Disclaimer: The Hunger Games is not mine.

Note: Yep, quick update. That might happen a bit more often now because of NaNoWriMo.

Just a friendly reminder to vote in the "final five" poll if you haven't already.

Day Three
Capable

Miriam Valence
District Three Mentor

Nothing ever seemed to work out quite the way anyone expected.

Miriam wrapped an arm around Avery as the hovercraft came to retrieve Horatio's body. There were tears in Avery's eyes, just as there had been when India died. But Miriam knew that the worst was yet to come. If Evander died…

Miriam shook the thought from her head. She couldn't worry about that. Not yet. For now, Evander was safe. He and his allies were safe inside the barracks, and the only tributes in the area – Aleron and Brevin – were running the other way. He and Adelia had just killed a pair of tributes. Maybe the Gamemakers would leave them alone for a while.

Maybe.

But not forever. Eventually, someone else would find them. Or something would force them to leave. They couldn't stay safely tucked away in one of those houses forever.

"Not the two you would have expected to make it this far," Percival noted, voicing Miriam's thoughts. If someone had told her at the reaping that, with nearly half the tributes gone, Aleron and Evander would be the ones alive, and India and Horatio would be gone, she would've had her doubts. Horatio had seemed to have the brains to make it far, while India had the brawn and the guts to do what had to be done.

And yet they were gone. And Evander and Aleron were still alive.

Miriam shook her head. How many people would have guessed, nearly thirty years ago at her own reaping, that she would be the one sitting here, alive? Or what about Avery? How many people would have predicted that the little girl from Three would end up as one of the youngest Victors ever?

"Sometimes it's just luck," Miriam said quietly. "Sometimes there's no rhyme or reason to it. Why did the smoke go after India? Why did the polar bear choose Horatio? Maybe there's not a reason for it."

Or maybe there was. Of the tributes who had been attacked by mutts so far, both were from District Three. Could that really be a coincidence? Or was it some sort of retribution for what had happened last year?

But, if so, then why only District Three? And why not the replacement tributes? Why Horatio and India, but not Aleron and Evander? What made them different?

Miriam took another drink. Chances were, there wasn't any pattern at all. Targeting only District Three made no sense. Their tributes had participated in the rebellion last year, but so had tributes from most of the districts. The Gamemakers didn't seem to be targeting anyone else.

Not yet.

Barry Zephir, 15
District Twelve

"Not yet."

Barry sighed as Eleanor finished unraveling the last of the tapestry. They had more thread now than they could possibly need down in the tunnels. She was stalling, and they both knew it.

But she couldn't stall much longer.

"I just want to make sure we don't get lost down there," Eleanor insisted.

Barry rolled his eyes. "You've got enough thread there to stretch all the way back to the Capitol. We won't get lost. Come on."

Barry headed for the hole in the floor. No more waiting. Without another word, he climbed down into the tunnel. "Are you coming or not?"

Eleanor hesitated, but then followed him down, carrying a long tangle of thread. She must have tied the end to something, because it grew taut as they ventured a little farther down the tunnel. Barry smiled as Eleanor let out a little thread. "See? Nothing to it."

"But where does it lead?" Eleanor asked nervously as they plunged farther into the darkness, the light from the statue dimming behind them.

Barry took her hand as the darkness grew deeper. Better not to lose each other. "Who knows? Where do you think it leads? If it could lead anywhere in Panem, where would you want it to go?"

"I … I don't know."

Come on, just say something. "Well, I'd like it to go back to the Capitol. All that food. All those parties. What was your favorite part?" Barry asked, trying to sound cheerful. Truthfully, though, he would much rather have the tunnel lead back to District Twelve. Back to his parents. His friends.

Or maybe – although he didn't dare say it – maybe it would be even better if it led out of Panem altogether. Somewhere safe – safe from the Capitol, the Peacekeepers, the Games. He had sometimes wondered what was out there, beyond the fences, beyond the borders of Panem. Maybe even beyond the oceans. Were there other countries out there? Were there other districts – districts that didn't live in fear of their children being stolen away to fight for their lives every year?

Probably not. If there were other countries, they were probably just like Panem. Why should they be any different? People were people everywhere, after all. Maybe it was just fate that those in power always took advantage of those less well off. Maybe that was just human nature.

Barry shook his head, glad he hadn't said any of it aloud. Because if he had, the Gamemakers would probably make the tunnels cave in on them or something. No, it was better not to think like that at all. Then there was no risk of those thoughts making their way to the surface.

