The tributes get themselves together... Katie builds herself back up, and Jonathan stares doom in the face.

I stared in shock as Katie tore away from me, a small trail of tears gliding behind her. In actuality, there were not tears flowing behind her in some diverted wake, but she was crying and sobbing, the noise following her, echoing against the walls, against my heart. That was enough to tear me in two. I simply told her the truth... but it has to be wrapped up in the fact that Louis pushed her one too many buttons? After all, today has been quite weird... she got upset at me for destroying Wyatt's martini glass, and then she forgives me for getting the highest score possible... it's simply too hard for me to keep track of, that I'll admit.

Locking my jaw, I put my hands in my pockets. I guess there was nothing else for me to do except return to the apartment, right? Face Henry and Georgia's criticism on how I handled Katie's reveal of love. Stand the scolding, swallow my pride, take the bitter pill and keel over. If only I had access to a bow; I'd be set if they allowed me that. Whenever I wanted to clear my head, shooting arrows helped immensely. I don't know why; it'd be crazy to say something seemed therapeutic, the action of arrows hitting a wall seam or a target, and I'm not crazy. Well, a crazy person would say that they aren't either.

Out of the corner of my eye, two bodies appeared, and I knew that whoever they were, it still wasn't going to be someone I wanted to talk to, ally or not. The only ones I've even interacted with remotely were Lyon and Leema, but do I feel attached to them, going so far to think that... no, I don't. To my luck, it wasn't even them, or the District 6 siblings, which I might've been able to handle with all of their forthrightness. No, it was Leeane and Arman, they stepped up to approach me. This Leeane character, I think I could handle her... however, her partner on the other hand. A glint of humor was in Arman's eyes, just another reason to sock him straight in the face.

"Nice job Twelve," was the first thing out of the Career's mouth, once again resorting to the fact that not using my name somehow demeaned me. I wanted to let him keep on thinking it did do something to my psyche... let it riddle him another night. "Let me guess, that was planned?" and before I can even say anything, the guy continued on talking. He must enjoy hearing himself talk. "No, wait it wasn't, was it? You just made another enemy, you realize? How big of an idiot are you? Never have your district partner mad at you. That is rule number one," Arman smirked.

Oh, how cute, look at Arman whatever the hell his last name is giving me advice. Maybe you shouldn't be such a nonchalant asshole, bud. Let's work on you first.

"Why on earth would you give a hell if my district partner liked me or not?" I snarled. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so headstrong with my response, in hindsight.

Arman stepped up to me, menacingly. He was taller than me by a good few inches. "Why do you have to act so hostile?"

"Why are you such an asshole?" Is this the pot calling the kettle black? Can't you technically say I'm an asshole?

"Because I can be," he said. "What's wrong with trying to help you out?"

"I don't need your help," I responded back, coldly.

"Everyone always needs it."

"Uh-huh. That might be your ego talking."

If Arman could somehow make himself look even more threatening than he already had, this was the way he did it: puffing up his shoulders, and getting even closer to me. "I am getting sick and tired of your attitude, Twelve. First rule to survive the Hunger Games is not to get your district partner mad at you. Rule two? Number two is getting me mad and you are just doing that."

"And why's that?"

"It gives me an incentive to kill you," Arman threatened.

"Trust me, Arman," I couldn't resist the smirk... damn it. "You aren't going to be killing me. Let alone anyone else."

His response wasn't some sharp retort. It was taking the lapels of my suit, bunching them up in his fists and ripping me forward. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't snap your neck here and now!"

Leeane intervened, just at the right time. It seemed like the two of us were always going to be interwoven in each other's circles. I think Leeane has to be the daughter of the mayor of District 1, or some sort of socialite, because even ruthlessness can have a side of intelligence... something a many Careers lack. "Hold it you two. Stop. Don't act like little children. Let you settle your differences mono e mono in the arena. Doesn't that sound better?" and then when Arman didn't let go, she added, "Arman, let go of Jonathan."

Arman gave her a withering glare, one that would've stopped me in my tracks, but she stays firm in place, rooted in iron. "Sometimes you don't know when to shut up, do you?"

Leeane's eyes flared with fury, and then, in one fell swoop, she gave her district partner a wicked slap across his face. "You son of a bitch! Arman, do yourself a favor and screw off!" Her words seemed to sting him more than the slap, but any retort he would've had for her dissipated as she stormed away, down the hall, back to the elevators. Her slap had caused him to release the hold on my suit, giving me a few seconds to breathe.

