PURGATORY

a place or state of suffering inhabited by the souls of sinners.
-

I was born from an angel, she raised me properly

I knew what I wasn't to do, I knew what I wasn't to see.

Volans gently closed the door, scanning the dim kitchen. The Albert's home was empty, as usual for this time of day. There was only Flair and her mother after all, and Flair's mother was hardly ever home, which Volans certainly didn't mind.

"Flair? I'm here, you wanted to talk to me?" Volans called out, lingering by the door. The last thing he wanted to do was bother Flair if she didn't want to be bothered, but in just a moment she appeared in the doorway with a soft smile. Volans didn't doubt her smile could melt even the coldest of hearts.

"Hiya love," Flair said softly, beckoning for him to follow, which he did. "How was your day?"

"Fine enough. That girl hasn't stopped her smear campaign, but that's nothing to me."

"Chorus?"

"Yeah. that bitch," Volans nodded. She'd been vying for the second volunteer spot, but Volans knew she wouldn't get it, not with Flair competing for the spot, too. They were meant to volunteer together, after all, and nothing could possibly get in the way of that.

They ducked into Flair's room, the curtains pulled back to let the sun illuminate the white-walled space. Volans had always preferred it here to being at his own home- perhaps because Flair was home, or perhaps because Flair's house really felt like home. It was warm and comforting here, which his house and parents never managed to be. Volans was their son, sure, but he was also an assurance- an assurance that their empire would carry on after they were gone. But here, with Flair, he wasn't Volans the heir, or Volans the Career.

Here, he was his best.

Just Volans.

Volans hung his bag off the corner of her desk chair, then threw himself across Flair's bed. He grinned up at her. "Care to join me?"

Flair nodded, gently perching on the bed and wrapping a hand around his. "Remember how I had that appointment today?"

"Uh- Yeah?"

Flair paused, squeezing his hand. "It's uh… not good."

"What kind of not good?" Volans asked urgently, sitting up to face her. Surely this could be fixed- nothing bad could happen to him, to her. Nothing that Volans couldn't fix, at least.

"Well, uh, it's not just fatigue messing with my training. It's a disease, and it's… degenerative. It's gonna keep eating away at my muscles until I-"

"Until you?"

"Die. I have a few years at most," Flair said, her voice shaking as she turned away from him. "They can't help me here, but we can't afford to go to the Capitol."

Volans straightened at this- how could this have happened? Even then certainly he could fix it, certainly, he'd be able to convince his parents to help. They had the money to do it, there was no question about that, but they'd never liked Flair very much. They thought she was below him, wasn't good enough for him, but how could that be?

She was the best of them all.

(It was funny how the worst things came to the best people.)

"Let me help then," Volans said eagerly, wiping the tears away from her face with his sleeve. "We can help- I can help, I know we can."

"I- are you sure? That's… It'd be so much money though, and your parents don't-"

"No, no. I can't possibly let anything happen to you," Volans insisted. "I won't."

"Okay," Flair agreed, shakily. Volans pulled her into his arms, squeezing her tightly. He wouldn't let anything happen to her. As long as he drew breath, nothing would ever cause Flair harm. He wouldn't let this sickness tear her apart.

(She was the only good Volans Fedor had ever known.)

No.

They said no.

How could his parents possibly say no to him now? How could they do this to him? He hardly ever asked for anything, he'd been nothing short of the perfect son, the perfect heir, and still they said no.

(Flair wasn't worth it, they'd said. She wasn't worthy enough for him, and he could do better than some maid's daughter.)

Flair was the only thing, the only person Volans had ever loved, and now she would be ripped away from him. And with her, the last bit of himself that was capable of love would die.

Unless there was another way.

There had to be. And if there was, Volans Fedor would find it, no matter what.

"Volans, you okay?" Lionel asked, snapping Volans out of his thoughts. His brother perched on the bench next to him, a worried look on his face.

"Fine," Volans growled, rubbing his temples. "What do you want?"

"Erm- just checking in. I heard that conversation last night and I had a thought-"

"Oh so you're eavesdropping now, are you?" Volans sneered, his brother's face dropping. "You have an idea?"

