

Spool felt his stomach churning as he stood with Cupid upon the roof of the tribute building. The hovercraft was ready to fly away to the arena and the rest of the tributes had already boarded the hovercraft, some more willingly than others.

All of them more willingly than Hellania.

He knelt down to Cupid's height, placing both of his hands upon the small boy's shoulders.

"When the gong rings run for your life. Run until you cannot run anymore. You need to avoid being anywhere close to all of the strong children," Spool paused, trying to find the words. His time was very limited, so he settled for improvising. "If your allies survive the bloodbath then stay with them, but… just be careful, alright? They won't all survive the bloodbath. I'm sorry."

Cupid shakily opened his arms, pleading without words for a hug. Spool was quick to grant this final request.

"You can do this," Spool whispered.

"I'll try," Cupid replied.

All too soon Cupid had been taken away and the hovercraft was flying away towards the last arena. Spool stood alone on the roof in silence, watching the sky where the hovercraft had vanished.

Could Cupid really do this?

Could he mentor the boy to victory and a second chance at life?

He knew he'd see soon, and the thought of the answer being no honestly terrified him. He wouldn't hold anything against the victors who had voted yes towards these Games, but he would never ever agree that this was fair and just.

Eventually Numi walked up to the roof, calling out to Spool. She waved him over, gesturing down the stairs she'd walked up.

"It all kicks off in one hour," Numi stated. "We're needed at the mentoring room."

"Right, right. I'm coming," Spool said as he followed behind Numi. "…Numi, do you-"

"Regret my vote?" Numi asked. She looked lost. "I honestly don't know. Part of me says yes, part of me says no. Either way I feel more regret than Crimson and Johanna do."

"So, more than exactly none?" Spool figured.

"Ayup my mans," Numi said with a single nod.

---

When Cupid's launch plate licked into place, giving him his first look at the arena, he felt himself starting to get light heated. He swayed for a few moments, overcome with a primal sort of terror that filled his every bone and blood vessel.

It was like he'd been thrown down into hell. He glanced around at the foul arena, lost as to how he could simply outlive the other tributes in a place such as this.

It was a massive garbage dump. Much of the ground was littered in titanic piles of trash and what little wasn't was either scorched into pure blackness or, even worse, was a deep pit filled with neon green toxic waste. The sky overhead was a pale orange, almost a little pink. Stars were faintly visible in the dawn of the morning.

He could hear various tributes crying and screaming for mercy on their own pedestals. One of them, he couldn't tell who from the distance, had pissed themselves. Cupid's own tribute outfit, purple per his team colour, was left unblemished though it nonetheless did nothing to keep the morning chills away from his skin.

The cornucopia sat at the centre of the filth ridden clearing, stocked to the brim with supplies. Food, water bottles, blankets, a tent kit, medical supplies and a large barrel of what appeared to be mint humbugs.

There were weapons too, all of them sharp and many of them barbed. Knives, swords, axes, spears, a single silver bow and that was only the start. All were designed for one thing and one thing only – ensuring each kill was agonisingly painful.

Cupid noticed two things. The first was that the cornucopia wasn't silver this time. It hadn't gone back to the gold it had been known for in the earlier Games either. No, this time it had been coloured bronze. The final colour on the podium. A colour to mark a new era and an end to the Games. After these last ones, of course.

But that was nothing to the second thing Cupid noticed. The second thing was that he, the other tributes and the cornucopia itself were contained in a sort of 'bowl'. An unsteady slope of garbage surrounded them on all sides. There was no option for them to take aside from trying to climb their way out to safety, or the closest thing to it that was possible.

"No, no, no…" Cupid began to tremble, right from his shoes to the tips of his hair.

---

"No, no, no," Spool clenched his fists as he gazed at the live footage displayed on screen.

The countdown had reached thirty. The final Cornucopia Bloodbath was about to begin… and Cupid had all the odds against him. Surviving off of the land would be close to impossible in an arena like this. A fast retreat up the garbage slope was similarly going to be difficult. Cupid's entire gameplan had been sunk.

Those around him had various reactions to the children shown on screen, most of whom were terrified and wailing for their mothers. Lammy was already stress eating her way through a large bag of cookies as she watched Romanita blindly staring outwards from her pedestal, Gwenith was already close to tears and Acacia hadn't taken a scratch yet, Peeta was simply depressed as he gazed at Raptor, Numi mumbled inaudibly to herself as she looked at little Belle and Snag's law was clenched in a tormented way as he looked at Victor sobbing.

Others had reactions Spool had a very hard time observing without a tiny amount of disgust. Alas, the suffering of his fellow victors was enough for him to hold back from making a comment. Johanna and Crimson poured out drinks, both eager to see the show begin and watch their own tributes died. The pair had done nothing to help their assigned tributes, only mocked them before they were taken away. Spool understood this, but he didn't need to like it. Nor did he need to like the way Enobaria watched the countdown tick ever closer to zero with a sort of feral hunger in her eyes.

All this and then there was Chuff's reaction to top it all off.

The man frankly did not know what he was even doing here. The hell did he know about mentoring? He'd never even been a tribute!

"Ten seconds to go," Wattzon groaned, a hand over his face. "We all ready?"

"No," Annie faintly whispered.

"Too bad," Olga stated. "It's about to begin whether you're ready or not."

---

"Three… two… one… begin."

The gong rang and the tributes were off.

The sight of the awfully unhospitable arena had convinced Cupid to, perhaps foolishly, make a run into the fray and at least grab something before he tried to climb the garbage slope leading deeper into the arena. In seconds he'd managed to grab up a fat loaf of bread from the ground wrapped within a plastic seal.

"Let me go!" a terrified voice begged.

Cupid turned to see that Raptor, Miles and Sawyer had grabbed Rhonda before the girl could even take one step off of her pedestal. She struggled helplessly in their grip. It was beyond the power of Cupid or anybody else to do a thing to save her.

"This is all your Grandpa's fault!" Sawyer yelled.

"You can suffer in his place!" Miles screeched.

In moments the trio had smashed Rhonda's head against the launch pedestal, hard enough to crack her head open. A few more smashes led to chunks of gore and brains splattering the ground, a few fragments of bone from the young girl's skull falling with them. The corpse was dropped and, as the trio of murderers scattered, the Snow bloodline was ended.

Terror filled Cupid as he helplessly witnessed the horrible death of his ally. This was real, the carnage and agony was real.

And it was going on all around him.

He only had to take one look to the cornucopia where Stinn, Helania and Cnaeus were arming themselves with swords and axes to start backing away. He only had to take a look several meters to his left where Tallulah was smashing apart Malvin's face with a stone mallet to scream and make a desperate run for the garbage slope, snatching up a small backpack along the way.

It was only the poor aim of the other children, bought on by years of living in luxury and never having to actually gain many skills or slight forms of fitness, that prevented any of the knives thrown Cupid's way from actually hitting him.

"No! Please, no!" Nix was tackled over somewhere off to the side by Stinn. She felt him grasp her artificial wings. She knew what was about to happen. "No… NO! NO!"

They were swiftly torn out, strands of flesh coming out with them.

"AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!"

That was hardly the only murder or fight-in-progress going on around the filthy battlefield. There was carnage, suffering and death going on as far as Cupid barrelled his way towards the slope at a speed much greater than he believed himself to be capable of.

Goldie had pulled Ponty out of the way of a deadly axe strike and was currently working to punch Blaze until he was beaten and bloody. He wasn't out of it yet and continued to struggle and try to punch back at the older girl.

Stinn had wasted no time in leaving Nix to bleed out and moving on to slicing off Jeiss' head with a mighty swing of his sword, almost roaring from sheer adrenaline.

Hellania noticed Victor desperately trying to crawl away to freedom up the slope and simply dragged him away to his grisly doom within the cornucopia. Of course, even with the darkness the cameras displayed the torture to the nation in full detail.

Belle fought with Romanita over a fairly large backpack, the former too stubborn to let go and the blind girl having enough fight in her to refuse to give up. Neither noticed that Tallulah was approaching them with a heavy crowbar until it was far too late.

Cupid was halfway up the garbage slope, desperate to escape into the unforgiving arena just like Miles, Pietro and Alvorn had already managed to do.

A pair of screams instantly made him turn around.

Acacia and Melodie had been knocked to the ground, losing hold of the meagre scraps they'd managed to claim, and now looked up as Leamus loomed over them. He tightly held a scimitar in his grasp.

Cupid realised his allies in peril were only about fifteen meters away from where he stood, give or take.

Just close enough to save them.

He turned back and began to make a desperate sprint back into the bloodbath and towards his friends. Leamus raised his scimitar into the air…

---

"No! What are you doing?!"

Spool knew that Cupid was pure of heart, at least by Panem's standards, but this was pushing it. This was outright suicide! What would his desperate run achieve beside an extra cannon at the end of the bloodbath?

Especially as Stinn and Hellania had just finished butchering Sawyer and would have their breaths back before long. The same was true of Cnaeus, the boy nursing a stab wound to his arm that Zunilla had been lucky enough to inflict.

Well, before Cnaeus had slashed her throat open anyway.

Several mentors around him were either feeling awful over their tribute's death, were openly laughing and enjoying the long overdue punishment on the Capitol or were stressed out over the safety, or lack thereof, of their own charges.

Spool was among the latter group. Nothing existed in the world right now except what Cupid was doing on screen. Spool was leaned over his desk, trying not to throw up.

"No, no, no! Get out of there!" Spool pleaded.

Ten meters away.

Eight meters away.

Six meters away.

"HEY!"

Cupid's yell made Leamus instantly turn around and slash thin air with his sword. Cupid had skidded right underneath the blade in one insane moment. The force of Leamus' strike made him lose his footing and fall down into the garbage.

It was all the time Cupid needed to help both girls to their feet and pull them in the direction of the slope

"We've gotta get out of here! Come on!"