I whistled lowly, backing up, Arman having advanced in her direction. "Nice going Arman, good job getting that girl pissed. It looked like you broke your own first rule too."

Arman whirled on me. "Not funny, Twelve! You better shut it or I'll shut it for you by sending a spear down your throat. Watch your back at the Cornucopia tomorrow..." Then he stalked down the hallway after Leeane, punching the wall on the way out.

You can lead a horse to water, but you can't force it to drink.

Same goes for a good ole' cocky Career.

Katie flung herself onto the bed of her room, tears streaming down her face. She tore through the living room, Henry, Georgia, Rev, and Rose already sitting on the couch, waiting for her and Jonathan's arrivals. One of them must've said something to her, but she ignored it completely; it didn't matter what anyone else thought. Words couldn't describe how humiliated and taken advantage of she felt... like someone battered her heart with a crowbar. Why... why? Why did she let her anger take control of herself? It's Louis Grande's job to play the fiddle, and she was played to the expert tune of screwing her over. Katie can't tell if she's more distraught over herself making such an erroneous error, or Jonathan's truth.

Jonathan said it so simply, but it sounded so cruel. It only had been a plain 'no', and Katie knew it. She's known her bestfriend Bailey for years, and Bailey liked Jonathan so clear as day that the sun could shine on it... but of course the guy was oblivious to it all. She had never been in the picture, always Bailey, Bailey, Bailey... almost to the point where she - Katie, that is - resented her best friend. Her best friend stood front and center of every discussion she had ever had with Jonathan beforehand, pushed to the side is the third wheel, the combat girl... and for some reason it built gall in her to even think these things. She liked Jonathan for a little bit over a year at this point, but that just shattered like a mirror falling to the floor.

She thought about how Jon held her in the elevator the last couple times... all the compliments he had given her, the occasional glance over his shoulder at her. There must've been some connection, but it just had to be a wild delusion in Katie's mind; there's no other explanation. Here she was, thinking all of this up, her heart and mind going along with it, all the while Katie is trying to pretend to be something she's not... and that's in love. She's never really experienced it, not the way a few of her other friends have. All these ridiculous fantasies sprout in her head about the archer, her district partner. Like, just like the elevator ride for the private training sessions, as she rested her head on his shoulder. It played out in her mind expertly, that Jonathan would hug her tight, whisper sweet nothings into her ear, before gripping her shoulder, spinning her around so she's laying in his arms, dipped down low where her hair glances the linoleum floor of the elevator. Closer, closer, closer he gets... maybe they were about to kiss, or so Katie had thought. That was until the elevator door had opened with her still resting against his shoulder, stupid Arman from District 1 ruining the moment. However, the very thought that she had entertained such a fantasy, almost expecting it to happen... Katie felt like she deserved this humiliation. It still didn't make it any less painful, however, to admit you like someone in front of the entire nation, and then just a minute later, be rejected.

But, if Jon didn't really like her, then what the hell was the use for liking him anyways? Why search for an unrequited love, a need to be loved? Was it needed? There was a soft tap on the door, interrupting her train of thought, but Katie threw a pillow of her bed at the door, unleashing a scream. It'd be Georgia, most likely, wanting to speak like girls, to admit the tragedy that occurred. There was no tragedy that occurred, in all honesty, Katie realized... except her own stupidity, and Georgia wouldn't want to talk about that. Hopefully the idiot escort would understand to leave her alone. Despite the throwing of the pillow, and the scream that followed, and Katie's own cry if disapproval, the door to her bedroom opened, she scrambling back onto her bed as far away as she could go. The door had opened and it was Rose, not Georgia or Henry or even her own stylist... it was Jonathan's stylist. Rose was holding a towel in her hands, face mirroring that of concern.

"Katie, honey, you're smearing your makeup," the stylist chided. She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her, making her way to the bed. Placing the towel against Katie's face, she began wiping it away. "Ruined makeup will stain the covers. Getting rid of it entirely will be much better for you. Here, let me," proceeding to start scrubbing away the girl's cheeks. This may have been the first time she has ever spoken to Rose just one-on-one.

