Warning: long chapter. And you know how when the final eight strikes I usually have a 'woo final eight!' chapter where it tends to reflect on how much the characters have evolved/devolved but serves little purpose beyond that?

... Well... Things change.

Caecilius Norton, Interviewer

"Okay, is the camera on?"

"Um, one second," my overweight cameraman desperately tried to fiddle with the piece of technology he had. Before he had the camera rolling Carlie's sobbing mother had been taken away. The Final Eight family interviews had always been an important part of the Games, but it was nine or sometimes ten families who were invited into the Capitol. Naturally, one family always left prematurely, and before we lost anymore tributes we often hurriedly interviewed the eight families - all eight being the ancestors of potential victors, which was pretty exciting.

I was annoyed with the technological difficulties and was worried I would have to remove my frown lines for the fifth time. But I thought optimistically; with the political tensions growing around the Capitol it was a good thing that we missed out on the crying family of the deceased. The only one left in the room was Carlie's apparent fiancé, though he didn't seem very bothered. He was ashen faced, certainly, but it looked as if he had been told that he would miss an important business meeting, not that he'd lost the so called love of his life. He spoke quietly to a Peacekeeper, who said something that prompted him to walk out of the room.

"Rolling in three... two..." The cameraman immediately jerked upright. I turned to the camera and gave my best smile. I was renowned for my good looks throughout Panem, I had a natural stage presence and could change into the cheerful Caecilius Norton in approximately five milliseconds.

As soon as we were live and broadcasting, I threw my arms out welcomingly.

"Welcome to the Final Eight interviews!" I smiled. "I understand you're all hungry for more Hunger Games with everything that has happened, but following tradition the Games will have a small break and we're here to focus on the families of those living. Seven of those families will have their hearts broken as their brave children are taken back to their homes to a casket, but one family will find themselves the lucky family of Panem's two-hundred and fourth victor," I paused. Technically there were two-hundred and three when you calculated Jynx's multiple wins and the double win in the seventy-fourth Hunger Games, but when you considered what the seventy-fourth Hunger Games symbolised that was best ignored.

I sucked in a breath to keep that natural but well paced introduction, I moved towards the seats where selected family members had congregated. "Naturally due to the circumstances surrounding Delilah Fauve's entrance one family won't be interviewed today," I felt awkward for mentioning it, because it was a big bluff on the Capitol's behalf but the audience loved it. Many articles had been circulated that had postulated that the Capitol had staged such a twist (which the President surprisingly allowed, because that made the Capitol look much more competent than the alternative). "But we do have other families. The Cortez family, the Saffell family, the Shimmers family, the Flloyd family, the Reid family, the Keating family and the Tarsus family!"

The cheers started. Considering District order was always strictly followed, I made my way to the Tarsus family. Final Eight family interviews were short and sweet, although they were the last publicity stunt to get sponsors as the sponsorship prices dramatically inflated. I wondered if any tributes had seriously considered that their survival may or may not have depended on their family's words.

"So, to the Tarsus family," I sat down, crossing one leg over the other and facing the small family. Lexie's family were very traditional Distict One-ers. All respectable, all relatively attractive, very nuclear. "Lexie is very much the black sheep, or the golden sheep," Lexie's father smiled and the audience laughed. "As a non-Career, were you worried she wouldn't make it this far?"

"It's worth acknowledging that I ensured Lexie got her basic training," her father said proudly as the audience cheered. "Lexie had never intended to volunteer in her life. Naturally, she is proud of her country, but the Hunger Games wasn't the intended way she wanted to serve it. But sometimes accidents happen and I liked to make sure she was at least adequately prepared. I'm glad she was."

I nodded, smiling. Would Lexie make it any further? With Honora and Pullox in the Games, I had began to doubt it. The Careers had had another rough year, but the Career survivors were potentially the most ruthless this year.

I moved the microphone to her brother. He looked the most solemn of all. I couldn't tell if he didn't care for Lexie much or if he was devastated he was going to lose her. Maybe he felt conflicted.

"What do you think Lexie should have done differently?"

He rolled his eyes. "Joined the Careers," was what he said first and foremost. "Maybe she could've kept some stability there, and because of her non-Career status she's basically a target for the remaining Careers," the boy's mother glared at him and he softened. "But that wasn't too bad a mistake. Her worst mistake was letting the Eleven bitch survive."

A gasp from the audience; nobody had expected Lexie's family to bring up Lia. It was good Lia's family weren't here, there would've possibly been some level of drama which may have given Capitolians a lot of juice to feast on.

"Wow," I sniggered, moving the microphone to her mother. "Who do you think will miss Lexie most?"

Lexie's mother paused, as if she were thinking deeply.

"She has a little sister who wants to see her again," Mrs. Tarsus looked as if she didn't want to cry. She was obviously much more affected by the ordeal of the Hunger Games than her boys. "I couldn't answer that honestly. I miss her with every fibre of my being. I want to see her come home, no matter what she has to do," she smiled weakly. "We all miss her. Our hearts all bleed for her. All four of us, and her friends... Everybody."

I thought for a moment she would burst into tears, but she didn't; she maintained a near-teary composition. I patted her shoulder and offered her a lemon scented tissue, though she rejected my offer. Deciding that this was my cue to end their interview, I smiled and moved towards the Shimmers family who were all seated. Somehow, they were even more regal and cold looking than the Tarsus family, dressed impeccably in District One's jewels. They were all blonde haired, blue eyes and - with the exception of the little girl who seemed like a little button of sunshine - emitted a cold aura that reminded me scarily of Pullox.

"Mr. Shimmers," I sat down and faced the three. The little girl was held closely by her mother, who fussed over her hair. "Your son managed to get into the Final Eight... And what a competitor he's been! How do you feel?"

