Chapter 73: Behanzin Musa

Katniss sighed wistfully, tracing her finger along the side of the photograph. "Poor Behanzin, he was barely a Victor for a year before we showed up, Must've been hell for him during the Second Rebellion."

Peeta nodded. "You know, I don't remember him being that brutal in the arena, either. Maybe he was forced into it, I don't know. But still, I really hope he's still out there. His life's barely just begun and this happens."

As the Capitol's large, newly-renovated and elaborately decorated central train station rolled into view with this towering two-horned roof, Katniss gazed out of the window and could just barely make out the tiny figure of Annie Cresta, sitting on a bench, rocking back and forth. There were a couple of other Victors in sight but so far, no Behanzin.

She let out a sigh. "His Games were quite rough, but he wasn't. I remember them, he did the job and went home without a fuss."

Peeta tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Still, I can't imagine how he must've felt seeing his stint as Victor being threatened almost immediately after his Victory. "Must've been terrified someone was going to come for him just like the rest of us."

Behanzin Musa

District 2

Aged 18

5 Kills

THE DIARY OF BEHANZIN MUSA

Log 1:

Dear Diary,

Well, looks like I've finally gotten myself a new diary. Ugh, I kinda want to shove an axe in Draco's face for ripping the old one to shreds, purely because I was writing in it while he was goading about Switch's death due to old age, as if the prick isn't an old haggard himself. Stuff like that ain't cheap, you know? Especially given that prices have been going up lately. Draco says the Capitol is in need of more wealth to fund building and development projects or something like that. Huh, last I checked, our schools and hospitals haven't been renovated since the Dark Days and no new ones have been built so far, unless you count the ones built precariously atop the ruins of old ones after an earthquake or tornado.

I just don't buy into what he says, you know? I mean, you're not going to answer me, you're just a book, but still, you're probably the only one I can confide in right now. Ambriorix, that's my twin problem- erm, I mean, my twin brother. He's going to volunteer for the Games, not that he wants to, but Draco's singled him out for the whole volunteering fiasco for some reason. I think Ambri contemplated getting himself injured or sick right before the Reaping to get out of it, but Draco, well he knows Ambri, knows how much he loves a good excuse. He told him he was going to send Ambri into the arena no matter what condition he was in.

So, essentially, all life is hopeless and I haven't a clue what to do about it.

It's getting late, Ambri should be coming home soon, if he does at all. He's a night owl, that guy, and some of his most efficient training sessions occur during the nighttime, under the hushed calls of tropical birds and with a shivering family of squirrels for company. At any rate, our parents want me to help prepare dinner for him. After all he has had a really long day, he must be exhausted out of his mind by now. Oh and it'll cheer him up a little, he's been in an awful mood ever since the decision was announced for him to be the volunteer.

And honestly, who can really blame him?

Ambri has never been the most optimistic guy in the room, he's been terrified of the Games ever since he was put into mandatory training sessions at the Academy by Draco. I think he had some aspirations to be a Peacekeeper, but well, that looks to be dashed out the window by now.

Damn, I wish I could do more for him, he is my twin after all, the annoying copy of me who's been my best friend from the womb. If he doesn't win... I don't even want to think about that possibility, it would break me to pieces.

Here he is, he's home already. Gosh, he looks absolutely knackered. Are those bruises? Wonder how he got them, huh. Oh well, I guess I'll talk to you soon, dear diary, and perhaps I'll even think up of a name to call you by then.

Log 2:

Dear Diary,

Nope, still no genius name for you, I'm afraid. My mind isn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, I can't think up of a good name for you just yet. Kitty perhaps? That seems like a popular diary name around here. It sounds a bit awkward though, I don't know. Besides, something tells me some of the guys at the Academy won't ever live it down if they see me writing to a book entity called 'Kitty' of all things. We'll see, I guess.

Tomorrow's the Reaping Day, so there's no training at the Academy today, only a period of rest for Ambri and his imminent District partner Dahlia. Funny, Dahlia, so similar to last year's Victor Thalia. She's not even that competent, she's just a snooty, rich, overly-patriotic banshee whose only useful contribution in an arena is her name's similarity to Thalia's, which will no doubt make the Capitol press flock to her like moths to an open flame.

Eh, one less competitor for Ambri to beat, I guess.

He's been looking super depressed lately, the stress of the Games must've really gotten to him. I haven't seen Ambri leave his room all day, even tried to go in after breakfast but it was locked and he wouldn't reply. Every mealtime, Mum and Dad would slide trays of food and jugs of water through a tiny metal flap in the door, and after precisely one hour, it would show up outside the door again, empty and in need of replenishment. Ambri has always had a clockwork schedule, exactly one hour to eat then he goes back to doing, well, whatever the heck he's up to these days.

