Day Five, Afternoon

Sebastian Keating, District 6, 17

The cannon boomed louder than ever through the air. I froze and heard it bounce and echo off the tunnel walls. I guess it was a nice change to silence; bar one word answers or commands Trojan didn't talk much. I actually felt kind of lonely. Aurochs and Carlie were both extremely social and talkative... And now I was paired with someone who obviously didn't enjoy socialising at all. It was an isolating experience, but at least it gave me a lot of time to think. Underneath this tunnel I think we were safe from tributes, though more exposed to mutts. But I had a gun. Maybe if I tried to think of a strategy, I'd have a chance.

I mean, initially I didn't think I'd make it past the Bloodbath. Not that I was weak - I was stronger, smarter and faster than a handful of tributes. I wasn't a Bloodbath fodder. But it just seemed so hard to think I had a chance. Now I was beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Although not literally. We turned down another tunnel which was just stretching into darkness. I really needed to sleep. My mind buzzed with tiredness. Being in a sewer wasn't pleasant either, but I'd grown used to the feeling of rancid water at my ankles and the constant, repugnant smell.

"We're here," Trojan said as we reached a ladder. I looked at it suspiciously.

"How did you know where to go? Does it take us out of the sewers?"

"Yep, and into a dungeon," Trojan smiled, grabbing onto the ladders and ascending quickly.

I looked at him confused. He continued talking: "The computer's mapping system showed only one exit, which was a locked valve," I heard him twist something and shove it aside. I held onto the ladders and followed him, moving one foot above the other carefully. "I programmed the valve to unlock and found that it led into some kind of underground area, though it wasn't a sewer. I'm kind of conjecturing its a dungeon, because what else would royalty keep deep underneath their luxury?"

He travelled to his planned destination and I reached the upper floor not long afterwards. And it certainly wasn't a dungeon. Once again, it was some kind of computer room - only there were lots of small monitors attached to the wall. A flock of comfortable, modern looking chairs surrounded the monitors. It was kind of like what I imagined the Gamemakers' laboratory to be like. There were two doors - one to my left, one to my right. Both of them were metallic looking and were accompanied with some kind of tiny, eerily looking metallic computers on their side.

"Maybe you should..." I paused. "Do computer stuff."

I just wanted to get out of here. I was cold, tired and hungry, and if I wanted to be fit to survive we needed to go somewhere that I could fix myself up. Despite trying to look unaffected, I knew Trojan was the same too. He nodded, moving over to the extremely large keyboard. He looked somewhat perplexed at the many keys, as if he weren't used to them. I awaited nervously as he tapped one of the keys.

The sound of his finger pressing the key down was accompanied by a more unpleasant sound: the door behind us clicked. Trojan turned around, concerned. Trying to reassure myself that it was okay, I strode over to the doors and tried to force them open. There was no change. We were sealed into the room. Concerned, I rushed over to the other doors and tried to open them. They were closed shut too.

"We're locked in..." I paused. "Did the computer do that?"

"Maybe I did something stupid," Trojan admitted, though he didn't sound defeated. He scanned the keyboard. "Pressed something I wasn't supposed to. These keys are unlabelled... Certainly not a device I'm used to. A device none of us are used to."

"So what?" I turned around, agitated. "We're left in here to starve?"

"Tributes starving is unheard of nowadays, we know that now," Trojan frowned. "Last tribute to starve was in the last Quarter Quell. It's no secret that the Gamemakers made starvation, dehydration and illness a rare phenomenon the past couple of decades. I mean... What's more entertaining, a tribute being brutally killed by a mutt or a fellow teenager, or them withering away pathetically on screen?"

I frowned. It was true, of course. My mother used to say starvation was once one of the biggest killers in the Games. Now it only happened occasionally, only existing once in a lifetime to remind the audience that in the Hunger Games people went hungry.

"So what do we do?"

"Either there's a way out of here or the Gamemakers will be sending a trap soon which we have to survive," Trojan frowned. "So keep your shotgun close. But in case it's the former, I'll try to find a way-"

His finger pressed down onto the key and all the monitors went dark. The power just turned off. And considering they were our only light source there was not a speck of light in the room. I stumbled back slightly, holding onto something solid as the darkness blinded me. Before I even had the chance to snap at Trojan again the monitors came back on, flickering eerily as typed words flashed across each and every single one of them:

We want to play a game.