Spool felt cold sweat running down his face as the screen showed Cupid practically hauling his terrified allies to the top of the garbage hill. He pulled Melodie to solid ground first and quickly went to work with pulling Acacia to safety.

"Don't drop me Cupid!" Acacia wailed.

"I won't let go! Never!" Cupid promised.

Cupid was able to keep his word for as long as Acacia was able to be aware of the world around her.

That time didn't even total three seconds. An arrow was fired from afar and ended up pieced within Acacia's neck, killing her instantly.

Cupid recoiled in horror, reflexively dropping his dead team mate and staring with panic down at where the arrow came from.

Tallulah had been the one who fired the shot and even she seemed stumped that her aim had been so good. She soon regained her focus and readied to fire another arrow.

Spool could barely watch. He was distantly aware of Gwenith sobbing over poor Acacia's death. He was almost certain he was about to be doing the same for Cupid.

He ducked right before the shot was fired, the arrow missing him completely. With a pale face, a heavy heart and shaking limbs he took Melodie by the hand and quickly led her off into the depths of the wasteland of garbage.

Spool watched as the cameras panned away, showing the two small kids running for their lives into the horrid arena, weaving past sunk piles and pools of radioactive fallout. Some of the other remaining tributes were visible, all thankfully going in differing directions.

The cameras returned to the cornucopia, showing Stinn noticing Blaze laying unconscious on the ground. Spool was almost amazed just how bad a beating Goldie had given him.

He flinched when Stinn drove his sword into Blaze's chest, finishing off the bloodbath. He heard Beetee sigh, resigned, from somewhere beside himself.

Beetee deserved comfort, but Spool found himself making his way to where Lammy was sitting by herself, softly crying. With practised ease he took her in for a gentle hug.

"She had no chance. None at all," Lammy sobbed between pained hiccups.

Spool knew that he'd be lying if he were to correct his girlfriend. He only increased the strength of the hug, nothing else really needing to be said in that moment.

The couple looked away as the cameras showed close-ups of each corpse that had once been a living, breathing and thinking person with feelings and, in most cases, friends and family. It was just as well they did as most of the bodies were in a horrendous state.

It was, simply put, no different than a normal year of the Hunger Games.

Spool looked over at the eleven mentors who could be said to have 'lost' in the opening minutes. There were varied reactions in every direction he looked.

Crimson was laughing, a grin having been on her face ever since Rhonda died in the first few seconds. She was living the dream with her revenge. Spool looked away from her pretty quickly, not feeling it would do him any good to dwell on this.

Crown stared off into space, depression written in his eyes. His heart went out to Malvin, the poor boy being the second to die at only nineteen seconds into the nightmare.

Trevy had never been close to the Games nor mentoring, given he had managed to escape before his Games even started. It didn't change that he had been covering his face ever since Jeiss had lost his head, dying third. Trevy was all for torturing the Capitol, but he needed a moment to process everything.

Enobaria was wholly unaffected by anything she had seen, least of all the death of her tribute Nix who only lasted a minute or so, and whom had died fourth. She just snickered to herself, practically soaking up the violence.

Snag wasn't letting the Capitol off the hook for how they took away his little girl and had her butchered like an animal. He remained steadfast on his choice being one that worked for him. Even so, why did they have to pair him with poor Victor? Why the boy who was unable to walk at all? He deserved more than being the fifth to die. Alas, what was done was done.

Lammy, of course, was sobbing over Romanita's death. The blind, slightly dim and highly affectionate girl had been precious, truly. But in death and as the sixth to die, the poor girl was just another victim. The odds had just not been in her favour. Spool didn't cease the hug even for a moment.

Numi looked conflicted. The Capitol deserved what they got for what they took from her and families across the nation. But then, why was revenge empty? Why had she gotten such a sweet, perky tribute and not somebody easy to hate like Wattzon did? She'd failed… but maybe, just maybe, she could one day find a way to keep the memory of Belle, the seventh tribute to die, alive.

Harp had thrown up into a bucket when Sawyer got killed so utterly violently. The blood and organs were everywhere, enough so that Harp ended up fainting. Staff were on their way to get her seen to by medics and taken to a nice, safe, warm bed until she was feeling steady again. Nothing would 'fix' the feelings of sorrow she felt for Sawyer, the eighth tribute to die.

Acre didn't feel much, all things considered. Zunilla had hated her from the start and, figuring that Snag had voted yes, took out her anger upon his daughter. Acre thus had no positive memories of her spoiled and very rotten tribute. Even so, she wasn't too proud to take off her toque in respect and wonder if, in a world without the Games, they may have been friends. As it stood, she'd never been able to get to know Zunilla at all before she became the ninth tribute to die.

Gwenith sobbed over Acacia's death. The girl had some horrible family, true, but she wasn't a bad person. She'd been harmless. It was exactly why Gwenith had voted no, she knew that even if some admittedly vile kids like Tallulah were in the arena that there'd still be innocents in there. It was what happened in all Games prior and two wrongs did not make anything right. Gwenith sniffled, her thoughts never quite leaving Acacia, the tenth tribute to die.

Beetee, of course, was feeling a tense sort of guilt over being of no help to Blaze in the short time he had mentored him. They'd just been too different to be able to work anything out. Now it was far too late as Blaze, beaten until he bled badly, was the eleventh to die.

"Eleven left, thirteen remain…" Lammy paused to wipe away a tear. "Do you think Cupid has a chance to win? Let alone without hurting anybody at all?"

"I honestly have no idea," Spool said as he and his still sniffling girlfriend made their way back over to Spool's mentoring desk. "But he's still alive, so until a cannon tells me otherwise I'm going to work on the assumption he can."

Lammy gave Spool's hand a squeeze. "I'll do my best to help."

"Thanks," Spool said, grateful. "Because I'm going to need it."

Spool turned his gaze back to the screens, watching Cupid and Melodie flee towards an unknowable destination. Things would get worse, he was sure of it.

Whatever the future held, he meant what he said. He was with Cupid until the end.

---

Cupid and Melodie eventually collapsed, physically unable to keep on moving. They lay in the garbage, their small bodies utterly drained of energy, as their breaths ever so slowly came back to them.

It was quite some time before either of them said anything. Both were too horrified by what they had seen to think of many words to exchange.

"…We survived," Melodie whispered.

Cupid slowly nodded. "That's right. We're alive."

"You saved me," Melodie said, shaking all over with tears leaking down her face. "Cupid… I…"

"Don't thank me. Basic human decency needs no thanks. It's just… something that people ought to just do, you know? No need for any sort of validation or something," Cupid let himself flop onto his back amongst the trash. "This is amazing. We're alive. Neither of us hurt a single person either."

A cannon fired. A second followed it. For the next while the cannons boomed one after another, each a few seconds apart. Each marking a young life that had been ended vastly before its owner's time. All in all eleven cannons fired until there was silence again.

"So many of our allies…" Melodie trailed off, starting to cry.

"So many of our friends," Cupid corrected, softly. "Acacia was right in front of me! If I'd just been a little faster, maybe pulled her to the side quicker… well, too late now. But…"

"But?" Melodie moved a little closer to Cupid in spite of her own fear.

"Well, you're still alive. I can still work hard to save you," Cupid moved a little closer to Melodie as well. "Got any family?"

"Y-y-yeah. My mama, my daddy and four big sisters," Melodie managed to stammer out.

"Then that means you should win," Cupid decided. "You have a family. I don't. You'd be missed more than I would. So, I'll help you win."

Melodie had no idea what to say in response to this. What words could she say, really?

Lacking in words to say she settled for giving Cupid a shaky hug, one returned without hesitation. Neither moved for several minutes.

Soon enough Cupid rose to his feet with Melodie mimicking his actions a moment later. She stuck close to Cupid as the smiling boy – his smile by now very much forced – began to walk through the garbage filled wasteland.

"Where are we going now?" Melodie asked.

"Wherever the cornucopia isn't," Cupid replied. "Maybe they won't find us if we hide somewhere far away?"

The young pair walked on their way towards an unknowable destination, keenly aware every step they took was potentially their very last.

With only a loaf of bread, half a bottle of water, a thick length of rope and a bottle of painkillers between them survival was looking close to impossible.

Cupid recalled something his mother had once said to him.

'You always did like a challenge.'

The words were enough to keep him walking, at least for a while.

---

Three days had passed since the Games had begun and Spool had never seen the Capitol so miserable and broken. There was no Games spirit this year, no childish chanting of 'Death! Death! Death!'. No laughing and almost adoration of murder. No street parties, gambling or banquets over as the gruesome Game splayed on massive screens all around.

No, this year the citizens were miserable. They were scared. Spool found it refreshing some had the good grace to look ashamed.

The screens were seemingly eager to show the tributes suffering in the massive garbage dump, every single sob or cry caught by the cameras. Interviewers born from the districts were eager to put the citizens on the spot and ask how this was any different than a normal Hunger Games.

Any time the deaths of the bloodbath were replayed in full graphic detail the citizens scattered in a terrified panic, reporters always yelling after them in hopes of getting an answer as to why they weren't cheering over the agonising deaths this time around.

Hadn't the Games been an 'honour' to be in?

Spool wouldn't lie, some of this was very satisfying. Too often had his tributes been forgotten and laughed at in their terrified, painful final moments. More than a few times some of the audience had been disappointed the deaths were not worse.

Still, there were some things he'd not gain any pleasure from and this deep degree of despair was one of them. After a certain point it went past cruel justice and just become sadism.

He knew he was right to go with his gut and say no.

It wasn't his fault that the families of the dead, those who still had families at least, were screaming and crying with every waking moment. Their lives were utterly ruined, no hope for recovery at all.

The exception was Jeiss' mother. She'd hanged herself, having reaped her own son and essentially condemning him to losing his head.

Spool's wandering through the Capitol streets ended up taking him to a familiar club, one he'd had the pleasure of being a patron at for quite a few years already.