"Well, um," Mr. Shimmers had that shade of deep voice that could only belong to someone who was irredeemably dull. I decided his segment would be very brief, because I didn't want the audience to fall asleep. He seemed to pause in thought, conjuring up the words that probably filled his somewhat shallow mind. "I-I'm very proud, of course. Naturally I expected to have a son who would inherited my empire and, you know, do something with it." He cleared his throat, giving his wife an eery side-eye. "I'd never asked for a Hunger Games victor, but if that's what he wants to do and he's good at it..."

"And how do you feel, Mrs. Shimmers? Surely a mother would worry for her child?"

"Worry?" She immediately burst into life, her cold front disappearing as she held her daughter close. "He's my boy, of course I worry!" Her hand gestures had that dramatism that made the Capitol love District One so much, a theatrical aura only rivalled by Capitolians themselves. "He's a very smart boy - he always excelled academically, I'm sure you've all figured that out," couldn't resist injecting a boast. "But I do think he could do things a little differently. Now, I've always encouraged Pullox to pursue what he loves, but I'm worried if he gets absorbed into it all he'll lose track and get himself killed," she shook her head, and quickly slicked back a strand of hair that went loose from behind her ears.

I couldn't resist another question:

"Does it not disturb you, seeing him play tricks?"

Mrs. Shimmers paused.

"He's always enjoyed games, sadly this game is just a little brutal," she shrugged.

I forced a smile. I could certainly see why Pullox turned out the way he did. With such a dull, almost indifferent father and a mother who was both anxious yet oblivious they were almost asking to produce a boy of Pullox's nature - they may as well be psychopathic breeding machine. Though I glanced down at his young sister, Floy, and realised that sometimes the laws of physics could be defied.

"He's not bad," she said quietly, a meekness that made her all the more endearing.

"Is he not?" I asked, prompting her to go more into depth. We all loved a villain with a heart of gold, afterall.

"He's always been sweet to me. Given me everything I wanted," Floy paused, her eyes trailing to the floor and then back up. I could almost read her thoughts; she were scanning me, looking for any sign of negative intention. "I know he can do bad things sometimes, but he told me everything about it." A beat passed. "He told me that he would do some bad things, but that he had to do them to make both of us happy forever. And I trust him. He puts on an act on the screen, I promise. But once he wins you'll see him for the guy he really is."

That prompted a few tears from the audience, despite the fact Floy didn't seem particularly upset or teary herself. She smiled meekly at the audience, not quite understanding the response. Floy's mother grew teary herself and began fussing over her daughter as I moved onto the next family; usually we accepted up to three loved ones to the Capitol on an all expenses paid trip, though according to the Reid family they were the only people Trojan was close to... Which was strange indeed.

"Mr. Reid," I sat down in front of the two and smiled, first at the sullen faced man. "Pleased to meet you."

"Thank you," Trojan's father gave the most half hearted smile I'd ever seen.

"So, tell me a little about Trojan's background..."

Mr. Reid paused. He hadn't expected the question.

"We've always been proud, working class parents," he said. "I work in the markets of District Three, my wife here works as a cook," he glanced at his wife, who didn't react in any way. "So we've always struggled to survive. We've always been poor. But that's just how it is." He shrugged. "Trojan has always been used to it the hard way. That's why he's got the perfect resolve for the Games."

"Do you think he has a chance?"

Mrs. Reid nodded her head, giving the shortest answer yet:

"Certainly."

I stroked my chin.

"Now, we want to clarify that this is a fact, but there have been rumours..." I paused and the Reid couple both looked at me, almost as if they were daring me to continue. "Rumours from the tabloid press about you not being present during Trojan's reaping, and about not visiting him in the Justice Building." I got a first glimpse of genuine emotion: regret from the both of them, and this time it seemed authentic. "Are these rumours true? And if so, why? Does it increase the longing to see your son again, because you never got to say goodbye?"

"The last time I said goodbye to Trojan was when we left for work, we both needed to make money, and unlike many other families we just couldn't afford to attend the Reaping," somehow I felt Mrs Reid's words were lies, though the rest was true: "It was a quick goodbye, that was all I thought we needed, we both went our separate ways. Naturally, the chances of being reaped are incredibly rare, it only happens to one in every so thousand families... I didn't think it would be mine... So..." She shook her head. There were no tears, but her mournful expression was real and was somehow as piercing as crying.

She was silenced, and her husband gave her the one sign of affection I would ever see from the Reid family. He tentatively brushed her shoulder in a semi-comforting way, and then glanced at me.

"We've never been the most emotional family," he stated the obvious. "In District Three, you can't afford to be like that. I learned that from a young age, as did Trojan. But yes, we both wish we at least got to see him off, to have a real last moment with him. We miss him."

Somehow, despite their stoic attitudes, the Reid family had touched me more than the Tarsus and the Shimmers family. The audience weren't as responsive, but their silence was a very awkward, piercing one. It were almost like a background noise of sadness, like the kind you'd expect from the back rows of a particularly lonely funeral.

"Now," I stood up, brushing down my pearl white blazer. I smiled at the camera, which stalked after me. "What can we expect from the Flloyd family? Their daughter has certainly had a particularly interesting journey, with her score of Twelve and her impeccable skill of killing. But what else is there to Honora Flloyd besides that? Maybe we'll find out," I sat down. Like Pullox's family, they consisted of a mother, father and a younger sister who was trembling like a leaf. I swear her father's face was vaguely familiar. Whoever he was, he had some position of influence.

"Mr. Flloyd," I smiled at the bald man. "Your background is... interesting," and my interesting I meant a clean slate for someone who owned a relatively successful business. Mr. Flloyd paused, nodding. "Is there anything we don't know about your daughter that you may find enlightening?"

The man chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.

"Well, my daughter is very open about everything," he scratched his chin. He seemed a little amused. I could tell from his confidence that he knew his daughter was likely to come home. He opened his mouth to talk, but decided against it: "She's not your average Career who hates her family." I noticed Honora's sister glare up at her father, though the camera didn't catch it. "We've always gotten on very well. She's always been a well adjusted girl, she went to school, she had friends... I think." He smiled. "She had her hobby, she kept fit. She's a normal teenage girl, despite how much of a fighter she is."