"I liked the noise," Eleanor said quietly.

Barry had almost forgotten the question. "What?"

"You asked what I liked best about the Capitol. I liked the sounds. It's always so quiet in my house. It's so quiet here, underground. But the Capitol seemed so busy, so full of life. There was so much to do. I just hope … I hope one day I can get back there and see some more."

I hope so, too, Barry almost said. But he didn't. He couldn't. He couldn't hope that Eleanor would make it back. Because that would mean he had to die. Only one of them could make it back to the Capitol, to District Twelve, to their family.

And now more than ever, he wanted it to be him.

Jaime Gloire, 18
District One

She was starting to wish she hadn't suggested swimming.

Jaime took another deep breath as she struggled against the waves. She could barely see Naella beside her, battling against the same current. But she could also see the shore. Just a little farther.

Just a little farther.

Finally, she could feel sand beneath her. Slowly, Jaime stood up, her legs wobbly. Stupid. Swimming had been a stupid idea. They should have walked. It might have taken a little longer, but by the time they got their bearings back…

Soon, Naella was beside her, breathing hard, but safe. Safe from the waves, at least. If there were, in fact, any tributes in the building nearby, they would have the upper hand. She and Naella were exhausted.

But they couldn't afford to rest – not here. Not yet. Not out in the open where they would be easy targets.

Targets. Jaime clenched her fists. They were Careers. They were supposed to be targeting other tributes, not worrying about becoming targets themselves. But there were only two of them left. They had to be careful.

But they also had to get to safety.

"Let's go," Jaime insisted, pointing towards the building. Slowly, Naella followed. Together, they crept closer and closer to the building. Now that they were closer, she could see just how tall it was. A building this tall, this close to the shore. "I think it's a lighthouse," Jaime realized.

Naella nodded her agreement. Not that it mattered much. It was shelter, and that was the important thing. Together, the two of them staggered through the door. Jaime looked around, but, as far as she could tell, it was empty.

Maybe that was for the best.

Exhausted, the pair of them collapsed by the door. "Let's not do that again," Naella suggested.

Jaime clenched her teeth. Sure, it had been a stupid idea, but did Naella have to rub it in? "What's the matter? A little swim tire you out?"

Naella rolled her eyes. "We're just lucky there weren't any tributes here. They would have knocked you right over."

"Me? What about you?" Jaime glared. "A few more seconds in the water, and you would have been history."

"You'd like to think so, wouldn't you. Or maybe you would have done it yourself – gotten rid of me, just like Auster and Inviticus."

"Oh, like you didn't help—"

Naella shook her head. "All right. All right. I'm just glad we made it."

Jaime nodded. "Me, too."

But a part of her was starting to wish that Naella hadn't.

Indira Serren, 18
District Ten

A part of her was starting to wish she had gone with Jarlan.

Indira shook her head. "You said we should all met back in a few hours. It's been…" Indira hesitated. She wasn't sure how long it had been, but surely it had been at least an hour or two. "Long enough," she decided. "Don't you think we should go back?"

"Not yet," Imalia repeated. "We're close to something. Someone. I can feel it."

Indira shook her head. Did Imalia really feel something? Or maybe hear or see something that Indira couldn't? Or was she stalling? Trying to find a reason not to turn around?

But why wouldn't she want to go back? She and Jarlan had been arguing, sure, but if she'd wanted to simply leave them, why wouldn't she have just said so? And why wouldn't she have asked Shale to come, too? Leaving Delvin with Jarlan would make sense; Imalia hadn't seemed to want him as an ally in the first place. But Shale…

She couldn't just leave him.

Indira clenched her fists. "You keep going if you want to. I'm going back."

Imalia turned, surprised, her crowbar gripped tightly in her hand. For a moment, Indira thought she might use it. But, before she had a chance, there was another noise. Some sort of rustling noise in the woods.

Imalia held a finger to her lips. Indira nodded. Maybe she had been right. Maybe there was someone nearby.

Just then, something burst out of the jungle. Something that looked a lot like a pig – but larger, with longer tusks. Indira stepped back in surprise, but Imalia took a step forward, her crowbar raised. The pig charged. Imalia sidestepped in time to avoid its tusks and brought the crowbar down hard.

But then the pig turned – quicker than Indira had expected, given its bulk. As it charged again, Imalia didn't have time to dodge. One of the tusks sliced across her leg, just below the knee. Imalia cried out in pain but stood her ground, giving the pig's rump a good whack with her crowbar as it ran past.