Martins & Victory: Forever Sweet.

Having lost both of their tributes Crown and Harp had returned to their old nightclub, a well-known rebel base of operations and a place that somehow survived the war unscathed. For the time being they were content to try and cope with the pain of failing tributes for the last time. Selling sugary candy and drinks helped with this.

It wasn't just them in the club of course. Numerous Capitol patrons were there, none of them happy and many of them with strong drinks in hand. Some seemed like they'd recently taken a hit of morphling. Spool spared them a few glances as he made his way to the bar counter. Crown greeted him with a very tired smile.

"Hey Tag.. uh, Spool," Crown weakly chuckled. "That one's gonna take time to get used to."

"Well, you know me, always switching things up. Never said identity wasn't one of them," Spool remarked. "The usual please. Still four caps?"

"Nah, it's on the house. All mentors on duty get free drinks," Crown said as he began to make Spool a 'shandy upon the districts' cocktail. "How are you holding up? Good, bad, average, smiling, crying, laughing, screaming, literally can't even?"

"It's stressful, that's for sure," Spool down a gulp of his drink as soon as Crown handed it over. "I said no to the Games, but I was forced to reap him. His life is way more in my hands than any other kid I've had to mentor."

"You're doing fine so far," Crown offered. "Better than I did…"

Spool reached to pat Crown on his shoulder.

"You did your best."

"Thanks Spool," Crown glanced at the TV screens showing the action going on. "What's going on with him Cupid now? He's not been on screen in here for a few hours."

Spool answered by taking out a digital tablet and showing the screen to Crown. It displayed Cupid and Melodie huddling together on the inside of a rusted dumpster. Even with the lid closed the nanoscopic cameras were able to spy in and display their obvious fear.

Oh, and their shivering. The pair were so terrible cold…

"They're dying," Crown whispered, gulping down a bit of bile.

"Not when I send them a sponsor gift," Spool replied. He took a soft breath, a little unsteady. "But it's too dangerous to send them something now. Look, the pack are nearby."

Spool tapped his pad, displaying live footage of Stinn, Tallulah, Cnaus and Hellania stalking quietly through the garbage dump, all holding a sharp weapon some sort. Capitol kids as they were, the quartet had essentially become the equivalent of careers. The age-old idea of the strong hunting down the weak transcended District and Capitol conflict, it seemed.

"How long have they been near your boy and Spud's girl?" Crown asked.

"Two hours, maybe?" Spool wearily finished off his drink. "These four are way stronger than I'd have expected a Capitol kid to be."

"Well, some Capitol kids grow into monsters. We saw that for decades," Crown replied. He squinted his eyes at the screen. "Wait, somebody's in that trash pile."

The so-called careers drew near to the pile of garbage, having noticed the same thing Crown did – the pile was vibrating. Stinn peered closer, curious.

If he'd not been wearing an armoured vest from the cornucopia he'd have either died or been horribly wounded when Leamus, half-mad from just a few days of living in filth, lunged from his hiding place and swung a heavy axe down at Stinn's chest.

He succeeded in knocking Stinn down, but that was it. The rest of the alliance went about chasing Lemaus down. Stinn quickly got back up and rejoined the chase. It wasn't long – no more than a minute and a half – before they'd caught Leamus and began to kill him with their weapons and with twisted bits of junk laying around. It was pure torture.

Torture both for Leamus and the Capitol citizens in the club. They screamed, wailed, cried and howled in terror, almost like they were children themselves. Upwards of twenty of them began to cry, the volume practically doubling as the cannon fired.

Spool made use of the distraction to quickly select some gear in the digital pad's shop, pay for it with many of the points he'd managed to earn for Cupid thus far and send it into the arena.

It only took all of ten seconds for Cupid to leave the dumpster, grab the parachute of supplies and retreat back into this rusty hiding place with nobody the wiser.

Spool hoped the gift of food, water and a thick blanket would be enough to keep Cupid and Melodie alive for at least a day or two. Beyond that, who could say? Surely they'd be forced out of their hiding place before long. No matter how popular, or weak, a tribute was they would never be allowed to hide for long.

Spool could only hope, more out of desperation than anything else, that it would not be the pack who found them first when that happened.

---

Eventually Cupid and Melodie were forced to move on from their hiding spot. Rabid racoon mutts had been unleashed and sent after all of the tributes. Some tributes fought off the beasts, others ended up taking wounds.

Cupid and Melodie simply ran for their lives and used what little of their food remained to distract the terrible mutts. Better they lose their food than their flesh.

Goldie meanwhile ended up being bitten until she'd stopped twitching. The cannon marked the end of the casino girl's life, the odds not being in her favour. Ponty had barely gotten away.

It was with fear on all their faces and fatigue in their bones that Cupid and Melodie crossed paths with Ponty partway through the fifth day of the Games. One moment the three had simply walked into the same clearing surrounded by three burning towers of junk, the fire sending smoke into the sky high above.

The next moment Ponty had a knife in hand, slowly making her way towards the pair with the seeming intent to kill them. Cupid didn't miss the way the knife shook in her hands.

He didn't miss the fear in her eyes nor the very subtle shame.

Most of all, he didn't miss how it was quite obvious Ponty didn't want to do this.

"You stay right there," Ponty drew nearer with each passing moment. "Running will only make it worse."

Cupid stood himself in front of Melodie. It wasn't wrong to call him terrified, but he hadn't lost the ability to smile yet. If anything, the way he looked at Ponty was almost warm.

"You don't have to do this," Cupid said, his voice faintly wavering. "We don't have to fight. Not here, not now."

"Only one of us gets to go home," Ponty said, closing in on the pair.

Cupid gulped and laid a card on the proverbial table. The one card he was able to play.

The card boasting the power of love.

"Do you have a family Ponty?" Cupid asked.

Whatever Ponty had expected Cupid to say it wasn't this. She stumbled in place, taken off-guard by this.

"Well, do you?" Cupid repeated, like they were casually talking during recess.

"Yeah, I do. Mama, Papa and my three brothers. They… they care, a lot," Ponty gulped, looking to the side. "They worry that I gamble too much."

"They sound like they're close to you. Would you say you guys are a tight, loving family?" Cupid continued.

"Of course we are!" Ponty snapped, almost offended Cupid may have assumed otherwise. "We're v-v-very close."

"…Do you think they would want their little girl to become a murderer?" Cupid asked, gently taking one step towards Ponty. "No weapons. I'm unarmed."

Cupid slowly raised his hands in surrender.

"You might think you have to kill me, unarmed as I am. Melodie too… but what would your family think?" Cupid persisted. "…Would they be proud if you stuck that knife in my throat?"

"No," Ponty said, paling.

"What about in my guts?" Cupid asked.

"No…" Ponty was losing her resolve.

"What about my eye socket, riiiight here?" Cupid pointed to his left eye for effect.

"…No…" a single tear slid down Ponty's face. "They wouldn't. I don't think they'd… s-s-see me the same way…"

Cupid now stood in stabbing range. He held out his arms, both of them faintly shaking, offering a hug. Rain began to softly fall from the sky.

"You don't have to be a killer. I'm not going to kill a single person, no matter what" Cupid said, his voice clearly implying this was not a matter to debate. "…You could win that way too. Imagine that, winning these dreadful Games just by being nice. Just by, you know… talking. Living. By being a kid."

Cupid gulped. Ponty's hold on the knife was weak, but she wasn't letting it go just yet. Any attempt to gently take it from her would surely get him stabbed, or at least cut in some way. No, he knew that he would have to go for broke and put it all on the line.

"I noticed at the bloodbath that Goldie defended you from the boy – Blaze, wasn't it? – that tried to kill you. She did all the rough stuff so you didn't have to. I know you were friends, you both said as much in the interview, but… here's what I want to know," Cupid braced himself in case he'd vastly overestimated his charisma and was about to face a stab. "…Would Goldie - may she rest in peace – want you to become a killer?"

Silence.

"It doesn't have to be this way Ponty," Cupid said, inching forwards just a little more.

There was silence for several more seconds, the rain seeming to fall harder within that time. Cupid kept his gaze on Ponty, while his ears were trained upon Melodie. She remained safely behind him, in silent awe aside the occasional sob or hiccup.

He hoped that she'd not be traumatised by his death, should he fail and Ponty stab him.

Such a thing never came to pass.

Ponty dropped the knife, dropping to her knees a moment later. She began to cry.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" the small girl covered her face, shuddering all over as tears flooded her eyes and leaked down her face. Her sorrow dripped from her cheeks to the dirty ground below. "…It's hurt so much… Goldie… my family… I can't…"

Cupid gently took Ponty into a hug. She didn't rebuff him.

"I know Ponty, I know," Cupid whispered. "Goldie's like my parents, you know. Dead, but memories of them guide my choices. I think Goldie helped you make the right choice."

Ponty only responded with another sob.

Cupid paused, briefly alarmed when somebody joined the hug from behind. Luckily for him it was only Melodie, the endlessly terrified girl having had the nerve to get up from the ground.

"You're really something else Cupid," she mumbled, amazed. "Something really good."

"No, I'm just me," Cupid said, a tear in his own eye. "Just Cupid."

Perhaps, thought the boy, being 'just Cupid' was enough. At least, this time it had been.

No way would he be able to talk Tallulah or Stinn out of violence and murder. They appeared to enjoy it, and it wasn't easy to reason with a person who killed for pleasure.

Cupid hoped he'd not become somebody like that. He'd rather die.

---

Spool was amazed.

How was Cupid not dead yet? By all accounts it made no sense. If any tribute attempted what he had – and, he reminded himself, none would have the sheer nerve to try – they'd have been killed in under a minute.

But then again, this wasn't a normal Hunger Games. With tributes from a different place came an all new sort of social dynamic. One he had to admit he was enjoying. Who knew that pacifism really could work?

Of course, nobody was going to bend on the fact there would only be a single victor. Spool knew that, when one or both of Cupid's allies died, it was going to be a disaster. How would Cupid keep himself going?

