If this is so fun, I can only imagine how fun it must feel in real life!

I stagger backwards, narrowly missing Amelia Kurtzs' swipe toward my chest with her sword. If it were a real cornucopia bloodbath, I'd be deader than dead. But instead, we wield electric-tipped dummy blades with special protective vests. I can hear her blade whine as it soars down toward me. I parry the blow, causing both blades to hiss as static collides against static. I immediately follow up with a thrust toward Kurtzs' exposed chest.

It connects, my dummy blade pressing into her vest. A wave of electrical current washes over her as she lets out a pained shout, collapsing onto the ground. Just like in real life! In fact, the entire field, with a makeshift cornucopia and all, was filled with similar screams and shouts, replicating a typical bloodbath.

Like the Bronze Years of Hunger Games, Mom, Dad and Paulus are sitting on the bleachers with the other spectators, watching me brawl. The three of them grinning widely with glee, Paulus letting out a resounding whistle while Mom claps. It's Dad that I focus on the most, my heart soaring as he offers a simple thumbs up.

I return it, bearing my teeth for all to see. His training worked wonders!

I barely have time to relish in my first kill before I hear the telltale buzzing of a blade behind me. I duck, hearing the whizz of a blade swoop over my head. I catch a slight tingle on the crown of my head, but not enough to have me dancing on the floor in pain.

I spin around. My assailant is none other than Jamison. He's fourteen going on eighteen with his tremendous height and warbly voice.

We trade blows, all of which are blocked respectively. Each time our blades deflect off each other, loud popping would be the result of the two electrical energies colliding. Jamison shows now sign of relenting, pressing the attack while leaving me to hastily defend. Randy and the others are nowhere in sight, probably locked in their own battles.

A bead of sweat trickling down his temple, the blonde cracks a smile. "It's over, Rivendell! Just sit down an' take it!"

"In your dreams, Jamison!" I clap back, parrying his blow and going for a thrust. He quickly rebuts, doubling backward before pressing the attack once more.

I bare my teeth as a bout of anxiety washes over me. My legs feel like they could give way any second. Jamison on the other hand is having the time of his life.

My savior comes in the form of Callista Ryder, who comes in swinging from his left. One of her chops connects with his shoulder, hitting a special plate attached and rendering his arm noodle limp.

Callista grins at me, giving her sword a twirl. I cock my head to the side. Not bad for a Capitolite whose here for the hell of it.

"Girls versus boys?" she asks me in her accent.

I nod, grinning as Jamison snarls.

"What?! Not fair!"

"Nothing's fair in the Hunger Games, Jamison." Callista replies as we're on him like mutts on a tribute.

Even with one arm, the big boy was holding on for a time as Callista and I would 'jump in and jump out', keeping him at odds as to who would be fighting him next. Not wanting to be upstaged by the Head Peacekeeper's daughter, I take the lead.

Focusing on one hand all the time would tire even the strongest of tributes. After a flurry of chops and thrusts, Jamison's hand gives way, casting his blade into the air.

I close the distance, thrusting my sword into his gut. He goes down with a shout and I go down with him, raising my blade into the air as I deliver one last blow, enjoying his cry of pain as my blade delivers another wave of current over his body.

I grin from ear to ear. "So much for being the bigges-"

My taunt is lost in my throat as I let out a cry of absolute pain, feeling every part of me clench up like I've been taken over by the world's largest cramp. My sword all but discarded elsewhere, I'm down to my hands and knees. I barely get a chance to recuperate as my body clenches up one last time.

My spasms manage to spin me onto my back, allowing me to see Callista Ryder standing triumphantly over me. She gives her sword another twirl, sheathing it as she sends a wink my way. Through my heartbeat pounding my eardrums, I hear the cheers of the audience. Is this how it feels to be in second place? Some useless outlier bleeding out on the ground while the victor is cheered by the Capitol? I don't even want to look at my parents.

"Thanks for the help, Rivendell," she jeers, waving to the audience. "Couldn't have done it without you."