"We're in one," Trojan replied to the inanimate object, pressing the key besides the one he had tapped earlier: "One of these has to disable the machine..."

The text was erased, and quickly replaced:

We play a game.

It disappeared, new text taking its place. It was dark green and flickered eerily. I knew that we were in direct contact with the Gamemakers, and I had a very bad feeling about it all.

Or you starve.

"Looks like the Gamemakers aren't ruling out starvation..."

"We have enough food to last us a week," Trojan hissed, turning towards me. "The Games will last three weeks max, and we're five days into the Games. We can afford to be safely locked away from the other tributes. I'm not being fiddled around with by the Gamemakers," he angrily smacked his palm against every single button, but the screen didn't change. I realised Trojan wasn't used to losing his autonomy. Even when he was tied up he had some kind of plan. But he knew that while he could move freely, the Gamemakers had given him no alternative but to comply.

"We'll play your game," I spoke out loud, hoping the wall of text would change again.

Great. :)

I frowned at the typed symbol, which I think were supposed to resemble a smiling face. The text vanished once again, only to be typed up for us to see on the computer screen. This wasn't blunt like the rest of the text, it was a paragraph. And as it typed out I realised that this was some sort of test. Some kind of riddle. Eventually the Gamemakers' challenge revealed itself to us on the screen:

The two doors on the left and right walls will shortly unlock. However, both of you can only pass through one. One door will lead you back into freedom, and, if you search carefully, there will also be a very valuable gift you can collect. If you enter the other room the door will shut tightly on you and you will both be gassed and killed. You have to make your choice. But don't worry, you have help! Each door is also accompanied by a monitor. You can ask the monitor any question if it helps you on your quest. But only one single question can be asked, and, to make things that bit more difficult, only only monitor is truthful.

Happy riddle solving,

Tobias.

"Oh..." I mumbled after reading the paragraph. My stomach dropped. "This might not work out well..."

"This is a riddle," Trojan mumbled, sitting on a comfortable chair and rubbing his temples. For the first time, he looked pretty stressed. "Do we have a time limit?"

I glanced at the monitors, hoping for an answer. The wall of text that they held had vanished. Looked as if it wouldn't be coming back. That could either be a good or bad sign.

"I don't think they're that cruel," I said. "Maybe we have unlimited time. We wait around and starve or we pick a door."

"Except we're not supposed to pick, are we?" Trojan paused. "There's something to be worked out here... Something to do with the monitors. I'm pretty sure I can think of something. It's probably a fairly simple riddle." I nodded, and he turned to me with a maliciously playful grin. "Or we can just go fifty-fifty. Only a fifty percent chance of us dying if we pick randomly. Not a good chance, but technically it's better than our chance of getting out the arena, so there's that."

"I don't like the odds of fifty-fifty," I frowned. I definitely wanted to think through this. I'd rather come up with a semi-educated guess then just leap through a door and hope the Gamemakers don't force my family to watch me choke on gas. It was almost like flipping a coin with a gun to your head, and depending on the coin's turning you would get your brains blasted out. I shivered just thinking about it.

"Maybe we should ask the computer if they tell the truth or not..." Trojan paused. "No, scrap that. That's our one question spent on nothing, and one would lie anyway."

Silence filled the room, though the machines around us gave a sullen hum. It was a weird background noise that I wasn't used to, and it jarred my thoughts a lot. I knew the answer lay in the honest and dishonest computers, but what question was I supposed to ask? Trojan looked around silently, also contemplating the answer. We must have thought about it for hours. Somehow Trojan would look like he had worked the answer out, but when I asked him what we should do he kind of talked himself out of his idea, unsure of himself. It was a rare sight.

Deciding it was worth giving ourselves some nutrition, I gave Trojan one of the bananas I had found in the other computer like room and ate another. It wasn't much, but when I hadn't ate in what seemed like days it did make some kind of difference. After I had finished and threw the peel onto the floor to rot, an idea suddenly struck me. I had spent hours thinking about it... So had Trojan. How had we not worked it out? It was simple... And it made sense. But would it really help us survive?

"We should ask the computer what door the other computer would suggest," I smiled.

"What?" Trojan frowned. "But... Why not just ask them what they'd suggest?"

"Because that's playing fifty-fifty," I replied: "One will give the right door, the other would give the wrong one. It's the same as flipping a coin."

