Day Six, Night

Willow Horvat, District 11, 13

I'd liked to have thought that having survived six days in a brutal fight to the death and outlasting twelve kids who were older and stronger than I was, I'd picked up a few survival tips. There were three tips I found particularly useful: first tip was that every obstacle could become an opportunity. There was always an escape, and sometimes you just had to really think outside the box to solve a problem. I learned that from Iopian, but I think Tear and Luke had influenced me in that way too. My stomach dropped just thinking about them. Luke... Well, Panem knows what happened to him. And Tear sacrificed herself for me.

And I was left all alone thinking about the second tip I'd learned: you can never be too cute. I was hardly your standard child beauty pageant, but I still had youth and innocence. Didn't mean I was young and innocent, but we all make assumptions. I'm pretty sure even the Careers would follow their hearts if I did big-enough puppy eyes. Being young has saved my life before, and I had a bad feeling it was going to save my life again.

And the third tip? Well, that was something I'd learned the hard way. It stank, it was dark and enclosed and I was also pretty fucking cold. If you ever find a stairway that leads into a sewer or something equally tunnel like, you're probably best to stay away. I had a flashlight, which was a bonus, but that didn't make me feel any more comfortable. I had no idea where I was and I was aware that at any moment something nasty could jump around the twist and turns. I had my hatchet, but if I bumped into a particularly big mutt the only option I had was to run.

Oh, talking about something jumping from the corner, I heard something speeding around the corner very suddenly. It made the sound jet-ski propellors make across the water, meaning that it was something fast. I turned my flashlight off and hid in a dark corner, deciding that the best thing I had was the element of surprise. Or it could just speed away from me - that would be preferable.

"Trojan, slow down!" A male voice called. Eventually a guy with red hair and cold eyes stopped in front of me. I squinted at his features, noting they were the pointed ones that belonged to the Three boy. He was a lot shorter than I remembered.

He turned in the direction of his ally.

"Still catching up, slow poke?" He teased.

"That vial is wearing off," the other boy's voice still sounded so distant. I wondered what to do. The Three boy's back was turned right away from me... "I really, really want more."

"We're not having more," Trojan huffed. "We only have a limited amount of this stuff. It's our key to winning, so we should only take it when we need it."

"I really want it though."

"I would want to drink this stuff until I reach the grave," Trojan frowned. "But that isn't good for what I need to do, which is to utilise it practi-"

I had to do it. I went in for the kill as he spoke mid-sentence, swinging my hatchet in the direction of his back. The boy cried out in pain as the hatchet smashed through his spine. He immediately fell into the sewage water face first, floored. I considered turning to run before his ally could find me or hurt me, though I was a little paralysed. I couldn't believe that. I just killed someone. Or at least I think I did, because a cannon didn't fire.

"Trojan!" His ally called, getting closer.

Just as I turned to run something caught my eye. The Three boy pushed himself to his feet, hissing as he tore my hatchet out of his spine as if it were nothing. I couldn't help but gawp uselessly at him as he threw the weapon at my feet, glaring down at me in a way which made me feel useless and dead. His ally eventually appeared by my side, glaring down at me with a shotgun in hand.

Oh... Shit.

"That was interesting," Trojan smiled, amused. I made a pathetic squealing noise, getting to my knees and reaching for my axe. I stood up, covered in dirt just as Trojan picked me up as if I weighed nothing. I dangled in the air, crying out uselessly and flailing. "I must say, having an axe right in your back and being forced into sewage - which does not taste nice - was not ideal." He turned to his ally, grinning widely. "I think we know what we have to do. You can put that gun to good use, for once."

"P-Please!" I tried improvising, using survival rule number two to its best use. "I-I thought you were someone else. I'm scared. I'm so sorry."

The Three boy didn't seem effected, even when I cried. "She has a lot of supplies," he told his ally, throwing me to the ground but keeping the many backpacks that weighed me down. I looked at them longingly, and he grinned. "Looks like we can take those."

"That's stealing..." I said.

"Doesn't matter if you're dead," Trojan shrugged. "And there are no rules here, anyway. Go on Seb, shoot her."

Seb, or whatever he was called, looking at me. I felt a tear slip from my eyes to the floor as I glanced at him pleadingly. He wasn't quite as cold or inhumane as his ally, and I could tell he felt bad for me. He was pale and trembling too. I don't think he could have even aimed that gun at me, never mind shot me. Rule number two was working, kind of.

"I can't shoot her," his voice was almost a whisper, he let his gun fall to his side. "She's just a kid."

"A kid who axed me in the back!"

"Still a kid... She was scared..." Seb paused. "I have siblings her age, it's... It's not right, Trojan."

"You've let one too many kids survive. Carlie is out there because of us. And I bet you my bottom credit that she's trying to find a way to get revenge," Seb couldn't even find an answer. "I'll kill her then," Trojan was very sulky. I could tell whatever weird super powers he had - whatever that was - were beginning to wear off, because he struggled with my weight. I just hoped other tributes weren't quite so powerful.

