A/N: Well, I'm back. My Year 3 University diagnosis is a violent one, but there is light at the end of the tunnel. If you're reading this, you can now expect 3 updates in a row all throughout this week.

Chapter Twenty-Five - "Relief"

"Here we are, day seven of what is shaping up to be a historical Hunger Games! History isn't just being made inside the arena but out of it, too. Typically sponsorship of tributes in the arena is a Capitolite pastime, while those in the Districts bet privately. This isn't stopping one group of District 2 students! Here I am with Miss Officer Cadet Beatrix Baines of the famed Overwhill Academy! She is the mastermind behind all this you see behind me! Beatrix, what prompted this 'sponsorship drive'?"

My eyes drift briefly towards the boundary of the cameras assembled before me. The left-hand side. I quickly note the attendance of my many relatives and friends, but I immediately notice how the highest of Two's society give me their undivided attention. Provisional Governor Rankine, Commandant Rudiger, Sergeant Major Hayes just to name a few. Even Mom, pausing from coordinating the nation's health efforts, decided to come and see me. You'd think that the Square of all places would be flush with noise, but no, all eyes are on me. Even the gigantic screens that usually display the Games instead showcase my face.

Look at me…I'm helping.

As humbling as it is to have all eyes on me, I'd much rather see Zenobia and her alliance, as they need the attention, not me. Letting out a hesitant giggle, I swallow before briefly glancing at the beaming reporter beside me and then to the cameras - to Panem at large…those who are loyal to it at least.

"Well, instead of offering my best wishes, I thought I would take a more proactive approach to aiding Zenobia's fight," I say.

"Proactive indeed. In the form of a bake sale no less," the reporter notes. "Why a bake sale of all things?"

"Well, times are tough. What, with the War throwing a wrench into everything…" I explain. "People would be sad to part with what money they have left. Instead of just asking people outright, I thought why not give them an incentive to support Zenobia more than just offering 'good thoughts'."

"Beatrix seems to be onto something, as hundreds of Twos have come out to show their support not just for her cause, but for Zenobia's cause! It seems that Zenobia's coffers will be pretty flush by the end of this day. Beatrix-"

Grinning, I wave her off. "Please, call me Bea. Everyone calls me Bea."

The reporter inclines her head. "So humble!"

"I thank my training for that, Ma'am," I reply, nodding back to her. I can't help but glance towards Mom, who grins proudly at me.

"Bea, I think I speak for all of Panem when I say you represent what it means to be an industrious citizen to a tee! And for that, we salute you!"

With that, the reporter goes off the air. I'm immediately descended upon by my family and the District's top brass. Provisional Governor Rankine, a hulking woman (seems to run in the family, looking at Domita) pumps my hand with such force I can't help but teeter.

"As far as I'm concerned, Overwhill is good for makin' warriors!" she booms with a hearty chuckle. "Little did I know we'd be good at other things too. A true-to-Panem bake sale!"

Mom is up next. It's the three-gems of a lieutenant-general on her greatcoat collars that prevents me from embracing her. Not like I do that often anyway. Instead, we opt for a firm handshake as we pose for the cameras.

"Being Surgeon-General and all, I can't say I recommend concentrated consumption of sugar," she says, stuffing one into her mouth as she flashes me a cheeky grin. "But if it's for a good cause like this, why the hells not? Good job, Beatrix."

"Thanks, Mo-" I quickly clear my throat, catching myself just in time. "Ma'am."

Mom lifts her head into the air, seemingly in wonder. "I wonder what Dax would think about all this, hmm?"

Images of Dad dictating my use of the range, our clothes and faces caked with our creation, flash through my brain. I feel an uncomfortable chill pass through my body and I'm certain it isn't because of Two's weather. Suppressing a shudder, I glance up at her.

"If you don't mind, I'll be heading back to the group now. I'd like to keep tabs on our progress."

Mom nods. Commandant Rudiger glances over at us from the gaggle of Two's important people. "I'll call you soon. The Rebels made a mess of this nation and it's going to take some time to clean up after them."