"Okay, and asking them what the other monitor would suggest is different how?"

I thought about it over and over again, trying to jab loopholes into it. "Well... Think about it... If we ask the truthful computer what door the other one would suggest, he would know the other computer would lie, and would direct us to a door that we shouldn't go to. If we ask the lying computer what door the other one would suggest, he'd know that the computer would direct us to a door that would enable us to survive." I smiled. "And would thus lie, sending us to our deaths."

"I think I'm on the same track as you..." Trojan smiled, it clicked together in his mind. Like me, I think he tried to scrutinise it. "So we go to the opposite door to whatever the monitor answers?"

"Exactly."

"Okay, I think you're right. That's the best answer I can think of anyway," he smiled. I paused when Trojan moved towards one of the monitors. My stomach was still doing somersaults and despite my near-certainty, I didn't want to do this. This was literally life and death. Could I be that sure in my answer? I opened my lips to protest, but no words came out. I was terrified.

"What door would the other computer suggest?" Trojan looked confused as he peered at the tiny screen. He pressed his lips closer to it, repeating the question. There was a period of silence.

"Mayb-"

"The left door," a robotic voice crooned eventually.

Trojan smiled. He was standing right by the right door anyway. He twisted the handle, swinging it open for me. I ambled towards him, still feeling extremely nervous and nauseous.

"I love you all... Don't forget me," I whispered quietly, hoping Trojan didn't hear but the microphones did. This was it. I could die.

"Looks like even if we did flip the coin we'd have survived," Trojan joked as I approached him. "I picked the right door by instinct."

"Are you sure I'm right?" I said, trying to keep a straight face.

"I underestimated you," was all Trojan replied.

Feeling like I was jumping off a cliff, I passed the threshold and squeezed my eyes tight shut. The world was spinning around me. Trojan followed and the sound of the metallic door slamming behind us made me jump. Eventually, after a second passed, I managed to summon the courage to open my eyes. We were in some kind of dungeon looking room - it was a corridor even. The walls, ceiling and floor were all made of stone, and the sight of empty, locked cells was chilling.

But at the end of the corridor I could see a door... a way out which was wide open. And despite my extreme worrying, there was no sign of poisonous gas. Trojan was okay. I was alive. My answer was correct. As Trojan strode forward as if we hadn't been forced to risk our lives, I felt the relief flow down to my legs so that my knees were weak. But I was fine. I was breathing...

Delilah Fauve, District 11, 16

I placed the last vase down on the oak table, glancing up at Lexie. She looked nervous.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be," her eyes scanned the four vases that had been placed neatly on the table, all equidistant from each other. This was practice. Lexie thrust her palm out, shouting confidently: "Avant!"

A ripple seemed to thrust out of her palm. It missed all of the vases it was supposed to hit, but I felt pain blossom inside me as it slammed into my chest. I barely had time to scream as I was thrust backwards, my back smashing into a bookshelf and ensuring that the shelves I hit had caved in. I slumped to the floor with a wave of strewn books. My leg throbbed even more severely.

Lexie cursed - it was the first time I had heard her swear - and lifted her skirt up so she could hurry towards me quickly. I bit back tears as the pain in my severely injured leg crushed my senses. Struggling to breathe, I only just managed to stabilise myself and stand up as Lexie reached me. She let me droop my arm around her shoulders and she practically dragged me to the nearest couch.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "My aim is off."

"You're getting better," I smiled as she lowered me down. She didn't look any more confident. "Soon you'll be flinging tributes back and forth with a simple word."

"I... I guess..." Lexie sighed, slumping down next to me. "Why don't you do this too, Nate?" I almost didn't respond to the sound of my brother's name. Then I glanced into her eyes. "You were the first person to cast a spell from the book," she opened it, flicking through the pages and observing the myriad of different spells this book could cast. "And now I'm expected to learn how to do every single one. I can't do anything..."

"You know why," I told her, trying to not sound irritated.

I don't know how the Gamemakers did it, but if you said the words right and did the actions correctly every single line produced some kind of response. But the pronunciation and body language had to be very exact. I could do it, but Lexie was much better than I was. She spoke more clearly, directed her body language more fluently and whenever she cast a bunch of spells she didn't seem drained or tired.