I crane my head to the left of me. Everyone was in some form of shock, barely on their knees or just staring off into the sky. Like a real Hunger Games.

"We were allies…" I manage to mumble out.

The crunching of grass prompts me to turn my head to the right. One of the senior cadets, Floris, regards me with an impassive disappointment. Like I was caught with my hands in a cookie jar.

"Allies mean nothing in the Games, Rivendell." she says. "You fell for a common mistake. Trust absolutely no one, no matter how friendly they may seem. The same people smiling with you over a campfire would easily drag your face over it and hold it there if it meant going home. That includes your fellow Careers. "

I watch as the stupid Capitolite prances over to her other friends, who clap her on the back and sing her praises.

I bunch up patches of grass in each of my fists.

Chapter Twenty-Two - "Five's a Crowd…"

"Are you sure you don't want to switch? You've been at it for quite a while-"

"Yes, for the millionth time, I'm sure."

Slowly but surely, my eyes begin to adjust to my surroundings. It's dark… and it stinks. Dark. Visions of rat mutts, Cohen and his gang of fellow rebels jumpstart my brain. The first thing that comes to mind is to fight back. Where were they!? My hands fly to my sides in search of my rifle. A hand captures mine, pressing it firmly onto my chest. Daphne comes into my line of sight, shushing me.

"It's okay Zenobia, it's alright. You're safe." she soothes, turning her attention elsewhere. "Psst, guys, she's awake!"

Hearing the others rush over, I can't help but hold my gaze towards the dark-haired boy just a few feet away from me. I dislike his dull, fish-eyed expression he wears on his pale skin. Syndra, Max and Cicero rush into my sight, gleeful as ever.

"Zenobia, you're alive!"

"You gave us quite the shock-"

"Zenobia. Welcome back to reality."

"Where are we...?" I rasp.

"A place called 'central markets'. A grocery store believe it or not," Syndra answers, waving a hand though the air casually.

I follow the Capitolite's hand, taking in my dilapidated surroundings. The market has seen much better days, that's for sure. Instead of fluorescent lights, a simple barrel with lit contents within casts the market with an orange glow. Shelves that were for sure stacked with tons of food were now barren, some turned over. The art is all washed out, adding to the dreary atmosphere. I focus my gaze back onto Syndra, who grins sadly.

"It's not much, but it's as secure as secure can be," she says.

"Want me to help you? Here…" as Daphne eases me up against the wall, I notice that my head is comfortably secure with a pillow while my body is covered with a heavy blanket.

I let out a heavy sigh, massaging my temples as I feel my brain 'catching up' with my new reality. It's all coming back. The gas, my trek through the subway, narrowly being killed by a mob of angry tributes and a swarm of mutts. Not to mention the dull soreness that seems to be general throughout my entire body. I roll my shoulder, grimacing at the slight pain, but noticing that it's been bandaged. In fact, I notice that barring the bra I wear, I'm exposed from the waist up. Even my bottom half doesn't feel damp. It feels snug, as if I slipped on a fresh set of clothes.

Images of sniggering men with lecherous gazes and me being pinned down against concrete flash through my mind as I immediately cover myself up.

"These clothes are new," I say. "How did…?"

"You were hurt very badly," Syndra says while nodding in earnest. Cicero and Daphne follow her stead, nodding along with her. "So I did the honors of changing your clothes and cleaning up your cuts."

I murmur my thanks, noticing the way she holds her gaze at me. Despite how off it makes me feel to know that someone was tending to my body while I was unaware, I'd rather it be her than anyone else. She knows why.

Daphne grimaces. "You had a bullet wound in your shoulder-"

"Crossbow," I reply.

Cicero gestures to my legs. "And a bunch of mini pieces of metal in your legs-"

"Grenade," I say, nodding along as they exclaim in shock. I then go on to explain how I had gotten here to them. The bloodbath - I don't tell them how many, but rather I managed to escape - the Eight male, the apartment I holed up in, the teaming up of the Tens and Elevens against me, the gas clouds…

The Capitol's exchange looks. Max lets out a low whistle. "We came just in the nick of time."