The pig turned again, but, this time, Indira was at Imalia's side, waving her own branch at the pig. "Over here! Over here!" The pig charged towards Indira, but, as it did, Imalia dove on top of it, dropping her crowbar and wrapping both arms around its neck. The pig squealed and bucked, but Imalia didn't let go.

"Indira! Quick!" Imalia called. Immediately, Indira scooped up the crowbar and charged, striking the pig's head once, twice, then three times. The third time, the pig stopped struggling, and Indira drove the pronged end of the crowbar into its stomach. The pig thrashed for a moment but then went still.

Both Indira and Imalia fell back onto the ground, breathing hard. "Not bad," Imalia managed, gasping for breath.

Indira grinned. "Not bad yourself. How's your leg?"

Imalia glanced down at her leg, wincing at the blood. The pig's tusk had torn through the bandage that was already there, where the girl from Eleven had injured her. This cut was deeper. There was more blood. Quickly, Indira tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of her own outfit and wrapped it tightly around Imalia's leg.

Imalia pulled something from her pocket. "Here. The fabric the crowbar came in. Use that." Indira nodded and, soon, she had Imalia's leg tightly bandaged. Slowly, she stood up, then helped Imalia to her feet, as well. Imalia cringed as she tested her leg, but, using a nearby tree for support, she could at least stand on her own. Imalia smiled a little.

"Thank you."

Imalia Grenier, 17
District Four

"Thank you."

Imalia cringed as she shifted again, trying to keep her weight off her right leg. Still, she kept a smile on her face. She couldn't afford to let the audience – or Indira – see how badly she was hurt. What if she decided to take advantage of Imalia's injury – take her out while she had the chance?

Imalia shook the thought from her head. If Indira had wanted to kill her, she would have done it already. Certainly she would have done it before bandaging her wound. Indira had fought well. Maybe she had even saved Imalia's life.

Didn't that earn her a little trust?

"We should head back now," Indira suggested. "If you can walk—"

"I can walk!" Imalia snapped. Truthfully, she wasn't sure, but, leaning against the tree, she took one step. Then another.

"Do you need some help?" Indira asked.

Imalia clenched her teeth. Yes. Yes, she probably did. But she couldn't afford to say so. Instead, she shook her head and gestured towards the pig. "If you want to help, how about you bring that. If we can't return with any kills under our belts, at least we can return with supper."

Indira nodded, trying to figure out how best to transport the pig. It was too large for one person to lift, and Imalia wasn't going to be able to help her carry it. "Use one of those," Imalia suggested, pointing to one of the vines that was hanging from a nearby tree. "Wrap it around the pig and … well, drag it, I guess."

Indira nodded and did as she was told. Soon, they were ready to set off – Imalia limping from her wound, Indira dragging their fallen prey. It would be slow going, but maybe that was good. Maybe by the time they got back…

Imalia grasped her crowbar tightly, not sure what to hope for. That Jarlan, Delvin, and Shale would be back, too? That they wouldn't? That Delvin had killed Jarlan? But she hadn't heard any cannons. Did that mean he had backed out? Maybe. Maybe he had decided that taking on both Jarlan and Shale at once would be too much.

Imalia shook her head. That was his choice to make. There would always be other chances. Other opportunities to get rid of Jarlan.

Get rid of him. Imalia clenched her teeth. She couldn't help but wonder how their mentors had reacted when she'd asked Delvin to kill Jarlan. Would they understand why she'd had to do it? By seeming like a rebel, Jarlan had put them all in danger – regardless of whether he actually was one or not. She was simply trying to remove that threat. It wasn't personal.

It wasn't personal.

"Are you all right?" Indira's voice was kind, full of concern. Just like Jarlan's would have been. He had never been anything but respectful towards her. Towards anyone. And she had sent Delvin off to kill him.

Part of her hoped that Delvin would back out. That the three of them would come back. That maybe they had found another tribute. If Jarlan found another tribute – if he made a kill – maybe that would be enough to prove he wasn't a rebel.

Then she would have an excuse to let him live.

Imalia nodded. "I'm all right. I'm just … worried about Jarlan. Who knows what they've run into by now?"

Indira bought it. "I'm sure they're fine. We haven't heard any cannons. So they're still alive. Chances are, they're already back, wondering where we are."

Imalia fought back the lump in her throat. Part of her hoped that was true.

