AN: Just warning everyone, this fic moves somewhat M-rated for a bit in this chapter.

Percy didn't think that he had to be a genius or whatever like Annabeth to realize that she was hurt. Badly. She held her left arm off to the side and avoided moving it like it was hurting her. She was pale, her skin sallow, sweaty. Still, he admired how she was trying to stay strong and how she hadn't complained yet.

"Do you have family?" He asked her, trying yet again to start a conversation.

Annabeth shrugged. She was shaking. "Let's sit down," Percy suggested. They had been trying to find their way back to the Cornucopia from what Annabeth could remember about different sections of the Arena, but Percy had a feeling that it was futile. He hated that feeling. Annabeth had suggested that there might be something at the Cornucopia—medicine, Percy assumed. But it could take a long time to get back. Annabeth could be dead by then! What if she died? Percy cursed District 3's mentors. Why weren't they sending anything?

And when Percy got scared, he started talking. "I have family," he started, and then stopped. He was getting irrationally afraid of offending Annabeth. But she nodded. Percy went on. "My dad is a—P.E. teacher." Delphin's advice—"Don't tell anyone about training, you idiot!"—had popped back into his mind. Scrambling, Percy tried to come up with more lies to cover his tracks while still telling Annabeth the truth. "Um…I'm not sure if you have P.E. in your district, but that's where everyone goes outside and runs around and stuff."

Annabeth laughed. Actually laughed. For some reason, Percy's heart soared. "We don't have much in Three for school other than, like, school, and stuff," she said.

"Oh. What's your school like?"

Annabeth shrugged, swallowing hard. "It's easy. All about technology. We get the history of Panem every Friday. We study the Games a bit."

"Us too." Percy could name every Victor from 4, not to mention ever 4 tribute who had made it to the final 6. It would be easier in 3, right, since they didn't have as many Victors? Let alone tributes in the Final 8. They were cannon fodder—

What was he thinking?! This was Annabeth's district! This is what she had meant when she asked him to prove her wrong. She wanted him not to be some guy from 4 who killed and thought of her and her home as the cannon fodder, the background characters in their story. And he was no different!

I'm sorry, Tyson, he though. I'm not the big brother that you thought I was. I'm sorry, Mom. You taught me. I just wasn't learning. I'm sorry, Annabeth.

He was no different.

XXXXX

This dead end was different.

It was a room not too different from the place where she had destroyed the stone creature, a place not too different from where Katie had revealed her true colors as a traitor. Where Zoe herself had left Annabeth behind. But there were pillars, too, seemingly holding the room up. The ceiling was high above her, and—were those stars? Was this where the Arena ended?

Zoe allowed the prospect to excite her. Stars, the outdoors—that was where she belonged. Not in such a closed, artificial environment. She was a huntress, and archer. Powerful. Uncontainable. A survivor, despite the despicable people who had tried to destroy her in her life. Zoe's shoulders sagged. Suddenly, the events in her life, the weight of the world, seemed like a larger thing, not just something that she could cast off and grow stronger over.

Zoe had to see the stars.

No. That was idiotic. She had to try and find her way out of this portion of the Arena. If she could see the rest of the labyrinth that they were in from a top view, it could be extremely helpful—or at least, slightly helpful. Zoe had a feeling that the Arena was shifting around her.

Zoe made her way to the nearest column and gingerly placed her hands on it. She pushed a bit. It held, seeming solid, like true rock. Zoe took a piece of rope from her backpack and wrapped it around the column, holding one scratchy end in each hand. Slowly, she pushed herself up. Step by step. The solidness of the stone under her shoes was comforting. Her face, though, was pressed against the cold, rough, rock. Her hands were burning.

But she was going to see the stars.

And then, about halfway up, something changed.

The rock gave a rumble. Another column, maybe five away from where Zoe was, began tumbling down…and then her own column was shaking and desperately, Zoe threw here feet into the open air, trusting the rope and her own arm strength to carry her down safely. For a few feet, it worked. But it was not enough.

Would it ever be enough?

Zoe's left arm screamed out, and Zoe instinctively let go—had she pulled something?! Broken something?! How had she let herself be so stupid?—and then the rope, as if in slow motion, whipped off of the column and she was falling…

No, no, no!