I heard vomiting noises from the bathroom just a while ago. I think it was Ambri who went in there. I can hear the sound of flushing toilets through the hollow walls of my room (free alarm clock, I guess) and let's just say, that toilet has been flushed at least ten times in the past five minutes alone. I'm starting to seriously worry for Ambri here. What if he's, I don't know, feeling under the weather or something? Draco definitely won't believe him and let him back out. Gosh, I wish I could volunteer in his place. Apparently, I was second on Draco's list, first on Freya's, sure, but only Draco's list is final. And I do think I could withstand the arena better than Ambri. I've always been better at survival stations and have been on par with him when it comes to duelling, just that during our final assessments I'd fallen ill so my selection for volunteer had been out of the question then.

But now, I'm healthier. Maybe I should volunteer in his place?

Yet, that was a terrible plan too. Draco would come for our entire family if I did try that out.

Maybe I'll swap places with him while in the Justice Building? No, that was stupid, there's a scar on his right arm that Draco knows is right there. He'd catch wind of our ruse the instant we stepped foot onto the train.

Gosh, if only we had the mentors from One or Four, at least those guys would be understanding. They probably wouldn't rat me out if I ever attempted such a trick. But alas, we were stuck with Draco Hadley.

Sometimes, being from Two really does suck.

Oh well, I guess I'll think of something soon enough. Ambri's just come out of his room, he looks pale, yikes. I'll see if I can get a word out of him, get a sensing of what's wrong, you know? And once that's done I guess I'll spend the rest of the evening mountain biking, the weather looks lovely today.

With my luck though, it'll probably rain while I'm out in the open and far from shelter.

Log 3:

Dear Diary,

Guess what? It did rain while I was out mountain biking. Thank goodness the Fire Dragon was nearby, that tavern's probably saved my arse at least ten times this year alone. But hey, District Two's just like that, the weather can go from absolutely perfect to absolutely atrocious in a matter of seconds. No wonder people like Draco, Julia and Freya grew up being so damn grumpy.

Anyway, it's the morning of the big day. Reaping Day. Gosh, I've been dreading this day for ages and it's finally here, can't say I'm excited or anything, ugh. Ambri's looking a little better, thank goodness and he's eating his meals, I think that's a good sign, but he still looks drained as heck. There's just something about the way his eyes won't meet mine, it's concerning and I couldn't sleep all night thinking about my poor twin brother. Not to be all sappy and stuff but I really don't want to lose him.

Alright, he's going to the bathroom now, oh no, he's still sick, isn't he? No, no, no, this can't be happening, fucking hell, no...

He's back out now but his eyes look so horrendously lethargic, and he can barely stand on his own two feet. This is a disaster, how the heck is he supposed to survive in the arena in this state? The breakfast in my mouth is starting to taste a lot like sandpaper now, the salty, delicious egg I've craved for years tastes bitter and nauseating in my own throat.

This day has gone off to a horrible start, oh what do I do, what do I do...

Okay, I'm rambling a little now with little to no cohesion. Sorry, I do that a lot, you're going to be seeing plenty of disorganised, jumbled-up entries that are just basically vomits of words over the next couple of weeks. If you've got a problem with that, I would suggest self-destructing right this instant to save your own dignity and honour.

Still in one piece? Good. Because Ambri's now slurring his words. Yeah, he's seriously ill, he needs a doctor ASAP, not that he's going to get one, though. It's Reaping Day, medical facilities in Two are as good as nonexistent on such a massive festival of 'honour'.

Honestly, I don't see how Ambri's going to win this, today's probably going to be my last chance to say goodbye. It's going to hurt, but I've got a box of tissues ready. Not that either of us probably needs it anyway, it's more for our parents.

Drat, look at the the time, we're going to be late soon, I better wash these dishes and get ready, I don't want a Peacekeeper hot on my tail today of all days.

Log 4:

Dear Ambri,

Yep, I'm naming you after my own twin brother now. Get used to it, from now on you're going to be a substitute for him, hope you're good with that, you shitty little inanimate object.

I'm still a little stunned by it all, you know? I'm sitting here all alone in the Justice Building, wondering how on earth I even got into this heap of a mess. This has to be some kind of sick joke, right? Surely, surely it is.

Because as it stands, I am District Two's male tribute for the Seventy-Third Hunger Games.

Massive honour, eh?

Okay, let's rewind a little bit. It was a dark and stormy day, no really, everyone's drenched in torrential storms throughout the whole thing. Not that a wee bit of rain would ever derail the fanatic chants of the District Two faithful, ever the patriotic sort with their elaborate banners and trumpet bands. The Reaping stage was the only sheltered area in the entire square, of course it was, we have to protect the poor escort's makeup and smile, after all. There's the usual long drabble about Panem and the Dark Days and a whole Capitol propaganda film, I have to stifle the urge to yawn, really. It's so horrendously bad and clearly forced, I can't imagine how anyone would be inspired by this piece of crap.