But part of her hoped she never had to face Jarlan again.

Delvin Flynn, 18
District Six

He couldn't face both Jarlan and Shale.

Delvin paced back and forth outside the ship. Jarlan and Shale were still inside, preparing. Trying to get everything ready in case they were attacked. Delvin clutched his oar tightly. Imalia had told him to kill Jarlan, but she hadn't mentioned that Shale would be going with them, as well.

Maybe she hadn't known. But she hadn't exactly tried to stop him from going, either. She could have asked Shale to come with her, instead. But she hadn't. Taking on Jarlan alone would have been hard enough. But fighting both of them? She had given him an impossible task.

Maybe she wanted him to fail.

Delvin clenched his fists. Yes. Yes, that was probably it. When the three of them came back alive, she could blame him. If he failed to follow her orders, then, in the audience's mind, she would have an excuse to kill him. All she would need was the opportunity.

But he didn't intend to give her that opportunity.

Delvin glanced out into the jungle. He was supposed to be keeping watch. That was his job. The job Jarlan had given him. Not the job Imalia had given him. Delvin shook his head. If he stayed, he would have to disobey one or the other, and whichever one he betrayed would have an excuse to kill him.

The only option was to leave.

Delvin took a deep breath and headed off into the jungle. No one called after him. With any luck, it would be a while before they even noticed he was gone. The sound of the rain was enough to mask any noise he was making. Soon, he would be out of sight. Soon…

Soon, he would have no allies.

Delvin shook his head. Maybe that was better. Maybe having no allies was better than having allies who were bent on killing each other. Maybe having no allies was better than paranoid, jumpy allies who ordered him to kill their district partners so they wouldn't have to get their hands dirty. Maybe—

"Delvin!"

The shout caught him off-guard. Delvin whirled around, expecting Jarlan or maybe Shale, but the voice hadn't come from behind him. As he turned around again, he saw them: five tributes in khaki jumpsuits and some sort of helmets, closing fast. But one of them was calling his name.

"Delvin!" Thane repeated, waving his arms. "Over here!"

Delvin hesitated. Was it a trap? But there were five of them. If they wanted to kill him, they hardly needed a trap. Besides, for all he knew, they had been looking for him for the past two days.

For all they knew, he had been looking for them.

Delvin forced a smile as he approached. "I didn't think I would see you again."

Septimus clapped him on the back, handing him a matching helmet. "Oh, but we knew we would see you. See, this led us right to you." He held up a small compass with a number 6 etched on the back.

Delvin's heart leapt. "The sponsors sent you that?" So they had been looking for him.

Septimus nodded. "And now that we've found you, we can help each other."

What choice did he have? "What do you want me to do?"

Septimus smiled. "Tell us what you've been up to."

Thane Hayer, 17
District Nine

"Tell us what you've been up to."

Thane listened as Delvin explained. About discovering the rest of his alliance was nowhere nearby during the bloodbath. About raiding the cornucopia, about Jarlan sparing his life and offering Delvin a place in his alliance. About Imalia's order to kill Jarlan. About the ship where his other alliance was waiting even as they spoke.

Septimus waited until Delvin was finished, then nodded agreeably. "I think there's a way we can all get what we want."

Delvin cocked an eyebrow. "Meaning…?"

Septimus shrugged. "It's simple, really. You lead us back to this ship. The six of us against the two of them – it won't be much of a fight. Then you go back to the others, explaining how you fought bravely to save your companions but were barely able to escape with your life. Imalia will be impressed that you managed to dispatch both Jarlan and Shale. That should be enough to earn her trust. Then, when the time is right, we use this to find you again." He held up his compass. "And, this time, the six of us take out the two girls, instead."

Thane watched silently as Delvin considered. It all sounded so simple, when Septimus put it like that. So straightforward. As if there were no part of the plan that could go wrong. "Do you have weapons?" Delvin asked.

"Branches for clubs. Rocks. Nothing special," Septimus admitted. "Do they?"

"A couple of oars," Delvin shrugged. "Shale has a knife. There were some chains in the ship, but they seemed to be pretty well attached."

"Shouldn't be a problem, then," Septimus concluded. "What do you think?"

Delvin nodded. "I think we should head back to the ship as quickly as we can, then. If the others notice I'm gone, they might get suspicious and leave – and then we would have no way to find them again."

Septimus clapped Delvin on the back. "Then lead the way."