"I can't let that happen!"

"I'll just kill you too," Trojan glared at Seb, throwing me to the floor. I felt my clothes get soaked in shitty liquid and coughed and retched due to the smell, desperately trying to crawl away as Trojan aimed the gun at me.

"She's got no supplies," Seb said, weakly. "You're better than this, Trojan."

"You don't know me..."

"I know you're above killing kids. We've taken her supplies," Seb said, ripping my backpacks from Trojan's arm and giving him a pleading look. "Carlie doesn't have a chance against us. She has no supplies and we have the Victor's Vial, if she ever tried attacking she's dead." Trojan turned to Seb, who still had the gun. "This girl is useless. She'll have no food, no weapons, and we'll be stronger. She's not worth bloodying our hands over. I know that no matter what you think of yourself, you haven't killed. Not yet. You're better than this."

Trojan paused, gripping the gun and supplies from Seb and turning around.

"We'll regret sparing Carlie," he hissed to Seb as he tore the supplies away. "And now we'll regret sparing this kid, and when you die, I won't be there to help you. Come on then." He stormed down the corridor, into darkness. What - no! They may have spared my life but what was the point of having a life is they'd taken the supplies I'd relied on? Supplies I'd built over a series of days with Tear and Luke? I whimpered uselessly, trying to speak but only coming off as a silly little girl. Maybe Seb would make sure I had something.

He didn't. He just looked at me apologetically, regret and conflict brewing in his expression. When I sobbed childishly I knew he couldn't bear it, but sparing my life had been kind enough. He turned and walked away after Trojan, leaving me sitting in a pool of dirty water. I cried and cried. I thought I was stronger than this. I'd convinced myself that I was a survivor. But I'd lost everything - Tear, Luke. Even my plan to kill Lia had failed pretty miserably, because I exposed her and she was still out there, alive. And now my supplies had gone. I felt so pathetic and weak. I felt like what I really was... Just a small, thirteen year old girl trying to play a game that was too old for me. Why did this have to happen to me? I had nothing.

No, I still had something.

It was hidden underneath the sewage. I dipped my hand in and felt the blade of the hatchet, clumsily picking it up as grime covered it and spilt across my hands. I was still sobbing and stood up, dripping and stinking. But I still had my hatchet. And I knew what direction the two boys had gone. If I followed Iopian's advice, used my environment to my advantage, made the impossible possible... Yes. I wasn't totally weak. Even if I didn't have the hatchet, there was something I could do. I wiped the tears from my eyes, leaving streaks of dirt and shit across my face.

Sebastian was nice. I'd make sure he died quickly.

Trojan, however, was going to wish he'd never picked a nice ally.

Alexandria Tarsus, District 1, 15

Nate and I definitely did not expect what we saw.

"Wow," we said in unison, glancing down the large hall as our eyes absorbed the beautiful sights.

This wasn't any old hallway - it was something particularly special. Glittering chandeliers lined the ceiling, which was covered in beautiful paintings. There were statues of gold or marble just about everywhere, all perched regally at the side of the room as the marble floor stretched on. But what was most entrancing was the wall. Or, to be more precise, the mirrors. The wall was reinforced with mirror after mirror, reflecting the beautiful scene and refracting the moonlight which danced majestically through the windows. I stepped forwards, feeling so small and insignificant when surrounded by such marvel.

"This is pretty amazing," I said to myself. I glanced in the mirror, almost embarrassed. I stood out like a sore thumb. I was absorbed in this majesty and yet I looked battered and beaten. I entered the arena feeling like a Princess: my hair was styled and my dress was beautiful, crafted intricately from silk of white and gold. But now my hair was unkempt and fell wildly. My eyes betrayed any feeling of alertness and were baggy and tired. My dress had accumulated plenty of dirt over the past few days and scuffles - it was also pretty torn.

And yet there was something empowering at looking at myself. I guess Nate still saw me as this innocent girl who didn't know how to anything but dance around make naive assessments of the world, which is why he assumed he could just keep his secret from me. But I knew he was wrong. I was still innocent and I still felt unprepared for everything, but I'd grown more skilled, I'd grown more strong and the horrors of the past few days had somewhat prepared me for the horrors that were to come. Unlike many others in the arena I was uninjured. Despite everything the Gamemakers had thrown at me, I hadn't taken a single blow. There wasn't a single scratch or bruise, even if my body ached.

"Makes you kind of pissed off, this place, doesn't it?" Nate was inspecting a golden statue of a beautiful woman. She was only covered in a simple tunic and was holding out a golden tray which sprouted out a canopy of diamonds. He moved away from the statue, back into the middle of the room. He turned three-hundred and sixty degrees, observing the whole room with curiosity. "I wouldn't be surprised if this room was worth more than the village I lived in. More than the whole town, actually. Scrap that, it's probably worth the whole District..."