Zoe Nightshade was not going to die like this!

Zoe pulled her body into a summersault and hit the ground running, tears flying out of her eyes with the pain of her arm, the exertion, and the speed at which she had been falling. Adrenaline alone kept her on her feet. The seemingly-solid walls of the room, made out of stone blocks, were caving it. Zoe ran for her life.

She felt the shadow of a huge piece of debris and flung herself out of the way, screaming out loud as she rolled on her injured arm. Zoe used her right arm to shove herself up, twisting her body to avoid the next falling rock, which nevertheless sent up a shock of dust, blinding her. Zoe forced herself to keep moving, trusting her instincts to carry her in the direction of the door. An ominous noise from above, and Zoe careened off in another direction. The door seemed a bit closer.

Zoe was ten years old as her father, Atlas Nightshade sneered down at her. "You helped him."

"I did." Zoe's voice remained strong, unbroken, despite her meager age of 10.

"YOU STUPID BITCH!" Atlas swung at her, hitting her across the cheek with a closed fist. Zoe fell. Atlas punched again. Zoe forced herself to think through the pain. Would one of her sister help her? Please, let them help her…

"You betrayed us! You helped that fucking boy steal apples from our trees! We eat those! We sell them! Those are our livelihood! How dare you?!" Zoe's father roared. Zoe thought of the boy she had help, trying to draw strength from him. He had been starving. He had needed the food.

"You are a Nightshade! You do not associate with scum!" Zoe refused to cry.

"Get out." Atlas's voice was scalding, and at the same time burning with cold. His entire body shook with rage.

"Father…"

"Get out!"

His daughter fled.

Wiping the dust from her eyes, Zoe tumbled across the floor, ever muscle in her body aching. Zoe took a moment to rest, forcing her body to take in the gasps of dusty air. She had to survive. She had to. Perhaps she had never meant to come home, but she would not allow herself to die in such an undignified manner! She was a—

What? A Nightshade?

She had stopped being part of that family a long time ago.

Choking on dust, breathe Zoe breathe—

Zoe was ten when she begged the boy she had given the apples to help her. His gaze as he looked at her was cold and unfeeling, and at the same time made her feel hot with shame. "No."

A girl? A woman? But that meant that she was strong, and Zoe felt so weak—

A tribute? A Victor?

A huntress?

Zoe was twelve when she starts up a conversation with the girl next to her at the District 12 Reaping. "I don't get it," she confided.

The girl looked afraid, and was almost edging away. "What?"

"Why do they go?"

"It's the Reaping, stupid."

"But why doesn't anyone volunteer?"

The girl's expression is incredulous. "Why would they? They don't wanna die!"

Zoe almost let a smile break across her face. Almost. Because she wanted to save someone from death, she wanted to prove that she was not useless, she wanted to be strong and somehow, being up there would prove that. "I'm gonna volunteer."

Zoe forced herself up, making herself tune out all of the noise and destruction in the background, instead making a mad dash for the door.

But the next rock Zoe did not see.

It crashed into her, and another, and another.

Zoe was fourteen when the men came out of the darkness. After two years on the streets, Zoe knew enough to be afraid. She also knew enough not to show it. "Let me by."

"I don't think so." The voice was dark, menacing, and filled Zoe with complete terror but also the want to fight.

But then they were upon her and it was all fear and Zoe didn't understand what was happening and why they were doing this to her, but—

No.

She was strong.

She would not allow herself to be defeated by these pigs, these men, who waited in alleyways for innocent women like her—

And all it took was her getting her hands on one of their knives and then she was leaving, alone, with some more blood on her hands.

It was dark. And it blocked most of the noise, the rocky prison that Zoe was trapped in. And it hurt. Everything hurt. Zoe hated this kind of confined dark. She could not let herself die like this! She couldn't!

Right hand, right arm. Strength from being in the woods and making a living there. The will to live. Pure, raw, power.

Zoe pushed.

And the rocks moved.

And Zoe stood, bruised and bloody but alive and as she headed for the door, she realized that she did not want to die.

She was a survivor.