With another stiff handshake, I pivot on my heels and make my way over to my base of operations in the form of two large kiosks, both of which have lines that stretch from here at the West Block of the Justice Building all the way to the East Block with Peacekeepers sprinkled in and around to keep order. Just as I begin to fret that we wouldn't have enough baking material, another truck arrives onto the square carrying more of it. Chief Warrant Officer Findlay is quick to drill the aiding cadets into offloading the goods.

"C'mon now, move into it!" he barks. "There's plenty of people left to fatten!"

I giggle. He's tired of it, but I'll be sure to thank the quartermaster again when I have the time. Instead, I saunter over to the gang, grinning from ear to ear as they themselves partake in a bag of cookies and some cocoa each.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, Bea. The whole 'bake sale' thing seemed kinda juvenile…" Randall says, a cheeky grin on his lips as he brings one of my sugar cookies to his mouth and gingerly bites down onto it. I can't help but watch as a sense of bliss washes over his often sad features. "...I'm obviously wrong."

Garrison adjusts his horn-rimmed glasses. "I mean, we are juveniles, so naturally a money making endeavor like this would be considered the norm-""

With a chuckle, Randall shakes his head, demolishing the rest of the cookie. "Garri…I love you, but please, shut the hells up…"

This earns a round of snickers from Callista and the other cadets. As per usual, Domita comes in from the wings, giving Garrison a playful neck massage as he grins sheepishly in response, the entirety of his ashen skin flaring red with embarrassment. I can't help but grin. They're bipolar opposite of one another. It's cute. Speaking of cute, Callista, with a smile on her face, skips up to me and takes me by the hand, her bouffant bouncing all the while as we frolic through the crowds. I catch a whiff of her shampoo.

Oranges. Shipped in from her folks in the Capitol, no doubt.

I sigh, taking in her mocha-colored skin as I lock her arms in mine. I'm feeling warmer already.

But still, I can't help but look out for potential eavesdroppers. Someone always has something to say, especially the boys back at Overwhill. We have all the dummies in the world to throttle, yet they still have enough testosterone to take on a lizard mutt. We're among civilians now. Even though I'm still weary, they probably just see two friends who happen to be girls, enjoying the Hunger Games season. The screens showcase Zenobia's alliance, Maximus and Daphne specifically. They're all holed up in the apartment taken from the stray Eight boy. They share the last of their rations with one another, huddling together like lovers. They are, aren't they? The bush isn't beaten, it's bashed.

A man nearby chuckles with his friend. "You should've seen it."

"You saw it?" his friend replies.

"Nah, well…I guess! They were mostly under the covers but boy were they goin' at it!" the man replies. "I'm surprised they didn't wake the entire apartment!"

Gross. Scowling, I allow Callista to escort me a few feet away. The cameras flicker to Zenobia now. She sleeps, a heavy blanket shrouding her knees. Finally, after a whole night and better part of a day on edge, Syndra coaxes her to rest.

"She's doing a Capitol job in there…" Callista notes, glancing at one of the many holoscreens that dot the Square. "With that snake Troy done in, that makes twelve kills. Twelve kills! Higher than Brutus Gunn's score, if just barely. In due time, it'll be higher than-"

"-Almost higher than Baron Overwhill's score…" I finish. When an eighteen-year-old, six-foot-three pile of muscle named Brutus Gunn thrusts his way into the Games, it's only natural his tally would be so high. It's not like the other Careers could do anything to stop it - and they didn't.

"Who else is pretty high?" Callista wonders, wobbling her head in thought before snapping a finger, her hazel eyes bright. "Azora Duncan! She should've won over that drunkard. Shame."

"She was pretty high, but she had a dozen more allies to share kills with," I reply. Azora Duncan of the Fiftieth, comparable to Zenobia's current bout with double and quadruple the amount of tributes respectively, came in with about ten kills.

"But really, it's Baron she's gonna topple."