At least he was steadily becoming popular with the audience. The Capitol citizens were miserable, seeing the Games as the torture it was. Dealing with the physically agonising guilt and the terror inducing footage on the inescapable screens was driving them crazy.

Cupid gave them an out from that. His refusal to fight and add to the torment held the Capitol's attention like nothing else.

The way he treated Melodie and new friend Ponty with genuine care was heartwarming. The way he spoke of the values of kindness, friendship and love was like nothing the Capitol had ever seen before.

These were ideals they were starting to desire. Ideals they were ready to allow into their lives.

Ideals to shape the future.

This was all well and good in Spool's opinion, but it didn't change the fact Cupid was fighting one hell of an uphill battle, except without the fighting part or the battle part.

It was hard, okay?

"Are you alright Spool?" Lammy asked from her spot beside her boyfriend. "You've not left the mentoring room in two days. I'm getting worried."

"That's nothing to how worried I am. Something might go wrong at any moment," Spool's voice was faintly slurring from fatigue as he spoke. "I can't leave. Something might get him in danger and I won't be able to sponsor anything to help…"

"Wait, you're going this all alone?" Lammy asked, surprised. "A one man team?"

"More like a one man army," Spool replied, yawning. "What else can I do? I'm the last district eight victor standing. Woof, Paige and Cecelia can't cover for me. They're not waking up from their own slumber ever again. It's just me."

"Not true, you've got me as well," Lammy said, moving her own chair closer to Spool's. "C'mon, take a rest Spool. I can keep watch while you get your recommended eight hours a night, mister."

"I know you can. I've always thought you were a damn good mentor," Spool said, managing a sleepy smile. "It's just, well… look. I can't sleep when Cupid and the girls look like that."

Spool pointed to one of the screens without any flair at all. Lammy felt her own heart breaking when she saw the state of Cupid's alliance. Eight days in the arena had not been kind to them at all; cuts, bruises and a layer of filth coated their young forms. They were getting thinner and weaker, their supplies failing to sustain all three of them. Cupid in particular was looking rather out of it as he staggered along, having shared out his last slices of bread with his friends.

His generosity was literally slowly killing him.

"Has our promise of a celebrity wedding gotten Cupid many points?" Lammy asked, taking hold of the sponsor pad to look through the item store.

"A few, yes," Spool had begun to lay his head upon Lammy's shoulder, sounding close to nodding off already. "People seem really excited for it, and maybe a wedding will distract them from all the suffering of watching this or… or something…"

"I can't wait to get married," Lammy lightly kissed Spool on the forehead. "I know we both procrastinate a lot, but this took a while even for us."

"Heh… yeah…" Spool said, more than halfway to dreamland.

"You have a good rest Spool, you need it," Lammy said, looking between the point total of sixty on screen and carefully deciding what items to buy. "I'll keep Cupid sustained in the meantime."

Spool's response was a weary snore. Lammy smiled, quickly confirming her choice to send Cupid a basket of bread, water bottles and a single pair of gloves.

As heart-warming as it was to see Cupid receive the gift live on camera and share it with his allies, Lammy wished he could be selfish just once. His rather unusual way of playing the Games wasn't good for his health, nor his chances of staying alive. He even gave the gloves to Melodie.

Still, his chances were infinitely better than those of Hellania. The hateful girl ended up with an arrow lodged through her throat, courtesy of Raptor and the crossbow he'd been sponsored. The remaining three members of the pack spread out to murder their ally's killer, but found nothing. Raptor was good at hiding.

Meanwhile Cupid was just too good at sharing.

---

The ninth day in the arena was the day everything changed for the worse.

At first Cupid had thought that he, Melodie and Ponty would be able to keep hiding from the most dangerous tributes for a few more days. They'd been getting a reasonable number of sponsor parachutes, so perhaps popularity would spare them from any pain?

They'd been spared from coming across Pietro, the boy having met his painful end when a tower of garbage collapsed and a rusted car fell right upon his skull.

Of course, popularity did not prevent Alvorn from finding the duo at sunset at the heart of a clearing surrounded by numerous sorts of wrecked vehicles. Something had changed about the boy since the bloodbath, Cupid was sure of it, and it wasn't just the hardened look in his cat eyes.

Cupid was gifted with sight and, of course, knew right away it was the fact Alvorn's prosthetic arm had been sponsored to him. Each finger of the fake hand was now very sharp, almost like a razor.

Almost exactly like a razor.

Alvorn was only thirteen and far from a warrior, but Cupid, Melodie and Ponty were similarly young and small. It allowed for quite the even battle to begin when Alvorn charged at them.

Unlike Ponty he wasn't able to be talked down and reasoned with. Cupid simply lacked the time for that.

This was proven when he stabbed the bladed fingers of his fake arm right into Ponty's guts. The poor girl let out a faint whimper and collapsed to the dirt, doomed to death's embrace within the minute.

Cupid saw that there was only one thing he could do and that was to run for his life, pulling Melodie along with him. He was loathe to admit it, but Ponty was beyond helping now.

The cannon had already fired.

"Run, run, run!" Cupid yelled, tearing through the garbage and filth. He dared not loosen his hold on Melodie for fear she'd trip and become prey for Alvorn.

"We're done for!" Melodie wailed, her voice barely audible over her own despair.

Alvorn had no comments to add. He was too focused on taking out his opponents without any distraction; it had been Olga's advice to not lose focus in a fight and that nothing was worse than letting one's guard down.

He was following her advice to the letter and it was working exceptionally well for him.

Cupid knew that the best thing he could do was try to lose Alvorn somehow. Instinct he couldn't even begin to explain as more than a gut feeling made him favour running through an area of wrecked cranes rather than the clearing full of broken cars.

For a while he was able to keep himself and Melodie ahead of Alvorn. Unknown to himself he was also getting them further away from the distant pack.

But nothing good, or even hopeful, seemed able to last forever. At least, not in the arena. Alvorn took careful aim with his knife and threw it hard.

It failed to hit Cupid.

Mainly because it had become embedded within Melodie's back.

"Ack!" Melodie cried out, the life within her already starting to leek out, much like the blood.

Cupid reacted with horror and despair. His own screams wouldn't be easy for the audience to forget, whether they were horrified or enjoyed hearing them. But he wasn't the sort to abandon somebody who wasn't beyond helping.

He resorted to carrying Melodie bridal style through the crane area, weaving between the machines. His legs felt ablaze, tired beyond measure, but fear of Alvorn and a refusal to leave Melodie behind was just enough for him to be able to bare it and keep moving.

They passed under a dormant crane arm, the sort that ended with a powerful magnet. Cupid sped under it without issue.

Alvorn tried to follow them, and that was his biggest mistake. His prosthetic arm was quickly pulled in by the magnet and left firmly stuck to it, Alvorn himself yanked up with it.

"Ack!" Alvorn yelled, having smacked himself into the magnet. "Shit!"

Cupid left Alvorn behind, stuck to the crane magnet. He knew the boy was not in major danger, not if he simply removed his prosthetic arm. Of course, he wasn't going to inform him of that. Not when he had a chance to escape the boy and find somewhere safe to hide. Somewhere he could help Melodie.

Alas, it was too late.

By the time Cupid had left Alvorn far behind and reached the peak of a solidified junk mountain Melodie was almost gone. She'd lost too much blood.

"Cupid…" Melodie's voice was soft, like that of a ghost.

"Hold on, it's not too late!" Cupid hardly believed his own words. Tears were streaming down his face. "Sponsors! Please! Melodie needs help! Please!"

"…Too late…" Melodie whispered, her face pale from the lack of blood beneath her skin. "…Cupid…?"

"Y-yeah?" Cupid said, trying his hardest not to break down.

"…Win…" Melodie whispered. "…Story…?"

"You w-want a s-story?" Cupid asked, wiping away his tears. "Alright… I'll do my best."

Cupid was hurting more than He had prior believed to be possible. But The fact he hurt meant he still drew breath. The same would not be able to be said for Melodie for much longer.

He'd grant her last request.

"Once upon a time… there was a land without districts. Without a Capitol. Without any terrible arenas, people wanting to hurt each other, people starving in the streets… there was no pain at all. It was only friends, family and love. Nobody wanted for anything, because… b-b-because they already had everything they wanted," Cupid began with a sniffle.

It took Cupid a moment to gather his bearings and resume talking. He wanted to weep, but he couldn't waste even a second. Not when Melodie was almost dead.

"It sounds like… a nice place…" Melodie whispered.

"It is," Cupid agreed. "And… and this land without districts? It's real… it's real. So they say, those with a pure soul and kindness in their hearts will all get to visit it one day. Forever. Imagine, a place full of… of love… of friendship… maybe dying isn't so bad if such a place is ready to welcome you. A few minutes, if that, of pain and suddenly you're in a place where you'd want for nothing."

Cupid knew he was laying it on a bit thick, but it seemed to be making Melodie smile. Weakly so, but still a smile.

"There was once a girl, sweet and wholesome. She was friendly and never hurt anybody… she died well before her time," Cupid found it to be a struggle to not breakdown on the spot. "She ended up spending forever in this sacred land, this place of pure peace. You know what he best part of this story was?"

"Wh… what?" Melodie mumbled.

"That girl was you," Cupid whispered. "You're going to be alright. You'll be somewhere without pain and only with kindness."

Melodie smiled as she heard these words.

The cannon fired a moment later.

Cupid broke, howling and crying loudly. His friends were all dead and he was all alone…

---

The family interview tradition had not been broken for these special, sadistic Games. While Melodie's family had literally walked right in and right out again upon Melodie's death, howling in grief as they went, the other tributes had their families and some of their friends bought in to talk them up to the nation.

For some, it was truly the only hope for sponsors they had left.