XXXXX

The eyes blinked. Jason blurted out a scream, holding his sword at the ready, swinging wildly because he was not ready to die, not yet! But somehow, his blade was blocked, and his assailant stepped out of the shadows. The sunstones in the wall seemed to get brighter. Of course. The Gamemakers were trying to set the stage for a nice battle. Who was he going to face off against?

Of course. Piper's district partner. Ethan.

"We don't have to fight," Jason said, worried that it was completely useless. There was something in Ethan's eyes, something that convinced Jason that the boy in front of him had gone of the rails completely.

"Why not?" Ethan's voice was shrill, desperate. "So you can kill me when I turn around?"

"No! We can live to fight another day. We each just back away in our own direction." But weren't Percy and Annabeth back that way? There was no safe path!

"You'll kill me! You're all trying to kill me! But you can't! I know your type." There was something in Ethan's eyes, more than unhinged. Something like bloodlust. "I'll kill you first!" Ethan swung.

Jason blocked it, the light shining off of his sword and making it glow like the sun that rose in 5 on clear days, when the wind blew the smog away. Jason tried to take heart in it as he parried the next forceful blow, and the next. Ethan was panicking, that much was obvious. Jason had the advantage because of that. He had the power to remain calm, and as long as he stayed clear-minded, he should be able to take Ethan easily. Ethan thrusted, and Jason made his sword almost perpendicular to the ground as he swung it and knocked Ethan's blow out of the way. Ethan's next swing wasn't as powerful, but all of his bodily momentum was behind it. Jason knocked him back, surprised at the force that he had behind his own parry. He advanced on Ethan now, going on the offensive. Ethan began wildly swinging in front of himself, barely blocking anything.

Jason made a final thrust, scraping Ethan's side, and drew away with blood on his blade. The sight of it made him dizzy. Ethan didn't seem to affected by it, but threw his knife at Jason.

The blade hit him in the stomach. Jason stumbled back, winded, but a soaring sensation was going through him, because Ethan had missed! Or rather, it was the hilt, and not the blade of Ethan's knife that had struck him. Feeling bruised, Jason still moved forward. Ethan was on the ground. Jason raised his sword. He had won!

Except.

Except. Ethan had gotten a 7 and Jason had gotten a 5 and he hadn't thought much of it at the moment, but it was obvious that there was serious difference in how skilled they were at fighting.

Except. Jason was not ready to kill Ethan, to kill anyone, and Ethan was, and that made all the difference in the end because Jason's single moment of hesitation while bringing down his sword was enough for Ethan to spring to his feet and to tackle Jason, screaming as Jason's blade hit him, but nonetheless diverting the sword to the side and wrapping his hands around Jason's throat.

Desperately now, Jason tried to move his sword, to kill, to survive, to live! But it was useless! Jason gasped, not bringing in any air even though his mouth moved open and shut like a fish. His vision was darkening. He couldn't…he couldn't…

The hands were there and there was too much…

Thalia, Jason tried to mouth.

Something new came into his blackened vision with each tired blink. His mother. Jason tried to will her away. He didn't want her here, in his last moments.

There were new faces swimming at the edge of his vision. Piper…Leo…

Thalia, Jason tried. Thalia.

XXXXX

"And here we are," Clarisse snapped, back in the Cornucopia room. She thought that she could spot bloodstains on the ground, but the golden horn was still full of supplies and weapons. Good. One of the outliers couldn't go and get their hands on any of her bounty.

"Good," Reyna said.

"Did you think we wouldn't make it back, Princess?"

"I think that we should thank the Capitol for allowing us to come back unhindered."

Clarisse grunted. Maybe there was wisdom in trying to keep the Capitol on their side. Maybe. And maybe Princess was a presumptuous suck-up who Clarisse needed to kill, and soon.

"We're not breaking the alliance," Reyna said bluntly. Clarisse looked at her in alarm, hand on her spear. Had Princess just read her thoughts, or something? But Princess continued. "I don't hate to admit that you're a good ally. You're strong. Smart. There are other threats on there, and I don't fancy going up against an outlier alone. I know that I can beat them, but I think that we're safer together. Not to mention, we don't break our alliances on the fourth day. Code of honor."

"Honor," Clarisse agreed. Now there was something that she could actually get herself behind. "So, what now?"