"Yeah… I mean, if you won the Games… then Mom and Dad couldn't stop you from doing what you wanted," Lionel suggested. "You're already at the top of the trainees, and I know you wanted to go into the Arena with Flair but-"

"Wanted to go? You mean should've?" Volans shot back- but Lionel wasn't wrong. He already had a good shot at volunteering, and if he won, he'd have all the money and resources to get Flair to the Capitol.

Only one thing stood between him and the spot. Lionel.

"Of course, should've, yes," Lionel agreed, leaning on his spear. "But just-"

"You want me to take your spot?" Volans laughed, cutting his brother off. "Well, if you insist."

"I don't want you to take-"

"Boys! Time to spar!" A trainer called. "Volans and Lionel, you're up!"

Volans smiled, standing and sheathing his sword at his hip- he could beat Lionel, it'd be easy enough. His brother had fought years to get to this point, and he'd only surpassed Volans because he hadn't taken training seriously.

Now, though, it was life or death. Now everything was on the line.

(Volans Fedor did not lose.)

There was no Flair to greet him as Volans walked out of the ring, panting as he wiped the sweat and blood off his hands.

(There was no Flair to greet him, despite his victory.)

"Fedor, the hell was that?" a trainer called after him, catching him by the arm. "You're waiting here with me."

"That's fine," Volans shrugged, stopping in his tracks. Lionel was in his way, and so he removed him. It'd be better that way, certainly. Lionel wouldn't have to worry about volunteering now, with his arm shattered. Volans turned, watching as they carried his brother from the ring, writhing in pain.

"We've talked about this," the trainer hissed. "You can't keep doing that."

"Can't keep doing what? I'm not doing anything- injuries are accidents, and accidents are allowed. Are you upset that I'm just showing my skills to the best of my ability?" Volans shot back, wrenching his arm away. Who did this trainer think he was, grabbing him like that?

"I-"

"Now, I'd like to go shower. So if you value your job, let me go."

The trainer released him, and Volans immediately pushed deeper into the crowds of rapidly collecting trainees. This wouldn't really affect his chances. It never had before, so why would it now? Volans was only proving himself- it didn't matter if that meant sabotaging his brother. If Lionel didn't want a target on his back, he wouldn't have given Volans the idea in the first place.

(If his brother really wanted to volunteer, he wouldn't have let Volans win.)

Volans shut the door behind him, kicking his shoes off as he moved further into the kitchen.

"Flair? I'm here," Volans declared, quickly moving towards her bedroom door. It was cracked open, light streaming through, and quietly from within she replied.

"C'mon in."

Volans pushed the door open, careful not to crush the flowers he cradled under his arm. "Would you like anything while I'm up?"

"I'm alright," Flair said softly. She was securely tucked under the blankets of her bed, propped up on her pillows, as she had been for months now. She couldn't greet him at the door, or be there to give him a kiss for every sparring match he won.

If Volans didn't win, there would be no Flair at all, her flame snuffed out as if it never burned in the first place.

(What would he have to follow, without his guiding light?)

"Where would you like these?" Volans asked, offering out the large bouquet. She always loved the gardens and now that she couldn't visit them herself, Volans brought them to her. Flair gestured towards an open space on her desk where Volans deposited them.

"You have news?" Flair asked as he returned to sit on the edge of her bed. "You only bring flowers when you have news."

"I do. I- I'm volunteering this year."

Flair paused, a look crossing her face- the kind of look he never wanted to see. "You… are?"

"Yes," Volans nodded, and her shaky hand covered his own. "I am."

"I thought- no, Vo, you can't," Flair insisted. "You can't."

"I have to."

"No, you can't go- I don't want you to go."

"I have to. I can't sit here and watch you wither away like this if I can do something about it."

"Well, I can't sit by and watch you die, Volans," Flair insisted, her voice stronger. "I can't- I don't know how much time I have left, and I refuse to mourn you with it."

"You won't, my love," Volans comforted. "I'll come back, I promise."

Flair paused, turning her head away from him. "I can't stop you, can I."

Volans shook his head- it was the only answer he needed to give. Flair let out a shuddering sigh, squeezing his hand.