Because Cupid's family were all dead, and the only friends he otherwise had were a few orphans who were exceptionally camera shy, it had been decided that Spool would stand in for Cupid's relatives. He was already mentoring him, and in the most technical of terms this put him into a sort of father-figure position.

Spool, tired as he was, believed himself to be more than up to the task. If there was one thing he knew how to do it was to sell something to an audience.

Selling the greatest 'product' of all, his tribute, wouldn't be hard.

The order of interviews was decided purely at random. Spool watched from his backstage seat at the other interview were carried out one by one. He had to admit to himself, few among those interviewed by Caesar had much in the way of stage presence. It was like they'd never even been on camera before.

Then again, Spool conceded to himself, many of them probably hadn't for any meaningful length of time.

Tallulah's father was, of course, dead. Her mother and older sister were still alive, however, and did nothing but scream and snarl at the 'district monkeys' for having ruined everything and destroyed the natural balance. Their vow to retake power and make district hunting a year-round event did not sway anybody towards supporting their atrocious daughter. If Tallulah was to win then it'd all come down to her own ingenuity because no help was coming.

Stinn's parents, both cruel high ranking peacekeepers, were released from prison for the sake of the interviews. They laid out how Stinn was objectively the strongest tribute left and had barely taken any real injuries so far. He was all but certain to win, they believed, and would make the 'district cowards' pay for what they had done. Again, the hatred of cruel relatives had cost tribute any possible sponsors.

Alvorn's mother was a despised person for buying out victors for sex so often in the past, but at least she had the common sense to not insult those now in power. This and Alvorn's two little sisters talking about their happy memories with him growing up meant that the one armed boy wasn't condemned just yet. No more than he already was at any rate.

Cnaeus's family, all thugs and graffiti hooligans like he was, had little in the way of politeness for the nation. What they did have, however, was impressive artwork they promised to send to whoever would sponsor their boy the supplies he would need. They thought that, once he managed to get rid of Stinn and Tallulah he'd be the odds on favourite. It was clear, aggressive as they were, this family was worried.

Raptor's only family left were two brothers, and they shared his arrogance and love of popularity. They did their absolute best to appeal to the Capitol and point out how Raptor had been king of his sector of the great city for damn good reason. Not to mention that he'd not needed any sort of alliance to get thus far; he was damn capable flying solo. He was the one to support if the audience were smart.

Claudius Templesmith had been briefly taken out of his jail cell to hype up his nephew Miles. Alas, things went downhill barely more than a minute into the interview. He snarled how it wasn't fair, he seethed over his own destroyed fame, he raged that the districts were monsters for not knowing their place… and to top it off he punched Caesar in the face, finishing with a hard spit at his former best friend. He was disgusted that Caesar had, all along in his own subtle way, felt bad for the districts.

Once Caesar had gotten some ice applied to his bruise Spool was called up for his turn. It felt surreal, sitting down for an interview with Caesar upon the same stage he'd had his pre-Games and post-Games interviews years and years ago.

This time Caesar actually knew his name.

"Welcome to the show Spool," Caesar said, shaking Spool's hand. "After all these years, after all our interviews and various meetings on and off of Games season, finally I get to call you by your true name."

"Did you ever suspect the truth?" Spool asked, managing a quiet chuckle.

"Honestly? Not even for a moment. You pulled off, quite literally, the ultimate scam against the Capitol. Or, I suppose, the 'Old Capitol'," Caesar said, impressed. His gaze soon turned sombre. "Well, in any case, this interview isn't about you this time around."

"Indeed not," Spool agreed. "It's about Cupid."

The screens behind the pair changed from displaying flashy lights to showing live footage of Cupid in the arena. It was getting dark as nightfall loomed ever near and Cupid himself was wandering aimlessly through a large crater area, one filled with the wreckage of various broken cars. The boy seemed like he was emotionally dead inside.

"Cupid is unlike any other tribute of the Games ever seen. We've seen orphans, we've seen those reluctant to kill or whom preach about kindness. Thing is, all of them gave in by the end. That, or they were cut down by other tributes or mutts before they could really say much of anything," Spool glanced off to the side. "Naturally, Snow saw to it that there was no chance of a tribute being able to unite people through kindness. He wanted us all split apart by hatred."

"In hindsight I think we'd all agree that you're absolutely correct," Caesar agreed, sombre. "I've noticed that Cupid doesn't just preach kindness, mercy and compassion – he practises it as well. At no point has he lost the moral high ground."

"I think that makes him somebody really worth watching and even learning from," Spool continued. "It's time for change. Just look at the reactions to these Games and you'll see that there's already been lots of change; nobody is enjoying them, nobody sees it as anything but punishment… well, in the Capitol anyway."

There was a brief pause.

"Look, it's almost time for the fighting to end. Really end. Maybe having somebody like Cupid win is the perfect way to start off this new golden age of peace," Spool suggested. He turned to look at the cameras. "It could all happen if you sponsor him. In fact, it's a two for one deal. If Cupid wins then the promised celebrity wedding between Lammy and I will become reality. Everybody loves a wedding, right?"

"I can't say I disagree," Caesar said, managing to chuckle. "I think I speak for the many when I say Cupid is popular. You're right Spool, people have really taken a shine to his kindness. His fanbase might even rival yours."

"Come on Caesar, let's keep things realistic here," Spool joked. "But real talk, Cupid can win. You guys at home clearly want him to or, well, object to his victory the least of the remaining candidates? Why not help him reach it?"

"I know that's intended as a rhetorical question, but there is one reason that holds people back," Caesar said, carefully. "Cupid refuses to fight. He simply will not do it. With only one victor allowed, how could he overcome somebody like Stinn or Tallulah?"

Spool pondered this for a moment. It wasn't like Caesar or indeed anybody else who may bring this point up was wrong. Cupid couldn't win a fight, not when he refused to take part in one to begin with. He couldn't run forever.

Still, surely there was a better answer than that…

"How? I'd say the same way Spud manages to outlive many much stronger children in the Sixty Sixth Games. The same way Paige managed to stay alive over children of more solid muscles and mental states in the Thirtieth Games. The same way Pliny slept her way through ninety nine percent of the Second Games. The same way Lammy won despite never seeing another child after the first five minutes in the Fortieth Games. The same way Platinum won after being stuck under th arena of the Forty Second Games for around five weeks. The same way so many of the victors, living and dead, won their Games," Spool said. He let the silence hang in the air for a moment, always being one for a bit of drama. "They had a certain spark about them. Some flicker, a glimmer even, of sheer determination that saved them. That's why Cupid can win, even without any kills at all. Because he is filled with determination!"

Caesar applauded Spool, thoroughly impressed by his words. Were they a bit overdramatic? Perhaps. Was this a bad thing? Caesar thought not!

"Thanks for coming in for the interview Spool. It's appreciated, and I am certain that Cupid appreciates it," Caesar said, shaking Spool's hand.

"By all means, it's a pleasure to, uh, cover for his family while they're unable to be here," Spool said, a certain sort of bittersweet to his tone.

"Oh, hang on," Caesar cupped his ear. He sighed, his mood plummeting right away. "I'm getting word that a fight has broken out. We're required to show the footage."

For one terrifying moment Spool thought Cupid was about to die.

But right before the screen changed he saw Cupid getting into the trunk of one of the broken cars, safe for the time being.

The screen soon displayed a furious battle going on near a massive broken crane that had fallen upon its side. Stinn and Raptor were duelling, sword against crowbar, while Tallulah and Cnaeus stood back to watch. It was clear that Stinn was steadily gaining the upper hand.

"Help me!" Raptor screamed, though it wasn't his family that he cried towards. It was Cnaeus. "Cnaeus, please! You can't take them on alone, you need me! Please!"

Cnaeus made no move to do anything. If he was paying much heed or attention to Raptor's words then he didn't show it. Much like Tallulah he showed only a gaze of indifference.

In moments it was over. A nasty slash of the sword cut open a large portion of Raptor's torso, blood spilling everywhere. A moment later Stinn grabbed the fallen crowbar and bought it down onto the broken boy's skull.

Neither Caesar nor Spool could hide their wincing nor their hisses of pity and revulsion. The cannon boomed and then there were six.

Caesar was glad that the show was finally closing in on the 'curtain call'. Once more and never again.

Spool felt sicker by the second. Few tributes remained, but that only meant it was getting more and more likely for Cupid to be the next one to die. What was left for him to do?

Simple. Study the footage, figure out a perfect plan and be the best mentor he possible could be, that was what.

---

When Cupid woke up he did not know that there were only five tributes left, including himself. He'd slept through the cannon that marked Cnaeus's gruesome death during the night. The boy had tried to kill his allies while they were sleeping, but both had only feigned sleep. They'd not trusted him to stay loyal after Raptor's last desperate plea.

What Cupid did know was that a sponsor had just landed outside of the car. The tiny parachute contained only a single note. Cupid read it, quickly going pale.

'Run! The mutts are coming! Head past the broken hovercraft and don't stop until you get to the other side of the bridge. You have a few seconds at best – RUN!

- Spool'

Cupid abandoned the letter and ran for his life. Passing the nearby hovercraft at a high speed was the easy part.

Escaping the hoard of rabid dog mutts that had appeared from seemingly nowhere was going to be the hard part. One trip, just a few seconds of slowing down and Cupid knew he would be fated to become dog food.

Cupid wasn't just a reluctant fighter, but one who knew he'd be awful at it if he tried. What Cupid excelled at, other than empathy, was running away. Right now his skill at making a hasty retreat was working in his favour. He ran under the dull light of the gloomy morning sky, a ferocious din of barking and snarling meeting his ears. The dogs were close…

Soon enough Cupid was close to the point where he'd collapse, physically unable to keep on moving. But fate had smiled upon him that morning. The bridge mentioned in the letter was right ahead, built over a deep drop into a river of radioactive fallout.

With what little strength he had left Cupid ran across the bridge. He barely made it to the other side.