Princess winced. Clarisse felt a mean sense of satisfaction, and relief, really, that she was hurt. If Clarisse needed to take Princess out, it would be much easier if the girl was injured. Still, honor. Clarisse had to remember that if she wanted to make her father proud.

A cannon fired.

Reyna sighed. "Another dead, and not by our hands. Who else dangerous is left?"

"Jackson. Bobofit. Nakamura, maybe. A few other shady-seeming ones."

"Alright. We wait here to see the dead listing. We hunt again tomorrow."

XXXXX

The cannon fired. Ethan kept his hands wrapped around the throat of the blonde boy with the glasses. Jason was still alive! He was just faking! Ethan had to make sure he wasn't! Carefully, Ethan scooted his blade closer to him and slit Jason's throat.

No new cannons. Was Jason still, miraculously, resisting death? What if a Gamemaker was helping him by not firing his cannon? Ethan had to get away! They were coming for him! They all were! The first boy, Castor, the first body in these Games that Ethan had found himself standing over. Annabeth, who was still alive—was his poison not working? What was going on? She would kill him! They all would!

He had to kill them first!

XXXXX

Nico had been digressing ever since Hazel had left with Frank. He hadn't said anything, and that was what scared Will the most. He just knew that Nico was stewing in his anger, in his feelings of betrayal. Did Will feel betrayed? Sure. Almost worse was the fact that Hazel and Frank were a threat, and no longer part of their group. But Will was trying to let it go. Hazel deserved happiness in her last few days.

Last few days? Did I really think that?

Then again, was it such a bad thing to think? As things stood now, ten of them in the Arena were going to die in the next few days. If Will was going to be bitter towards anyone for trying to be happy or maybe to live longer, then it shouldn't be Hazel.

(Austin, maybe, but no, Will was happy that his brother wasn't here, glad that it was him because he loved Austin too much to let him die.)

Will was getting very worried about Nico, though. It was obvious that he was getting angry, bitter. Will had no idea why his ally had volunteered for this, but whatever the reason, it was haunting him. Driving him insane. Will had to stop Nico, let him let go of his anger. He was afraid for the boy.

Nico tried to look anywhere but at Will as the pair sat in the hallway. Will was still getting over his stomach wound. Nico was trying to use that time to think about…things, but it was hard. Partly because he felt so exposed and vulnerable. They were sitting ducks! They needed a more defensible position.

In addition to that, a cannon earlier meant that there were only 11 of them left. One of those was Zoe. When Nico told himself, I need to kill Zoe, it came to him that he might have sounded crazy. But it wasn't completely insane. He had come into the Arena to kill Zoe. He needed to confront her about what she'd done before she died. Time was running out.

And that conclusion was without even considering the beautifully complicated blond boy that he had allied himself with.

XXXXX

It felt natural to have his hand in Hazel's. It felt right.

It felt dangerous.

The two of them had walked away from Hazel's former allies in silence. They had left the padded hallway and traveled through a dark corridor lit by sunstones that made Frank worried, and finally into a hexagonal hallway made completely out of wood—teak, maybe, like the kind that Hazel's mother had. That was when they had run into the threat. The vaguely humanoid golden robot in front of them made Frank's hair and teeth stand on edge. There was something creepy about it.

It could also probably kill them. Hazel raised her hard-earned sword, but Frank all too aware of the fact that he was weaponless. Suddenly, a slot in the wall opened, and something fell out.

A shield!

Shen and Hecuba, their mentors, must have spent all of their sponsor money on that. Where had they gotten the money for it? Blood rose to Frank's cheeks as he realized that everyone in the world had watched him kiss Hazel for the first time. Had any of the money been a result of that? The idea scared him.

Frank picked up the shield. It seemed to be bronze. Cold. There was a piece of fabric on the back that he could slip his arm into. "Do you think—"

But like Frank's voice had broken some spell, the robot charged them.

17 years of living in District 10 saved them. They knew the drill when it came to charging horses, and instinctively, each of them dove to one side. The hexagon shape of the hallway made Frank lean back against the wood, struggling for traction to get back up. If only I had a bow, Frank thought. We need a distance weapon!