I didn't feel his sense of injustice. I mean, there wouldn't be a corridor in District One that was like this; nobody was that rich. But the accumulated wealth of our District could easily make a room like this, if not dozens of rooms like this. People starved in District One, but it was nowhere near as prevalent and considering my dad was important in Panem's political scene I was definitely privileged and didn't suffer. My stomach twisted with guilt as I thought of the deprived life Nate possibly lived. We always thought of it as the Capitol and the Districts being different, with the Capitol being bountiful and the Districts unfortunate, but it was so much more nuanced than that. Some Districts had it better than others, easily.

And yet I couldn't find myself feeling sorry for Nate. We acted as cordially to each other as ever, but there was a continuous sense of distrust now between both of us. He didn't trust me with his secret, and I didn't trust him with his own secret, whatever it was. I never knew it was possible to have such a tumultuous relationship with somebody. When we first met there was animosity, and then he'd become a friend... and now... god knows what. I just knew something wasn't right and that soon I would probably have to choose between Nate's life or my own life. Sadly, that choice was easy.

I gasped when I glanced towards one of the mirrors and found myself smiling. It was a sweet and innocent smile, but there was something extremely twisted about it. I definitely was not smiling. But my reflection was.

"Only just noticed?" She - or me - said.

Stupidly, I moved closer to the mirror. The reflection seemed to mimic my exact movements as I pressed my pale hands onto the smooth mirror's edge. But that smile was still there, and there was something in my eyes that was not quite right.

"Who are you?" I said, before correcting myself. "What are you?"

"A demon," it replied. I didn't know if it was taunting me or not. I felt scared and almost shouted Nate, but my reflection placed a pale finger to its lips, the smile still staying there. Something wasn't right. Well, my reflection was talking to me - of course something wasn't right.

"Are you going to kill me?" I said, my voice shaking. I had daggers in my pockets, and spells... If I could dispel my fear and remember any of them.

"No. The Gamemakers sent me here to show the tributes their deepest, darkest selves," I could definitely see my darkest self looking at me. "And, if they instructed me to do so, I would go on the attack and maybe kill if I was lucky. I like blood, a lot. It tastes so fresh and pure, the taste of life," its voice barely filled the air. It was my own voice, but quieter and so much softer. But the softness was not reassuring. It was like a silk rope that wound itself round your neck and choked the life out of you. Nate was still hobbling down the corridor, looking around. "But this time the Gamemakers want me to help you."

"Help... Me?" I whispered. Not that I didn't want it, but it almost felt as if the Gamemakers had helped me too much. Other tributes starved and I was given ultimate powers and now this demon wanted to help me. This all felt too good to be true.

"Nate's secret, you tried finding it?"

I stood up straighter, suddenly hooked in. "Yes, of course," I said, my voice purposely kept quiet so my 'ally' couldn't hear me. "He must have destroyed it..."

My reflection smirked, amused. "He should have destroyed it, for his own good. But the fool never did. He took it out of his bag, where he knew you could get it. And now he's got it tucked away nice and tidy in that breast pocket of his." My heart suddenly began racing and a cold sensation poured over me. "If you were to discover it, the tables would turn. It truly is a shocking secret, and everybody in the world knows it..." The creature jerked its arms upward and its finger emerged out of the looking glass, so that my own finger was painted between my eyes. "Except you."

"Everybody?" I said, with disbelief. "Except me? But why? Why would he keep the secret?"

"Because he knows if you ever found out it wouldn't be pretty... And if you don't like what you hear and you want him to die, just call for me," it said, laughing. "Do you want a display of what the demons that roam the palace can do?"

I felt a kind of darkness inside of me. I couldn't describe it, but it almost compelled my tongue to give a specific kind of answer.

"Yes. I want to see what you can do."

"Done."

My reflections' answer was quickly followed by a girly scream. Then I snapped out of my trance, spinning around as I saw Nate suddenly get thrown across the room violently. He yelled out again as he braked in midair, suddenly being forced so high he rammed into the ceiling. My instinct kicked back in and I ran towards him as he was mercilessly smashed right into the ground again like a ragdoll, where he lay quite limp.

"Nate! No!" I fumbled for one of my knives desperately as howls filled the air. The chandeliers all swung in unison, their crystals slapping against each other and creating a haunting chime as I ran up to my ally. This was what the Gamemakers could do, and I was stupid to have wanted to test them. And all of a sudden I realised that despite all the secrets, I knew I didn't want to lose Nate. I didn't want him to die.

I threw myself onto my knees by his side, feeling for a pulse. Considering he was awake and groaning in pain, there definitely was one. I was shaking profusely, shaken by the demons and by myself.

"Are you okay?" I said quickly, cupping his cheek. "Is your leg okay?"

"Y-Yeah," he leaned up. "What was that? What even happened?"

"I don't know," I lied, looking him in the eyes.