"I'll take your word for it," I smiled. I couldn't imagine Honora putting on make-up, doing homework and worrying about boys... Or whatever teenage girls did. I turned to her mother. "Does Honora share anything in common with you?" I gave her a charming wink. "You seem like a very feminine lady to me."

Honora's mother blushed bashfully, waving her hand dismissively.

"Oh, you're too kind," she paused. "Honora and I haven't always seen eye-to-eye."

"No?"

She paused, getting defensive. "Well we don't argue! Honora argues enough with her sister!"

I turned to her sister. "Is this true?"

We were really getting down to the meat. I'm not sure if family drama - which could be twisted as familial isolation by the Capitol media if they decided to be sympathetic - would give Honora a sponsorship advantage. It could backfire, because all the families I had interviewed prior had shown affection for their sibling, sometimes in strange ways but it was still there. Honora's family loved her too, of course, but we could twist it to make it look otherwise to give her a sympathetic angle if we so chose.

I wouldn't feel guilty at the prospect of destroying Honora's sponsorship chances. Of all the tributes, she was probably the one who needed sponsors the least.

"Well," Honora's sister paused. She was very uncomfortable. Usually I discouraged discomfort, because it made for a jarring interview. This time was different. "She's a little scary-"

"Has she hurt you?"

The girl opened and closed her mouth, as if she didn't know how to answer.

"Okay," Honora's mother shook her head. "They've only had catfights," I glanced at the scar on the girl's face and decided that was some catfight. And even then, it would've been a very unfair catfight considering Honora was twice as tall and wide as her sister. "It's something all sisters do. This interview is over."

I grinned. "Of course," I shook my head. "Of course. So it's time to see the Keating family..."

I was shocked to find that the Keating family didn't have the usual line up - it was only Sebastian's mother who was sitting there, with his father absent. Instead he had two siblings sat down. I wondered if that was worth commenting on.

"No Mr. Keating? Did he not want to go on our all expenses trip?"

Mrs. Keating shook her head.

"Ashton, his brother, wanted to go more," she smiled and turned to her younger son, stroking his cheek affectionately. "I mean, it's a once in a lifetime opportunity. My husband had to work hard to keep paying the bills, so no, he couldn't really visit for this interview. But S-Seb is always in his thoughts. He'll be watching us," she waved weakly at the camera.

"Seb has turned out... different to how I expected... Did you ever see this side to him?"

His mother shook her head, she looked disappointed almost. "Never. I mean, I never thought anything could make him eat meat! But here he is eating chicken and whatever he can get his hands on..." She paused. "I don't know why I'm disappointed he did. I always wanted him to eat meat, always pressured him to do it," she shook her head. "But eating meat is the least of his concerns, right?"

I looked at her solemnly. "Yeah. He's had a pretty rough ride... Do you think he could win?"

"He needs to stay away from whatever he was taking," said an older girl who was already taller than her mother. I turned towards Seb's sister, who looked at me intently. "He's not a bad person. Seb is the nicest guy I've ever met... I mean that." She bit her lip slightly. "That stuff he's taken... A-And the peer pressure from the Three boy..." The audience sucked in a breath and the camera panned for the Reid family's reactions. There'd been a lot of final eight families dissing final eight contestants, and it was glorious. "It's changed him. And I-I hope he snaps out of it," she wiped tears from her eyes. "That boy on screen isn't my brother, but I know my brother is there."

"Do you agree?" I asked the younger brother, who wasn't even eligible to be reaped. Still, for someone so small he seemed so wise.

The boy paused and then nodded.

"Yes," he paused. "He loves us. He's just trying to get home... A-And..." He looked like he didn't want to say the words. "When he killed the Eleven girl that was a mistake. It was tragic, but it was mistake. Just look at his face when he did it. He couldn't do that."

"If he couldn't do it, how do you expect him to survive?"

The boy paused.

"By closing his eyes and doing it again."

I didn't have a reply to that. It was such a simple reply, and yet there was something so delicious about it... Something so defeated. I just smiled and stood up. Now it was time to interview the family of the love birds. The Hunger Games hadn't seen a romance in years, definitely not one that had lasted so long. I ushered them to follow me to Mirane Saffell's family.

If there was something all the families shared in common, it was pride. Lexie's family seemed proud, Pullox's did too, Trojan's family weren't proud in a traditional sense but there was a hint of it within their apathy, Honora's family had a healthy dose of pride and Sebastian's family were less rigid than the others, but they still seemed to put on a show for the camera. Mirane's family were no different - in fact, they probably took pride to the extreme.

At first I had thought Mirane had escaped the arena and was sitting on the stage until I realised she was a twin. Mirane's twin sat down, a spitting image from her sister albeit with much straighter hair and posture.

"Deputy Mayor Saffell!" I smiled. I'd interviewed him briefly once, when I was just getting into journalism. He'd been Deputy Mayor for a while now. I almost felt bad for him, most other people would've been Mayor by then... I wonder if he resented that. "It's lovely to see you!"

"It's lovely being here!" He replied, standing up and shaking my hand firmly. Considering the circumstances, I didn't really consider it a pleasure being in the Capitol - his daughter was in danger. "The Capitol really is the place of dreams," he complimented as he sat down. The audience cheered. Mirane's mother just sat there calmly, her eyes flickering away from the camera occasionally.

"It really, really is," I nodded my head. "I'm sure you've enjoyed the food?"

"Of course."

"Well, you'll be able to enjoy it for another day before you go back," I smiled. "All yours, from us, as a congratulations for your fierce daughter doing so well. You must be so proud of her."

The Deputy Mayor bit his bottom lip, pausing. He then nodded enthusiastically and proudly, but said lowly: "I cannot tell you how proud I am of my girl, Caecilius. We've never really gotten on. I've worked hard and Mirane hasn't understood why I had to do that and has resented it... and... and we've got political disagreements," he paused. "Not that she hates the Capitol, but she was under the notion that we deserved a little more freedom, you know what kids are like," he waved his hand dismissively and the audience laughed understandingly. "But she's gone out there when she was reaped, she took it like a pro and she represented herself, me and her District so, so well." He shook his head. "And I love her."