I didn't want to admit it, but just casting one of those spells made me weak and nauseous. It was like something deep inside me that was necessary left me temporarily. Lexie, however, seemed completely unaffected. This must have been her fiftieth try and she didn't seem perturbed whatsoever, though she was incredibly frustrated. All she needed to do was perfect her aim and then we'd have the arena in the bag... Or she would. I wanted to survive, and I hadn't given up, but my biggest asset was climbing and I couldn't do that while severely injured. Not to mention the Capitol definitely wouldn't want me to win. Lexie, however, had a chance. Especially if she mastered the bunch of spells given to her.

"I just... I don't want to do this," Lexie sighed.

"Luster directed you here for a reason," I said to her. "I don't know - I'll practice the spells too... But... I'm not designed for them. The Gamemakers had you in mind when they sent that book into the arena..."

"In an interview before the Games, the President said that the weak can become strong..."

"You weren't weak, but maybe," I said to her. "So, you need to keep practi-"

Lexie changed the conversation swiftly. "What are we going to do with your leg?"

I paused. I wanted to accuse her of averting the topic... It was incredibly obvious that she wanted to avoid casting more spells. But I didn't want any conflict, especially when Lexie had a letter full of my secrets in her backpack. And when I thought about my leg, I knew that it was unavoidable. I couldn't pretend nothing was wrong. It still hurt like hell, and I didn't know what I could do.

"I don't know..." I admitted honestly. Lexie got onto her knees, inspecting it very briefly. She looked incredibly disturbed when she saw the depth of the cut.

"I'm not expert, but I think I'd know if it was infected and bad," Lexie said to me. "It's still bleeding... Which we can't just let happen." I whimpered in pain when she used to hem of her golden and white dress, tying it around my wound so deeply I was pretty sure she stopped my blood circulating completely instead of stopping it from leaking. "Hopefully that was good enough. I don't think we're going to need to do anything drastic," codeword for amputation. "But I really think we need some medical supplies soon. A sponsor or ten would be really appreciated right now."

"If we have to cut it off, we will," I told her, feeling incredibly scared.

Lexie stood again, looking down at me anxiously. "Is that really what you want?"

"No," I frowned. "I need my leg to climb. I came into the arena expecting my legs to be my biggest asset, but I can't let one wound kill me if that can be prevented. I can't let a single wound bring you down with me, either."

Lexie paused. I think she hadn't ever considered the prospect that I could die despite the circumstances. I liked to pretend this wasn't a fight to the death and was merely a harmless competition... But that wasn't the case. Somebody had only died mere hours ago. We had to think about it, or at least acknowledge it would happen.

Still, Lexie was reluctant.

"Okay, I'll do some training," she smiled, turning around.

I watched with awe as she muttered one word, dragging her palm back very specifically. To my shock, one of the vases was dragged off the table and sailed through the air towards Lexie. Expecting it, she sidestepped and the vase exploded upon impacting the wall. Quickly, still continuing to refine her newfound skill, she threw her palm forward and shouted again:

"Avant!"

This time the pulse that expanded out of her palm struck two of the remaining vases, its effect instantaneous. They were blasted away from the table, one smashing against the wall and another rolling across a red carpet lazily. Lexie turned back at me, her posture reeking with triumph. Just as I expected, it wouldn't be long before she'd memorised and perfected all of the spells the book had to offer.

"I did it!" She shouted.

"Still one more vase for you to practice on," I said, happy for her. "Then after that we can find something else. It won't be long until we're ready to face everyone - Careers included."

Tear Nikuya, District 9, 16

"Do you think we can stay here for the night?" Willow asked as we entered a well-lit corridor with a plethora of doors on either side of the beige walls. I inspected it briefly, acknowledging how the floorboards groaned under my weight as I stepped forward. There could be mutts here. I didn't want that, especially since the last encounter I had with mutts had left an irritating injury on my shoulder.

"If there are beds," I said, opening one of the doors slowly. Peering inside gave me a glimpse of a very bare room: a rug that lay by a fireplace and a desk with nothing but a leather bound diary on it. I opened it a little bit more, my feet forcing a groan out of the bare floorboards beneath. I smiled. Looked like there was a bed - and a double bed at that. "Okay, we can stay here."

"Cool!" Willow rushed in enthusiastically, almost knocking me to my butt. She only gave me a quick, apologetic glance as she rushed over to the fire. I stood at the doorway, watching her managing to light the fire. I was pretty sure that we were safe from the worst of the cold while indoors, but we were only in the early stages of the Games. Things weren't going to get warmer unless they got so hot they burnt us all to a crisp.