I still cared for him, that worry was still flowing through me. Nate was hiding secrets, but he was a friend. He'd saved my life and he threw all his trust in me, even if he could definitely be evasive. And yet there was still a part of me deep inside that felt like the reflection I was looking at seconds ago, a part of me that knew that the whole audience knew something I didn't, something possibly life threatening or explosive. And Nate was hiding it from me.

I glanced at the breast pocket on Nate's shirt briefly, knowing what I had to do when he was asleep.

Lorelei Draven, District 2, 17

"The baby is okay," Pullox eventually concluded. Of all the people who I wanted to see my exposed, pregnant belly, Pullox was the last. But he wasn't going to betray anyone just yet, he was out in the open for all to see. And he also had a lot of useful medicinal knowledge. Jericho was a sweetheart, as usual. I thought I'd lost my baby, but I almost cried with relief when Pullox delivered the verdict. Jericho was holding my hand reassuringly and gave me a quick smile as Pullox stood up, banding some of his supplies together and smiling at me. "You had no blows to the stomach from Magnus, and the baby just kicked. It's fit as a fiddle."

I almost sobbed with relief.

"It's okay, see?" Jericho hugged me a little tighter as I sobbed. I regretted coming into the Games. For once, I thought Honora was right to chastise me. I was so, so stupid. And that made me even more determined to get out of here alive. I'd do anything to survive, to raise my baby. Even if that meant doing unimaginable things... I'd be willing to do anything. The Gamemakers probably knew that and would even be willing to exploit it, but I didn't mind much. I was always willing to play the game, so this wasn't a very radical change. Pullox looked down at me disgustedly before he made his way over to Honora.

Honora's ego had definitely been bruised after being knocked out with a clean swipe, and she was probably even more pissed that she wasn't the one who'd shot Magnus' face off. She sullenly stood by a brimming pot, blood still trickling down her face. Since waking up though, I'd noticed a change in her. Maybe it was a change that had been gradual anyway, but she was a little nicer. When I thought I had lost my baby, she had even been sympathetic and had offered to make me some soup. Thinking about it, I was really hungry. Soup would definitely be nice.

I stood in silence, relief still flowing through my veins as I glowed in content and watched Honora cook for a few seconds. Pullox was rummaging through his backpack for something, but I wasn't really bothered at what he was doing. Jericho was equally silent as I was, staring vacantly into space and still lightly holding my hand. Eventually he stood up and looked at me seriously.

"You were right," he said as silently as possible. I gave him a quizzical look, and he elucidated: "About Pullox. You were right about him."

He slung a shotgun over his shoulder and went out into the corridor. Nobody questioned him - after the Magnus debacle having an armed guard outside at all times was preferable, and Jericho was probably the best man for the job right now. I wondered what had happened with Jericho and Pullox, but a part of me didn't really want to know. One thing was definitely for certain: Magnus had affected every one of us, made us realise that though we were alive we certainly weren't immortal and we'd all gotten injured. This had each affected us in different ways and the smell of change filled the air like gas. The dynamics and the relationships in the group had evolved, and I had a feeling it was for better and for worse.

"It should be done," Honora spoke for the first time since regaining consciousness. She stood up. "I'll tell Jericho dinner is ready."

I slumped down, relaxing a little bit and closing my sore eyes. My throat and head still hurt from Magnus, like horrid echoes of his legacy. I wondered if he'd killed before. If he had, I felt bad for his victims. He liked brutality and pain a lot. In a way, I felt bad for him. No wonder he'd spent time in prison - his life was probably the epitome of brutality and torment, contrasting so differently from my life of comfort and prosperity, a life I had sacrificed because of some stupid boy.

"Come on, Lorelei, no sleeping now," Honora said authoritatively as two sets of footsteps filled the room again ten minutes later. "You can sleep after dinner. I understand it's been exhausting, but things continue as usual from now on."

Despite just wanting to block the world out, I sat up and leaned against the wall a little. I wish we'd chosen a room with a bed. When you'd been put in an arena where luxury, king sized beds were the standard, sleeping on the floor ended up sucking. Jericho was helping himself to a lot of soup and Honora approached me with two bowls. I wanted to tell her I wasn't that hungry, but she put one in front of herself and another in front of me. Oh. She was choosing to eat with me. This was kind of unusual.

"My mother's favourite kind of soup, carrot," she told me. The orange liquid didn't look pleasant, but any food in the Games was worth eating, and it was a kind of token gesture from Honora which I guess was appreciated.

"You're close to your mother?" I smiled.

"Not like I am with my dad," Honora told me, tucking in and evidently enjoying it. Maybe the soup had a nostalgic quality for her. I dipped my spoon into the soup and starting sipping from that. It was nice enough, I guess. "My mother and I haven't always seen eye to eye. Kind of like me and you, right?" She smirked. "What about you and your parents, you're the Mayor's girl right? That must be kind of cool."

"My parents and I..." I paused. I didn't want to linger much on the things I regretted. "I just can't wait to see them again."

Honora gave me that look, as if she challenged me on who was going to see their parents again, but I wasn't in the mood for competition. She hungrily sipped the soup directly from the bowl.