That prompted an applause from the Capitol, the first one in a while. I wondered how much the other families envied Deputy Mayor Saffell's charisma and ability to pull the strings in his favour. He was certainly so unlike his outspoken, to the point daughter.

"What do you think has been her most impressive moment?" I asked her sister, who twirled a strand of ebony hair around her finger.

The girl didn't need much prompting to talk: "That's a good question," she paused. "To be honest, I haven't watched the Games much... I-I've been nervous like you can imagine," she admitted. "I don't really like the thought of seeing my sister die on television, so whenever there's a tense moment I look away," she chuckled. "But I never knew Mirane was crazy good with a gun!"

The audience cheered again. Looked like Mirane missed out on the charisma gene. Mirane's twin sister, Lace, was very open and bubbly. It made her words seem so much more sincere.

"It's true!" The girl laughed, looking at the audience. "Ain't she a good shot?"

They cheered in affirmation. I laughed, clapping along with them and soaking up the moment. I could almost feel the anger seeping from the other families, the Keating family and the Cortez family being the exception.

"So, the juicy question, Darius?" I smirked a little bit, moving the microphone to Mirane's mother. "Must be nice having someone along with the ride with her, right? Someone who could comfort and protect her?"

Mirane's mother pouted.

"I... I don't want to be controversial..."

"Come on," I prompted her. "It's a free country." Kind of.

"I love my daughter..." She sucked in some air. "Which is why I hope she shakes that boy off soon, or at least someone else can shake him off for her," the audience gasped. I saw Darius' mother shake her head sadly off camera. "He's a nice boy, I can't deny that, but I think he's made Mirane look like a fool. Instead of fighting for her survival she's fighting for some boy, and their public displays of affection show a worrying lack of respect," she ignored the boos from the audience, talking over them: "I like Darius. I adore my daughter. But I do hope to god this 'Dirrane' nonsense is stopped before it kills my daughter!"

I couldn't talk over the hissing, unsatisfied audience. Mirane's mother - who certainly shared some qualities with her daughter which Deputy Mayor Saffell didn't - had undone the work her family had set up, and she seemed unperturbed by it when she sat down, crossing one leg over the other. I approached the Cortez family, but before I could wait for the audience to stop Darius' mother, who was trembling, snatched the microphone from me.

"I'm just getting this in," her voice was angry, but the calm anger which was somehow even more worrying. "I'm happy that Darius has had someone to care for him in the arena. I-If, god forbid, Darius doesn't make it out... A-And Mirane does... She's welcome to our house any day she wants. She has our full respect and hospitality. You've raised a good, strong girl."

That must have hurt more than any insult could. I think I even saw Deputy Mayor Saffell wince. Darius' kind-faced mother sat down, holding hands with her husband. The audience roared in support for the Cortez family - a superficial form of support, anyway, because they were on the Dirrane train for superficial reasons and would cheer on anyone who supported it.

"What do you think of the best romance the Hunger Games has had in a decade?" Scrap that - a half century.

"I don't care about the superficial things," Darius' mother's voice cracked with emotion. She was still shaking, terrified for her son. "Darius is no fairytale handsome prince, I know that. But he has someone he cares about... W-Who cares for him," she nodded. "She's saved my son's life, she's given him a light at the end of the tunnel, so I will always appreciate that. I know that if Darius died, she made the process a lot easier for him..." She burst into tears. Her husband tried to hold her, but she got in the last word: "A-And that's what matters..."

She sobbed and Darius' father, who looked like he was going to follow her into uncontrollable tears, looked up at me almost pleadingly. I think he expected me to help Darius somehow, like I had that power. I just asked a question:

"District Eight aren't known for winning Hunger Games. Do you think District Eight has a Victor this year?"

"Yes," Darius' father sniffled. "Darius has done himself so proud, he's shown he'll do anything to see us again... E-Even if he died I know he tried," he wiped his eyes very briefly. His wife was still crying. "And if he doesn't make it, there's a fighter in Mirane. Maybe our District really will win."

The audience cheered again. I smiled down at Darius' little sister, who was probably too young to truly understand the Hunger Games. She seemed sad, but not quite so devastated as her parents. Her eyes shone with naivety and confusion.

"Do you want to finish the Final Eight interviews with any last words?" I asked her with a sweet voice.

"Go Darius!" She stood up and cheered. "Win for us! I miss you!"

I smirked. Everyone's family seemed to be missing them, but only one would see their relative again. Did I think Darius had a chance? Probably not. But I did know that even if he did win his family would still be missing him. No matter who won, a different person would return home compared to the child that was taken away.

Delilah Fauve, District 11, 16

I rushed along one of the corridors, desperately trying to create distance between Pullox and I. It had to have been at least an hour since he had tried to kill me, and the lack of cannon fire had probably clued him up to the fact I hadn't drowned. I paused for a second, trying to catch my breath as droplets of water still rolled off me. I still felt like I was drowning, and everywhere I looked I still saw Carlie's still body. Sometimes it would still be floating around me, morbidly peaceful. Sometimes it would be slumped on the floor, eyes seemingly wide open in shock whilst surrounded by strange, dying aquatic creatures.

That could have been me. Maybe one day, it will be. I wouldn't die the same way as Carlie but I figured most corpses looked the same. So still, with the empty facial expression. I didn't want to be that.

Cradling my arm, which was still limp and paralysed, I began moving forward. I hoped the wet trail I had left didn't lead Pullox right to me. Now I wasn't barricaded in some kind of room I had no tactic, and I realised that waiting around to die wasn't exactly the most inspiring tactic. My chances of survival were slim, but there was still some kind of chance. At least I believed that straight down. Pullox's words may have hurt me... Because I had always believed I was just the disposable one. I mean, only someone who thought so little of their own lives would volunteer for the Games - even for the one they loved.