Katie couldn't help but roll her eyes, despite the step of trying to comfort her, it being awkward at best. The very first piece of advice that she has for her is to not cry since it'll run her makeup. What type of bullshit is that? Shouldn't she be getting consoled over here? Perhaps Rose just never had to deal with female tributes... or maybe she's never been in love. That couldn't be right, but Katie didn't want to psychoanalyze the response. She let herself lie back on the covers, curling up with the other pillow that she hadn't thrown. Least it wasn't an Avox who had been sent in to help wipe her face or console her. What good would it have done?

There Katie lay, for perhaps a good minutes as Rose would head to the bathroom to wet the towel or wring it out, doing the blush on her cheeks, marring away the eyeshadow, rubbing away the lipstick, and cleaning every pore in her face till none of the fake beauty was left. Afterwards, Rose sat down on the bed, simply placing one hand on Katie's forehead, rubbing her hair. Katie adjusted herself so her head was in the stylist's lap, her own gaze staring up at the ceiling, making pictures out of the designs etched into the plaster.

It was the most harmonious she had ever felt in quite some time, definitely the first time she had been calm and collected since being reaped.

With another passage of time, something itching in her brain, Katie looked at Rose with big eyes, eyes full of misunderstanding and confusion. "Rose, do you think Jonathan actually meant what he said?"

"If he likes you romantically or not?" Rose asked back, for clarification. The girl nodded, not answering. "I don't know, Katie. It isn't up to me, or even you, to decide who Jonathan actually cares for you. If he likes you, the better. If not, and it's someone else, guy or girl... I think you should try to live with that."

Katie curled up a bit more in her position. "If he meant what he said, and he doesn't like me... did he tell the truth to be hurtful?"

Rose shook her head in dissent. "No sweetie, I don't think that's why he said it. I think Jon had been on the spot. Louis did ask him quite point blank when he got up there what he felt... and then asked him again. Either way, you should let him come to you with an answer. Not one devised because Louis demanded one."

The girl from District 12 lifted her head up from Rose's breast, returning back to the headframe of the bed. "I hope you're right. If Jonathan said he didn't like me just to be hurtful... if you're wrong, if you aren't being honest with me... Jon is going to be in a heap of trouble."

"Trouble? Why trouble?" the stylist furrowed her eyebrows together. What's with the sudden animosity?

Although Katie's heart and mind told her that she didn't mean it, half her did, half her wanted to mean it, half of her wanted to understand and try picture what it would feel like to plunge a blade through his chest. "Because, if Jonathan's intent was going to humiliate me, I'm going to kill him."

"You don't mean that," Rose chided her.

"I do mean it," Katie snapped a glare in the woman's direction. No, she didn't fully mean it. "I mean it, and I will."

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

That was the sound of Lone, the male from District 6's, fingers against the tile countertop, his sister standing on the other side of him, rummaging through the fridge for a bottle of water. Neither had decided to change out of their Interview outfit, but it didn't mean either were in relaxation mode. Had Rachel decided to say something, Lone would've just ignored her, his mind warped in thinking. He's been thinking for the last half hour, and he wasn't planning on stopping soon.

As far as logistics go, tonight was a success. He made he and his sister's intentions known. The two were going to win together, kill everyone they could, and make a name for themselves. That had been what their parents had taught them at an early age. In such a society as the one as Panem, there was only one way to get yourself in the history books, and that was for making a name for yourself. The only way to do that, in the Districts, is win the Hunger Games. He and his sister were eighteen; this was the last year they were eligible for the Hunger Games, and since they were twins, they both came into the world together, they'd leave it together.

Their parents, knowing their kids' intentions, unable to have the ability to ever stop them from volunteering, made them promise not to do it until they were eighteen, the best prepared you could be, the strongest you could be. Turn yourself into a Career pack, getting tributes from outer districts to trust you, to bring them to glory, to make them feel as if they could succeed, and then wreck house. Hearing this Alliance Rule only brightened the picture; perhaps Lone could have his sister alongside him when he's crowned victor, now there could be victors.

Rachel closed the refrigerator door, having chosen a water bottle. Lone found it quite silly, all the water bottles in the fridge are exactly the same. She uncapped it, taking a long swig. "What's on your mind?"

"Just... thinking," he said.

"About our competition?"

"What competition?" Lone reiterated.

His sister smirked. "You're right. What competition?"