"I'm sorry that you had to go through this shit," she said, putting the empty bowl down. "And thank you, for finishing off that freak. He'd managed to floor Pullox, Jericho and I. Guess you're our lucky star."

"You could've taken him."

"I know."

I smiled at her, but she was giving me a look which I'd never seen Honora give before. It was almost a concerned look.

"Men fucking suck, Lorelei," she told me, watching me eat intently. "Men have probably walked on both of us, in different ways, but I know the strongest people have all been weak once. You can't be strong until you've been weak to begin with," Honora told me. I guess I related to that. "We can't keep letting people walk all over us, that's all I'm saying. But we girls can stick together, right?"

"Yeah," I said reluctantly.

"I used to hate girls like you," Honora said to herself. "I guess I still have prejudices against girls like you... Like Lexie," she admitted. "Girls who've always been respected because they're everything they're supposed to be. The things I've never been. Quiet, feminine, pretty, rich..." She trailed off for a second. "I've always felt like an outcast, you know? But you're not bad."

"Thank you," I said, pushing my bowl in front of me. I'd almost finished, but I wasn't hungry enough to finish it completely. That and it kind of tasted funny.

"Speak later," Honora patted my shoulder once with a strength that kind of hurt, though I didn't say anything. Then she stood up and marched towards Pullox.

Ruth Pierce, Deputy Head Gamemaker

I approached Tobias, raising a champagne glass in toast. Without a word out glasses clicked together and I took a small sip, trying not to let the disgust creep across my face. I really, really hated champagne.

"Half way through," I said to him. "Isn't this exciting?"

"Yes, we've just showed the tributes a taste of the dark magic that's filled the arena," Tobias looked on the screen as the Careers all slept soundly bar Jericho, was patrolling a corridor outside. Another camera was displaying a 'Magnus' best moments' montage for the audience to see, which was on CapitolTV too. The cameras kept cutting to tributes who were asleep or sitting and walking around silently. "But they haven't seen the full extent of its power. They don't know just how twisted this arena is." He took a sip of champagne and mocked a fake, evil Gamemaker laugh, eventually spluttering on his champagne. "And, even better, no trace of rebellion."

"District Four had an attempted uprisin-"

"Yes, but District Ten, Eight and Three have calmed down," Tobias turned to me bitterly. "The President was wise to declare war against District Thirteen. Not just are they a threat, but war is good for the national psyche. The anger of the citizentry at the government can be channelled from anger to a foreign, alien power. District Twelve can't be angry at the Capitol because they were bombed by District Thirteen. Why be angry at one villain when there's a much bigger one out there?" Tobias asked me. I barely paid attention to him, eyeing the blonde Abigayl Carter who was chatting away to Persephone Walsh. "And what is your problem with Abigayl Carter?"

"Hm?" I turned back to him.

"You're always glaring at her or looking at her, what's your problem? You still don't think it's linked to Aurora Nellington, right? That was two whole years ago."

"No," I smiled at him. "I'm... I'm fine."

Last year Abigayl Carter, or the so called person, told me that she was my missing daughter, Olga Pierce. God knows what happened to Olga. I know she left for District Twelve and was sighted in the Capitol two years ago, but other than that it was hushed up. I believed Abigayl Carter was sick and twisted and wanted to play mind games with me... But deep inside I felt as if I was looking at my daughter...

"You can tell me anyth-"

"So, those superpowers tributes have?"

"Not superpowers," Tobias chuckled. "Science and magic are, in my opinion, the same thing."

"But we'll tell the audience it's magic," I smiled. "Keep the mystery."

"The tracker we injected to them is usually equipped with a... well, tracker, and a device that releases an electrical impulse that kills immediately," Tobias said. "You know, just in case they're rebellious." I knew this already, but just nodded along. "But this time we've kind of installed... New features. It releases electrical impulses that are converted to physical forces, these impulses are triggered by certain words and movements," he nodded to Lexie and Lia, who'd locked themselves into a small bedroom. "Hence why Lexie and Lia now have magic on their side."

"And Seb and Trojan?"

"They didn't drink a potion," Tobias told me, picking a cocktail sausage from a platter as we moved along the Final Twelve party. "They drank a synthetical chemical made by the Capitol, designed to create Super Soldiers. XNTH - a surefire way to win a war," he told me. "It increases strength, speed, hunger, thirst, tiredness, reflexes by one-hundred fold. It also heals most wounds almost immediately," he smirked. "We gave Natalya Nystalgia some last year when she entered the Games, to reassure her father that she would come out safely, and to ensure she had her fun and none of the tributes would kill her. Natalya's dose was extremely diluted, of course. Seb and Trojan get the real deal."

"Diluted?" I questioned.

"I thought you studied engineering, Ruth?" Tobias smiled at me. "Why do you think XNTH isn't used so widespread? Why haven't we conquered the world by now?"

"Because there's a setback," I said.