"Just come back."

Volans would.

(Would it still be worth it when he knew the cost?)

"So you are Volans, yes?" Ricochet asked, leaning forward in his seat, offering him a hand. "I'm Ricochet, but you probably already knew that, yeah?"

Volans nodded, taking the offered hand. "Of course."

"Good! You're up to date on our history, that's always good. You've studied the Games, then?"

"Yes," Volans confirmed, releasing Ricochet's hand. "Plenty."

"Wonderful. What's your weapon?"

"Sword, but I'm not picky."

"Don't be, it'll fuck you over," Ricochet nodded. "And Chorus? You know her?"

"I do," Volans nodded. "She doesn't particularly like me, but I care little about that."

"I see. Does that have anything to do with-"

"My training history? It does," Volans confirmed, and Ricochet sat back in his chair, narrowing his eyes. "I have no problem being civil with her though, especially not when it comes to the Careers."

"Good. I'll get her side from Kingston then," Ricochet hummed, scanning over the file open on the table between them. "You have brothers?"

"Two. One adopted."

"And a girlfriend?"

Volans nodded. "She's my world."

Ricochet hummed some more, tapping his chin for a moment. "You have a great basis here. As long as we market you right the Capitol will love you which means plenty of sponsors for you."

Volans grinned- he knew the Siel family and knew he'd be well off in Ricochet's hands. He'd even been hoping to get him as a mentor over the other option since Volans wasn't so different from Ricochet. He'd been taught plenty about maintaining a public image by his parents, but the Capitol was a different market altogether. Ricochet could certainly teach him the intricacies, and Volans would gladly take that assistance.

"Do you have any sort of plan with the other Careers?" Ricochet asked after a moment. "Anything you're looking for?"

"I want to lead," Volans said, squaring his shoulders. "I know I can do it."

"Lead them? Ambitious- I like it. You know that might paint a target on your back though, right?"

"Of course."

"It's not a bad idea. The Twos have led two years in a row and they're losing popularity for it," Ricochet sighed. "Especially after-"

"The Sixteenth Games?"

"You really do know your stuff, huh," Ricochet laughed. "The Twos and Fours are gonna be tricky. I wouldn't recommend trying to get close to both- I'd pick a side. Preferably the Fours, but-"

"We're talking about Four, and nobody invited me?" a new voice said, and Shai Kingston appeared in the doorway in a haze of fruity-smelling vapour.

"Certainly, they're the better bet for allies, right?"

"Sure," Shai shrugged. "Two's still on thin ice, and Four likes us well enough."

"Do they have the new mentors this year?" Ricochet asked, scratching his head. "They might be harder to negotiate with-"

"We don't need to negotiate with the mentors. At least I don't," Volans piped up. "Let me at the tributes, I'll make it happen."

"I'd make sure they'll suit you well before you make any moves," Ricochet recommended.

Volans nodded, and Ricochet grinned, giving him a thumbs up. "We have some stuff to talk about, but we'll see you for dinner?"

"Of course," Volans agreed, pushing his chair back to leave. He stepped out the door of the small office space, and it promptly closed behind him. He had the option of going back to his room now, but there wasn't exactly much to do there, so instead he set off towards the kitchen for a drink. He found the fridge quickly enough, digging through it for something that interested him. Eventually settling on some kind of cold coffee he'd never seen before.

"How was your meeting?" a familiar voice asked- Chorus. Straightening up, he could see her over the top of the fridge door, leaning against the doorframe he'd passed through moments before.

"Fine enough," Volans responded. "Why do you ask?"

"Just ensuring we're on the same page here, since they decided to have separate meetings with us," Chorus shrugged nonchalantly but Volans could practically see the tension she held. She was poised as if she were expecting him to try something.

"Same page? It seems like you want to be anywhere but the same page as me," Volans shot back, as he poured his coffee into a glass. "You know we're supposed to work together, right?"

"There's no need to tell me that."

"I suspect there is a need. Are you going to be able to get along with me, Chorus? If not, I'd get working on that soon."

"What's your problem-"

"My problem?" Volans barked a laugh. "What problem? You are the least of my concerns."