Lone traces a circle around one of the stones pressed into the countertop, starting to ignore his sister once again. He mulled over what he said to Lyon, the District 7 male, earlier, when that Career had punched the little girl in the side. 'I'd kill anyone who'd even think of touching my sister' had been his exact words, and he meant every syllable, to an extent. Before he had even heard of this Alliance Rule, which Louis just loved dropping, he had been hellbent on being the one to escape the games. The honorable thing to do, as the brother of the family, would to be let Rachel win, let her be crowned the victor of the 99th Hunger Games. Perhaps, back when he was younger, he might've stuck to agreeing with that decision, but times have changed.

Lone has changed.

He'd bury an axe into his sister's chest the moment the two were the last remaining in the arena if it meant him the crown. Should there be someone in between he and his sister, a single tribute, or a thousand other tributes... they'd all die before then, but Rachel would still fall, even as her own bloodied hands leave crimson handprints along his skin.

Why an axe?

His parents had asked them that very same question. Axes were more of a District 7 specialty, as stereotypical as that may have been. Lone liked an axe. It felt burly. Although a sword clearly was heavy depending on how hefty the weapon would be, if he was to match his sister's litheness and skill level, they'd need a weapon they could both share. It's their mission to share an identity. It wasn't Lone and Rachel you were afraid of in the Hunger Games. It was District 6 that you feared, and that's what he planned.

Axes were anomalies for weapons. They were like archery, but arrows could run out... break... but not an axe. Sure, he could miss, but that's why you'd always have multiple with you. Only an idiot carries a single weapon with them. Just because he and Rachel liked axes so much didn't mean they weren't trained somewhat in swordplay. He liked the sword, she more drawn towards the gladius.

After another lapse of thought, Lone stopped the tapping on the countertop.

"The Careers aren't going to be a threat this year."

"You sure about that?" Rachel raised an eyebrow. "They're always a threat."

"Not this year," he said again, pressing his lips together. "They can't seem to stop fighting himself. Even in the Career pack there's always a single standout above the others... and it looks like that foolish District One fellow could be it. However, his district partner and that girl from Two are right behind him. A simple power struggle. You can't be steady in a power struggle."

"And we rise above them?"

"We rise above them," Lone replied, with a flourish.

"How about Jonathan Crimson? The archer from Twelve." Rachel took another sip of her water bottle.

That was one of the only tributes Lone couldn't figure out, he and his district partner. "I can't read them very well. They're both skilled, clearly. He scored higher than both of us-"

"Does that bother you?" his sister interrupted him.

Lone's nose flared. You do not interrupt your inferior, you whelp. "No. And why should it? If he's going to die to our hands regardless, who cares what score he ended up receiving?" a shift of his arms, they were starting to fall asleep, "He seems to have anger issues... we do a good job at getting under his skin. His district partner made a fool of herself tonight, and it looks like he forced her to be at his throat. Perhaps we'll be lucky enough and they'll end each other for us. Two less bodies to kill."

Rachel finished her water bottle, each sip moreso a gulp that'd take a quarter of it with her. "We can do this Lone. We can win this."

"I know we can," he replied with earnest, grinning to himself. However, something was left unsaid, in this grand master plan of District 6, where an underdog, a district often forgotten about, still an underlying motive was unable to seen.

I can do this, Rachel, I can win the Hunger Games. Not you.

It's never been about you.

"Game on," he smirked.

"And may the odds be ever in your favor," Rachel mocked.

The two siblings from District 6 laughed, embracing a halo of halcyon light from the chandelier above, rushing to meet the glimmered daze and blowing dust.

The wind blew my hair across my face, but this time I didn't spit it out or fumble for the comb in my pocket. I hadn't returned to the apartment. No one was going to come looking for me, and honestly, I didn't care if someone did. It would've been for the best not to show my face to anyone. There wasn't enough energy left in me to withstand a scolding. I don't want one, my own mind is worse enough.

I screwed up, badly. I recognize this now, in my solitude. I currently was up on the roof of the training center, the only person up here, and that had been the surrounding environment for the last hour. I don't think anything I could do could make up for the heart break I caused Katie to endure, whether or not it was me telling what my heart had really felt. That didn't matter... I should've lied. Lying at least could save face, and then-

No, that wouldn't work. I'd have to tell my district partner the truth, that I didn't love her, that I didn't like her romantically... that we weren't going to be some Katniss and Peeta off-brand that all of our mentors and advisors thought we should emulate. Did they not remember how that ended? Both Katniss and Peeta were forced back into the 75th Hunger Games, the 3rd Quarter Quell. Katniss dies from blood loss after Johanna cuts out her tracker... Enobaria murders Johanna and Beetee, Brutus snaps Chaff's neck, and Peeta ends Brutus's long life as a Career. It's just between Finnick and Peeta, and neither can shoot arrows, and Peeta has still been unable to find Katniss's body. He does the math, and it doesn't matter what the trident-wielding District 4 victor can say that'll ease the pain. Peeta loses it and tries to kill Finnick, and the only way to end the rampage is Peeta's death, which is exactly what Finnick bestows him. A trident prong to the heart.