I nod in reply. The only thing the Bronze Age was notable for was Baron Overwhill. An experienced eighteen-year-old against a bunch of mostly wide-eyed tributes would make one think that he could've killed all twenty three instead of eighteen. With some fifty-odd tributes remaining and Zenobia having a plan, well…Whatever happens, chances are she'll break that record.

I notice Callista grinning at me. Wide from ear to ear with a brow quirked upwards. While most hate it, I find it uniquely hers.

"What?"

"You wear your emotions like a sandwich board," she jests. "You don't seem too happy."

I shake my head. "I'm not."

Callista bumps me with her hip, causing me to stumble a few feet to the left. "Why not?"

The frustrated look I shoot at her immediately melts into a weak smile as she maintains that infamous grin of hers. We lock arms once again. "Okay. Zen is on her way to the crown, but at what cost? With the War…The War did a number on everyone, be it physically or mentally. Pain doesn't go away easy."

Nearly five years since, Dad's always in my thoughts. He as well as the countless other people I've failed to save over the two years of fighting. If a day doesn't go by where he or the others don't pass my mind, how must Zenobia fare with her horrible ordeal on that backroad?

I shrug. Zenobia's bout isn't as cut and dry as everyone is making it out to be. "Her already existing pain, coupled with the Games…Who knows how she'll come out?"

Callista frowns. "If Rivendell marched her way into a 'no volunteers' Games and got in anyway, I say we let her do her thing in there while trying to do the best we can out here," she says, adjusting her arm so that we're drawn even closer together now. She grins. "Which we are, thanks to you."

I return her grin, glancing up towards a holoscreen. Zenobia remains in place. I doubt they'll be moving for another day.

Justin Matix and his gang of Thirteen-born tributes continue to battle their way north - towards her - all while contending with swarms of mutts in the form of gargoyles, rats and dogs. Besides a few wounds, I'm surprised they haven't lost a single man out of their alliance of seven - including a Thirteen who happens to represent Nine.

All the other tributes have kept the same posture as they have since launch, despite being constantly being made to move because of the poisonous vapor that slowly constricts the arena. Find an area - one of the many dilapidated apartments, gas stations and so on - and lock it down until they can't secure it any longer. Every time the cameras flicker through the various alliances, I hear the grumblings of the people around me.

"Cowards," Callista spits. "Look how much opportunity they're wasting. Get out and fight!"

I watch now as District Four's Rief Cohen and his girlfriend cuddle together for warmth. If Callista is saying this, then what must her cousins and the Capitol think?

"We've essentially hit the one-week mark, no?" Caesar is on one of the screens now, a panel of Hunger Games 'experts' including that of the handsome Head Gamemaker, Colonel Rose, each occupying a roundtable. "This arena reminds me so much of Seventy-Three - one of my favorites. In fact, I believe it lasted a little bit over a week. Antonius, would you say there were a lot of parallels between then and now?"

Colonel Rose flashes the cameras a gorgeous smile. "Yes, there are plenty. Arena's like these are neat to explore…but lends itself to a very static warfare, what with the nooks and crannies strewn about. This goes double for the current iteration, with there being quadruple the amount of tributes. We're fully aware of the…'static nature' we find ourselves in and have plans to fix it."

So the arena's moving on from the beginning to the middle. I watch on as Caesar and his panelists come alive with glee, begging for hints that the Head Gamemaker will not give, as he makes a gesture of sealing his lips and throwing away the key. I turn my attention back to the kiosks, which still have a plethora of people lining up.

"Say…Did you ever ask your cousins how much things are running for?" I ask.

Callista hums in the negative. "No. They must be wrenching up the prices though," she replies. "How much do you think we got?"

"I think we did what we set out to do," I chime in reply, returning my attention back to Zenobia's sleeping image. "All we have to do is count it up, send it off to your folks and hope for the best."

Coming Up Next...

"Y'know. Usually, when you have that sinkin' feelin' in your gut, chances are you're right."