Chorus sputtered- Volans hadn't thought it'd take much for Chorus to lose her composure, but it'd been laughably easy. He didn't even need to lie. Volans didn't have any problem with her. Any problems were Chorus's and Chorus's alone, but it was good to know where she stood this early. And if she didn't become more useful, Chorus would be an easy write-off.

"I'm willing to work with you to make the Careers work, Chorus," Volans continued, taking a sip of his drink. "If you are willing to work with me."

"I'll think about it," Chorus muttered, and without another word, she rushed out of the room.

"I certainly hope you pick right," Volans called after her.

(He wouldn't wait on the right answer.)

"Don't you ever think there are too many people here?" Volans whispered.

"Certainly," Ricochet agreed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Do you mind? I don't want to lose you in this."

"Not at all," Volans responded. The foyer of the tribute center was crowded with tributes and mentors alike. Many of the mentors were crowded in groups, talking to each other like old friends- which Volans figured they were. He could even pick out a number he knew. There were the infamous Fours, Ardalion and Lyre, whose games he remembered enjoying thoroughly as the best display of Career superiority ever made. They were standing with an older Victor, who Volans didn't recognize, but he appeared to have a small child strapped to his chest.

"Who's that?" Volans asked, pointing at the man. "I don't recognize him."

"Glen, from Seven," Ricochet responded. "Looks like he brought his kid with him. Did you see where Shai went by any chance?"

"No. He said something about saying hi to an old friend when he walked off though," Volans shrugged, scanning the room again, watching amusedly as Glen attempted to hand the baby off to Lio, who looked less than thrilled, unlike his girlfriend. "Are they really always like this?"

"Who?"

"The other Victors, everyone seems so-"

"Hey, Ricky!" a thundering voice yelled as an arm was flung around his mentor's shoulders. "How's it hanging man!"

"Hey, Merc, back from your trip are you?"

"Just in time for mentoring, yessir," Merc- who Volans quickly realized was Mercury Vidovic of Two- grinned wide, his attention turning to Volans. "Who's this you got here?"

"Volans Fedor," Volans responded, offering the Victor a hand. "It's nice to meet you Mr. Vidovic, I'm a fan of-"

"Mister?" Mercury laughed wildly, shaking his hand with a vice-like grip. "I ain't a Mister like my Pops was, Volans. I'm Merc, or Vidovic, and nothin' in between."

"Oh, of course," Volans nodded, wincing as he took his hand back.

"I best be goin'- I think things are about to kick off," Merc grinned, and quickly disappeared into the crowd.

"He's interesting, isn't he?" Ricochet said, turning back to him. Just a moment later, the crowd quieted, and everyone turned toward the front of the room. A taller woman walked out onto the balcony overhead, who Volans recognized as Valerie, the Head Gamemaker.

"Welcome, Tributes, to the Capitol," Valerie said with a grin. "I hope you'll enjoy your stay here."

"Remember what we talked about," Ricochet said, patting him on the shoulder. "If they're not gonna work, don't make 'em."

Volans nodded, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket- it fit almost too perfectly- and he stepped out of the elevator. The training room was vast, with so many stations Volans doubted he could count them all. And the ceiling was so high that he could hardly believe they were underground.

"Tributes, this way!" A trainer called, and Volans followed obediently, joining the half circle of kids forming in front of the trainer. "It doesn't matter where you stand or if you can see, as long as you can hear me."

"What if I can't hear?" A tribute called out from the crowd- a scrawny boy at the front.

"Clearly you can, since you responded to me," the trainer responded, clearly unimpressed. There was scattered laughter as more tributes trickled into the room. There wasn't anybody in particular who caught Volans' eye, but who was to say one of the outer District kids wouldn't later? Sometimes the non-Careers had their own schemes and would surprise the Careers.

Not Volans, though. He couldn't afford to be surprised- couldn't afford for anything to come up that he wasn't anticipating.

This would be his Victory. These would be his Games.

(And nothing would stand between him and what was his.)

"Alrighty everyone, listen up! I am Gerard, the head trainer here. There's a few rules we need to go over before we can set you all loose," Gerard announced as the final tributes came in. He didn't bother listening too hard while the trainer spoke- he already knew exactly what he was saying, and Volans didn't need to be told how to train, anyways.

