Someone was following her.

Zoe quickened her pace, though she was not sure of where she was going. She had new determination, yes. Two cannons had fired in the space between the last Anthem and now, and Zoe was not keen to face the unknown so quickly. Still, Zoe knew that she could not let her common sense be overshadowed by the simple need for survival. That would make her illogical, easy to kill. She had to have a goal.

Didn't she have one? Get home?

Why had she done this in the first place?

Zoe was fifteen when she killed for the first time.

She had long been accustomed to wandering the streets. The matron at the orphanage knew her and didn't object when she dropped in for food every month or so. Still, Zoe spent most of her time on patrol.

Tonight, it was men in the alley roughing up a woman who couldn't have been older than Zoe herself. Zoe didn't bother to wonder what the woman had done. Men had no logic, no ability to think beyond themselves and see who they were hurting. The woman was not at fault here.

Zoe carefully raised her bow and shot one of the men in the throat. A quick death. Clean. But the others looked up and saw her on the rooftop. In her more frivolous, childish moments, Zoe imagined how she must have looked and liked to imagine herself as a hero, silhouette dark in the moonlight. The men ran away. Zoe dropped down to the woman.

"Your name?"

"B-Britomartis."

Zoe nodded, internally cringing at the ridiculous names that the Merchants gave their children, finally letting herself wonder at Britomartis's story.

"I can help you."

"Who says that I need help?" Britomartis's eyes were afraid. "Y-You just killed a guy. I could turn you in."

"But you won't."

"W-Who says?"

"I say. You understand the sanctity of the bond between women."

Britomartis didn't speak.

"I'm starting a group," Zoe said, feeling vulnerable. "A gang of sorts. We'll keep people safe from this sort of thing."

Britomartis slowly nodded.

Zoe missed her group. It had felt like having a family, almost, though Zoe could barely remember what a family truly was. Hers certainly hadn't been the best example. But Britomartis (thrown out by her family after having an affair with a Seam boy), Sipriotes (ran away from an abusive family), Nymph (an orphan), and so many other had become close-knit. Friends. Family.

Bianca, too.

Zoe forced that though from her mind. She knew that Nico probably had volunteered because of that and did not want to face that reality until she absolutely had to. Zoe considered herself above guilt. Everything that she did was calculated and always for some kind of good reason. But Bianca…Zoe had slipped up there. Gone too far, perhaps. Bianca, she regretted.

XXXXX

Jackson had a lot of nerve.

Constantly showing people up during training. Leaving a trail of sarcasm and broken bones in his wake. Leaving the Careers with a district rat.

Clarisse didn't like it. By all rights, she should hate the punk. She had every reason. Everyone back home would understand. Still, she didn't want to kill her district partner. There wasn't any affection between them, duh. But she didn't necessarily want him dead, either.

Maybe because he deserved better than this, better than being killed on the sixth day by the people who should've been his allies. He had trained for years.

Then again, so had she. And she hadn't been trained for weakness.

Reyna's stomach wasn't hurting too badly anymore. She had immediately assessed the corridor. There was a body behind Percy. An eyepatch on the ground told her that it was Ethan Nakamura. That left one cannon unaccounted for, but then again, hadn't Percy had an ally? Annabeth Chase, District 3. It could have been hers.

Either way, Ethan was a threat. So was Percy. It would make Reyna's job easier if they could kill Percy now. They could do it, as long as Clarisse stayed strong. District 4 was stronger than Reyna had anticipated, and Reyna almost trusted her (but she wasn't stupid enough to actually do so). But if Clarisse hesitated, or if Reyna's stomach hurt too much…

Percy's voice was brittle. Percy didn't have the energy to wince at it or worry about coming off as strong. Annabeth was dead, and he had just killed somebody. "Well, then."

"Jackson." Clarisse's voice was rough, and Clarisse hoped that it was unforgiving. She had to be strong. She was what District 4 was placing their hopes on now.

(Not if Percy rejoined them, but that was stupid—)

"Get your sword," Reyna said.

Clarisse was almost grateful. She didn't want to have to kill Jackson in an unfair battle. Something about that just didn't seem right.