Then I turn to see a whole row of boys and girls sniffling while murmuring, "Hail Panem," and I have to resist the urge to lose my sanity right there and then.

And then come the actual Reapings. Dahlia volunteers in place of a half-asleep twelve-year-old girl, as per protocol. She tries to give a rousing speech but accidentally belches into the microphone. Being the rugged band of jocks we are, the entire square roars with approval.

Then came the boys.

I sigh and hold my breath. Glancing towards Ambri, he looks pale. I wanted to cheer him up so I grab his hand in a form of encouragement.

Let's just say, his reaction was more than a tad bit harsh.

He's mad, I can tell, but I can also tell he's mad at me. Why? Heaven knows, but he flings my arm away and gives me the world-famous Ambriorix Musa death stare. I flinch and withdraw my hand. Perhaps he's just having a bad, moody day, that's all. Understandable, really, but still, I can't help but feel a sting in my chest. My little act of attempted kindness had backfired and now, Ambri just looked horribly upset, gnashing his teeth and occasionally shooting me warning glares for seemingly no reason at all.

Not quite the Ambri I knew and loved, but again, the Reapings must've been on his mind.

And then something unexpected happens.

"Ambriorix Musa!" the escort belts out.

The crowd gasps and all eyes turn to Ambri, whose jaw is now tightly clenched. He glances around, a bemused, questioning eyebrow raised as the crowd slowly parts to let him pass. No one's going to volunteer for him, those were Draco's orders.

Well, Draco can suck his own balls for all I care.

"I volunteer!" I yell, shooting my arm as high up into the air as I possibly can. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, perhaps it was the desperation, perhaps it was just the stupidity, but suddenly, I can feel confidence bursting into my veins as I push past stunned kids straight towards the stage. This is my moment to shine now, my time to return home a Victor and save my family's fortunes.

With a slight tilt of my head, I try to scan the crowd for Ambri, but he's nowhere to be seen. Strange. He's a big guy, surely he'd stand out amongst the crowd?

No matter, he's safe now and can properly recover from his illness.

While I am going straight into the world's most psychopathic deathmatch arena.

Great. What a life, eh?

The escort gives her usual pleasantries then ushers us into the Justice Building. And so here we are right now. Dazed in thought, wondering what the heck I was thinking to volunteer. Ah well, nothing I can do about that now. It's been about thirty minutes and no one's shown up, though. Wonder if Draco's screaming at Ambri and barring him from entering the Justice Building. It's fine, I'll be back in two weeks' time anyway to see them again.

Log 5:

Dear Ambri,

Fantastic news, my entire family hates me now.

Wanna know what happened? Here's the short version because honestly, I don't ever want to relive all that ludicrousy in full ever again.

Ten minutes left on the clock at the Justice Building and Ambri finally shows up, practically barging right through the door. Being the loving twin brother that I am, I try to greet him with a hug but he shoves me away and hurls a letter at me before storming off.

Basically, the classic District Two gesture of gratitude!

You know, I just couldn't believe it. This was my own twin brother whose life I just freaking saved and I don't even get a 'thank you'? He was sick for crying out loud and I SAVED HIS STUPID ASS. Ugh, talk about tough love, huh. But hey, maybe the letter will provide some closure, right? Surely this is all just some major misunderstanding?

Haha, nope. The letter practically confirms my doubts and suspicions. You know what? Here, have a read yourself. I don't want to sugarcoat this idiot's oh so poetic declaration of thanks.

Bez,

What the fuck, man. You stupid little piece of shit, this was my chance at glory! Like, what the heck dude, I was just practising my weak stupid Career arc that Draco told me to put on. You bought right into it and then stole my freaking thunder! Come on man, I thought you were my twin brother, you absolute bastard! I hope you die a long and painful death, and I hope your body is blown into little pieces so we don't need to spare any expense on your shitty little funeral! Oh and Mum and Dad are worried about you, but I told them to piss off and that if they wanted to visit you, they'd have to go through me first. Because you're the most sadistic asshole I've ever seen in my life and I want you to suffer as much as possible.

Rot in hell,

Ambriorix Musa

Lovely, eh? Just lovely. I hadn't pinned him down to be one of Draco's kind, but hey, people do change, huh? My guy was practising an arc and didn't even bother to tell me. Heck, he didn't even speak to me at all. I was worried sick and all he can think about is his own selfish glory. So now here I am, going into the arena, because he won't open his fucking mouth and talk to me like a real man would.

Sigh.