Syndra nods in agreement. "To be quite honest, I'm not entirely sure how we did what we did and survived."

"I think it was the loot we got in return," says Max with a grin. "Rewards can be a huge motivator...That, and having Zenobia back with us of course."

Speaking of 'we'…I jut my chin toward the three District 1 tributes standing to the right of me. Paulus gives them a lookover, cigarette in hand as he waltzes around them with a playful swagger. He pauses at the shorter blonde girl with a shy character about her. Taking a drag and exhaling, He shrugs before posting up against a pillar.

"I've never seen a group of Ones so pitiful before." he remarks. "You'd think the dame would be a bombshell…guess she hasn't hit her stride."

My face scrounges into a frown. Gods. "She's fifteen…you hound."

"Yeah, Gem is fifteen," Syndra says, gesturing to the other Ones. "Then you have Quartz and Troy."

Playing with one of her golden blonde pigtails, Gem steps forward with a tentative wave. "I'm glad that Syndra found us. Eight is better than three any day. Especially in an arena like this."

If Domita calls me 'stringbean', she would have a field day with Quartz. He's Garrison if Garrison didn't at least build up the' brawn' as much as he does the 'brain' aspect of him. Turns out both of them are related, Gem and Quartz. Cousins.

"Truth be told, we wanted to join you as soon as we saw you march down that aisle…" he says. "I'm loyal to Panem…but you couldn't announce that in the tribute dormitories, not after the fight with you and Rief and the tribute scores…"

"You were all anyone ever talked about," adds Gem with a vigorous nod. "I wouldn't be able to sleep if anyone caught me attempting to talk with you."

I immediately think back to the sessions Viondra and I would have, perusing surveillance footage. I think I've been called every cuss word under the sun. "Trust me, I understand the apprehension."

All eyes turn towards our silent friend who failed to cue himself in. Troy. Arms crossed, his dull blue eyes flicker from left to right as he offers the slightest of shrugs.

"District 1 was a mess when Katniss fired her arrow," he says tersely. "It isn't as black and white as being all in for the Capitol or the Rebellion…"

I cross my arms over my chest. That's a load of muttshit. I immediately try and think back to all the surveillance footage Viondra and I went over. Were any of these Ones in cahoots with any other cohort? I know for sure there was a lot of intermingling of the various tributes regardless of district, Rabe, Gibbs and Lawson being the chief culprits. The Thirteens, though friendly with most districts, mostly kept to themselves. It's all a blur, unfortunately.

"'Course there's a difference," says Paulus. "One side is for normalcy, bein' a part of somethin' bigger while the other side just seeks t'destroy for destroyin's sake. Have you seen the attack on the dam?"

Syndra interrupts the moment of awkward silence by clearing her throat. "How about we eat? Zenobia, our little mission to get you out of the subway yielded us plenty of sponsor items."

"Has it?" I reply with a raised brow. Hmph, Viondra must really be flush with funds…

As everyone settles down onto their sleeping bags, digging into their rucksacks for boxes of rations, Syndra plops down by my side, offering me a pouch of pasta. I take it, along with something else too. A gas mask, of rebel stock of course, as are most of the items I've come across in the loot boxes, black with a singular rectangular eyepiece. Right then and there, I begin coughing up a storm, fetching my own canteen as I begin chugging down the remainder of its contents. I can't help but feel a sense of irony as I look the mask over.

"I'm surprised this hasn't come to you sooner." Syndra says.

This thing'll never leave my sight. Like a messenger bag, I loop it over my shoulder and adjust the strappings. "Me too."

"You didn't find any in the item boxes strewn all over?" asks Quartz. "We all did, after some extensive looking of course."

It's weird. One would think that Viondra would supply me with it, but I guess they have to maintain some sliver of impartialness. I wonder if the mutts were the Capitol's doing? Or were the tunnels their natural place of dwelling. I think both theories are correct. As we dig into our food in silence, I notice something incredibly weird. The smell, the taste…The entire pouch reeks of the moldy clothing scent that the gas had. I assume that my extended time within the cloud has screwed up my senses a little bit and continue eating regardless of how nauseating it is to do so.