The hoard of dog mutts charged across the bridge as well, though they certainly did not make it. Their combined weight caused the bridge to collapse, the entire hoard of monstrous canines falling to their deaths in the toxic slime.

After a minute of sheer wheezing and pained gasping Cupid noticed another parachute was falling towards him. This one, mercifully, was bigger than the first one. A large bottle of water was clearly attached to it. A bottle that was halfway drained before Cupid even paid any mind to the letter that came with it.

'Good job escaping the mutts. I know you're hurting badly, inside and out, but you have to keep going. Sooner or later the new gamemakers are going to drive all of you together and they have plenty more mutts left to unleash. You have to keep moving.

You can do this. I believe in you without question. You can do this. But before you can win, you'll need to heed my advice – find the factory building. If there's anywhere a finale is going to happen then it's probably there. All I can tell you is that it's roughly west of your current location.

Good luck. I'll be watching over you.

- Spool'

Cupid spent twenty minutes getting his breath back before he managed to stagger up to his feet again and set off in the direction Spool mentioned. The sun always rose in the arena of any Hunger Games – aside the ones in caverns or endless night - in the same direction it did on the outside world. He knew he had the right direction, more or less.

The only problem would be not getting himself killed before he managed to reach his destination. Danger was sure to lurk around every corner along the way, and Cupid was not convinced the factory was going to be any safer than the rest of the arena was.

"I'm so alone… I'm so afraid…" Cupid wiped away his tears and snot on his sleeve. "…I believe you Spool. I'll try to believe in myself too."

And so, desperately trying to keep his own hope alive, Cupid set off into the deeper depths of the garbage dump.

Rain began to fall.

---

Spool honestly believed that the only reason he had not had a nervous breakdown yet was the support from Tag and Lammy. It was now the fourteenth day of the Games and it was clear that it wouldn't be long before the gamemakers would go about starting the finale.

Surely it wouldn't be more than three days before the Hunger Games ended once and for all.

Spool sat on the sofa of the motel he was staying in, his gaze practically glued to the screen. Tag sat to his left and Lammy sat to his right.

"Bro, you need to take a break," Tag said.

"We can cover for you while you get some sleep, honest," Lammy insisted.

"No… can't rest… need to stay…" Spool was totally out of it.

Only five tributes were left and, honestly, Spool doubted this would remain true within the next hour or two. Cupid was wandering alone through an area filled with pits of toxic waste, Miles was hiding out inside the wreckage of a hovercraft, Stinn and Tallulah were silently hunting near a filthy, festering lake of sewage and as for Alvorn…

It wasn't a pretty side.

Spool watched the screen display the young boy. He'd been immobile for the past two hours, having consumed some contaminated water two days prior. His thirst had been bad enough for him to chance taking a drink, but it was a chance that certainly wasn't paying off.

It was doubtful he had an hour left; his innards had been poisoned far too badly for a recovery to be possible, even with a sponsor gift. It wasn't like he had enough sponsor points for such an item to be sent in anyway, nor the ability to use his hands and thus inject himself to begin with.

The miserable sight had led to Spool filling up half of a bucket with vomit.

"Spool, bro, you can't keep doing this to yourself," Tag said, wincing as his brother vomited into the bucket yet again. "We can cover for you, seriously. The other mentors have people taking shifts for them when they need to sleep. You don't have to do this by yourself."

"But… but he's the one assigned to me…" Spool was almost too tired to even manage a yawn. "He's only there because of the paper slip I picked…"

"All the same, you need rest," Lammy insisted. "You'll only hurt yourself if you go on like this. Just three hours at least. Please? For me?"

Spool was silent. He seemed like he was ready to fold, or at least agree to hear his girlfriend and brother out some more. His gaze swiftly returned to the TV when Cupid entered the frame.

Spool was much like the nation as he watched Cupid kneel beside Alvorn – silent.

For one terrible moment Spool thought Cupid was going to finally give in and make his first kill. Perhaps Cupid believed it wouldn't count if the victim was basically dead already.

Spool soon saw he should have had a bit more faith in Cupid. The boy made no move to attack Alvorn in any way. Their past confrontation and how Alvorn had been responsible for the deaths of Ponty and Melodie was exactly that… past.

"It'll be alright soon," Cupid said, laying a hand upon Alvorn's shoulder. "The pain will be over soon."

Alvorn was past the point of being able to respond.

"…I forgive you for what happened with Ponty and Melodie," Cupid looked so very tired, like he wanted to cry. He didn't let it show. "You just acted a bit hastily. I can forgive a hasty person."

It went on this way for quite some time. Alvorn would remain unresponsive, barely conscious and alive, while Cupid would remain where he was and say nice things to his former opponent.

Cupid had no goal other than ensuring somebody was there with Alvorn when he died. That somebody cared. That somebody forgave the things he'd been forced to do.

Spool was proud of Cupid.

The number of dry eyes across the nation was much fewer than originally foreseen when the cannon finally went off. Cupid himself was weeping as he crossed Alvorn's arms over, closed his eyes and resumed his long walk through the arena.

Spool's only comfort in this painful moment was that the factory was very close to Cupid's current location. It couldn't gave been more than a mile away.

Better yet, Cupid had spotted the silhouette of the factory in the distance of the gloomy, rainy arena and was making a run towards it.

Spool relented. Cupid would be alright, at least for a few hours. He could trust Tag and Lammy to watch over him for at least that long.

Tag ended up watching over Cupid on his own for a few hours while Spool settled down to get some sleep, Lammy laying herself beside him as a sort of guarding presence. They lay in comfort for just over twenty hours. Twelve hours of nothing but rest and the sound of each other's soft breathing.

So away from the world were they that they didn't realise the tribute count had fallen from four to three. Stinn and Tallulah had gotten into a fight, the former finally sick of the latter's constant ranting about how the districts were insects who didn't know their place.

"It's that kind of thinking that got us stuck in this hellhole!" he had screamed.

The duel was short, savage and brutal. Stinn took a nasty cut to his left arm, but Tallulah had been uppercut into a pool of toxic waste. She'd died quickly, after much screaming of course, but her corpse had already begun to rapidly mutate. In some ways it was akin to Claudia's mutation back in the Thirty Second Games.

Stinn had paid the scene no mind, spending his time wrapping his fresh arm wound in bandages. He did so in mere moments and began to mutter to himself, trying to work out who else was left.

He had laughed when he realised it was just Miles and Cupid. Not a sadistic laugh nor one of triumph. No, it was one of pure relief. He had believed himself to be all but certain to win and finally go home.

It was a few hours after that when Spool and Lammy were awoken from their shared slumber, a rapid knocking striking the door in quick repetition. Lammy moved herself over to the door while Spool remained in the limbo between awakening and sleep. She opened the door, revealing Haymitch on the other side.

"C'mon lovebirds, you're needed down in the mentoring room," Haymitch said, tightly clutching a flask of whisky in one hand. "As in, needed right now."

"Why?" Spool sat up, practically flying over to the door. "What's going on? Is Cupid alright?"

"For now," Haymitch replied. "But it's down to just three kids. Yours, Stinn and Miles. They're ending the Games now. We'll have the final victor in an hour, maybe less."

Spool sped past Haymitch and took off to the mentoring room, leaving the second Quell victor and Lammy far behind him.

---

Cupid had only been at the factory for a few hours before everything started to go to hell. At first the factory had been silent, aside the massive rainstorm outside with the accompanying thunder and lightning. The tall iron walls of the main factory building were silent, as was all of the dormant machinery and crates left around.

All that remained alive were the flickering lights and the raised conveyor belt outside the building that carried a seemingly endless amount of junk to a grinder for disposal. It had granted Cupid the time he needed to catch his breath and rest up for whatever the next terror he'd face would be.

Cupid had been midway through drawing a chalk picture of his parents on the wall of the factory when it became very apparent what the next terror was.

Or, more accurately, the final terror.

One of the large windows upon the wall smashed to pieces as Miles was thrown through it, bleeding badly from cuts all over his body. His death was certain. It was similarly certain that it would happen very soon.

Miles had only one word to say when he spotted Cupid, talking in how the smaller boy was still in relatively good shape all things considered, especially after over two weeks in the arena.

"Run…"

A moment later Stinn leapt through the broken remains of the window and bought his sword down through Miles' neck. The cannon boomed instantaneously.

Stinn panted for breath for a few long moments. His leg leg was bloodied and he sported a few bruises on his face, yet he'd certainly ended up much better off than Miles had. Such was the likely outcome all along, Stinn being older, bigger and much stronger than the dead boy beside him.

He only noticed Cupid when the boy made a run for the nearby stairs leading to the roof of the tribute building. Cupid sped up when he heard Stinn yelling behind him and faster still when Stinn began to chase him in hot pursuit.

As painful as Stinn's leg wound was it clearly wasn't making it impossible for him to sprint after his final opponent.

"Get back here!" Stinn yelled. "It's the final battle of the final Hunger Games! Let's finish this, you and I!"

---

Spool gnawed at his fist in the mentoring room, watching the screen with grim eyes. It displayed the same thing as all other screens within the nation – the final battle.

The final battle.

"Run, run, run," Spool muttered, almost swaying on the spot.

He watched as Cupid made it to the roof of the factory, slamming the door shut behind him. Stinn was too close for Cupid to have a chance to barricade the door, forcing him to keep moving. But being on the roof, there was nowhere for him to run.

Nowhere except the conveyor belt of garbage.

"Come on, make the jump!" Spool yelled.

Cupid, of course, did not hear Spool. Nonetheless, he seemed to have gotten the same idea. Right as Stinn smashed the door open Cupid ran for the side of the building, making a flying leap off of the roof and onto the junk filled conveyor belt.

Stinn did the same a moment later, managing to make the jump but howling in pain upon landing. His leg wound was worsening, no doubt sending pain surging throughout his body.