Draco, surprisingly, is on my side here. Who would've known? He says he doesn't blame me, after all, I hadn't known about Ambri's whole plan and was just trying to safeguard my family's glory and honour. Yeah right, but I'm not going to argue with him. He's been going off on long tirades about how stupid Ambri is. It's been an hour into the train rides and my guy's still going. I kind of admire the dedication he shows towards going full on ballistic over someone who isn't even here on this train. If only he could put that same dedication into being a sane human being, that would be absolutely fantastic.

Enobaria's taken on the mentoring role this year and she's, well, a million times better than Draco, that was for sure. We've spent the whole evening running through arena strategy, discussing the other tributes, talking about the Career pack, the usual stuff. She's got a bit of a, ooh how should I put this, mysterious vibe, like she's been shoving a whole can of worms under a rug all her life. But perhaps that's just my gut being wrong, it usually is. Enobaria's fairly polite and tactically astute, as far as Victors from Two go, being able to spot every tribute's strengths and weaknesses simply through watching their Reaping recaps. She pointed out the boy from Eleven's clever ruse, how he was crying crocodile tears to earn the sympathy vote, when in fact, those muscles and the determined gaze that momentarily flickered in his eyes proved otherwise.

Not exactly the hot-tempered serial killer I'd grown to expect from her, I'm not going to lie. She did flare up a little every now and then when she heard Draco raise his voice, and if I tried to interrupt her ramblings, she'd shoot me the world's most dangerous glare.

Overall though, couldn't ask for a better mentor. Well, maybe Lyme would've been nice, Brutus seems cool too, but I'll take what I can get.

Log 6:

Dear Diary,

Yep, I'm ditching the whole 'I'm gonna refer to you as my psycho twin brother' thing. So I guess we're back to square one with the whole naming thing. Eh, perhaps I'll get a near-death premonition or something while I'm hacking away in the arena.

Anyway, the Tribute Parade just happened. And guess what? It wasn't a complete and utter disaster like last year. Oh, I'm sure you're wondering what made last year so bad. After all, we are quite often the crowd favourites, surely that means we always get the best outfits?

Nope, instead, the District Two tributes of the Seventy-Second Annual Hunger Games were forced to strip naked bar a loincloth or two and raise a wooden spear with a flint head. Some 'callback to a primitive time' or something like that was how Claudius described its design.

Absolutely terrible is how I would describe it.

But hey, at least this year was way better.

We had different stylists this year, the old ones probably got themselves fired or demoted to District Twelve, I don't know. But Kyanna and Ren were really nice and gave us free homemade cookies, which I'm always a sucker for. We had to strip naked for them and our prep team, a bit of an awkward affair especially since the prep team spent the whole time giggling and gawking at my abs, but hey, still better than the time my crush Liviana walked in on me changing when I was fourteen, but that's another story altogether. My costume was comprised of a headdress with leopard spots, a necklace of ivory tusks, a kilt with patterns depicting epic combat scenes and a large spear that glowed in the moonlight.

Not bad, and hopefully, it'll be enough to outshine the Ones and Fours. I haven't seen the Parade recaps yet, those should give a sensing of what the Capitol's first impressions of all the tributes were. Our District should be among the top favourites in whatever poll they run, but when you're us, being anything but the best is out of the question.

At least for Draco.

Enobaria said she's happy with how we did. We played the right angle, she told us, acted all stoic and strong in the face of the crowd was the way to go for District Two. It certainly was better than the klutz from Four who nearly tripped off his chariot. Perhaps he might not be fit for the pack, after all, Fours could sometimes be like that. The sponsors seemed to be happy too, Enobaria said she heard a lot more cheers for us than for One this year, a welcome change from previous years.

On a side note, Dahlia's been pretty bossy all day long, ordering around the avoxes and snapping at me constantly for every little mistake I make. I can already tell why she was chosen by Draco, she's probably like his secret granddaughter or something. Given the rumours about his, ahem, not so consensual affairs, I wouldn't be too surprised. 'Stop shuffling your feet Bez, it's not proper' or 'Quit talking so softly, you sound like an absolute dud' or 'How dare you not smile when President Snow showed up on that balcony, that was a super proud moment for us' and all that quirky nonsense. Gosh, she's a nutter, that's for sure. Best part is, Enobaria and I have both conceded that she'll probably be the pack leader. I can tell Enobaria isn't too happy about this, she's gone on for about ten minutes about how even the Reaped fourteen-year-old girl from Four is probably a better choice, but if Draco's appointed Dahlia to lead, neither Enobaria or I can really do anything about it except seethe and cope.

Well, at least the truffle fries at dinner was amazing.

P.S. I caught Lyme, Finnick and Porter whispering in the rooftop garden after Enobaria suggested I head up there for a walk. I heard them mention Thirteen, but once they saw me, they instantly made a run for it. Huh, strange.