"Yes. It's one of the most addictive chemicals known to man," Tobias sighed. "I guess giving it to Trojan and Seb was kind of cruel. If they survive the Games, they're going to have a hard time. One dosage will probably not be enough to hook them if they're lucky," Tobias turned to me. "A second, if they take it, will hook all but the most determined. If they take a third dosage..."

I nodded solemnly. "This is the Games. Everything has a price."

"As Darius learned," Tobias frowned. "I like him. He seems like a lovely guy. I didn't want him to suffer because of my ideas, but I guess they all will." He turned to the screen as many views of the arena were displayed on the camera. "But enough lamenting, we get to celebrate and maybe even sleep before the Games continue full force." With a press of a button the screens switched off and he turned to me. "And I have more tricks up my sleeve, as you can imagine."

"Wonderful," I said, toasting lightly before finishing my champagne. "To science."

"Our scientists won't be overworked just yet, though," Tobias turned as the President entered the party, surrounded by Peacekeepers. Before walking to the President, he smiled to me. "I'm a psychologist, Ruth, and if I know anything it's that the tributes will create plenty of drama themselves, without Gamemaker intervention. And that's just perfect for the both of us."

Darius Cortez, District 8, 16

When I felt myself slip into consciousness I was expecting to feel pain. There was no pain, though. Only numbness. Considering I had no vision, said numbness was extremely comfortable. It felt like I was still sleeping as I lay there. I think I wanted to be like this forever; just lying still, blind to everything around me... All the pain, injustice and violence. Is this what death itself was like? If so, I envied Hadley and Brandy, as twisted as that may have sounded. They were the ones who were in an eternal sleep with no worries or pain. I, however, was.

"Darius?" Mirane said. She must have somehow known I was awake.

I couldn't pretend to be asleep, even if a part of my brain wanted to pretend. When Mirane needed me, I couldn't ignore my selfish, irrational desires. I turned to the sound of her voice and smiled. But I was blind, I didn't even know if I was turning to her. I didn't know if she was angry, scared or happy to see me. I was almost too scared to face her. I could only vaguely remember taking my eyes out. The pain I remember most, but I remember Mirane trying to restrain me, shouting curse words at me as I desperately wrestled with her to do what was right for her.

"Hey," I eventually said, realising I had the ability to speak. My voice sounded so weak and drowsy. At least I wasn't in major pain, though the spot where my eyes were did throb and I felt extremely dazed.

"Are you in pain?" Mirane told me. I heard her body come closer, helping me to what I think was the edge of the bed. I still sat down as she kneeled in front of me, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "They gave us a shitload of morphine. We have painkillers, it'll keep the pain away if you feel bad?"

"It only hurts a little," I smiled, swallowing lightly. "Do we have water? I'm thirsty."

Mirane paused. "No. I drank the last of it about an hour ago."

"Looks like Magnus' plan is finally kicking in," I smiled wistfully. And I apparently had no Gamemaker ability to compensate for that. But I had worse worries, for now. I was only a little thirsty - I wasn't dying of dehydration just yet. "Are you mad with me?"

"No," I felt Mirane squeeze my hand. "I was. I was pissed off to hell. But I can't linger on it. I will still tell you how fucking stupid you are," I frowned because that stung. "But I know you did it for a purpose. You tried your best. I can't shout at you for that," she helped me to my feet, which felt like jelly. "And life is too short to be angry anyway, especially in the Hunger Games, right?" I laughed a little. "Come on, we'll get you walking again. Exercise those legs, you've been out for so many hours."

I smiled at her when we started walking. "Do you no longer find me handsome?"

"Who said I ever found you handsome?" Mirane said. I smiled, feeling her hands run across my left ear. Even if I couldn't see it, it was such a comforting feeling. Almost worth dying for. Sometimes when I spoke to Mirane, I felt as if the Hunger Games weren't all bad. I got to meet her, after all. "I'll always find you handsome."

Mirane guided me around the incredibly cramped room. We were really slow, which made me incredibly worried. Mirane was fast enough, but what could I do if I could get out of here? Even when I got the hang of walking again we hobbled around together, incredibly slow and encumbered. When it came to fellow tributes our options could be fight or flight, and Mirane was capable of running quite fast without me. But when I was there? She couldn't do that. She'd have to abandon me to die. And, even though she was very rational, I knew she wasn't going to do that. That means she'd try to fight. Even though she was strong and had a gun, the thought of Mirane fighting certain tributes made my heart feel like it was exploding inside my chest.

We took another step forward and Mirane gasped in shock when I threw myself out of her grip, suddenly jolting into sight. I could hear Mirane calling my name differently but... I could see. I could see Mirane and I, like I was experiencing some kind of outer body experience. My body was curled up in the corner of the room, lying where my own blood had spilt earlier. Mirane touched my arms, lifting me to my feet. I could feel her lift me to my feet. And I could see... but it was from a bird's eye view. I felt incredibly shaken and confused.

"Darius?" Mirane said. "Darius answer me!"