I had enough of thinking like that. I couldn't let monsters like Pullox make me feel worthless when they existed, doing nothing but unleashing their own misery onto countless other people. I was going to survive.

I kept stumbling forwards. I was now somewhere cold. A corridor that would have seemed grand and rich only a week ago but now seemed like a background blur, like something hollow with its expensive ornaments and white and gold decor. I tried to think about what I needed to do next to survive. I was weak, my arm couldn't move, I was tired and hungry. The only weapon I had on me was a knife (and a knife I wouldn't underestimate considering it had saved my life). It definitely wasn't the equipment your usual final eight survivor would have.

... So what to do?

There was only one thing to do. And every time it flashed into my head I kept dismissing it as stupid, but the more I thought about it the more appealing it would be. Lexie was powerful. If I could find her my chances of surviving may multiply tenfold. But Lexie and I hadn't exactly parted on great terms, and whilst she had spared me because of sentiment she held onto, that sentiment had probably waned a long time ago. Maybe if I saw her again she wouldn't be so kind. And I could do nothing to fight back; I knew I couldn't kill Lexie, I wasn't emotionally strong enough for that. And even if I was I doubted I was a match against her.

I stumbled around a corner, almost collapsing into an oriental chair. I gripped onto the back of it to keep balance as I tried to bundle my thoughts together from a stream of consciousness into a cogent thought process. Lexie may not be a good plan, she may be a disastrous one, but she was my best chance of getting out of here... if not my only chance. The girl who once felt she depended on me now found me dependent on her. And despite her resentment for me, I knew I'd rather face her than any other tribute in the arena. The numb looking Three boy, the unforgiving looking Eight girl, the psychotic Four girl and then... Pullox.

The clocks struck midnight and a ringing filled the arena as I made up my mind.

Day Eleven, Morning

Shanae Titherington, Capitol Citizen

The Final Eight parade had taken place, an outside spectacle that always managed to entertain the Capitol. All over the main street and central square of the Capitol images of the final eight flashed by, all of them unique people. In a weird way, all of them had a chance too - they'd all proven themselves capable in one way or another. But for once my mind was definitely not on the Games. I hugged a shawl over my body as the nipping cold of the night passed. There was noise everywhere; noise inside my head and noise coming from the raucous audience. The parade always blasted music.

Where the hell was Xen when I needed her?

I saw her at the edge of the parade. We'd both been Games fans until last year, until our friend Charity and her mother had showed us how horrific they were. Since then I'd kept away from them. I thought Xeniamia had, but judging from her cheering at the projection of a little girl getting her throat slashed it seemed as if she hadn't really been good at sticking to her morals. Considering her dad was one of the leading Peacekeepers, I wouldn't really expect anything less. I struggled to fight through the tide of cheering people until I was behind Shanae, who was cheering as a dozen or so Avoxes struggled to carry a large stand where people dressed up as the current tributes cheered and waved at the audience.

"Oh my god!" Xen seemed to see something particularly spectacular. I grabbed her shoulder, which she didn't react to. So I forcefully turned her around.

"What the he-" Her features softened. "Shanae."

"I-I heard my dad on the phone to my mother," I was somewhat breathless, but Xen was immediately disinterested. "They're not going to report it in the media until tomorrow but they've busted a Gamemaker, Olga Pierce, she's been exposed as pretending to be Abigayl Carter," I sucked in some breath. I hadn't gotten over Doctor Carter's death a year ago. "A-And they found the body of the person she was impersonating."

Xeniamia looked at me seriously. "What? D-Do they know we're involved?"

"N-No..."

"Good."

I was surprised by how dismissive Xen was. She turned away from me and pouted, trying to get back into the Hunger Games' festive parade but obviously failing to do so. What had changed her attitude? Maybe her dad had indoctrinated her. Both of our fathers were high ranking Peacekeepers - mine was the Captain, whereas her father was a high ranking soldier. My father had been absent after being sent to the war, but her father was still at home with her. I knew that fathers often tried to indoctrinate their children with Capitolian propaganda. Had it gotten to her?

I winced as a model who I think was trying to emulate the Eight girl (though her skin and hair were a lot lighter) push over a hulking, muscular version of a man who looked so unlike the Three boy he was trying to represent. He fell off his platform and onto the Capitolian road, which prompted cheers from everyone in the audience except Xen and I. The model quickly ran after the platform and climbed onto it again as if nothing had happened.

"The rebels are in trouble, Xen," I said reproachfully, worried that those around me could hear. It was common knowledge walls had ears within the Capitol, though everyone surrounding me seemed to absorbed on the parade. Xeniamia, however, picked up on what I was saying and sharply turned towards me with her eyebrows raised.

"I-I don't care about that anymore," she looked at the floor guiltily. "I've had time to think about my life... and the Capitol isn't perfect, but we're safe with them," she sounded somewhat uncertain. "We're not safe associating ourselves with rebels. And what happened last year was awful and twisted, but it's behind us and we're not connected to it. I'm just going to forget it. I'm not going to be connected to it any longer," she shook her head, her lilac hair sweeping around dramatically. "If Olga Pierce has been exposed, good. She took risks and she faces the consequences," I paused. I felt so alone. The rebel web in the Capitol had relocated to the other Districts, my family certainly weren't on my side and the one person I thought I could trust had seemingly shunned everything I thought she stood for.

"Xen, please," I paused... "Do you not care about Charity?"

She paused. I think she was going to answer at first. She turned to face me and narrowed her artificially coloured eyes slightly. As rain began to drizzle, I could only look at her while she turned around and became one with the Capitol again. Even though I could reach out and touch her, she felt a million miles away. I turned around and walked away, knowing that there was nothing I could do.

Mirane Saffell, District 8, 17

"Hey, I think I may have found something," I called up to Darius as I searched through the ruins of what once appeared to be some kind of courtyard, though it had now been reduced to a crater. It looked like it used to be some kind of bag. Bar tatters, rubble, and the occasional very old splotch of blood there was very little to be found. But I clung onto the burnt remain of a bag. Considering Darius and I were growing increasingly desperate for more food, any supplies would be appreciated. I tore the burnt bag open slightly onto to see its contents had been charred completely.