Thane glanced at Sariya as they followed Delvin back the way he had come. She was gripping her stick tightly. Thane briefly met her gaze and nodded encouragingly. Despite Septimus' apparent optimism, it would probably take all six of them to take on Jarlan and Shale. Jarlan was a Career, after all, and Shale … Thane was pretty sure the boy had scored fairly high in training. And he had apparently impressed Jarlan enough to allow him admittance to his Career pack.

Then again, Jarlan had accepted Delvin without much question, as well. Maybe he wasn't the sort to turn anyone down, as long as they could be reasonably useful.

Thane shook his head. They were a Career pack, too – after a fashion. Septimus and Liana had been willing to take all four of them in. Him, Sariya, Audra, Delvin – none of them were Careers by definition, but here they were.

And this was their chance to prove themselves.

Sariya Charsley, 16
District Nine

This was their chance to prove themselves.

Sariya clutched her stick tightly as the ship came into view. At the head of the group, Delvin ducked down low and pressed a finger to his lips. Two figures were standing outside the ship, facing each other. They seemed to be talking, but, over the rain, Sariya couldn't tell what they were saying.

"So what's the plan for getting close without them noticing?" Liana whispered.

Delvin shook his plan. "There is no getting close without being noticed. But I do have a plan. I need a volunteer – someone they won't think is a threat."

"I'll do it," Sariya blurted out before she realized what she'd said. Septimus nodded approvingly.

"All right," Delvin whispered. "Here's the plan."

A few moments later, the two of them emerged from behind the trees, Delvin's hand wrapped firmly around Sariya's wrist. "Jarlan! Jarlan! Over here!" He pulled Sariya towards the ship while Sariya made a show of struggling.

One of the boys took a step forward. "Delvin! Where have you been?"

"Sorry I took off," Delvin apologized. "I thought I saw someone in the trees, so I followed her. And I was right." He flung her towards Jarlan, and Sariya crumpled convincingly to the ground.

The other boy took a step forward. "Is she alone?"

"I'm alone!" Sariya insisted. "I swear! I'm alone! Please, just let me go. Please." She looked up, her eyes pleading. Begging. Please let this work. Please let this work.

Delvin shook his head. "We can't just let her go. There might be more of them out there. What if she's a scout? What if she goes back and tells the others where we are?"

"The others," Jarlan repeated. "Wasn't she one of Septimus' group? Weren't they your allies, Delvin?"

Shit. They'd been hoping he wouldn't put those pieces together. But Delvin recovered quickly. "They were my allies. But they probably haven't even been looking for me. You two – you're my allies now. And we have to protect each other. If she makes it back to Septimus and lets him know where we are…"

The other boy nodded reluctantly. "He's right, Jarlan. We can't just let her go."

"I'll do it, if you don't want to," Delvin offered, holding out his hand. The other boy hesitated, fingering his knife. Sariya tensed. This was part of the plan. He was supposed to hand it to Delvin. Then Delvin would turn on them…

But he didn't. "No, I'll do it." The boy took another step towards her.

Jarlan nodded. "Asking you to kill a former ally – that wouldn't be right. Go ahead, Shale."

Sariya looked up at Delvin. Shale was nearly on top of her. "Damn it," Delvin muttered.

Then he dove at Shale.

Liana Kinney, 18
District Five

Apparently, things hadn't quite gone according to plan.

Liana gave a shout as she, Septimus, Audra, and Thane raced towards the ship. Delvin had a grip on one of the boy's legs. Jarlan was trying to pry him off while Sariya struggled for the knife that was in the other boy's grasp. Septimus reached the group first, dealing a kick to one of the boy's heads before being tackled by the other.

Without hesitation, Liana dove in, striking at Jarlan with her branch while Septimus wrestled the knife away from the other boy. Liana struck again. Then again. Jarlan reached for the oar he had dropped, but, by then, it was too late. Liana grabbed it first, and one more blow to the head left him unconscious.

But there was still no cannon.

Liana turned her attention to Septimus, who had managed to wrest the other boy's knife away and now held it to his throat. "Don't move," he hissed. "Delvin, did you say there were chains in the ship?"

Delvin nodded. "Yes."

"Then let's get these two in there."

Immediately, Liana grabbed one of Jarlan's arms. Thane took the other, and, together, the two of them dragged him inside the ship and propped him up against one of the sides. The chains that lined the wall seemed perfectly positioned, and Liana and Thane quickly bound him in place.