Would it be poetic for me to do die like that? I should just die at the Cornucopia and let one screw up be left from Panem. I hadn't ever had the time to sit here and ponder my feelings, to actually confront the possibility of me dying tomorrow or in the days to come. The arena could be anything nightmarish, or as normal as possible... I can't imagine all the possibilities. Part of me wanted to believe I could win, if this alliance I had created with all of these other tributes was going to happen. We hadn't had another meeting with all of us together, which made me wonder if we were going to have anyone's back besides on our own. If it was just Katie and I together, somehow, could I end her life...?

I looked away, as if some spot on the Capitol horizon was that very question my mind asked, and an answer I didn't want to see.

I wondered what my mother and Lucas were thinking, about all of this. With a pang, sweat beading down my face, I realized I hadn't thought about my family since getting on the train. They weren't even in my thoughts, since all I had in front of me, all day, everyday for the last five days straight was my presumably imminent death, there wasn't much time to reflect on anything else. Would they be proud of me? My heart said that they wouldn't be. I bet Bailey was aghast, right now, sitting out in the middle of the woods with her harmonica in her hands. To think that I would tell her - Katie, I mean - off on national television... I mean, Katie and Bailey were best friends, and you don't stab people like that in the back.

The wormhole of thought would've continued, stopping however when the sound of footsteps hit my ears. Someone else was up on the rooftop with me. The rooftop was quite tranquil, actually. Besides some strange humming and a strange flickering which I hadn't investigated, there were stone columns erected every few feet, and I was laying against one of the columns overlooking the water.

"Come to chew me out Katie? I'm ready for it..." I mumbled, sinking my head into the concrete slab.

"I'm sure Katie would love to talk to you, but it's not her. Actually, we just wanted to talk. All three of us," said Leema, the voice causing me to turn around.

I smiled, though perhaps that wasn't the best course of action. I don't know anymore. Leema, Lyon, and Colby were all standing in front of me, the two District 7 tributes dressed down from their Interview clothes in their training outfits, actually. Colby balanced on his crutches. "Well, it'll be my honor to be in the presence of such good tributes. I have the room." I scooted over to give them the available space. I didn't want them up here with me, but I wasn't going to reject the opportunity for company, to distract myself.

Lyon sat first, then Leema, and then Colby. It was the first time I actually heard him speak - Lyon, that is - where there was no conviction in his voice to sound pleased. "I can see you are in some distress over your words." Well, no brainer, idiot. I don't know how smart Lyon is... and I'm starting to think he's not the brightest lightbulb in the shed.

I nodded gravely. "Yeah," my voice hollow. "I feel stupid. You tell the truth and you get everyone mad at you."

The District 7 male gave me a reassuring pat on the back, his touch strange, jolting me into the column. "You shouldn't get yourself down. I mean, it is not as if Katie will kill you, just over your feelings. You don't believe that she'll hurt you... do you?"

Leema nodded. "Yeah, we are all in an alliance, aren't we? We will meet each other later after the Cornucopia and then just outlast everyone else." And, once again, it looks like Leema didn't really think through that leg of the plan either.

Colby shuddered. "You make it sound so, simple. We have to kill people, no matter how savage they are."

I looked at them. "I just hope I don't have a nightmare like I did the first night of training." I paused, looking down at my hands. "Or that I'll have one about Katie."

"What was your nightmare about when you first got here, if you don't mind me asking?" the crippled male from District 3 prodded, although gently.

I took a deep sigh. That following morning, Katie had mentioned to me that I was having a night terror, but even then the contents of said nightmare weren't exactly divulged; why would I open up to these people that I hardly knew anything about? I told them, regardless, something deep down compelling me to dos. Tt was hard to do so, perhaps the hardest thing I had ever done in my life, actually, when it came to expressing emotions and sincerity.