"Do you think it's a good idea staying here?"

"What?" Willow glanced at me as she moved her hands over the weak flames. "Yeah, why not?"

"I don't know..."

There were no mutts here, but this room seemed too good. Too cozy. Maybe the Gamemakers were happy after they had killed someone earlier today. Unless they were desperate to press on with the Games or fate made two tributes or alliances bump into each other, there probably wouldn't be anymore deaths today. I rushed towards the diary, opening it and seeing if there was anything inside.

There were passages. Interesting passages. I almost forgot that I was conversing with Willow as my eyes explored one page and my fingers permitted me to roam more and more, the information filling my brain. At first it was like a Capitolian's diary, long descriptions about who to marry and what food was at the feast that they had attended today. Then it got more dark, describing how people were worried, how the country was starving, how people were displeased with the establishment. In this book I could kind of see a reflection of Capitolian society...

But it only got darker. More bloody. Talks about beheadings, about the Palace being sealed off and revolutionaries planning to invade it and kill all of the royals. It climaxed darkly on the last page of the diary after the writer had ranted about the collapse of the bourgeois and the monsters and demons that had accompanied the inevitable revolution. He didn't even finish his last sentence:

"They've taken the women and children. They've taken the servants. They've taken the King, Queen and nobles. I am the only one left and now they're here to-"

At the bottom of the page were dried, brown droplets of blood which had fused themselves with the crisp yellow page.

"What's that?" Willow said behind me, looking at the page.

I snapped it shut, a little disturbed. "Nothing."

"Ah, okay," Willow said, trusting me enough not to question me. I wanted to open it and try and discern what that last sentence really meant. The arena had given the impression that everybody who once occupied it had died, but obviously whatever had happened here wasn't real. Why would anybody write in a diary as something was hunting them down? This arena was fictional, the story was already proven to be bullshit. But my surroundings made it seem like more than just some irrelevant Gamemaker creation. Maybe I would see the monsters that had now infested the arena.

... But there was the plant like mutt. The demonic entity that sounded had taunted me and attacked Willow. The poison that led to Luke's downfall. Even the Careers. My gut twisted itself into a knot as I realised that I'd already seen a lot of monsters.

"Maybe we should go to another room," I said, creeped out. "I don't know. I wanted to wade as deep into the Palace as possible, we'd probably be safer there."

"Wherever we go, we're bound to be in danger somehow," Willow said to me.

That was the terrifying thing. She was right. It wasn't just this room that creeped me out - it was the whole Palace. Originally the grounds which we had once entered didn't seem as appealing as the arena. The wide-open space made it easier to bump into tributes, and there was much less protection from the elements. But maybe tomorrow we would head towards the grounds because the Palace was only a mere fake safety net, and I had a feeling that the Gamemakers were going to take great pleasure from snapping it and watching all the tributes inside tumble into nothingness, akin to the fictional residents who had once lived here.

Willow curled up by the fire. I liked her - I liked her too much. She had issues, but I was pretty sure we all did, especially after we were unlucky enough to be Reaped. But at least she was useful. She knew a few useful survival tricks I didn't, she had the spirit of a fighter and she was smart enough to give me valuable insight. But there was a real possibility that the Gamemakers would maliciously take her from me, take her from her family. It wouldn't really be difficult for them, all it would take was the click of a button.

And that was terrifying.

Darius Cortez, District 8, 16

This was just... Too much.

I felt so empty, useless and hopeless. It was almost as if there was nothing for me, as if my happiness had died with Hadley. After hours of re-navigating the maze we got away and ran into the mansion. Now we wandered. Sometimes one of the creepy robots Magnus sent after us would pop up, but we'd immediately kill them. After spending hours walking at a rushed pace, we eventually slowed down and walked along a red walled corridor. A stitch burned at my side, but I didn't really have any time to think about it. I was just shocked.

"We need to find stairs," Mirane said, looking around quickly. "If we get to the top floor we can rest assured that we're even further away from that freak."

Mirane was affected too, but she was too proud to admit it. I kind of sympathised with her when she said that she didn't want to be in an alliance because of the pain. And I felt bad for ever making her join an alliance... It was extremely selfish and even manipulative of me to do that. And now she suffered with me, which made the process a little easier in a way, but it also made it difficult because I didn't want her to face any pain, to cope with my issues. She would sometimes make excuses that she heard a noise to get out of the way so she could quickly sob and curse.