Momentarily, Septimus and Delvin followed, dragging Shale along. Shale was struggling as well as he could, but, once they were inside the ship, another blow to the head from one of the oars brought him to his knees, and a boot to the stomach left him helpless while Liana fastened a pair of chains about his wrists.

Audra shook her head. "Septimus, what are we doing? Why don't we just kill them?"

Septimus shook his head. "Then they wouldn't be any use to us."

"What use are they going to be to us now?" Delvin asked. "I already told you everything about where their alliance is—"

"You told me your version," Septimus countered. "You could have lied. But, more importantly, they'll be useful as bait."

"Bait? But I thought the plan was for me to go back and—"

"You really thought that was the plan?" Septimus sneered. "You really thought that I would trust you to go back and tell your new alliance nothing of what had happened here? Why should I trust you not to turn on me the moment you make it back to them, since you were so eager to betray them for me? And you really think either of them would have believed that you managed to kill these two all by yourself?"

"I thought—"

"No, you didn't think. Clearly. You're lucky you're not tied up here with them."

Before Septimus could get any farther, Delvin bolted out of the ship. Liana turned to follow him, but Septimus grabbed her wrist. "Let him go. We'll be able to find him any time we want." He shook his head.

"Right now, we need to take care of these two."

Jarlan DuMorne, 18
District Four

The first thing he noticed was the pain.

Jarlan slowly opened his eyes. Pain, sharp and deep, coursed through his skull. He groaned and tried to shift a little, only to realize that he was chained in place. Chained against the side of the ship. Frantically, he glanced around. Shale was next to him, chained as well, blood dripping from the side of his head. But his chest was moving slowly up and down. He was still alive. They were both still alive.

But why were they still alive?

Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the dim light inside the ship. "Septimus," he realized at last. "Where's Delvin?"

Septimus smirked. "Oh, I'm afraid Delvin was working for me the whole time."

Yes, I figured that out by now. But where was he? Jarlan could see Septimus, Liana, and three of their allies – the pair from Nine and the girl from Seven. But where was Delvin. Had he left?

Maybe, if he was smart. Or maybe Septimus had killed him. Jarlan gave his chains a tug. If only he could get free and find Delvin, he would do the job himself. He had spared Delvin's life. He had trusted him.

He should have killed him when he'd had the chance.

"Why are we still alive?" Jarlan asked, nodding towards Shale. "Why didn't you just kill us?"

"Oh, we will," Septimus assured him. "But you can be of a little use to us before the end. Why don't you start by telling me why you let Delvin join your little group instead of just killing him then?"

Jarlan shook his head. "Why should I tell you anything?"

Septimus shrugged. "Because you still believe that the longer you keep me talking instead of killing you, the better the chances that your other two allies will show up and rescue you."

Jarlan shook his head. "They wouldn't know where to look."

Liana, the girl from Five, shrugged casually, fingering a knife. Shale's knife. "Unless they hear screams."

Jarlan scoffed, trying not to look as frightened as he felt. "So that's the plan? Torture us until we scream and draw our allies into a trap? I don't think so."

Septimus shook his head. "Oh, I think you misunderstand me. They won't be coming for you. You see, Delvin told me everything."

"Everything?"

"About Imalia's plan. She sent him out here to kill you. And it might have worked, too, except I got there first."

Jarlan shook his head. "That's not true." He and Imalia had argued a little, certainly. But she couldn't really want him dead. She wouldn't really have sent Delvin to kill him.

Would she?

Septimus took a step closer. "You really believe that, don't you. That she would never betray you because some sort of pathetic concept of district loyalty? It's pitiful, really, how you cling to that at the end." He knelt down next to Jarlan, gripping his neck tightly in one hand. "I'm afraid your fantasies aren't going to help you now."

Jarlan closed his eyes as Septimus drew the knife across his throat.

Septimus Drakon, 18
District Two

Boom.

Septimus nodded, satisfied, as the sound of Jarlan's cannon startled Shale out of his stupor. The boy looked about, dazed, taking it all in: the ship, his chains, the blood on Septimus' knife, Jarlan's body beside him. Septimus smiled a little as Shale set his jaw, bracing himself, ready to accept the same fate.

But his fate wouldn't be so kind.

Septimus stood up, wiping the blood from his knife on the edge of his shirt. "I suppose you know you're next." The boy said nothing. Septimus took a step closer. "But before I kill you, there's one thing I need from you. You're going to scream. You're going to lure your allies here – to their deaths. You're going to watch while I kill them. And then I'm going to kill you."