Percy held up his sword. "You're going to kill me, then?"

"These are the Hunger Games. If you weren't prepared to understand that, then you shouldn't have volunteered."

"If you really believe that, then you're the idiot here."

Clarisse wanted to yell at Jackson for insulting Princess. She wanted to defend Jackson, defend 4. But she didn't do anything. She couldn't. It was like she was glued to the ground. Clarisse wanted to close her eyes and take a minute to regroup herself.

She couldn't though, these were the Games and she couldn't leave herself open, vulnerable, because she was not stupid despite what everyone thought—

"Whatever makes this easy for you, District 4."

Clarisse didn't like the way that Reyna called Jackson District 4. You only referred to non-Careers by their District number—oh.

Princess's stance was a bit off, though. Clarisse knew her stomach must still have been hurting her. Clarisse drew her spear, ready to back up Reyna. Part of her wanted to take out Reyna now and then move on to Jackson—kill him or leave him, whichever was easier—

"Is killing kids easy for you, Reyna?"

Clarisse resented that, though. Sure, she had killed District 3 last time she and Percy had been in the same room. But he was just a district rat. He hadn't trained. He didn't understand how important the Games were.

Chris. Sherman. Dad. Mom.

Clarisse let herself remember all the people watching her at home. She couldn't prove herself to be weak. She couldn't let herself die. Dad had always said that Sherman, his son, should have been the one to go into the Games. Well, she was here now. She was in the final 9. Soon to be final 8.

"I am not killing kids, as you so effectively put it, Percy Jackson. I'm simply doing my duty."

"Well," Percy said, and his voice cracked and there was something in it that Clarisse couldn't put her finger on, "then you're insane."

"I think that you're the crazy one if you thought you should run away from our alliance. You could have made it far."

Clarisse wanted to say something. Join us, she wanted to tell Jackson. I don't want to kill you. At the same time, she wanted to tell Reyna to kill him. He's a traitor. He doesn't deserve your mercy. Let me kill him instead.

Her voice didn't seem to be working.

"You'll have to make the first move," Jackson told Reyna.

"If you wish," Reyna replied.

"I want Clarisse to say that she's okay with killing me first," Jackson said.

Clarisse reddened. She hated being called out by anyone. She hated Percy Jackson, that much she was sure of. But she didn't want her district partner to die yet.

She just didn't want to have to kill him…

Reyna made the choice for her.

She made the first swing with her knife, getting too close to Jackson for Clarisse's comfort. She didn't want Reyna to die, either. She'd choose Reyna over her district partner in a heartbeat. And that was really the choice to be made, wasn't it? One or the other.

Kill them both, a voice in the back of her mind told her. They're the threats. You could end them both here and call it revenge. No one would blame you.

And yet Clarisse still stood still, a spectator to the most important fight in her life.

"You don't have to do this," Chris told her. "You shouldn't volunteer. We can be happy."

"I can't," Clarisse said gruffly.

"Is this about your father again? I swear, I will kill him if you want me to."

"You're an idiot, then."

"Why?"

"He'll kill you first."

"It'll be worth it if it gets you away from there."

Clarisse looked away from him, almost wanting to cry, even though she was stronger than anyone else in District 4 (of course she was, she had to be). Didn't he understand? She had to win the Games. There wasn't any other way that people would respect her.

Percy blocked, but instead of stabbing at Reyna, he went back into a defensive position, almost like he was refusing to go onto the offensive. Why? Did he think that he could force the mantle of antagonist on to Clarisse or Reyna? Reyna seemed to notice this too. "Do you want to die, Percy?"

This seemed to strike a chord in the punk, and Clarisse remembered that he had a brother too. But while Clarisse tolerated 20-year-old Sherman, Percy seemed to dote on his little brother. Finally, he struck a blow at Reyna. Reyna caught the thrust on the handle of her knife in a move that even Clarisse was impressed—and a little scared—by. She flicked downwards, forcing Percy's blade down, and stabbing Percy in the undefended space in his shoulder.