"Is everything alright?" Daphne asks me. I glance up at her and notice that she and Max are joined at the hip, all snuggled up and shrouded by their sleeping bags. Garrison and Domita come to mind. When was this established? Or Maybe I'm just overthinking.

"Everything stinks." I reply tersely. I love pasta. Whether it be from the mess hall back at the Academy, or the rare chance I managed to sit down for a meal at my own home with Mom and Dad. Now it just tastes and smells rotten, with the usual scent pasta brings with it shining through barely. I try the chocolate fudge disk that comes with the ration. That smells and tastes much better than the pasta. What the hells happened to my nose? It has to be that damned gas.

While I pick at my food like I'm six-years-old again, Cicero nods, grimacing somewhat. "I understand wholeheartedly. District 6 had the same smell during the clean up. To be completely honest, I'm not too fond of cities anymore."

"Why not? That sounds kind of extreme."

"The Defense of The Capitol, for one. Where are you from?"

"West Bountiful," Syndra replies. "The fighting was close, but not close enough if you get what I'm saying."

"I see why you wouldn't agree. The Rebels from District 1 were apparently not as strong as Katniss' garrison coming in from the border of Two, where I'm from."

Cicero begins to go over his experience during the Siege of The Capitol, a last ditch attempt to destroy the nation when District 2 wouldn't budge and the rebellions in 3 and 7 were being isolated - being on the coasts. His three months of isolation apparently included boiling snow, stretching food and hiding their presence from rebel troops ransacking his neighborhood. For him, it was the fear of the unknown that kept him up at night. It seems that the other Capitolites agree too.

"District 6 was the same deal. Chaos...people fighting...no decency," he says with a shudder. "It seems I'm going three-for-three, being in this arena. Syndra, I think I found my calling if I manage to get out of this place."

Syndra grins. "Oh yeah, Cicero? Please, do tell."

"If I get out of this godsforsaken place, I'm getting a home in Six's country."

"Six has country?" Syndra replies. "I thought it was a city full of hoodlums waiting to wring your pockets dry..."

"Of course! It's probably one of my only praises...There are plenty of rural sectors from what I saw. A lot of people are moving away from the capital, for obvious reasons. I mean, I don't think I can ever trust a high-rise building again, lest someone blows my head off with a sniper."

Daphne smiles. "I think I agree. Bismarck is...well, it's not the Capitol, but with all the destruction in the Capitol, I appreciate the quiet."

On the other hand, Max shakes his head. "I'm bringing my ass straight back to the City Circle."

Gem's eyes dart back and forth between the Capitolites before focusing squarely on me. "Do you prefer the city, or the country, Zenobia?"

This prompts everyone to glance my way, curious to how Ms. Spitfire answers. They're disappointed when I shrug, shoving another morsel of pasta into my mouth. I don't particularly care about that right now. My food tastes like rancid garbage. What was supposed to be a morale booster to any tribute going through the ringer is now just another let down. I give in when they continue to glance at me, sighing.

"I'm at home in both locations," I answer. I have fond childhood memories of living in Dad's birth village, trekking through the forests, hunting and camping. But on the other hand, Ravinstill Springs does have a certain wonder to it, being the capital of Two, having the Academy there with hundreds of students from across Two and The Capitol congregating together never calls for a dull moment.

The opening melody of the national anthem stirs everyone from their meals. I move to stand up, go outside and see the fallen that way. Instead, my communicuff lights up, displaying the portraits of those who bit it. A female from District 4 is the first to be displayed, followed by a male from District 11. I hum. Two deaths. When the anthem comes to a close, I consult my communicuff to find out I've been down for two days. A lot can happen in two days.

"What happened while I was out?"

"One of your own from Two," Syndra begins, my mind flashing with scenes of Slate being torn apart by muttations, "Two Fours, a boy and a girl…two Tens and a bunch of Elevens…"

"And Maize," adds Daphne with a sad smile. "A District 9 female."