The boy simply glared back. Stubborn. Determined. Septimus shrugged. In the end, it made no difference to him whether the boy drew his allies there or not. It was simply an excuse. An excuse to find out which of his own allies had the stomach for what was about to happen.

But it was an excuse he needed. The Capitol never condoned torture without a good reason. But if he had a reason – if it seemed to be part of an overall plan – then anything was fair game. It wouldn't be enough to simply accuse Shale of being part of a rebellious district – not when most of Septimus' own allies came from districts that had chosen to rebel the year before. Nor could he claim to be punishing Shale for being one of the 'replacement' tributes – not when he had accepted Delvin as an ally.

But using him as bait – that was good enough.

Out of the corner of his eye, Septimus saw Audra slip out of the ship as he made his first cut. That much, he had suspected. She'd been utterly useless in the fight. Part of him was surprised she'd even stayed this long.

The others stayed. One cut. One slice. Then the next. All the while, Shale's teeth stayed clenched, his eyes fixed on Septimus' own. Glaring. Accusing. Septimus ignored him. Shale wasn't his focus. The others were. Liana he was sure of, but the pair from Nine – they were beginning to lose their cool. Both looked uneasy as he started to carve deeper into Shale's flesh, careful to avoid any major arteries or vital organs. Careful to avoid anything that would kill him too quickly.

Still, the boy wouldn't scream.

Finally, exhausted from loss of blood, Shale's eyes grew unfocused, and his body went limp in his chains. Septimus stood up, wiped his knife clean, and shrugged. "We'll finish this later. Let's get some air." He headed outside, and the others followed.

Audra was waiting there, beside a tree. From the look of it, she'd been retching up her breakfast – and probably last night's supper, as well. She glanced up at Septimus nervously. "I didn't hear a cannon."

Septimus shook his head. "He passed out. We'll resume when he comes to."

Audra nodded. "Maybe I … Let me try."

Septimus scoffed. "Let you try."

"Not your way. Let me talk to him. Soften him up. And then you can … you can get back to work."

Septimus rolled his eyes. It was the oldest trick in the book: one interrogator playing nice while the other did the dirty work. But if it made Audra feel useful – if it would convince her that maybe she was doing something – then it was worth a try. If she felt like she was contributing something, then she wouldn't suspect she was next on his list. "Why not?" he decided, gesturing towards the ship.

"He's all yours."

Audra Trevaille, 18
District Seven

"He's all yours."

Audra fought back a wave of nausea as she stepped inside the ship. The whole ship smelled like blood. The air almost seemed to taste like blood. But she forced herself to take one step. Then another. She had to do this.

She had to do something.

What Septimus was doing – it was exactly what she had told herself she wouldn't do in the Games. She had told herself she was willing to kill, yes. But quickly. Painlessly. Not like this.

Not like this.

Quickly, Audra glanced around the ship. She could do this. She could kill him. Quickly. She could strangle him with one of the chains, maybe. And then she would have to run. Septimus wouldn't approve of her ruining his plan. But his plan was stupid. If Shale hadn't screamed for his allies by now…

Unless it wasn't about that.

Was it just an excuse? Just an excuse to torture someone who had never done anything to him? Audra took a step closer to Shale, who was starting to come around again. Cuts lined his chest, his arms, his legs. Some shallow, but some much, much deeper. There was no way he would survive now, even if she somehow managed to cut him free. What she was about to do was merciful. Audra knelt down, took one of the chains in her hands. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Wait." Shale's voice caught her by surprise. "Wait. Please."

"I have to," Audra whispered. "If he comes back in here and you're still alive, he'll—"

"I know." Shale's eyes fluttered open. "But there's something … something else. In my pocket. Right side."

Audra slid her hand into his pocket, and her fingers closed around something. Something metal. She drew it out. "A key?"

Shale nodded weakly. "To the chest. In the corner." He nodded towards the other side of the ship.

Audra hurried over. Delvin hadn't mentioned anything about a chest. What had he been keeping secret from Septimus? She turned the key and opened the chest. "Dynamite?"

Shale nodded. "Give it … give it to me."

Carefully, Audra brought him one of the sticks. Some sort of liquid was oozing from the cracks. "It looks dangerous," she warned him.

Shale nodded, gripping it tightly. "It is."

"All you'd need to do is drop it."

"I know. Get out. Send him in."