I didn't tell her I knew she was upset. I think Mirane would be unhappy if I viewed her as anything but strong. She cried, but she was strong - I'd be dead without her, and I cried a lot more than she did. But I wouldn't ever think she was weak because she cried. In fact it was incredibly humanising and bittersweet to see her cry over Hadley. He'd grown to like her, and her him. But that also made it harder.

Mirane jumped back as she turned a corridor and one of the clockwork robots had appeared out of nowhere. It was wearing an orange and black dress and almost slashed into her stomach. Filled with rage, I charged towards it and tackled it to the ground. As soon as its head slammed into the floor glass smashed and cogs bounced, ceasing the mutt's sentience.

But that wasn't enough for me. I pinned its body down, screaming with rage as I smashed its head onto the floor repeatedly whilst Mirane observed me, aghast. I took great satisfaction from beating it. But it wasn't an 'it' to me - it was Magnus, the twisted teenager who had killed Hadley in the most brutal way... In a way he never deserved. I removed my dagger, repeatedly stabbing it through the stomach and feeling the knife pierce through weak armour where it tore the wiring beneath into nothingness.

"Darius!" Mirane eventually snapped at me. I felt tears trickle down my face as I smashed the droid's face into a crushed can with the solid handle of the dagger. She snapped my name again, and when she knew I was refusing to obey she ran up to me and gripped me by my shoulders.

Mirane was strong. Probably stronger than I was, come to think of it. I struggled, but she managed to force me to my feet where she shoved me against the wall. Her scolding look broke me further and I tried to hold back the tears, failing miserably and choking on sobs. Mirane - always surprising - reacted in the perfect way. She buried her head into my chest and hold me as close as possible. If anybody could comfort me and understand what I was going through right now, it was her.

"I know how you feel," was all she said. I was silenced, but still felt the tears cover my face as I stroked my hand through Mirane's thick hair. "I know how you feel."

"This isn't fair," I said emptily, staring at the wall opposite as I felt myself calm down. The numbness was setting in again, but I knew I'd be okay. At least I had Mirane here.

She looked up at me, smiling. I hadn't expected a kiss between us to ever happen again, considering the first was a moment of frenzied relief and I had to initiate it, so her taking control was oddly unexpected. But she leant up slightly, her lips brushing mine. When she withdrew her hand found itself on my tearstained cheek. "I'm as angry as you are. Hadley was a great guy. But he wouldn't want this - he wouldn't want us running around, punching the shit out of robots. He'd want us to live. He'd want us to keep our wits about us. We need to do that, okay?"

"Okay," I smiled weakly, though I didn't mean it.

"Good," she smiled brighter than I'd ever seen her smile before. But it was only genuine. "We have something he doesn't, Buster. We have a gun. He'll be dead before he can say 'psycho.'"

I almost laughed, but then I saw it. It was a blur charging towards us. I shouted loudly to try and alert Mirane, but I was way too late to notice. Magnus charged directly into Mirane, a juggernaut that sent her crying and being flung across the room as he stood tall and proud. I watched helplessly as Mirane's gun went skidding across the floor, resting by the smashed remnants of the mutt I had savaged.

"Psycho," he chuckled, glaring down at Mirane and going in for the kill. I should have darted for the gun while he was distracted... He couldn't kill Mirane in two seconds and I could've blasted his brain out from the back of his head. But I knew Mirane was in trouble, and that was all I could register. Magnus tried to wrap his arms around Mirane's neck, but she thrashed around wildly, even managing to keep him at bay for that precious second. I rushed to Magnus from behind, neatly slotting my dagger into the wound Hadley had given him earlier.

Magnus roared with agony as a new wave of blood rose from the deep cut. Though I only had my second of satisfaction. I stepped back as Magnus discarded Mirane's existence, turning to me while looking furious. However as he towered over me a smile crossed his lips. That terrifying, mad glint spread across her eyes as he looked down at me like I was a delicious piece of meat.

"You're going to regret that," he told me.

"You're going to regret killing Hadley," I snarled, preparing my dagger. But I didn't feel as brave as I sounded. Suddenly the anger was drowned underneath the mass terror.