The robot had thick arms and legs and a thick body. Frank couldn't tell where the head was. It turned back around, charging Hazel, who stepped forward and swung at it. Frank opened his mouth, but he wasn't able to scream. He had never felt so useless! He had to help Hazel.

So he charged the robot. He launched himself up, grabbing onto the thing's back, slipping the shield onto his arm, smashing it against the robot's head.

"Move!" Hazel screamed at him. Frank brought his legs around to the thing's back, trying to move upwards, and Hazel stabbed the robot's torso. Frank couldn't see much effect. Moving higher, he banged his head against the ceiling. Gritting his teeth, Frank bashed his shield into the robot.

Again.

And again.

And again, until it fell, Frank with it. Frank hit the ground next to the monster feeling bruised but very, very alive. Are you happy now, Grandmother? he thought to himself.

And then things faded out. The last thing that Frank saw was Hazel's worried face.

XXXXX

So Nancy was dead then.

Reyna watched the redheaded girl's face shine on the high ceiling of the Cornucopia room and wondered when she and Clarisse were going to break the alliance.

And knew that if it was any time soon, she had the disadvantage.

XXXXX

Jason's face came onto the wooden sky, and maybe it was stupid, but Annabeth had never felt so guilty. Well, probably not.

But if she hadn't let Percy force him away, then maybe he still would have been alive.

"I have brothers," Annabeth finally volunteered to her ally.

Percy looked at her, interest in his green eyes. "Yeah?"

"Half-brothers, actually."

"What are their names?"

Annabeth took a breath. Let it out. "Bobby and Matthew."

XXXXX

The third death of the day was apparently Grover. Katie had never interacted with him, but it was still strange to see another one of her competitors dead. He had been older than her. He had a girlfriend.

1 gone. 5 gone. 7 gone.

At her death, 11 would be gone too.

XXXXX

Hazel was pretty sure that the only damage that Frank had done to himself from falling about eight feet was knocking himself out. His face was kind of bruised, and probably so was the rest of him, but…well, he was alive.

So Hazel was relieved when he woke up. He did so just as the last face came onto the sky. "I killed him," Frank said.

A shock ran through her, and Hazel's heart started beating faster even thought she knew that this was Frank, Frank could was kind and would never hurt anybody. Was he lying? Delirious?

"I'm sorry," Frank muttered.

Hazel kissed him.

And wondered who he was apologizing to.

Tributes:

D2: Reyna Ramirez-Arellano
D3: Annabeth Chase
D4: Percy Jackson; Clarisse La Rue
D8: Ethan Nakamura
D9: Will Solace
D10: Frank Zhang; Hazel Levesque
D11: Katie Gardner
D12: Nico di Angelo; Zoe Nightshade

Ahem. It's come to my attention that since I'm killing off my favorite characters, I should probably write eulogies or something. Since this chapter has already gone on too long, I'll write the rest of the ones I haven't yet next chapter. Feel free not to read them, but for closure, I need to write this.

JASON: Jason has never been one of my favorite canon characters. I feel like we never really learned much about his character, just his powers. Still, while writing this, I felt like I was actually managing to turn him into a real person. I know that my writing from his POV was rather bland, but it was a joy trying to have him develop as a person. I knew that he was never going to be a winner, but it hurt to kill him. RIP.

ELLA: Ella was a harpy. And that made it really interesting to change her into a fully mortal Tribute. In the end, I made her have physically and emotionally abusive older sisters, although I don't think that really came out in the narrative as much as her amazing memory did. I really loved writing her perspective. Her sentence structure and her use of the third person was just…awesome to do, and she was one of my favorite characters. I wanted to keep her alive, I really did. Sadly, I had to be logical. Ella was the youngest Tribute, and one of the lowest scoring ones. She had to die. RIP, Ella.

CASTOR: Castor was…interesting. I say this because we have heard all of two sentences about him in canon. This was great, because I could do whatever I wanted with him. It was also terrible, because with so many dynamic characters, especially ones that had the spotlight in canon, there was no way for him to get the time that he needed to shine. I gave him a simple backstory, and I knew that he would die from the time I started writing the outline of the Bloodbath chapter. I feel as though people at home and his killer will honestly be more affected by his death than his life. RIP, Castor. Sorry.