Lyon leaned back when I was finished. "It's as if you developed a new fear for Lone, once you outshone him during the opening ceremonies."

"Or that he'll kill us all," I mumbled.

"We're here to protect you." Lyon didn't sound so sure of that.

Leema gave a cough. "Perhaps your nightmare didn't mean anything at all. What if you're just projecting?"

"Projecting?" I frowned.

"Y'know," Colby grunted, not actually having sat, balancing on his crutches. "When you try to make someone else feel a certain emotion due to extenuating circumstances. Perhaps your mind was projecting just a fear of Lone and dying by his hand, when you aren't actually scared of him."

"And if it's something real?"

"Then you deal with it," Leema said.

Colby, in an exertion that must've winded him, lowered himself to the ground, hands still gripping the crutches as firmly as possible. None of us said anything, as he shifted and sat, my gaze still directed out at the lit Capitol night. It was gorgeous, a mishmash of halcyons and amaranthines and blaring crimsons, the noise of Capitol denizens milling about at one last bar, getting in a final drink before witnessing the bloodbath tomorrow. Could I stay in this moment forever?

It seemed our fellow cripple mirrored my thoughts.

"It is so pretty out tonight. I wish we could just stay here in this moment forever..." It seemed as if no one had a snide comment to say then.

I don't remember the rest of the night all too well. Only a few more minutes had passed between Leema, Lyon, Colby, and I before the District 7 pair left. I helped Colby to the elevator, remaining by myself for a good few more minutes. Once the elevator seemed to have returned back up to the rooftop floor, I made my way back to the apartment, a short ride given our proximity.

I had gone to bed at... I want to say midnight, but I could be mistaken. When I stepped into the apartment, I sort of expected our advisors or Katie to ambush me and demand where I had been, but nothing of the sort occurred. Georgia and Henry were passed out on the couch, each one holding a drink, turned into themselves whilst facing the television. Perhaps they were watching reruns of the interviews... to see where we went wrong. I smiled at how silly they were... and how sweet it seemed. Could I have that with someone, perhaps? I opened my bedroom door, Katie's dead quiet; she must've already fallen asleep. I let myself rest against the closed door for a moment, inhaling, exhaling, inhaling and exhaling again, before finally taking my clothes in a fist, peeling my suit off my body, throwing it on an Avox who had fallen asleep in the corner of the room. The Avox was laying in a chair, not uttering a sound, but definitely sleeping. The force of my clothes hitting them in the face caused her to snap awake. Then, pulling the sheets back, climbing under the covers, I turned the light off and my head hit the pillows where I could rest. I was asleep in minutes, and luckily there were no nightmares. For once, since getting reaped, my mind wasn't tormented like the usual. There was a still image in my mind, etched into memory. It was just a picture. It was where Colby, Leema, Lyon, and I were sitting on the roof, overlooking the Capitol night sky, a paradise entrapped in a six by six foot frame that was the eternal spot of my mind. The moon was shining and the city life glowing on the streets below... a technological heaven, where the blackness laid underneath. That place is where I wanted to stay in forever and watch the beauty unfold, to forget about the rest.

That picture wasn't going to last, however. Tomorrow there would be screams in the arena, sobbing in the districts, and blood pouring from the sky as the hellish Hunger Games began. All at the start of a ticking time-clock, which mandated all of our movements; one misstep and I would be blown sky high.

Morning came too fast... I could only sleep, but even then, when I awoke, I still felt tired. I was aroused by Rose later that morning, about nine o' clock or so. The wind was bitter and cold, frost etched on the windows, the AC set at a chilling temperature I asked Rose where Katie was, since usually the two of us would be woken up together. She had been woken up ten minutes earlier, by Rev, who escorted her to our location of interest... wherever that would be. A gust of wind passed over my exposed arms, causing me to shiver. Would I need a jacket? Rose simply laughed and said I wasn't going to need one. We were going to a place much warmer, apparently, and that didn't ease my nerves. That most definitely heightened them.

There was a helicopter standing still on a helipad, blades whirring and chirping. I stopped in my tracks, momentarily, when I saw it. Everyone called it 'The Slaughterhouse', since we were panned up with- with all of the other twenty-three tributes sitting around you. All of your enemies. All of your friends. All the tributes you hoped would not get in your way... yet somehow they would, like always. I got the magic luck of sitting next to Katie on my left and Lone on my right, Thatcher directly in front of me, Arman to his left, and Leema to his right. A threatening circle of destruction. I was totally unsure of who to talk to... each spot probably meant certain death.