I consult with my communicuff once again, surprised that they have a map but no running tally of the eliminated tributes. I make sure to vocally announce that in hopes that they could make a change. Using old fashioned math, we figure out that some fifty-nine of us are still kicking.

"Not bad for a bunch of Capitolites, hm Zenobia?" asks Max.

Paulus snorts. "For a bunch of useless shields, yeah…not bad."

With the slightest of chuckles, I crack a grin. "...Shields…"

Max frowns while the others perk up in confusion. "Sorry Zenobia? I couldn't catch that last part."

I look him square in the eyes, drifting off to that of the others as I maintain my grin. "No, not bad at all..."

I mean, if they could manage to fight their way into a subway tunnel and rescue me, then now, they weren't bad at all.

Breaking the comfortable silence, I catch Cicero eyeing the room with a sad grin as he lets out a yawn, rising up to stretch.

"Well, that's day four down…and Snow knows how many days left to go..."

"Here's to a relatively safe few days ahead…" Gem says with a sheepish chuckle.

Cicero smiles. "That's the spirit, Gem. As trying as the Games can be, we have a full team! Hells, we could be our own district-"

"I'd curb your optimism if I were you," Quartz snaps pointedly , glaring at Cicero while polishing his short sword. "At the flip of a coin, we could all be at each other's throats."

The other Capitolites frown. Cicero crosses his arms, cocking his hips to the side. "I believe I'm not the only one when I say that looking on the bright side, especially here, wouldn't hurt."

Troy mutters something under his breath, prompting Cicero to roll his eyes and turn his attention elsewhere. My outlook towards our newly acquired alliance members grows dim each and every second that goes by.

It's about 2100 hours now. An hour since the fallen announcements. Max was right, for a bunch of Capitolites who would never be in the Games if this War didn't happen, they're performing quite well. I had those who had guns clean their weapons. Cicero has a submachine gun that looks to be made out of stamped pipes. Syndra has her revolver while both share an acceptable pool of ammo. The others have various blades, Daphne and Max having fashioned spears out of metal poles and kitchen knives. With the food recently sponsored for saving me, we could last a day or three if we moderate ourselves.

I allow myself to stretch, groaning as parts of me pop and crack into place. It's a 'good pain'. The type of pain you have after an extensive PT session. Now that I'm up and running again…

"What do we do now, Zenobia?"

I stare at Syndra and the others blankly. They gawk back, all bright-eyed and optimistic. That's right, I'm in charge of this outfit. Our plan and hours of extra training paid off. It was up to me to string them along as long as reasonably expected before the arena claims them.

"Wait…" Quartz shakes his head, his eyes narrowing. "Since when is she in charge?"

"Since we established an alliance with her back in training?" Syndra interjects, cocking a brow. "You would have been privy to this if you had the spine to stand up with us."

"When you have eighty or so tributes who absolutely hate your guts, it makes perfect sense to stay on the sidelines," he retorts.

Syndra glares at him. "Why would you argue the opposite?"

Even Paulus adds on the pressure, sauntering casually around Quartz as he nurses his cigarette, glaring him down like he's some detective.

Quartz glances at me, scowling a tad before his eyes sweep across the others who sit around the room awaiting a reply. He returns his vision toward me. Barely. "Listen…from what I heard about you, you obviously have a bone to pick with these other tributes…"

Paulus shakes his head. "He's a coward! Talk some sense into 'im."

"And they have a bone to pick with us. What difference does it make that I want to strike first?" I say to him, quirking a brow. "Well? What difference does it make?"

His steely gaze falters a tad as he shrugs. "Well…It m-makes a lot of a difference to wait it out-"

"To wait for them to get us. Right, let's just wait for all forty-odd of them to sort out their differences and headhunt us like they almost did me two days ago," I spit. "That makes perfect sense."

All heads snap towards Syndra's communicuff as the holographic children emerge, bathing the market with a blue hue. Dead-eyed, they stand hand-in-hand as they gaze down at us.