"I..." I muttered, still looking down on us. And then I went blind for another second as I shifted my attention, and I couldn't see Mirane or I. I could see the corridor outside, empty bar the corpse of the robot I had killed yesterday.

I realised that I was seeing from the camera's perspective. And I could control what camera I saw from, though this wasn't something I could control very well. Trying to adjust my focus, I could see my own body again, but this time it was from the perspective of a camera tucked away in the bookshelf. I could see what the audience probably saw. If I utilised this power somehow, I could probably use this ability to get Mirane and I out of here.

"I can see..."

"Darius, what? You're blind?" My sight snapped into darkness again. Mirane gripped my wrist, helping me to my feet. "What do you mean you can see?"

"I see from the sight of the cameras," I said. "Get me to the bed, Mirane." Mirane did as I said, helping me back onto the bed. I lay down, relaxing, focusing for those brief moments. Quickly my sight appeared again, a bird's eye view of the room. There were about six cameras in this room alone, I could almost feel them calling my consciousness. I didn't even know what I was experiencing, but it felt otherworldly. Soon enough I saw the same image (my eyeless body lying relaxed as Mirane paced nervously) over and over again from so many different angles and perspectives. Some cameras were black and white, some put the human eye to shame with thei sharpness.

I knew there was a way out, and that removing my eyes was the way to do so. I had faith in the Gamemakers' twisted humanity, that there'd be some way out, even if a hefty price had to be paid. And I was right. I saw that this room was joined to a tunnel. A tunnel we'd have probably never found without this gift. Mirane almost tried to stop me when I forced myself to my feet, stumbling slightly towards the bookshelf.

"Darius..." I shook off her hand. "What are you doing?"

I saw myself grip the bookshelf and throw it to the ground. I even saw Mirane's perplexed expression as the thin layer of wall beneath was revealed. I could see the tunnel was separated by it, but the wall in front of me had to be structurally weaker than the other surrounding walls. I picked up the nearest solid object - a tableside lamp - and as if I could see I continuously bashed it into the wall, watching the plaster wither away onto the floor and reveal the passageway beneath the wall.

I saw Mirane's expression shift into understanding and soon she was by my side, not questioning my new ability and helping me chip the wall away into nothingness. A part of me was glad to see her face again; as cheesy as it is, a big disadvantage of being blind would be to not see her face. To not see those rare smiles, to see her eyes scan a room so carefully when she entered it. I smiled to myself as I saw the tunnel leading away from the room.

"Where does that lead to?" Mirane asked me, expecting me to understand.

I paused, shifting my sight to the cameras that lines the damp, dark tunnel.

"No mutts," I told her. She held my hand, guiding me along due to my sight being much further ahead than the position that we were currently in. We shuffled forwards slowly. "It eventually gets to a stairwell."

"Can you see beyond that?" Mirane asked.

As much as I tried, I couldn't. It were as if there was some kind of mental blockage, I could almost feel a part of my mind being shoved away from where I wanted to go.

"No..." I froze. "We'll just have to get there ourselves."

I felt myself fall into blindness again. Mirane gripped my hand tightly. I noticed she was cold. I was cold. We shivered in unison and I felt Mirane tentatively guide me through a corridor that felt wet and chilly. The walk was ten or so minutes long and we eventually reached what Mirane probably thought was the stairwell. She stopped, braking me in her tracks.

"The exit?" I asked simply.

"Yeah," Mirane's voice was cautious. "Can you see beyond it now?"

I was still a bit shaky at this strange, new ability. I never really believed in magic - I liked the world of fantasies and stories in my head, but that didn't make them real. But despite having my eyes torn out, how were the Gamemakers giving me this strange power? I realised that they too were storymakers; they used research and science to make the stories real. And they were much more immoral than story creators. It's easy (ish) to write about somebody fictional dying, but when someone real dies as a result of your story? How could you honestly do that?

Eventually the darkness flickered into colour. Lots of colour. I could see the stairwell tucked away in the corner of the courtyard, leading into darkness beneath. The courtyard was bursting with colour though; flowers were planted everywhere as if they were painted across against the green canvas of foliage. This greenery overpowered the grey cobblestones that made up the walls and floor. There were a few benches stacked against the wall, there was also a well. Looked like water wasn't a problem anymore. I kept observing around this courtyard and I think Mirane saw the smile across my face.

"What?" She said, nervous. "No mutts?"

"It's safe," I nodded. We immediately went in motion again. Mirane struggled to help me up the stairs as my sight was still centred on this new, useful part of the arena. "It's much, much better than that."

When I shifted back into blindness I couldn't see the light that was flushed down on us, but I could feel the sun's pleasant heat. I guess the fact the arena was mostly indoor was useful in the sense that we were sheltered from the elements, but the arena could still get cold sometimes, and when it wasn't cold the warmth wasn't the refreshing warmth you'd get from the sun. In fact, it was mildly oppressive. To be outdoors again since Hadley's death gave me some unpleasant memories, but it was kind of liberating. When we wandered out into the courtyard a little bit Mirane paused.