The pain was not enough for him to cease the fight. Though he'd lost his hold upon the sword and dropped it over the side of conveyor belt he didn't seem to care about this. He still had his fists and plenty of junk to use as improvised weaponry.

Spool could only watch, helpless, as Cupid tried to scramble away further down the conveyor belt, while Stinn grabbed hold of all the junk he could get his hands on in an attempt to land a lethal blow against Cupid. Bricks, pipes, car parts, a mangled toaster and even an old Fiona and Lawrence Holo-Vid were all sent hurtling towards Cupid. Only the smaller boy's size and agility – aided along by Stinn's pain – prevented any of it from hitting him.

"Come on!" Johanna yelled. "Kill each other! Kill!"

"Mutual takedown!" Crimson added, having loved every second of her revenge. "No victor at all!"

Spool tried his best to ignore the pair. As much as he completely understood their desire for blood and revenge, it wasn't his game. No, he wanted his boy to make it home safe and sound.

But how could Cupid overcome a powerful young man like Stinn? Especially as he was clearly still refusing to fight.

"Cupid, it's alright to fight in self-defence! You don't have to play nice anymore!" Spool pleaded, pounding his fist upon his desk. "Come on, fight him!"

But Cupid refused.

Even now he would not abandon his morals.

Even now he would not bend the knee to violence.

Even after everything he would not do anything other than be himself.

---

Cupid's heart pounding so hard that it felt like a monster, maybe some sort of mutt, was trying to burst out from within his organs. All this and the strong urge to vomit was making it impossibly hard to evade Stinn for long. As much as Cupid wanted to live he knew he couldn't kill Stinn. He didn't even have the nerve to hurt the boy.

In fact, Cupid was pretty sure he lacked the ability to do so anyway. He was tiny, while Stinn was a sheer powerhouse; one only hindered by a badly wounded right leg.

The intense rainfall had dampened much of the belt he and Stinn stood upon. Keeping balance was hard, enough so that both of them almost went over the side at one point. Only by grabbing for each other's hand did they prevent a double death.

Stinn wasn't in the mood for thanking him. He simply punched Cupid in the face and, after grabbing hold of the smaller boy's waist, threw him right over his shoulders and behind himself with a crash.

"Owwwww, ahhhhhh…" Cupid tried not to whimper too loudly as he rolled over and tried to stand up, blood leaking out of his nose.

Cupid dropped down again as Stinn resumed tossing heavy items of junk at him. The tougher boy was in a frenzy of rage, desperation and sheer desire to get the hell out of the arena.

Cupid dropped and rolled several times over, chunks of metal vehicle parts and heavy pipes sailing over his head each time. Just one good hit would have likely been enough to knock him out.

"Please, let's stop…" Cupid choked out. "It doesn't have to be this way!"

"It's the only way it can be!" Stinn roared. "Only one of us can go home! One! I'm not dying!"

"And I won't hurt you!" Cupid wheezed, moving so that he was kneeled over on just one knee. "But I won't volunteer to die either, not now. Not anymore."

A few more volleys of junk were thrown before Stinn screamed from the pain in his leg once again. All of the rapid movement and pressure he'd been putting upon it had caused something to split and more blood to ooze out. The sight made Stinn collapse and Cupid vomit over the side of the conveyor belt.

The pair weren't silent or still for long. Stinn grabbed the next item on the conveyor belt, a large sledgehammer, and swung it at Cupid.

He missed by barely half an inch.

Cupid grabbed the closest item on the conveyor belt, a fairly big flatscreen TV, and held it in front of himself like a shield.

As lightning filled the sky and the rain fell ever harder the duel continued. Stinn smashed the hammer at Cupid in a variety of angles, but Cupid blocked each one of them with the flatscreen TV.

---

Spool noticed what the final two tributes had not.

The end of the conveyor belt was looming near, and with it so too was the deadly grinder that awaited them after a thirty foot drop.

Lammy tightly held Spool's hand for support. She wasn't naïve enough to believe Cupid had the battle on lock. Stinn was hurt, but still stronger.

Pacifism could only take a tribute so far.

"Come on Cupid! You can do this!" Spool yelled, almost pleadingly.

It was to Spool's surprise, and not an unwelcome one either, that several of the other victors echoed his plea. All of them who cared about the Capitol children as people and not as a symbol of revenge, or apathy, were in favour of the kind pacifist winning.

But that meant nothing when Stinn finally bashed the flatscreen TV away and raised the sledgehammer over his head. A flicker of relief filled the eyes of the strong, bloodied boy.

The relief vanished when Cupid made a desperate lunge forwards, darting through the space between Stinn's legs and rolling out the other side. Stinn lost his balance mid-swing and slipped over the wet ground. When he fell to the ground the sledgehammer fell over the side and his leg seemed to split further. It was a true testament to his ability to withstand pain that he hadn't passed out yet.

"Stop it!" Cupid shouted. "STOP! Fighting isn't gonna solve anything! What if we just didn't fight? What if we refused? What can they do? They're meant to be better than Snow, better than the Capitol… better than us! Why punish two children who don't want to hurt each other? What message does that send to the nation?"

"It won't work," Stinn hissed, coughing out blood. "It never works. That's what my parents taught me. The only thing those district savages understand is force. It might be the only thing you understand as well."

"No, the things I understand are what I've been saying all along," Cupid said, backing away from Stinn. He paused, hearing the whirring of the grinder not far behind him. "That we can all live in peace. That hope can beat fear. That hurting people is wrong!"

"Shut up!" Stinn roared, for a moment sounding more like a mutt than a young man. "Die already! Just… die! Please, I just want to go home…"

Broken as he looked the fact was that Stinn was still an excellent fighter. With savagery in his eyes and blood flowing down his leg he made a flying tackle towards Cupid.

---

Spool vomited at the same time Cupid did.

Stinn's leg wound had clearly been much worse beneath the ruined fabric of his pants than anybodsy had realised. Cupid had leapt to the side to evade the tackle, landing upon the solid ground of a platform beside the end of the conveyor belt. One with a ladder connected that led down to the safety of the ground.

That had been all it took for Stinn to land terribly on a particularly sharp and solid chunk of what might have once been half of an engine. One instant he seemed ready to simply stand up and continue the fight.

The next moment he was turning horribly pale and screaming like a madman. The impact had practically severed the lower half of his right leg, the once strong limb now only connected by a few strands of flesh.

Somewhere in the boy's terrified, agonised screams was the realisation that the conveyor belt was at its end and a terrible fate awaited anybody who would go over the edge.

"HELP ME!" Stinn pleaded.

The mentors in the control room watched the last moments of the final battle of the very last Hunger Games in awestruck silence. None of them, from Crimson and Olga to Annie and Crown said a word. No, they just watched the screen in silence as Cupid turned to face Stinn.

He desperately tried to reach out a hand to help his opponent.

Alas, he was too late.

Spool felt his heart breaking over the tormented look upon Cupid's young face. He was far from the only one who felt this way.

He was also far from the only person who had to swallow back their own vomit as Stinn was sent over the edge of the conveyor belt and down to the grinder below. It only took a few seconds for him to be ground into bloody paste, but it was a memory that surely never leave the nation. The final death of the Games being so vile seemed almost the perfect way to hammer in the message that the Games were wrong, always had been wrong and always would be wrong.

Then there was only silence.

Then there was a polite, soft applause. It was a few moments before Spool realised that the applause was directed his way. It, and Lammy tenderly hugging him close, was something of a mood booster, though Spool was lost as to why everybody was doing so.

"Why… why are you applauding me?" Spool asked, his hands shaking as he spoke.

"Because, Spool…" Olga paused, faintly breathing in and out. "It appears you just mentored a victor. The last that there will ever be. Congratulations."

Spool froze, the realisation hitting him like a stack of bricks. As awful as Stinn's death was, it didn't change the fact the cannon that went with it confirmed something to be true.

That Cupid had won and done so without making a single kill, or even causing a single wound. He had kept to his vow of pacifism no matter what and lived to tell the tale.

Spool sank to his knees, relieved. Lammy sank down with him, gently letting her overwhelmed boyfriend shake in her soft grasp.

"Lammy…?" Spool began.

"Yes? What is it Spool?" Lammy asked.

"…Looks like we kinda have to get married now, huh? Cupid did just win, so…" Spool managed to let out a laugh, one that got increasingly loud before trailing off into silence. "So, uh… will you marry me?"

Lammy's response of a kiss was answer enough for Spool. But things such as a wedding would have to wait at least a while.

There was a new victor who needed his presence sooner rather than later.

---

Cupid wheezed and panted, tears in his eyes as he leaned against the firm metal railing atop the raised platform. The rainstorm was finally ending and the sun was once again coming out to shine across the miles and miles of foul garbage.

A golden, almost angelic sort of light was cast down upon him.

The trumpets rang loud and proud for all to hear, the very last time that such a sound would be witnessed by the nation.

"What… what…" Cupid seemed hardly able to believe that, at long last, the nightmare had finally come to a close.

The Hunger Games were over.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Caesar's voice echoed across the arena. "May I present to you the victor of the Final Hunger Games, Capitol Punishment… Cupid Sol, representing Team Nine and the Capitol!"

That was when Cupid finally broke. He finally let himself cry, unleashing all the pain and emotion he'd tried his hardest to hold back in favour of helping the others either survive or die peacefully.

But now he was the only one left. There was nobody left to cry for but himself.

The hovercraft slowly descended to collect the small boy from his prison and to take him back home where he belonged. But as Cupid eventually boarded the hovercraft and let the people aboard start to help him there was just one small thought he couldn't ignore.

A thought that honestly scared him.

Where even was his home? The orphanage? Was he to simply return there, traumatised, and act like there was simply nothing wrong at all?

That was no way to live… but, what other choice did he have?

---

With the amazing medical technology of the Capitol it wasn't long before Cupid had been deemed ready for his post-Games interview. But compared to normal it wasn't triumphant, fun or something for the audience to go gaga over.