"Running may have its appeal," says Vi.

"But there's only so much space left to do so before your back is against the wall," says Pax.

Syndra seems to be on board with my way of thinking as she grins, extending her hand out even further for all to see. I crack a slight grin in return. At least not everyone is a weasel. They may be, but at least they have the wherewithal to tough it out and take matters into their own hands. I return my gaze to the gangly one in front of me.

"Any other bright ideas?"

"We're only moving onto the fifth day, for Panem's sake…" he replies, his tone pleading. "With so many tributes skulking around, Snow knows how many more days will follow-"

I shake my head, cutting him off. "I think I speak for everyone when I say that I want out of here in a timely fashion."

"A 'timely fashion'? So, our plan is to run around the arena, eliminating as many tributes as we can in a given day? Why, when no one else is in a rush? Gem, for crying out loud, say something!"

Her blue eyes flicker my way for the briefest of moments. "If I'm starting to become frazzled now, I don't wanna see myself a week from now. I want this to end."

Max, Daphne and Cicero mumble hesitantly in agreement. I know as Capitols they're scared out of their minds, but as long as they have me, they'll follow. The holograms eye us, and each other, with the faintest of grins on their lips. It's as if they enjoy our bickering and deliberating.

"It's not all doom and gloom," Pax continues. "Your opponents are only just beginning to settle in. Some, like Miss Rivendell's pursuers, are still licking their wounds from prior engagements. While others are considering their next course of action. Your names have come up plenty. Miss Rivendell knows this all too well."

"How does that old saying go? "Strike while the iron is hot?"" says Vi.

"Most of you have something in common, that being your collective sympathies for the Capitol," says Pax.

"Everyone else…does not."

"Anyone with eyes can see that there won't be much relaxing on your end during your duration with us. Unless you win of course…"

"Or perish."

Would you look at that. The holograms are actually worth their weight. With that, the 'children' disappear, leaving us in silence once again. Almost immediately, all eyes shift onto me once more, all of them filled with uneasy anticipation. Quartz looks flat out depressed. I can't blame them for their anxieties, but they all knew as soon as their names were drawn that they were heading into a quagmire, that they wouldn't find 'peace' like the rest of the nation was doing until they themselves were dead or being crowned.

"So?" Syndra chimes with a slightly chipper tone in her voice. "What's the plan, Zenobia?"

"For now, we rest on a shift basis. Every hour, on the hour from now until 0700. I will go first." I point toward Quartz who stirs uncomfortably. "And you'll join me."

That leaves plenty of time for some good old bonding.

"Jostle up the rest of the Ones just in case. Don't wanna wake up with a knife in your throat." says Paulus. "What did the holograms mean by 'most'? Makes me skeptical of the Capitols, too."

"You're right…You're right…" I murmur in reply. Five's a crowd...eight is a mess waiting to happen.

Syndra frowns in confusion. "Hm?"

I wave her off dismissively. "Nothing, sorry. Gem will go with Daphne, Max with silent Troy over there while you and Cicero partner up. Sounds good?"

Everyone nods in agreement. Everyone except Troy, who's been awfully quiet in this group discussion. As I visually tick off each nod of approval, my eyes fixate on him.

"Is there a problem, you?"

He shakes his head casually, going as far as gesturing slightly with his hand. "It's your world, 'boss'."

I cross my arms. The response could do without the attitude, but it'll do. As long as everyone is on board with the program.

"Good. In terms of an exact plan, I'll go over it tomorrow morning when Syndra and Cicero wake us all up," I say. "Until then, get some sleep, and keep your masks on you." I turn to Quartz. "You and me?, we have sentry duty."

From left to right, my eyes follow Quartz as he paces like a wind up toy soldier. "Sit down for Panem's sake."

We're outside now, some twenty minutes into our shift. To get a bead on the market and the surrounding area, we hole up on a second floor balcony that covers both the east and west approaches toward the market. It's sleeting hard, so hard we can barely see. Coupled with the cold, it makes for a miserable watch.