Log 7:

Dear Liviana,

I guess I'm just going to resort to naming you after the girl I've been crushing on for the past ten years of my life.

Brilliant.

So, the interviews just happened and well, it went pretty well I guess. Not splendidly well, I mean I don't think I was the particular highlight, but I'd say I stood out pretty well amongst the crowd of tributes. The pair from One went before me, and Caesar entertained their usual seductive, charming, flirtatious angle. It's honestly getting kind of boring now but the Capitolites lap it up like loyal dogs anyway. They're suckers for anyone with a pretty face and a loyalist heart so naturally the kids from One fit the bill absolutely perfectly.

Dahlia goes up next and her bit was, erm, not quite what I expected. The crazy madlad tried to flirt with Caesar, for goodness sake. You could see cracks forming in his professionalism as he tried to swerve his arm away from Dahlia's incessant touching. Let's just say, it didn't exactly have the desired effect. After all, seductively discussing politics and how the Capitol's influence on the Districts has been a boon for Panem is not exactly sexy. It didn't help that she'd spilt some water on her white gown before going up on stage so it looked like she'd wet herself. Plus, she forgot to brush her teeth. That smudge of sauce in her teeth did not go down well with the crowd. By the time she returned to a more diminutive round of applause as compared to the Ones, I couldn't exactly hide my smirk, and neither could Enobaria or the pairs from One and Four. Even the boy from Three looked like he was trying not to laugh, and that's an achievement in itself, poor kid spent the entirety of training crying and wailing for his parents.

And then it's my turn. You can tell by the tone of my writing that I was super pumped.

Enobaria had told me to double down on the disgruntled accidental volunteer arc, someone who was going to have a storyline even beyond the Games. So, I go up there, shake Caesar's hand and stare imposingly in the general direction of where I think the cameras are. Caesar starts off with the usual pleasantries by asking me how I've been, I answer that with a blunt 'terrible'. This obviously draws a bit of a stunned reaction from the crowd and Caesar takes the bait to ask me why.

And this is where I work my magic.

Channelling my inner Freya Carson, I spend the next three years ranting and raging about Ambri, about how he's super pissed off at me for volunteering, about how ungrateful he was that I tried to save his life, about how he practically refused to tell me his plan then blamed me when I accidentally stopped it from working out. Caesar's a good listener, he gives me all the time in the world to air out my dirty laundry. Honestly, it's a bit of a mental drag, having to relive everything from start to finish while resisting the urge to use something- or someone- as a makeshift punching bag. I tell everyone how much I hate my own twin brother and how I hope to be the Victor so I can claim all the glory while he rots away in eternal misery.

For a little extra flavour, I promise a special surprise for my Victory Tour if I win.

This, of course, is all a significant deviation from the usual District Two male speech that the Capitolites have heard every single year. I'm probably the only one they've ever heard actively complain about the situation they're being put into.

And guess what? They lap it all up just the same. Rapturous applause fills the audience, nearly enough to make the ground tremble in fear at the sight of a thousand thunderous, drunk, overly-enthusiastic hippies with rainbow-coloured skin and outrageous fashion choices. I was only half-kidding, I could literally feel the floor shake a little. That would be one hell of a way to go, before the Games even begin, forever enshrined in Games lore as a laughingstock who couldn't even make it into the arena.

Thankfully, the building doesn't collapse and the rest of the interviews go on without a hitch. The boy from Four, confirmed to be out of the pack by now, trips a grand total of four times, accidentally elbows someone four times and bumps into a pillar four times en route to the stage. Talk about District loyalty with those numbers. His District partner plays off the sadistic psychopath vibe and despite her smaller frame, the way she stares without blinking when addressing Caesar and flashes a wide grin when discussing how she grew up tearing caged little animals limb from limb for fun sends a chill down my spine. Oh, and when asked about her arena strategy, she simply chuckles slowly and tells him 'you'll see, but if you're squeamish, you might want to close your eyes, there will be twenty-three shredded corpses when I'm through with those tributes'.

Yeah, safe to say she's not exactly the cute and cuddly type.

The boy from Eight is a pretty good teller of jokes and could juggle eight tennis balls with incredible speed and precision, leaving a great impression on the crowd in the process. The girl from Nine hands out free muffin samples to Caesar and the crowd and while she didn't give any to us tributes, by the whistles and cheers she receives, I can tell they're probably delectable. Not to mention, they smell heavenly. The pair from Eleven are sworn enemies and use that as an arc to pit themselves against each other, once again, drawing quite a bit of attention from the crowd. Apart from those guys, the rest are fairly unremarkable.

It went great overall, I guess. Anyway, it's getting late, I need some sleep before the big day tomorrow. See you soon, Liviana.