It had been painfully raw and real.

The recap footage had the audience feeling violated and ashamed. Cupid, unlike all victors prior, was not forced to hide the way he felt about the nightmare he'd been lucky enough to survive. Caesar was free to paint it as the tragedy that it was and strived to insist the nation had to move on from hatred and conflict. Otherwise the events of the garbage dump arena and all prior would simply come back, only worse and nationwide.

Not a single person across Panem wanted another war like the one that had just ended.

Cupid shied away under the eyes of the nation, but not too much so for him to be unable to speak the words that so badly needed to be said.

"The Hunger Games were a terrible thing. They were created by truly awful, terrible people who loved nothing more than hurting people, especially kids who couldn't fight back. That's not normal. That's wrong! But now they're dead and… the Games are over. It's time for us all to play something else. Maybe we could just… sit down and play the game where we're all friends with each other? So many people are hurting and so much is broken. I won, but… I'd already lost everything. I have nothing left besides the prize money, and that cannot buy my family back. But so many of you still have people who love you and people that you love in return. Why waste precious days with fighting? Those are days you could spend with loved ones and being glad you're alive to see a future where we just, well… don't fight or hate each other. Panem wasn't a great country, it was awful, but it doesn't have to be any longer. Our world could be so much better. And… in this world of ours, there's nothing better than love. We need it now more than ever."

Spool had been proud to hear these words coming from the boy he mentored into a victor, but when he went backstage to talk to Cupid and really try to be there for him he'd already vanished.

The security were apologetic, but it didn't change the fact the last victor there would ever be had somehow done a runner and disappeared.

"Where do you think he went?" Lammy asked, having tagged along with Spool.

"I think I might have an idea," Spool replied, already heading for the door. "C'mon, he can't have gotten too far ahead."

"Should we bring people with us?" Lammy asked, following behind Spool.

"I think right now it'd be better if only a small number of us were around Cupid at once," Spool said as he headed outside. "Us two will have to do."

---

Cupid sat all alone on the roof of the tribute building, blankly staring out at the distant sunset. He'd been there a while already and remained unmoving, only staring and occasionally wiping away a single tear.

He didn't react when the elevator opened nor when Spool and Lammy sat down either side of him. For a while the three victors sat without saying a word.

"I'm sorry," Spool eventually said. "I know you're alive now, but… it was all my fault you got sent to the arena. I plucked that damn paper slip."

"You couldn't have known it was mine," Cupid mumbled.

"Cupid's right, Spool. Besides, if it wasn't Cupid then it would have been another child. Maybe one who wouldn't have won like Cupid did. We both voted no, the Games weren't our fault," Lammy gave Spool a gentle look. "You need to forgive yourself."

"I'll try," Spool replied. He looked to Cupid with a warm smile. "But before I even think of that… Cupid, you're the victor. This night is all about you. How are you feeling, honestly?"

"Honestly?" Cupid was silent for a moment. "Not great. I mean, I feel really scared and I'm never going to forget what I saw, the ways all the other children died. But, I feel lost for than anything else."

"Lost?" Spool asked. "Lost how?"

Cupid gave an awkward, timid shrug,

"Yeah. Lost. What do I do now? I won the Games… so, what now? Nothing has really changed for me at all… well, actually, the nightmares I'll be having are new. But beyond that…" Cupid shrugged again. "My family are still dead. My home is still burnt to the ground. All my possessions I once had are still destroyed. I'm alive, but I don't have anything to go back to."

"You have your whole life ahead of you-" Lammy began.

"So? I'm still going back to where I was. An orphanage. That's my future… I guess I can buy some stuff with the victor stipend, but money cannot buy happiness. It can't buy love. It can't buy the things that matter," Cupid let the tears freely fall down his face. "Again… it can't but my parents back."

Cupid covered his face, sniffling.

"People always told me I'm really in tune with the feelings of others. They said I always knew what to say to other people and how to help them. But, I can't even help myself. I just want my family back," Cupid started to quietly sob. "I don't want to be alone…"

Spool and Lammy glanced at each other. They didn't need words or any hand movements. Indeed, it only took a second long glance and a single nod for them to both be in full agreement of what to do.

There was only one proper course of action to take in light of everything that had happened.

"You're never going to be alone again Cupid," Spool vowed. "I promise here and now that it'll never happen, and I always keep my promises."

"I agree. There's no chance of you being alone or having to go back to an orphanage for the rest of your days," Lammy agreed. "We'd never allow it."

Cupid looked between his mentor and Lammy, wiping away a few of his tears.

"What do you mean?" he mumbled.

Spool put a hand upon Cupid's shoulder. He looked down at the small boy with pride and warmth.

"Well, if you would be alright with it, and in the end it is your choice alone… you could stay with us," Spool offered. "Lammy and I, we could be your new family. Not so much to replace your first one, but to 'cover for them' while they're gone."

"That's right," Lammy agreed. "You're one of us now, a victor… but foremost, you're a young boy. All young boys need a family, don't they? We'd be honoured to take you in as our own if you'd like us to. We're still looking into where we'll live, but it wouldn't be a problem."

"Exactly. Picture this… a future where us three live in peace, all together and without any problems at all. We'd be happy. Especially Lammy, she's wanted kids for a while but since we're both getting on a bit…" Spool laughed, even as Lammy reached to bop him on the back of his head.

"Cheeky!" Lammy huffed, though her smile betrayed her amusement. "So, how about it Cupid? I know we're not known each other for ages, all things considered, but I know you and Spool get along and, well… would you want us to be your guardians."

"Your new parents?" Spool continued. "…We could get ice cream!"

"Really Spool?" Lammy asked, shaking her head.

"What? Kids love ice cream," Spool insisted.

Both Spool and Lammy were silenced when Cupid, weeping tears of happiness rather than sorrow, pulled both of them in for a rather tight group hug. They quickly adapted to this, gently taking Cupid into a shared embrace.

"Yes," Cupid whispered. "Yes… thank you…"

In response to this Spool and Lammy gently tightened the embrace.

The three stayed like this for a while, sharing the most tender of family hugs as the sun gently set in the horizon, its golden glow cast upon the three victors.

The sun had finally, finally set upon the era of the Capitol's cruel regime and that of the Hunger Games.

It was time for the dawn of a new era to begin at long last.

An era of peace.

---

There go guys, the last victor on the list has finally been crowned! Hope you all liked Cupid's journey in this particularly horrible and toxic arena. It's hard enough to win Games you thought you'd never enter, but harder still to do that and win without killing a single person. But it finally happened, a 'pacifist run' at the very last chance for there to be one. What better outcome for the era of tentative peace that can finally begin? Most Capitol Games stories I've seen tend to favour either an old tribute of sympathetic background, or perhaps Snow's granddaughter winning. Never did I see a romance blogger take home the crown, and their life, but now it's happened. Hope it met your expectations. :)

This time I can honestly say this was the very last Games of the lot. So now, there's really just one thing left to go. The epilogue! See you guys again come the final chapter. It's almost time to say goodbye to these characters, at least until they pop up in some other HG story I write, haha. Stay tuned!

---

Stats

District 1: Peridot Gaudy (8th Games), Crystal McCree (14th Games), Bronze Marley (19th Games), Crown Martins (24th Games), Dollar Dettwieller (32nd Games), Mascara Court (41st Games), Platinum Twist (44th Games), Gloss Lord (63rd Games), Cashmere Lord (64th Games), Augustus Braun (67th Games)

District 2: Baron Overwhill (4th Games), Runa Peace (7th Games), Olga Machete (10th Games), Rook Valiant (17th Games), Boulder Atherston (20th Games), Vercingetorix Carnby (25th Games), Dragon Batofel (27th Games), Rhyder Overwhill (39th Games), Mercy Gregor (46th Games), Brutus Gunn (49th Games), Lyme Rabe (51st Games), Enobaria Golding (62nd Games), Magnus Sterlingshire (73rd Games)

District 3: Honorius Perthshire (5th Games), Pi Orbit (22nd Games), Beetee Latier (37th Games), Wiress Plummer (47th Games), Yohan Fairbane (58th Games)

District 4: Museida Selkirk (3rd Games), Mags Flanagan (11th Games), Tide Luther (23rd Games), Librae Ogilvy (35th Games), Anchor Paddock (52nd Games), Finnick Odair (65th Games), Ron Stafford (68th Games), Annie Cresta (70th Games)

District 5: Shunt Gaspar (12th Games), Isobel Sparks (18th Games), Crimson Flanders (29th Games), Porter Tripp (38th Games), Neon Erg (48th Games), Wattzon Holmes (55th Games), Arendellian Spinner III (57th Games)

District 6: Chassis Macalister (31st Games), Bentley Corduroy (54th Games), Porsche London (56th Games), Numi Marrolto (72nd Games)

District 7: Pliny Aransio (2nd Games), Fir Buzz (9th Games), Jack Tylos (21st Games), Snag Nakamura (34th Games), Blight Jordan (53rd Games), Logger Barlow (61st Games), Johanna Mason (71st Games)

District 8: Woof Casino (16th Games), Paige Murphy (30th Games), Spool Nylon (42nd Games), Cecelia Mog (60th Games)

District 9: Mizar Aldjoy (1st Games), Gwenith Rosebud (13th Games), Teff Withers (28th Games), Laurel Flamsteel (36th Games), Tabbock Summers (43rd Games), Trevy Vex (Escaped 55th Games)

District 10: Stallion March (26th Games), Lammy Phyronix (40th Games), Pasture Gallows (59th Games), Skinner Alecto (69th Games)

District 11: Bear Redfoot (15th Games), Seeder Howell (33rd Games), Chaff Mitchell (45th Games), Spud Munroe (66th Games)

District 12: Duke Saint-Rose (6th Games), Haymitch Abernathy (50th Games), Katniss Everdeen (74th Games), Peeta Mellark (74th Games)

The Capitol: Cupid Sol (Final Games)