After what felt like an eternity, the crowd began dispersing, many of the Outers pairing off with their own District partners. Volans searched for a moment, finding Chorus, and beelined for her. The Twos had already joined her, apparent by the numbers on the front of their jackets.

"Where's Four?" the Two boy asked, scratching the back of his head. "Thought they'd be here already."

"Right here," a high voice responded, as the Fours joined their group. The pair of girls were nearly identical. The only difference were the expressions on their faces. "I'm Estel, and this is Desina."

"Volans Fedor, nice to meet you," Volans responded with a half smile, turning to his own District partner. "Chorus, your turn."

"Ah- I'm Chorus," Chorus declared, shooting him a nasty look, which made him want to laugh.

"I'm Majenna," the Two girl piped up, before gesturing to the hulking boy next to her. "And this is Clint, he isn't paying attention."

"Huh?" Clint asked, squinting at Majenna. Volans snorted quietly. This wouldn't be the hardest group to work with by Volans' estimation, especially not with a meathead from Two like Clint.

"Now that we're introduced, perhaps we should-" Chorus started.

"Come up with a plan? I already had something in mind, if nobody minds me sharing," Volans spoke, cutting Chorus off. "I think we should split into two groups of three. One person from each District in each group." Volans paused as the others agreed- all except for Chorus.

"How are we splitting then?" Majenna asked.

"However we'd like to."

"I don't mind going with you, Volans," Majenna shrugged, turning her gaze towards the Fours, pointing at Desina. "You come with us then?"

"Ah… sure," Desina agreed, moving away from her sister's side, which looked like it pained her.

"So that puts you three together," Volans said, gesturing at the remaining. "We can reconvene at lunch, how's that sound?"

The others muttered their agreement, and Chorus shot another dirty look his way before turning her back to Volans.

(She'd regret not giving him an answer.)

"So why did you want to come with me, if you don't mind me asking?" Volans inquired, as Majenna took Desina's spot on the bench. He waited as the girl took a long drink from her water bottle before she responded.

"You kept talking, so I wanted to get a better sense of why," Majenna said, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "You seem like you want to lead, so I thought you were gonna go right for the leader spot, but…"

"But?"

"But you didn't, and I don't know why."

Volans nodded, watching as Desina squared off with a trainer, a long whip in her hands. She looked like she was dancing as she fought. Like Flair once had.

"It's not like we need a leader though," Majenna continued, watching alongside him. "Maybe you just don't want that kind of target on your back, or-"

"Perhaps I'm just biding my time?" Volans finished her sentence, a startled look crossing the girl's face. "I might be. Maybe I don't even have a plan- maybe you don't either. But nobody really knows, do they?"

"No," Majenna said, shaking her head. "Not at all."

Volans grinned as Desina took the trainer down, the pads he wore thudding heavily against the ground. He pushed himself to his feet, grabbing his sword from where it leaned against the wall nearby, as Volans prepared to swap places with Desina. "Keep thinking about it then. I'm sure you're smart."

"I will."

Volans watched as Clint finally managed to get the knot tied in the rope, which looked tiny in his hands. With a grin, he offered it to Volans.

"I got it!"

"Certainly," Volans nodded, carefully tying his own knot with his length of rope.

"What are we even still doing here?" Estel whined, sitting cross-legged on the floor like some kind of pouty toddler. "I already know how to do all this stuff."

"You do, sure. We do not," Volans responded. "If you want to go to another station so badly, you can leave us here and we'll join you."

"Can I?"

"I don't care," Volans shrugged. "We'll be here a bit longer. It'd probably be a better use of your time if you went somewhere else."

Estel nodded eagerly, dropping her ropes before practically running off toward the knife-throwing station.

Volans snorted, turning back to the task at hand- a rather complicated knot, twisting and looping around itself to reach completion. It wasn't so hard for his deft fingers, but just as Volans finished he looked to Clint, who seemed to be having much less success.

"How are you liking this station?" Volans asked after a moment of watching him struggle.