P.S. I saw Lyme whispering in the kitchens again when I snuck by for a late snack. She was talking with two of the escorts, I think the ones from Four and Eleven. I don't know what they were talking about, I know better than to snoop around and annoy those who could very well swerve the odds against me via their connections.

Log 8:

Dear Liviana,

Alright, you must be wondering, how on earth I'm still able to keep and write a diary entry. Well, fairly simple. There's a notebook and pen in the Cornucopia, odd additions I know but welcome ones nonetheless. I'll just attach these log entries to the diary I left behind in the Capitol (in Enobaria's possession, far away from Draco's prying hands and eyes) after I win these Games.

The Bloodbath just ended and it was alright, I suppose. I mean, I didn't particularly enjoy the killing bits, but hey, you have to do what it takes in the arena. I try to think of it as an annoying school assignment or something like that. It still gives me a weird feeling in my stomach though, like someone's stitching right through my intestines. I only had to make one kill, thank goodness, because the girl from Six was dumb- or high- enough to charge for the sword I was eyeing. I slash her throat and call it a day from there. The girl from Four though, I think her name's Jess, is an absolute monster. She's single-handedly taken down a jaw-dropping five tributes on her own, including her own District partner, to drag the Bloodbath tally right up to ten tributes in total.

Not to mention, she really did not hold back on any of those kills. It was mutilations galore when it came to her, I honestly can't believe someone so tiny could deal so much damage, we literally had to pry her away from chopping the girl from Twelve up into small cubes of human flesh. You know you're messed up when even Dahlia with her two fairly brutal kills looks nauseated at the sight of whatever's left of the tributes that Jess's butchered up.

As for the arena itself, it looks to be an abandoned city of sorts. It reminds me of the Capitol, with its tall, imposing whitewashed structures, only the ones here are utterly ruined and on the verge of crumbling into pure dust. The Cornucopia this year is shaped a little bit different, being a little stockier than usual and made out of stone to match the vibe of the ruined city. There's a particularly tall landmark in the distance of what looks to be a giant glass cylinder, we'll check that out later on. Today, however, is for us to scan the surrounding sections of the city to see if the Gamemakers have laid any unpleasant surprises for us nearby and to secure the Cornucopia area to act as our base of operations.

And tomorrow, we go hunting.

Great.

Log 9:

Dear Liviana,

Expect these diary logs to get progressively shorter and far less frequent. After all, I am in the Hunger Games, and I've got to stay alert at all times. I'm mostly writing this stuff while on night guard duty, under the bright neon street signs that illuminate this place at night. We've just finished our third day of hunting, so far we've got three tributes, all of which Jess called dibs on, except for the boy from Five, Preti from One made sure to finish him off before Jess could even raise her sword. She's been quietly standing at the back of the hunting group all this time, barely even uttering a word. Sometimes, I look back to see her maniacally twitching her head like she's possessed or something. I don't know, this girl makes me quake in my boots. I keep on feeling a sense of dread whenever she's around, like I can't rest easy with her breathing down my neck. That's why we don't let her do night guard duty either, no one really trusts her not to betray us in our sleep.

We also checked out that cool cylinder thing, turns out its a large glass case with a column of fire churning through it. As far as I know, it serves no real purpose but I guess the Gamemakers just wanted to show off a little bit. I mean, I'd do the same thing if I were in their position too.

Speaking of which, wait a sec, Jess, hang on, where the heck did she go-

Log 10:

Dear Liviana,

Well, Jess is now missing. No one quite knows where she is, she just vanished into thin air. Her cannon has yet to sound though, so she's still alive and kicking somewhere amongst the ruins of this city. Gosh, how did I let her slip under my nose like that? I must be the biggest idiot of the Career pack, because she was literally right there one moment, and then I look away to edit this diary and bam, she's gone, like how the heck did that happen?

We're out hunting again, and we've taken down a further three tributes, including one I killed after trying to wriggle past Dahlia's grip, which brings us into the final eight, a perfect time to split up, which is exactly what we've done. None of us opts to go in pairs though, we don't quite trust each other even after five days of being in the arena together. I think I've found a decent base in a small tavern close to the glass firewall thing. It's got a well-stocked and hidden pantry I can rely on while I scope out the area for the remaining tributes.

Not a bad position to find yourself in the Hunger Games.

Huh, a cannon just boomed. I wonder who that might be. For my own sake, I hope it's Jess. Or maybe Dahlia, I don't want to have to face her off and be the guy who killed his own District partner. That's just taboo, unless it's in the final two. Hopefully, the other tributes kill themselves off so I don't have to be called into action much, but rarely do tributes ever get such luck in the arena.

Hold on, someone's just walked in. Oh, I really hope it's not Jess. I'll write to you later, hopefully.