"Wow, Darius," she presumably saw saloon doors opposite. I smiled expectantly and she paused. "What's in there?"

"It's some kind of house, separate from the Palace. Straight inside there's a kitchen," I told her. I saw her expression. She was kind of shocked as she wandered in and saw what I saw, exclaiming her appreciation as she opened the kitchen cupboards and found that they were bulging with food. So, the eye thing was kind of worth it, even if it hurt like hell and I still felt high from the effect of the painkillers. But if I didn't do what I had to do, Mirane and I would be rotting away by now. Mirane could do these things on her own, I knew that, but it was nice to feel useful. It was nice to make her happy.

And she'd be even happier when I told her Magnus was dead, too.

I'm so late, and this chapter is barely edited - apologies. In the UK there's been an election and I've also been planning a holiday and been preparing for exams. Exam season is back so updates will be slow for the foreseeable future :(

AMA answers:

Littletimmy: 2 weeks, give or take a few days. Tobias and the Capitol like Games to only last around 2 weeks; any shorter is too short, any longer and the whole thing drags out a bit. Naturally you get those Games which only last a couple of days or can last for well over a month, but those Games are pretty rare indeed.

Anon: My favourite song? God, I don't have one. It depends. I've been hooked to John Williams soundtracks right now, and also the song Diamonds and Rust by Joan Baez. And Sia's 1000 Forms of Fear album. So that's pretty much my playlist right now.

Other anon: Yes, I love writing Mirane, and yes, representation of LGBT people/women/ethnic minorities/people in general is pretty damn important. If you want your story to reflect real life, you're going to have to truly reflect the population. A quota system isn't what I'm calling for, but just I do think writers should bear in mind a little bit more that there are people other than straight white men who exist.

LokiThisIsMadness: Welcome back! And tough question - Carol, Michonne or Daryl. In the Games it's Clementine or Carley.

Computerfan: Not much, actually. I wish my writing was better, and there were a lot of superfluous plotlines or things that I wish I scrapped. I also wish I developed Kieran and Alec a bit more, because I loved them. So yeah, that's all I guess

xx-TwistedFantasy-xx: Another great question! I can't name any particular qualities. I think when they strike the balance between realistic and interesting, I'm always super psyched, but when I receive forms there are some tributes who I just click with and immediately see them in particular plotlines. All of these tributes fit into this category, and some of the plotlines that are happening now are things I've envisaged the moment I read their form.

Remus98: GRRR. That's a horrible question. KOBK: Monk, Spyglys, Beth. HOBH: Luster, Tarren, Violet. COBC: Darius, Hadley, Tear. But I love them all and I chose that list based on who I think I'd get on with the most if they walked in my room now and we had to have a conversation.

deathlesssmile (username editted because the doc manager doesn't like your username): HEY, it's great to get new readers! I think in these Games the tribute I related most to was Tear, quite easily. Like Tear, I'm a very devoted person, but I can often come across as blunt because I don't like beating it around the bush and I say it how it is, and I'm definitely a realist. But I'm a realist that cares way too much. That said, Tear and I are quite different.

BamItsTyler: Well, I need another segment of my authors note in regard to the Walking Dead submit your own survivor. Here goes, everyone:

The idea of a TWD SYOC was pretty well received, I got like 10 PM's which I wish were reviewed so... it's going ahead! ...When I have time to juggle 2 fics. I have exams through May and June and after exams I'm going to Naples and Rome on holiday, so expect it to debut on 1st July, and if you know anyone who'd leap at the suggestion please advertise.

The plot? I can't give too much away, but I have a vague idea where the plot is heading even before I know who the characters are. There'll be 4 OC's of mine, the protagonist being an 18 year old delinquent (Oscar) from Exeter, England, who is travelling to meet up with his father (who left the family and moved to the USA and had a new family) with his sister (Seline), who studies Law in Stanford. The only problem is the disease was covered up by the authorities worldwide, especially around Europe, and by the time they arrive in the U.S things haven't gone... Well. Following the inevitable scuffle they pair up with an air hostess (Wendy) and a security guard (Jermaine) to find Oscar and Selene's father, and in the process they eventually meet with 25 other survivors within the next 6 months.

Unlike THG multiple submissions are allowed, because I want families. Parents, couples, friends. Obviously the majority of the characters will be solo, and the survivors will each be introduced in the story at different times (I won't introduce all 25 at once).

I have a tendency to write brutal deaths, to make characters develop so much they're borderline unrecognisable by the end of their arc, to make the drama rev up and also throw in lots of moral dilemmas and greys – so while zombie fiction usually escapes me, TWD in particular is a specific kind of universe I think I'd be good at exploring (and yes, it's 'canon' in the sense that it's happening during Rick's adventures in the TV universe, though it's set around the New York state, so while both worlds are going to overlap very slightly don't expect major appearances).

That's all, folks!

~Toxic