"Dunno. Don't love it, I don't know what I'd use any of this for anyways," Clint sighed, tossing his rope aside. Volans laughed, picking it up again, "But that's okay. My mentor told me it's good if I pick up lots of different skills."

"Your mentor?"

"Mmm," Clint hummed. "He's cool."

"Yeah?"

"Let me and 'Jenna and Chorus fuck around last night without yelling at us for being loud," Clint said with a grin.

Volans paused- he'd known Chorus hadn't come back to the apartment until later in the night, since he'd still been awake, but confirmation about where she'd been was far more interesting. Something told Volans he wasn't supposed to know, though- who else would tell him than Clint? What were they doing, meeting without the rest of the Careers in secret? Whatever it was, Volans didn't like it.

"I met him back when we were waiting for our formal introduction from the Head Gamemaker," Volans settled on. "Seems nice."

"Yeah," Clint nodded, quickly going back to the task at hand, although Volans doubted he'd prevail this time. At least, not before the lunch call went out.

The past two days had been more exhausting than any Volans had experienced in months, as he lay across the plush Capitol bed. Training wasn't the hard part- in fact, it was the easiest. No, trying to get a true read on anybody around him was trickier than anything else. Desina didn't seem like she was made of much- complacent and talented, but without a mind of her own, especially without her sister. The pair stuck to each other's sides, hardly ever separating unless forced to.

Majenna wasn't the same, though. She seemed to be smart, keeping both herself and Clint in check. The boy could hardly think for himself. Volans thought it was a miracle he managed to get his shoe on the right foot every morning. The last thing Volans wanted was for them to turn on everyone else- with Majenna's brains and Clint's brawn, there was no telling what they could do.

And then there was Chorus- still as aggressive as ever, and yet she still hadn't come up with an answer. Something told Volans he might not get one at all, not with how she'd been sticking to Majenna's side like a plague. For all he knew, they were scheming against him, planning to team up and take him out before he could even get a foothold in the alliance.

Volans refused to let them get that advantage- they would not ruin him, ruin the image he'd worked so hard to build through his life like that. These were supposed to be his Games, his chance to show the country what he was capable of, and he wouldn't let some lowborn idiots ruin that for him. Chorus and the Twos knew they'd have to be cowards to get rid of him before even knowing what Volans was truly capable of.

(If they wanted to play a game of tricks, then Volan would show them who the real fools were.)

A soft knock rang from the door. "Who's there?"

"Shai," the voice responded. "Unless I'm some weird fake version of myself, in which case I'm not Shai but…"

"You can come in."

The door swung open, and Volans sat up as Shai stepped in. "Mind going for a walk?"

"You aren't my mentor," Volans noted, and Shai shrugged.

"Sure I'm not, but that doesn't mean I can't mentor you anyways. So, walk?"

Volans nodded, sliding off the bed and quickly throwing a pair of shoes on. Shai beckoned him to follow, which Volans did without any hesitation. The Victor led him through the apartment, towards the elevators, hitting the call button.

"Where are we walking, exactly?" Volans asked curiously.

"Roof. Lots of space and fresh air up there."

"I see."

Volans waited, tapping a foot impatiently. He wanted to turn around and go back to bed. He needed his rest, after all. Volans couldn't risk entering the arena in anything less than peak condition, but the elevator soon arrived, doors sliding open.

"Voila!" Shai said with a grin, both stepping in. The mentor hit a button, and the doors slid closed soon after, the elevator taking off. The ride was silent, save for the quiet tapping of his own foot against the floor. Shai seemed unbothered, a hand flipping one of his pens between his fingers with the kind of skill that told Volans he'd been doing it for years. Soon enough they stopped and the doors slid open to a wave of cool, fresh air.

"Lead the way," Volans remarked, letting Shai move ahead of him, which the mentor did without hesitation. Volans followed a step behind onto the rooftop. He could've seen all the way across it if the center wasn't filled with what looked like a very sizable garden.

"Nice place eh?" Shai asked, spreading his hands wide. "Spent plenty of time up here myself, and really can you blame me?"

"Of course not. Perhaps we can speed this up, I'd like to get to bed soon."

"Can't rush greatness, kid," Shai shrugged. "Patience is a virtue!"