Audra bit her lip. "Thank you."

Shale shook his head. "I'm not doing it for you."

"I know." She turned and hurried out of the ship, clutching her stomach in what she hoped was a convincingly nauseated way. She nodded to Septimus. "He's … he's awake."

Septimus nodded, satisfied. "Let's finish this." He turned and headed back into the ship. Liana followed.

But Thane and Sariya didn't. "Hurry," Audra whispered. "We have to get out of here."

Without another word, she turned and ran.

Shale Avenheim, 18
District Eleven

He could almost see their faces.

Shale closed his eyes, clutching the stick of dynamite tightly in both hands. All he had to do was drop it. Drop it, and the pain would be over. But that wasn't enough. If he was going to die, he would make it count. He would make sure Septimus – and maybe one or two of his followers – went out with him.

There was no chance now – not for him. He didn't need to look down to know that. Down at the gashes in his chest, the cuts that lined his arms and legs. He should have been dead already, but Septimus had been careful. He'd wanted it to last.

But it wouldn't last much longer.

"I'm sorry, Karinth," he whispered, hoping they could hear him. Hoping at least one camera was trained on him, letting him speak to them – one last time. "Rhodes. Vren. Bale." He swallowed hard. "Raver. Asher."

"Saying goodbye?"

Shale's eyes flew open as Septimus' voice filled the ship once more. Shale shrugged weakly, the dynamite carefully hidden in his hands. Just come a little closer. He wasn't sure exactly how big the blast would be, but he wasn't about to take any chances. Not when he wouldn't get a second shot. "You wouldn't begrudge me that, would you?"

Septimus shrugged. "Not at all. Please, do go on. You were probably saying goodbye to your little brother, weren't you – the one you volunteered for? It must be so hard for him to see you like this. But you can end it, you know. Just one little scream – enough to let your allies know where you are – and it's all over."

Septimus took a step closer, followed by the girl from Five. Good. Two of them. That was even better. Shale shook his head. "You're right. It's hard for him, and I'm sorry you had to see this, Asher. I'm truly sorry – but only for that. I'm not sorry I took your place. Remember that." Just a little closer.

Septimus nodded, fingering his knife. "Sweet. Sentimental to the last. That was your downfall, you know. If you'd stayed with Imalia, you would have been safe – for a little while, at least. But she killed your little district partners, so you came with Jarlan, instead. Delvin told me everything. It's pathetic, really. How does it feel – knowing you failed so badly?"

Shale smiled a little. "But I didn't fail."

Septimus cocked an eyebrow. "How so?"

Shale didn't answer. He simply took a deep breath. "Take care of your brothers, Asher."

Then, as hard as he could, he flung the dynamite at Septimus' feet.

Tamsin Lane
District Eleven Mentor

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Tamsin nodded, satisfied, as the whole ship went up in flames. The blast from the first stick of dynamite had set off the others in the chest, blowing the whole ship to bits. The rain quickly put out the fire, but the damage was done.

No one could have survived that.

Tamsin leaned back in her chair as Elijah took a seat beside her. "You were right about the dynamite," he admitted. "Sooner or later – boom. Boom. Boom-boom. Boom!"

Tamsin smiled a little. "You're drunk."

Elijah raised his glass. "You bet I am. Were you watching the same screen I was? How are you not drunk?"

Tamsin shook her head. "I still have a job to do."

Elijah chuckled a little. "Oh, yeah. The little one. Philus. Who'd've thought he'd be the last one standing? And with two new allies, no less. He's doing quite well for himself." He clapped Tamsin on the back. "Maybe I shoulda told Shale to team up with those little guys after all."

Tamsin sighed. It was easy to look back and say that things would have worked out so much better if only they'd made a different choice. A different alliance. If only the tributes had turned left instead of right. But the truth was that none of them could have known how things would turn out. Maybe a different choice would have changed things for the better. But, more likely, everything would have turned out even worse.

But there was no use telling Elijah that. Not right now. Maybe in the morning. Or in a few days. Whenever he was sober again. Maybe then she could explain that there was nothing he could have done. Nothing Shale could have done. Nothing that would have made things turn out any differently.

Elijah didn't understand. Somehow, he had made it through his Games without really grasping it. There were no good choices. There was no right path. Not in the Games. Maybe not ever.

There was nothing they could do.

"I did things I wish I could erase from my memory - things which I never thought myself to be capable of. But I did come to learn this - there was a part of me which was always capable."