"What is it?" Darius called down to me.

I tipped it over, despairingly watching soot float down.

"Just burnt old shit," I sighed. I wondered what had caused this level of destruction. Whatever it was, it had definitely killed somebody. To be in the proximity of such a blast, a blast that had reduced everything around it to rubble or soot, would mean you would be killed unless you were made out of metal or something. I bent down, launching blackened wood aside in the hopes that I would find something.

"You know Mirane," Darius was way above me, sitting on the edge of the blast site. I looked up and saw his dangling legs and his smiling face, a background of blue sky and white clouds behind him. "I'm pretty sure you're just wasting your time up there when you could be up here with me doing cool stuff. Like, I dunno, cloud gazing or something," he smiled.

"It's the Hunger Games," I rolled my eyes. "We don't have time for that," I gestured towards him. "You know I don't like you sitting around up there, too, perched like a bird that's asking to be shot."

"No-one is around," Darius smiled.

"You know that?" I challenged.

He smiled knowingly. I hated being proven wrong, especially by Darius. But he was probably right considering he had access to most of the cameras in the proximity. Sighing, I frustratedly kicked some rubble and watched it bounce thrice before resting a few feet before me. I just felt like I wasn't doing enough, like I wasn't well prepared enough for what was to come. It was the Final Eight now, maybe I wouldn't be prepared for what was to come. All I knew was that things got at their most difficult and that Darius and I were living on borrowed time.

I moved up the rubble and sat on the edge of the crater with Darius, sighing and deciding to take a break for two seconds. I was kind of hungry, but with our current stock I couldn't afford to eat until tonight at least. Feeling restless and defeated, I rested my head on Darius' shoulder slightly as he took my hand. This was nice. Too nice. But the Final Eight was not a time to lie around and cuddle.

"Thank you," Darius said.

"Hm?"

"Just... You've made the Games worthwhile," he said. "Obviously given the choice I would avoid watching a thirteen year old get her throat slit or get close to someone only to have them gutted and hung from a tree in their own innards," he paused and turned towards me as we sat atop a mound of beautiful destruction. "But having you here with me makes it bearable."

"You too Buster," I said.

"I love you."

The words left his lips at the weirdest moment. Woah. I glanced at him for a moment as if he had spoken in a foreign language. I expected a lot in the Games but I had never ever expected... That. Maybe it was a sign of how bad a position I was that I would've been less shocked if a bullet had been fired at me or a monster came crashing around the corner towards us, hungry for our flesh. But I didn't get that. I got three words that made me feel extremely important and also extremely confused. I think for the first time in my life I blushed.

"W-What?" Darius stuttered, as if the words sounded better in his head. Maybe in his head I swooned and declared my undying love for him. But if he loved me he'd understand that wasn't me.

"Um, nothing," I paused and felt bad when I saw how deflated Darius was. I squeezed his hand. "I just don't think you do love me. Not truly," he glanced at me, offended. "Love is... a mighty big thing. It's the biggest thing. It's only three words but what you said was a symbol of infinite commitment. And we've known each other how long, almost three weeks?" I giggled, though my words didn't seem comforting. "I-I just mean... You know, that's the kind of thing you say after a lifetime. And sadly we don't have a lifetime."

"But I mean it."

I paused. "It's just easy to say those things in the heat of the moment. Love isn't something that happens when you're fighting to the death and love at first sight isn't true... It's... Difficult," I frowned. "I really like you. Really, really. But I'd feel cruel if I told you I loved you. I'm not so sure I do."

"Then what are we?" Darius asked tentatively. I paused because I'd never really considered it. "Friends, or more than that or not even friends... Are we just allies who got too attached?" I bit my bottom lip slightly as I tried to think of the answer. There wasn't an answer that was accurate. We certainly weren't dating, I'm not sure friends acted like we did and our relationship was certainly too intense to just be some tactical decision.

I opened my mouth to come up with an improvised answer, one that would've probably sounded disappointing to Darius. To tell him he was just a friend would've bordered on rejection, either, and I know after we had spent a night together he'd have felt used even though sex had always been a no-strings deal for me. Thankfully, before I opened my lips a voice boomed. It was to be expected: there was always a congratulatory announcement for the final eight. And it was usually accompanied with something more sinister, like the announcement for a feast or another Games related twist.

Darius seemed to be on my level. I was relieved when I eyed him briefly to see he was no longer interested in the subject of our relationship - he was listening intently to what the Gamemakers had in store. I listened too, almost tempted to squeeze his hands as the anticipation built.

"Hello tributes," Leein Malpin. I certainly hadn't missed his saccharine voice. "As usual, I have to congratulate the eight surviving tributes for their commendable skill and bravery. The Games are nearing their climax, it's all so exciting, isn't it?" I grabbed the side of the crater, forcing myself to stand. Darius clumsily followed suite. There was another pause, only filled by Leein clearing his throat as the wind wound its way through my hair. "But there can only be one survivor," the sentence felt like a stab in the gut. "Which is why we've taken the initiative to speed the Games along by giving you a nice tornado."

What? I paused. I was almost too shocked to react.

"Right here, right now. And it won't stop until it consumes a tribute and we're ever so closer to the climax. One of you will die," I almost heard his lips curl into a smile. "So I would advise you to get running."

"Fuck," I grabbed Darius' hand. "We need to get somewhere safe. Underground, anywhere, is there anything you can see to help?" I was frantic. I had been so relieved to make it into the Final Eight, but naturally the Gamemakers didn't want relief on their television screens. Positivity was boring for them.

Darius didn't reply, I think he was busy searching.

"Oh," Leein's voice burst back in. "And when we reach the final seven you'll be hearing from me again."

I swallowed, glancing around the ruined courtyard. There was no sign of a twister but I could almost feel it on the horizon.

"Okay, I've got somewhere, but we need to hurry," Darius said, panicked.