Percy screamed, but didn't let him slow it down. The dance was increasing in speed. Thrust. Parry. Sparks flying as gold and bronze met again and again. Clarisse felt frozen to the spot, but Reyna wasn't addressing her. Clarisse's spear wavered towards the ground, and she hated herself.

"Again."

Clarisse threw her spear as hard as she could, skewering a training dummy, the spear fixing itself in the wall behind it.

Her father looked at her appraisingly. "Nice shot."

"Thank you, Father."

"I was being sarcastic."

Clarisse's breath caught in her throat.

"You thought that was impressive? Maybe for a girl. But it's not good enough. Sherman could send a spear through a dummy and have it go near halfway into the wall without leaving much of a whole that you could see, just near cutting its heart out completely. I want better from you, kid. I know you can do better. Right?"

"Yes, Father."

"Come now, Ares!" a new voice joined them. Clarisse winced as she saw Poseidon Jackson and his son Percy standing by the door. "You have to admit that was a good shot. Good enough for the Games, that's for sure?"

"You're a fool, Poseidon."

Poseidon laughed. "Better men than you have called me that, so I suppose you could be right. Come on, Percy. I'll show you the climbing wall."

"See you, Clarisse. Good hit," Percy said.

Ares laughed. "He's a year younger than you, so you shouldn't be going into the same Games. But try and maim him, at least, sometime soon. Poseidon should get off his high horse for once."

But Reyna's stomach was hurt and it was obvious that something was still horribly off with her, and with a cry, Percy was able to shove her to the ground. He raised his sword and lowered it.

But to Clarisse, it was barely in slow motion. She threw her spear (not good enough never good enough) but the force of it smacked Percy's sword out of his hands, clattering both weapons against the wall. Clarisse was running at him, drawing her sword (A real Career always has enough weapons) and shoved him to the ground with the flat of her blade, ready to bring it down.

But not fast enough.

Because she wasn't ready to kill her own district partner. Not when she had shared quarters for him for a week and known him for years and when he really wasn't that bad. (She could kill whoever else she wanted even Reyna, Clarisse knew she could! Right?! But not Jackson because district pride, yeah, that was the reason.)

And Percy had another weapon. Knife. Not bad, punk, Clarisse thought as it made its way towards her throat.

But Clarisse ducked and then Reyna was there with her own knife and there was a bright red line in Jackson's throat.

No cannons yet but there was no way that he was recovering and Clarisse was grateful to Reyna in a way that she didn't want to understand and then she was (stupid, stupid,) as she knelt by his side and took his hand.

"Tyson didn't have to watch you be a killer," she told him.

"F-F-Fuck you," Jackson said weakly.

"I know."

I'm sorry.

XXXXX

A cannon fired.

Katie froze where she was, suddenly afraid that the cannon was a footstep or something. She couldn't afford to trip up, not when a misstep meant death.

But there was nothing, and Katie allowed herself to relax a little. She wasn't thirsty. She was hungry, but she had been hungrier before and wasn't going to whine. Eventually, the Anthem came on.

The first face was Annabeth. Katie felt regret at seeing her onetime ally in the sky. Could she have changed the course of events at all? Next was Percy. Career, yes, but nice enough. Another threat gone. The final face was Ethan. Katie felt a sick feeling of satisfaction. The boy had stabbed Annabeth with a poison knife and might have been responsible for her death.

Katie bowed her head, trying to find some grief for the three dead of the day.

She couldn't.

She just had to get home.

Tributes:

D2: Reyna Ramirez-Arellano
D4: Clarisse La Rue
D9: Will Solace
D10: Frank Zhang; Hazel Levesque
D11: Katie Gardner
D12: Nico di Angelo; Zoe Nightshade

PERCY: I hate myself for killing him. I really do. I feel like I wasn't able to truly express how amazing of a character Percy is with this story. Still, I think that he got a few moments where he really shone. He was always the 'nice' Career of this story, and was a fresh breath of air in an Arena where so many of the tributes are bitter and jaded. He didn't deserve the end that he got. Still, as we reach the Final 8, I feel that it's time for the more minor characters to take the stage.