Volans grunted, having no choice but to continue following until they hit the end of the rooftop. Shai leaned against the railing, looking out over the city, the wind whistling around them. Volans turned, pressing his back against the cool metal.

"You need to be careful," Shai said after a moment. "More careful than you're being now."

"More careful?"

"Certainly."

"What do you mean by that? I'm being plenty-"

"You think you're being careful," Shai said, shifting his gaze to Volans now telling him to be quiet through only a glance. "You may not like Chorus- and I'm not telling you that you need to. But you don't know what's being seen, Volans."

"What is that, a threat?" Volans snorted. "You dragged me all the way out here to threaten me?"

"You wouldn't have to ask if I really was threatening you," Shai snorted. His tone was light as ever, but a shadow fell over his expression, sapping any light from his eyes. "Clearly you care about appearances, and if you do, you'd do well to listen to my warning."

"So what do you want me to do? Get along with Chorus? You said it yourself. I don't need to like her."

"You don't. All you need to do is make it seem like you do. Show the Capitol you're unified, that One is strong. You know how to keep appearances up, so do it."

Volans snorted- Shai Kingston wasn't his mentor, and beyond that, was hardly a Career. What did he know of Volans Fedor? What could Shai Kingston possibly do to ensure his Victory?

(What reason did Volans have to ever trust him?)

"I'll think about it," was the response Volans decided to settle on- the last thing he wanted to do was entirely sabotage his chances. Still, Volans wouldn't linger on this long, because why would it matter to him? It made no difference if he and Chorus were unified or not. Volans alone was stronger than Chorus would ever be, no matter who she attempted to ally with.

"I certainly hope you pick right," was all Shai said, turning his attention back to the landscape ahead.

(Volans had never been wrong. Why would that change now?)

"What board game do we want to play?" Estel asked, flinging the cabinet open. "There are lots of options- and my mentor said she can get us other ones too if we don't like any of this stuff."

"Board games? Aren't those for kids?" Clint responded flopping onto the couch. The Fours' apartment was nearly identical to the Ones', just in a different colour scheme. He spotted an open chair opposite Clint and took it as Estel continued to dig through the cabinet.

"They don't have to be," Majenna shrugged. "We're just big kids anyway."

"Especially you, Clint," Chorus noted, folding her arms across her chest.

"I am not!" Clint exclaimed loudly, sitting straight up. "But I don't want to waste time on stupid little games!"

"Well, we're not just here to sit around and twiddle our thumbs, are we?" Estel shot back, matching his volume. Desina had entered the room now as well, looking nervously between her sister and Clint. "So we need something to-"

"Keep it down," a low, threatening voice said. Everyone whipped their heads around to see Ardalion Collingwood looming over the back of the couch. Volans hadn't even heard him enter. It was as if he'd simply materialized out of thin air. Up close, the Victor was even more impressive- there was something about the way he held himself, as if Ardalion knew exactly what he was capable of.

"Ah- sorry Lio. Do you have any suggestions of what we could do?" Estel asked, scratching the back of her head sheepishly. "We're not really sure."

"There's stuff on the balcony," Lio responded, before turning away and disappearing down the dark hallway, toward what Volans could only assume was his room. The Careers quickly collected their things, practically scrambling out onto the balcony. The breeze was pleasant- nothing as strong as the roof, although they couldn't see over any of the surrounding buildings from the fourth floor.

"Nice balcony," Chorus noted, slipping into a seat. "I guess we all have them."

"Guess so," Volans agreed, taking the seat next to her. Somebody fiddled with the pit in the middle, turning the fire on, and they all settled in around it. It was plenty peaceful, just as Volans intended to spend his final nights. They'd all sit around and chat pleasantly tonight, but soon enough, they'd be broadcast to the entire nation. Soon enough, all of Panem would be watching him.

(Soon enough, all of Panem would watch him burn the Careers to the ground as they deserved. They'd know what he was truly capable of- how skilled he really was.)

It would start with Desina and Estel. They were easy- easy enough to keep under his thumb, especially if they thought they had the upper hand. They certainly had numbers, but so long as Estel thought she had a chance of being in charge, they wouldn't be a problem.