Log 11:

Dear Liviana,

I took out the boy from Eleven after he crawled into the tavern in search of medical supplies. He was already badly hurt so he didn't put up a fight before I finished him off. Preti's been taken out too, no idea by who, though. Jess or Dahlia, probably, maybe even that boy from Ten, he got a decent score of seven in Training.

I'm running out of water supplies. I spotted a drinking fountain on the other side of the arena a few days ago so I abandoned my base and went for it. The Gamemakers set up a mutt for me, a fairly straightforward jackal mutt that I took out fairly easily. They probably aren't going to actively try to kill me, probably just give me a few good fighting action scenes to hype up the crowd back in the Capitol and add to their highlight reel. I found a barely-disguised trap in a small cinema I went into looking for water. it was a slingshot concealed within a popcorn machine, not the most obscure place to hide a trap since the machine already stood out like a sore thumb. But hey, that's a blessing for me, and a sign a tribute might be nearby, so I steered clear in case they were trying to lure me into bigger, better traps.

I find the drinking fountain eventually without any more fuss and refill my bottle. Gosh, water tastes so good after days of relying on so little water in such a steaming arena. The Gamemakers really couldn't have put us in a more temperate climate, huh? Ah well, part of the torture of the Games, I guess.

Here's to hoping that torture ends soon with me on the Victor's podium.

Log 12:

Dear Liviana,

If you're feeling a little squeamish, you might want to look away right now and skip this log altogether. Okay, that's not really possible since you're a book and you can't look, also this is being written on you but, ah forget it.

It's the seventeenth day now, these Games are going to be over real soon. I think the boy from Ten is the only other tribute left standing, I think I can take him on assuming he doesn't have any mean tricks up his sleeve.

But my mind's not exactly on him right now. It's on Jess. Gosh, that girl was absolutely nightmare fuel, that's the only way I can describe her to you. It's been a whole night and I can still vividly picture her every time I close my eyes and it's making me sick. My stomach hurts, my head's spinning wildly like never before, there's just this looming dread that I'm feeling in my chest that I can't quite wrap my finger around, like Jess is still there haunting my soul or something.

Wanna know more about the psychopath from Four? Let me put this as blunty as possible.

She made a human sacrifice in the glass firewall.

Wait no, my mistake, she sacrificed four tributes in the glass firewall.

Alright, let's backpedal a little. So, while out hunting for her and the boy from Ten, I got a little lost amidst the ruins and found myself chased by a pack of rat-bat hybrids. It sounds freaky but it was actually funny as heck. It looked like someone digitally edited a couple of scrawny bat wings onto a giant, skinny rat with the goofiest eyes and a single, colossal, hot pink tooth. Oh and it had a melodic screech for some reason and when it walked, kept falling over and tried to dance on the spot at one point.

Yeah, I'd like to think someone got themselves fired because of those.

I needed someplace to head towards and regain my strength after a fair bit of running from those guys, so I headed for the largest landmark in the area: the glass firewall. Boy, did I wish I never did. There she is, down on her knees, a shawl over her face, loudly chanting in some foreign tongue that I can't decipher. Her arms are raised above her head, swaying along with her hips to the sound of her chanting.

Oh, and she's put the rest of the Career pack plus the boy from Seven tied up to stakes inside a now-shattered glass firewall with their limbs missing and their faces badly mutilated.

I kid you not, I throw up right there and then.

Their screams, their cries of pain as the flames burn into their flesh, the way they still squirm desperately before finally going stiff, accepting that it was too late for them, it sears through my mind quicker than the fire that roars through the glass column, inflicting me with a numbed shock that keeps me rooted to the ground, frozen as I stare ahead of me in horror.

I don't really remember what happens next, it's all a massive blur, I just remember feeling a blinding rage and charging forward. Next thing I knew, I was on the ground, my arm aching like hell and Jess's corpse was burning in the firewall, already blackened to a crisp and forever entombing her final manic laugh in that withering dead body of hers.

I throw up again, the bile surging through my throat. I feel terribly sick now, did Jess put some sort of curse on me? Surely not, curses aren't real.

Right?

Log 13:

Dear Lavinia,

Well, it appears that I have lost my sword.

Wondering how that happened, huh? The Gamemakers decided to up the stakes the little and sent this huge corporate billboard mutt after me, complete with neon lighting, a poster of an old lady licking her lips and a slogan that said, "Finger Lickin' Delicious!"

Oh, and did I mention it had eyes, arms and legs too?

This big monstrosity chased me around what felt like could've easily been half the arena, roaring and grunting and releasing comical jingles all the way. I tripped on a wooden block, one that I'm ninety-nine point nine percent sure wasn't there three seconds ago, and tumble to the ground. Quickly shifting onto my back, I turned to face the mutt and as it lunges at me, I hurled my sword at it.