After we had been given the clear to take off, lights coming on in the cockpit, Katie nudged me, somewhat rougher than I anticipated.

"What?" I snapped, once again out of line. Her behavior shocked me, I hadn't expected it.

"I'm sorry," she responded. "I'm sorry for my behavior last night. I didn't expect myself to lose my composure in front of everyone..." Katie apologized. "I meant what I said, but-"

I don't want to confront this issue now, so instead I grabbed Katie's wrist, pressing a finger into the indention in her wrist, a pressure point, a blood vessel... just an area where I could get her attention. "Katie, listen to me. What happened last night doesn't matter right now," I licked my lips. "However, I need you to grab a weapon at the Cornucopia and then get out of there, no matter what else you see. Take something quick, and go. I'll make sure to pass the message along, to it that Ramon and Felice get something that betters our position. When the coast is clear, I'll join up with you later."

Katie nodded at my advice, going to respond, when all the windows in the helicopter turned black; we must have been near the arena. I was told that was a common sign that the end was near. My district partner breathed heavily. "Oh shit... here we go."

Here we go indeed. Why does launching have to be one of the worst feelings in the world?

Another few minutes passed, but Katie and I didn't speak to each other. It wouldn't be right to draw up battle plans together with enemies surrounding us on all sides. When the helicopter landed, noted by the decrease in speed and the sound of the helicopter's blades coming to a stop, a heavy army hoisted me up and out of my seat. The arm belonged to the pure white coat of paint of a Peacekeeper, the Capitol's great ole police task force. It was this same Peacekeeper that marched me over to a door adjacently off the airplane that said 'Jonathan' on a golden plaque. When I opened it - or rather the Peacekeeper had opened it for me - there was Rose, my wonderful stylist, holding a jacket out in my direction. Wrapped around her opposite hand was something that caused me to choke on my happiness. Clutched in her hand was my token. It must've come off sometime between the train ride and opening ceremony... that little wooden bow Bailey had made me to signify our friendship. In such a rush... I hadn't even noticed I no longer had it with me. Where did Rose find it?

I ran to her in comfort, and she hugged me tightly.

She slipped my bow charm over my neck when we retracted. "Don't lose this, Jonathan. Whatever you do don't lose this," and then, there was a labored pause. "And don't lose her either. Your token or Katie..."

"I know," I said. "I know."

"Her and I talked a bit. I think she's forgiven you, but..." another pause. "Just, be careful with her. You're going to need her if you wish to survive. She's your district partner and your hers. You guys can't function well apart."

I gave Rose another hug. "You're the best." Somehow, my stylist did what I was unable to do, and even then, it seemed to be a Band-Aid... not a permanent solution. Did Katie forgive me? Was in good terms with her? Over the last twenty-four hours, she had to have screamed at me at least six or seven times, cried at me twice, forgiven me, admitted she loved me... and now I was supposed to enter the Hunger Games with this on my mind?

"Don't mention it kid. It's my job to make you the best you can be." Rose smiled, squeezing my arm; one last affectionate action.

I opened my mouth to say something else, when, placed above us were two speakers that crackled alive with static. An animatronics voice blared from the speaker above us, drowning out all other noise. It repeated its message twice. "All tributes to the launching platform. All tributes prepare for the launching."

I looked at Rose, who nodded at me. This was it. Holy shit. Holy hell. This was really happening. "I will see you on the other side Rose, I promise..." I meant that.

Then, proudly - or as proud as I could try to be in the face of my fear of dying - I stepped onto the metal plate. The tube closed around me, a feeling of claustrophobia overwhelming my senses. Something beneath me shifted, and then the feeling in my feet began to lift upwards. I felt it rise, the metal plate, the last glimpse of the known world gone, vanishing behind the concrete wall.

The last semblance of normality was Rose waving goodbye, still dressed in her kimono, and the thought of Katie lingering in my mind. Now, when I see her, it's going to be try and save her life, no matter how we might feel about each other. It didn't matter who liked who or who loved what, or even why. It was survival. It was all about survival.

Now, let the Games really begin.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick, tock.

Boom.

And so Jonathan and Katie are off to the races... the 99th Hunger Games has begun. The bloodbath awaits... is any major character going down?