Then Clint and Majenna- smart and strong, certainly, but Volans didn't doubt that with the help of the Fours he could hold them at bay, at least long enough to form a stronger plan.

And then Chorus- Volans could only hope to make her death long and painful. Who cared about District pride, when Chorus had planned to betray him first? She'd decided to turn on him when he'd only ever been nice to her. Volans was only protecting himself, ensuring his own success, and was that really such a bad thing?

Soon enough, the fire wrapped up, the Twos departing together and Chorus following just a few moments later. As the door clicked closed behind her, Volans turned to Estel, the only of the Fours still awake, as her sister had fallen asleep in her chair.

"A word?" Estel asked as he pushed himself to his feet. He nodded, offering the girl an arm, which she used to pull herself up. With their arms linked, they headed toward the other end of the balcony.

"What would you like to talk about?" Volans inquired as soon as they were away from Desina, even though he already knew what it'd be about.

"The Twos and Chorus. They're planning something," Estel stated. "They came to us and basically gave us no choice but to-"

"To ally against me?"

"Yes, that. Chorus seems to only have bad things to say about you, but I don't understand why. You've been fine," Estel continued. "I don't trust it."

"Mmm," Volans nodded. "Thank you for telling me."

"But- I had an idea. Why don't we… stick together?"

"Yes?"

"If they're going to destroy the Careers like that and give us no choice but to join them, why would we? So why don't we make a pact and stick together?"

Volans nodded, giving the girl a smile. "I can certainly agree to that. Especially if the others are going to threaten the pack over something so trivial. I can understand why you'd want to do all this."

Estel sighed, nodding. "My sister thinks I'm being too hasty, but-"

"There's no harm in ensuring your position, is there?"

"Not at all. I'll tell her about this in the morning."

"Of course. I think I better be getting back now. If you'll excuse me," Volans said. The hour was certainly growing late, and he wanted to ensure he was rested. "I'll see you tomorrow, Estel."

"I'll see you, Volans," Estel nodded, and Volans let her arm go, making his way back inside.

(They'd fallen right into it, just as he'd hoped. Now all Volans had to do was make the most of the chance he'd been given.)

The final day of training was anything but eventful.

Volans was finding himself near bored, in fact. He didn't need to learn anything new, and so he found himself time and time again at the fighting station, sword in hand, thoughtlessly fighting as he mulled his thoughts over. He wondered what the next day would bring, what the others were planning. He wondered how Flair was- would she watch him as he took his rightful throne?

Would she even make it to see him win?

(She had to.)

It was for her, it was all for her, she didn't have a choice- if she was gone, what did Volans have left? She couldn't do that to him, not when he'd done so much for her.

Volans blinked, and the final day of training had concluded. Aching and sweaty, he hung his sword from the rack for the last time.

(Would he dream of her that night? Would he dream of everything he'd ever wanted? Volans couldn't afford to be consumed by his thoughts tomorrow, and so he had no choice but to indulge now.)

Volans would return home victorious, and Flair would be okay. They'd get married in no more than a few years, and he'd take over his parents' company. This potential, this desire shined bright white in his mind- a star, guiding him home, perhaps.

(The only light Volans Fedor would ever follow.)
Volans could hardly register the alarm going off and couldn't even tell if he'd slept. Still, he felt as energized as ever, sitting as patiently as he could manage through breakfast, and then entering the aircraft which would take them to the Arena.

This was it- this would be his moment, his moment to shine. These games would be everything, and failure wasn't an option.

(Victory had always come easily to Volans Fedor.)

Flash.

The tributes were being unloaded from the aircraft, split apart as each of them were escorted down a different hall.

Flash.

He was left to meander around a little room- clothes were left out for him to put on, which he'd already done. They were robes which draped around him and secured at his waist with a thick leather belt. They were easy enough to move in, the material thick and rough, clearly made to endure all kinds of abuse. The shoes were more sandal-like, the straps snaking up his legs, but they felt secure and comfortable.

The wall slid open, and Volans stepped in, the small chamber dark as night once the door closed.

(Volans could only hope he'd find the light again on the other side.)