Not that I haven't had plenty of miserable watches before. As my time in this arena grows, the more I find myself praising the Academy - warts and all. Five years of watching the NCOs gather in their fancy, heated tents while my teeth chatter up a storm with nothing but a flimsy piece of tarp over my head and Domita's back pressed against mine for 'warmth' has given me some sort of tolerance to shitty conditions. On the other hand, the more I sit here watching Quartz, the more I wish that I had an alliance of Careers by my side.

"I c-c-c-can't!" Quartz hisses, pivoting on his heels as he continues his pacing. "It's s-s-s-so cold!"

Paulus occupies the other end of the balcony, glaring at the young man from One while shaking his head. "What a pussy. But who can blame 'im? S'not like he had the BCT, ICT or ACTs under his belt."

Still, it makes for a rather annoying sight. How weak can you be? I sigh sharply. "Shut-" I pause immediately, catching myself short. Don't want him slitting your throat while you sleep tonight. "Be quiet, do you want them to hear you?"

"Whose 'them'? They're probably all tucked away sleeping, like normal tributes," he rebuts. He mutters something under his breath about me being 'paranoid' but I decide to ignore it.

"These aren't 'normal' tributes," I reply dryly. "These are people who have willingly taken up arms, killing civilians and military alike. Some even took it further…"

"Yeah, well, not everyone."

That piques my interest somewhat. "You're what, eighteen?" Quartz nods. "How come you didn't go to Edenthew?"

"I did."

I snort. "Could've fooled me."

This annoys him, judging by the look he shoots my way. "Not everyone wants to waste four years of their lives training just to end up dying. There's more to Edenthew than that. I want to be a businessman, take up the family trade."

"So much for that..." I drawl. I keep my gaze forward in an attempt not to meet his. I didn't mean for that to come out. It just…slipped. Still, I'm not exactly wrong.

"There's some truth to that…just barely." he replies, his voice noticeably irritable. "A-And as long as I'm still breathing, that dream s-still stands."

That doesn't sound very confident...I continue to gaze out into the distance, not sure how to salvage the conversation. That was the goal, get to know these Ones. But upon first glance, I know everything I need to already. We have an academy reject, his underfed relative and a silent husk. All three of which leave a sour taste in my mouth.

But like Viondra says, a little more padding wouldn't hurt.

"I know that you're odds-on favorite, and that we've been meaning to join you for a while now, but you forget that you're only as strong as us being here, as seen with the trek into the subway."

I glance his way, subconsciously rubbing my wrist where my gauntlet lies underneath. "Is that a threat, One?"

He shakes his head. "No. Merely an observation. You can't take this arena alone, neither can any of us. And I think it's wise to just remind you of that…respectfully of course."

Licking my lips, I let out a barely audible scoff. If he'd seen half of what I'd gotten into, he'd be at my feet begging me for forgiveness. Or better yet, he'd take one of his knives and drag it across his throat. It'd save me the trouble.

Paulus lets out a dry chuckle. "Keep your weapons close tonight, Zen. I don't trust this guy."

Oh don't worry. I will. When our time on watch concludes, I settle before the warmth of the burning drum, not before exchanging lengthy glances with Troy as Quartz and I hand the watch over to him and Max. I find myself sleeping very lightly for the rest of the night, my hands caressing the twin gauntlets hidden under my sleeves.

A/N: Happy New Year, reader. I wonder when this whole Pandemic thing will clear up. Fun fact, I haven't attended an in-person class since 2020...February. Not that I don't mind to be honest. Enjoy your day/night, wherever you are. More art is coming soon!

Coming Up Next...

I size him up. He definitely has the build of a young man who hauls rocks and operates heavy machinery all day. The seriousness of him contrasts with the skinny Quartz and wide-eyed Gem. "You have the mass, why didn't you go to Helena and attend Edenthew?"

"As much as I would love to fence on the quad and attend black-tie galas,I'm not a rich doll."

I leave it at that, deciding to try and force myself to stomach another meal. All I know is that if he's in here, he could be just as nefarious as the Thirteens or Spinel Knudsen.