I automatically began sprinting.

"Show me the way."

Trojan Reid, District 3, 15

Sebastian was running a lot faster than I was, and admittedly my temper was getting harsher and harsher. As we ran towards the ballroom which led to the sewers, where we could go underground to safety, I grabbed his larger figure and almost shoved him into the wall so that he couldn't block my weight. He cried out, but didn't even fight back as I overtook him. Despite always being quite agile and athletic, he quickly caught up again and almost shoved in front of me. We may have been in an alliance, but we definitely didn't want to be left at the mercy of a tornado and would happily fight with each other to survive.

We skirted round the corner desperately. Sebastian's speed was so intense he almost skidded into the wall as I sharply turned the corner. I was almost shocked to see the District Four girl speeding towards us - I'd been so caught up with the other tributes in the Games I forgot that Careers still existed and that they were a threat. She definitely didn't intend to hunt us, she was just running desperately from the threat which was approaching, but I saw her reach for one of her many weapons as soon as she noticed us.

We couldn't run from her; we had to get into that ballroom if we ever wanted to be sheltered. Seb almost halted, but I rushed towards Honora hoping that I could duck or dodge anything she threw at me. I was almost terrified when I saw the barrel of a shotgun pointed right at my chest.

Honora fired and I expected the sting of pain, or perhaps even instant death. But Seb rushed in front of me, purposely taking the bullet. He was blasted backwards and toppled me over as Honora loaded and fired again as she still ran, cracking the wall behind me. Too rushed and hurried to try to kill us, I only caught a glimpse of her rushing around the corner while desperately trying to reach safety.

"Fuck," I hissed, eyes wide as I glanced at Seb. I felt so numb from that encounter.

He groaned and stood up. That wasn't something you could do when you were shot square in the stomach. At first relief hit me (something I wasn't used to, especially in the Hunger Games) upon seeing that my ally was alive, but as he held out his hand and aided me to my feet it all seemed to come together. There wasn't even a bloodstain. There was only one explanation.

"You still have the vial, don't you?" I said it almost emptily, without any harsh accusation. Seb looked at me, shocked that I could figure it out. But I immediately knew from his reaction that I was right.

"Look, Trojan-"

"Why did you lie to me?" I sounded hurt. Maybe I was hurt. I expected very little from allies - I was still relieved Seb hadn't attempted to slit my throat as I slept - but somehow this still hurt something inside.

"Look," Seb seemed to fumble for any kind of excuse. We both stood there awkwardly as a tornado approached, but considering we weren't too far from the grate that led underground I wasn't too worried. I leaned on the wall slightly, glaring up at him as he stuttered. "I... Um... Well..." He inhaled. "I just needed it Trojan. I didn't want you to take it... I'm sorry - I really am-"

"Give it to me," I held my hand out. "If you care about me as an ally I demand you give it to me. It's mine."

I was expecting a protest and a fight. I even contemplated gripping the hilt of my dagger when I saw Sebastian's irritated expression. But he was as mentally weak as I hoped. He reached into a small bag and removed the small victor vial, which only had mere droplets left in it. As soon as I clasped it and held it in my hand, I decided it was time to rid it from our alliance. There wasn't even enough in it to be beneficial, and it had saved our lives too many times. Sucking in a breath, knowing that a part of me would miss it, I uncapped it and let the few drops roll down my tongue.

Before me, Seb looked almost furious as a warm albeit mild ecstasy exploded in my brain like fireworks. He turned around pettily and stormed towards the ballroom. I took a moment to bask in the revitalised feeling I felt. It was nice to feel so strong again after almost being killed by the Eight bitch. Once I recovered, I turned around and looked out of the window with a grimace. I could see it in the distance, coming towards us and growing bigger and bigger. Looked like a storm was coming, and even though I knew where to hide away from said storm it'd be interesting to see who got caught up in it.

Delilah Fauve, District 11, 16

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Looked like my plan had certainly been cancelled until further notice. My once injured leg was still stiff and sore, and even with the adrenaline running had seemed difficult. Furthermore, though my arm was beginning to regain a sense of feeling it was still unmoving. It felt extra heavy as I desperately tried to run and find some kind of shelter. But I didn't know where I could even hide. Where would be the best place to run if there was ever a tornado? I felt as if an underground base would be best, but as far as I was aware this Palace didn't have one.

I desperately turned a corner until I reached a long, impressive hallway which had a line of French doors on either side of its walls. As I desperately staggered down the hallway I could see the sky outside. The dark clouds outside looked like an impressive wall which blocked any sign of sunlight, and they kept giving birth to forks of lightning which seared whatever ground there was in the distance. Not stopping to look at the scenery for too long, I continued rushing forwards in a desperate attempt to reach some kind of safety. There was a high pitched whistling that seemed to fill the air.

One by one, as if they had been kicked forcefully, the French doors opened after me. One almost slammed into my body but I skirted to the side. The force of the wind sent glass shattered in front of and behind me as I reached the doorway at the end of the corridor. Despite feeling the urge to, I didn't even glance at the chaos behind me as I tried to yank the heavy door open. Screaming slightly, I forced my way into the other room and pressed my back against the door. Relieved that it had a lock, I latched the lock into place and stumbled forwards a little, barely able to breathe.

... Maybe this was the Capitol finally deciding it was my time to go. Looked like I had outlived whatever usefulness I had ever served, so now they were going to send me out in style. With a tornado.

To think I'd survived everything and that this was what would likely kill me.

The stress and the torment made it near impossible to breathe. I wiped the tears which had been dragged down my face by the raging winds, which I could hear outside and which rattled the tough doorway. I seemed to be in some kind of storage room, filled with dusty old furniture which rested on the creaky wooden floor at my feet. After stepping past an old doll of a male toddler which had no eyes and shoving an old bicycle out of the way, I wondered if it was worth staying in this room. Chances were that it wouldn't survive the tornado, but with its stone walls, heavy doors and lack of windows maybe it would give me more shelter than whatever was outside.