Bam! It- along with my poor little sword- exploded into a million pieces.

Great, a threat's been neutralised, and now I'm left without a weapon. Oh well, I sure hope the other kid doesn't- hey!

Log 14:

Dear Lavinia,

Hello there, guess who's back from the arena? It took a little longer than two weeks, twenty days to be exact, but hey, at least I'm still alive and in one piece- mostly. The boy from Ten tried to launch a surprise attack on me but I managed to wrestle him to the ground. He kept on fighting back and even got a kick to my groin, which still hurts, so I panicked a little and grabbed a nearby brick. His head was completely smashed a minute later, not that I meant to deal that much damage, I was just paranoid he'd still be alive and I wanted to make sure I'd finished him off for good.

Which now makes me a Victor.

Oh gosh, I'm going to be neighbours with Draco and Julia.

Shit.

Oh, and Enobaria's contacted Ambri, warning him to never go near me ever again. Serves the little brat right, he'll be stuck in his mountain shack while I'm chilling in the hottest property in Panem.

P.S. I really should ask the real Lavinia out on a date. Maybe she'll like ice cream on a Saturday, we'll see.

Katniss and Peeta held a quick moment for Behanzin, one that they had to quickly cut short as the train began to slow to a halt. Outside, there were crowds of both Capitolites and District folk, some impatiently tugging at their coats and waiting on relatives to arrive, others nervously gripping thick suitcases as their feet shook in the cold chill that blew through the air, awaiting a new life elsewhere in Panem.

"Your attention please, we will be arriving at the Capitol's Central Station in about a couple of minutes. Please ensure you have taken all your belonging with you. We hope you've enjoyed this train journey with us. See you soon!" a robotic female voice sang out over the train speakers.

Katniss chuckled. "The food service could've been better and that one kid throwing a rock at our window wasn't very nice," she critiqued jokingly.

Peeta rolled his eyes. "Oh well, you win some, you lose some." He glanced out of the window, scanning the sea of faces for a few familiar ones. "Ready to head out there? You know they're going to swamp us the second we step outside."

Katniss gave him a curious look. "Oh, Peeta, haven't you forgotten something?"

Peeta raised a confused eyebrow. Racking his brains. he shrugged, oblivious to Katniss's suggestion.

A laugh escaped Katniss's lips as she leaned over and flipped the page of Peeta's book, revealing a fairly new photograph that stunk of a bygone time, showcasing two Victors, a brown-haired girl and a blonde boy, their hands clasped and raised in unison, defiant stares boldly emblazoned upon their eyes.

"Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark."

VICTORS

District 1-Sapphire Huntington(4), Onyx Hibonite(9), Franc Montgomery(14), Crystal Montgomery(21), Sterling Jones(25), Luxe Carmichael(36), Geneva Cooper(37), Cartier Cooper(44), Valkyrie Montgomery(54), Gloss Irvine(63), Cashmere Irvine(64), Augustus Braun-Montgomery(67)

District 2-Ragnar Sveinsson(5), Reyna Boudicca(6), Draco Hadley(10), Scipio MacAllister(17), Freya Carson(22), Hercules Nichols(28), Julia Dawson(39), Brutus Gunn(42), Lyme Sveinsson(45), Evan Fortis(55), Enobaria Golding(61), Behanzin Musa (73)

District 3-Nikola Johnson(13), Gadget Schroeder(24), Beetee Latier(40), Wiress Jansen(47)

District 4-Marina Bluebell(1), Mags Flanagan(11), Jolien Fisher(31), Timmy Fisher(32), Iris Fisher(33), Rafael Fisher(34), Coral Thiller(41), Poseidon Nakamura(58), Nemo Williams(62), Finnick Odair(65), Annie Cresta(70)

District 5-Shocker Crimson(8), Switch Kim(19), Flash Morrison(27), Porter Tripp(38), Marie Meredith(52), Ampere Chang(66)

District 6-Ford Hamilton(20), Kimi Bentley(51), Audi Lando(59), Thalia Wheeler (72)

District 7-Hassan Greenwood(2), Jill Wilson(15), Olive Sanchez(26), Birch Davison(35), Blight Gavin(53), James Silva(60), Johanna Mason (71)

District 8-Woof Casino(16), Calico Pepper(48), Cecelia Rheys(56)

District 9-Gwendolyn Whitfield(18), Laurel Flamsteel(29), Miller Thompson(49), Demeter Jarvinen(68)

District 10-Ringo Alvarez(7), John Gatwick(23), Mare Trybull(43), Colt Dias(57)

District 11-Orchid Bloom(12), Seeder Crue(30), Chaff Mitchell(46), Sprout Skhosana(69)

District 12-Axel Millar(3), Haymitch Abernathy(50)

Victors that are underlined are deceased.