"Oh? Do you want to know how he felt before he died?" Magnus' grin drew wider as he slowly withdrew his knife. It was a lot less impressive than the dagger in my hand, but I had a feeling Magnus could make it much more dangerous. Dried blood still covered the blade.

Magnus stepped towards me, but an adamant Mirane was up and charging towards him. Without even acknowledging her, his hand whipped backwards and he backhanded her right in the cheek, sending her to the floor again. I tried to repress my anger. He would pay for that. But I needed to be tactical, and rushed towards the gun and felt Magnus hot on my heels.

Shit. I stumbled, my feet hitting the gun and sending it skidding behind me into a small looking bedroom with a metal laden door. I tried to rush into the room but large hands pinned my chest and I was forced into the doorframe, my back flaring up in pain while the air was pushed right out of me.

"First I cracked his ribs," Magnus said robotically, trying to push me harder into the frame. I refused to cry out in pain, but I was pretty sure Magnus wanted put so much pressure on my spine that it snapped. Before I could scream out in agony, his hand found itself around my jaw. "And then I enjoyed watching his jaw-"

Magnus grunted when Mirane rushed behind him, kicking him in the back of the shin. I felt his grip be released as he turned around and gripped her, launching her into the room with the gun. Before I could yell at her to grab it and shoot him, I was picked up effortlessly and was launched after her. Everything became a blur but soon Mirane and I were sprawled across the floor together, groaning.

Mirane reached for the gun without my instruction, but the sound of a door slamming was heard. I jumped up, rushing towards the door and desperately trying to pull it open. There was no luck. Mirane soon joined me and the two of us desperately tugged at the door, yet it refused to move an inch. And there was no bringing it down manually; while most doors in the mansion were made of wood, this one was metallic. Almost as if it were made to trap people.

"What the hell?" Mirane snapped.

"I didn't know this door had a hatch..." Magnus smiled. When he heard me trying to pierce into the door with my dagger and failing to even dent it. "Maybe it was used to keep away prisoners or lock women away from men if they were being mischievous," his laugh was cold enough to freeze the blood that ran through me. "You were both too much of a nuisance... You had a lot more fight in you than your friend had, and a gun. I could have killed you both, but I wouldn't want to risk myself in the process, would I?"

"Open the door you fucking coward!"

"Now now, be a good girl Mirane," I heard Magnus rap his fist on the other side of the door. His voice faded away as I heard him say: "I didn't mind if I killed you myself, all I wanted was to make you suffer. No doubt it would take time... days, even... But I think when you two slowly starve to death you will be in enough pain. And that will make me extremely happy to live every second knowing of your suffering. I know what being locked up is like. It's not fun. Try and make the best of it."

Eventually his voice and the footsteps faded away. Both Mirane and I continued trying to beat the door - to force it open, to break it down, to do anything. But it was useless. Even Mirane's gun couldn't help us. When we ran out of physical energy, we both looked at each other. I'd seen Mirane look scared before, but she always had an aura of composition. And for the first time it terrified me that such a disposition had gone and only fear remained in her eyes.

So there's a POV that's supposed to coincide with this chapter but would've ultimately made the chapter way too long with a big revelation accompanying it, it's about Jynx's victor games and it's called 'The Ultimate Victor.' I'd say it's important that you read it, and if you want to review it go ahead :)

So sorry for another late chapter. Real life can just be pretty demanding. Hopefully next chapter will arrive comfortably within the next week.

Eulogies:

Hadley: Out of all the tributes in the arena, I think you'd have been the one I'd have liked the most (just beating Tear, Jericho and Darius, who are also great people), and I appreciated you as a character too: you were kind, loyal and when push came to shove you were exceptionally brave. It was also nice to write about mental illness from a perspective that wasn't dramatic or stigmatising like Magnus. You really didn't deserve to die the way you did (or deserve to die at all), but the Hunger Games has no sense of justice :( thanks Jakey121 for submitting him.

Leda: You should've had this eulogy so many chapters ago! I think people had begun to like you more. You'd started off as someone who was normal and obnoxious, but mostly anxious and trying to distract yourself from that, but people began to see your gentler side and liked you - although it wasn't really you, I knew that there was a piece of the 'real Leda' that I was writing. It's so sad to let you go, but I'm glad I got to write your character after an untimely end :( Thanks for submitting her, Pika and Olive's adventures :)

~Toxic