I kicked back into an old couch, sending dust scattering as I leaned back. I let my limp arm rest across the plush furniture. Whilst exhaling, I figured that this would be the last time I would ever relax... Though 'relax' was perhaps putting it loosely.

Closing my eyes for a microsecond before opening them again, I decided to stand up. I promised that no matter how impossible the chances, I'd keep fighting for Nate and family. To just sit back and wait for death, as tempting as it was becoming, wasn't the right thing to do. Though considering there was only one door and outside of that door there was a tornado, I wasn't sure if there was anything I could do.

I picked up an old lamp and tried to search through an old, ovular desk. One of the unwritten rules of the Games was that there was always a way out, though I wasn't sure if said rule really applied to me anymore. I spent at least ten minutes trying to block out the howling winds outside, searching through junk for any sign that I could get out of this mess. It didn't seem like there was anything.

Just as I considered giving up, the Gamemakers seemed to read my mind and the door which I had locked burst open. Broken metal and wood sprayed in the air as I yelled out, watching as the wind outside sucked out the junk that littered the room. I grabbed my dagger and buried it into the floor, clinging onto it and hoping it would keep me safe. My body was next, almost being sucked into death before I gripped onto the handle of my dagger with every fibre of my being. I tried to ignore everything; the immense cold that swept over me, the howling winds, the bits of furniture that would be dragged backwards and sometimes smack me along their journey.

I didn't expect the floor to suddenly collapse, sending me downwards with it. I was too shocked to scream. I just crashed into the ground beneath and groaned as a pain throbbed in my back. But that wasn't enough; the Gamemakers wouldn't give up. Immediately the wooden debris that surrounded me began to twirl in a circular motion before being dragged backwards, and I was also mercilessly spun and flung. Barely being conscious enough to move, I gripped tightly onto a wooden beam which connected ground to the half broken ceiling above.

I turned around and could only see destruction and solid, thick wind that was constantly moving. I gripped so hard onto the only stable wooden beam around me that I felt blood seep from my hands. But a part of me deep inside knew that it was over; the wood was groaning and creaking as the surrounding storm tested every inch of its strength. In seconds, as I expected, it gave way and splintered in half.

Even though I had prepared for it, the rattling of my body was unlike any sensation I had felt before. I was dragged around intensely and closed my eyes, almost embracing death as I was repeatedly flung through the air. When all sensation stopped and calm hit me, I knew that I was dead.

... But I could still feel... And think. I was almost shocked when I opened my eyes and I wasn't surrounded my bright light or nothingness, as I had always envisioned death. Instead I was surrounded by chunks of what looked like a destroyed palace. I had been laid to rest on the floor. Had I at least been unconscious? I didn't think so. I just closed my eyes for five minutes and next thing I knew I was here. There was no longer any sign of a storm, though there were signs that it had been here. The ceiling above was partially destroyed, giving me insight into the corridor above.

... And Lexie was there. I blinked as I saw her. She looked more strong and healthy than ever, despite being so much more roughed up than I had ever remembered. Her hair was windswept, as expected in the circumstances. She looked at me almost emptily.

I wiped some blood that was trickling down my forehead. I couldn't believe she was just there.

"Lexie?"

"No, it's Honora," she said sarcastically. At first I flinched, thinking there was some anger in her tone. Even though every limb of my body was bruised I still stood up. "A-Are you okay?"

"I should be dead."

"I saved you," Lexie said matter-of-factly. "The storm was nothing for me. I've been practicing - I thought I needed to speak, to move, to unleash my powers. B-But I don't. You're right... I'm strong," she sounded so cold and distanced when she talked about herself. She moved closer and closer. "And I've been thinking about you... and Nate... and everything," she was fumbling for words. This still felt surreal. "I don't know. I'm sorry for being angry... I get that you just wanted to protect your brother, I just wish you told me. But it makes sense now. Everything does."

"I should've told you, I was scared at how you'd react," I said hushedly. "I-I wanted to look for you," something felt wrong. I was scared Lexie would turn against me and kill me at any time, or that this was some kind of trick linked to Pullox. But she had just saved me from a tornado. If either wanted me dead, they'd have just left me to die. I eased slightly. "You were right about Pullox, we have to kill him, he tried to kill me... And..." I was lost for words.

"I'm just glad we're over this," Lexie paused. "Maybe we can partner up again? Without the secrets or lies. Just... do whatever we have to do to get out of here."

Lexie seemed almost confused, but in the midst of relief I almost threw myself at her. I saw her shocked expression as I hugged into her slightly, the tears already flowing. Lexie was my friend. I'd have never expected her of all people to become my friend, but she was.

"I'm sorry," I whispered as I pulled away. "For dragging you into this. F-For everything."

This was so awkward, and so relieving at the same time. No matter what happened, I had reconciled with Lexie and that was worth it. I pulled away from our brief, awkward hug and smiled at her. Everything felt like it was happening so fast. One second I was going to be killed by some storm, the next I had been saved from it and now this... I felt like I was having an out of body experience.

"So, what next?" I asked Lexie. "Y-You're the one with the powers."

"I..." Lexie started.

She was interrupted by a loud sound. At first I thought it was thunder - it seemed reasonable because somewhere in the vast ground there was still some kind of storm, which must have been area specific. But seconds later I realised it was gunfire, like the sound of blazing guns that I had heard at the Bloodbath. I grabbed onto Lexie's arms tightly and glanced forwards at her body... which was soaked in blood. Blood that wasn't there moments before.

"Lexie..." I paused, growing more breathless as the realisation hit me. I glanced up and looked her in the eyes. "Y-You're covered in blood..."

Whew, that was a long chapter, lots of final eight stuff and we're back into the action... And another death...

Oh yeah, stay tuned everyone. Announcements next chapter that will be sure to make you all happy :)

P.S - The end of this chapter was unedited, because I just wanted to get this out of here. I feel Lia's part could be written better, too. Any glaring mistakes, if you put them in your review that'd be great :)

Also: polls! polls! Go vote for who you want in the final four:)