Author's Note

I do not own The Hunger Games.

Luminescence Sterling, 17

He ran towards the edge of the beautiful forest of the Fiftieth, the large backpack he'd snagged bumping against his back. He had yet to see any of his siblings, and their platinum blonde hair did rather stand out. Phoenix's scarlet even more so. They had to be here somewhere.

Unless–

No.

No, that didn't warrant thinking about.

He was going to find them, all of them, and they were all going to get out of this fucking game. Then, when that was done, they would find whoever did this to them so he could punch that person right in the face.

But for now, he was running on a slight slant away from the bloodbath, to give himself as much of a vantage of the area as he could. It was the standard plan he had with Iridescence and Radiance. Get out of the bloodbath, cover as much ground as possible so they could be seen by the others and any allies they had.

Run.

"Iridescence!" he shouted, though his voice was hoarse from running and catching uncomfortable from panting. "Radiance!"

Did he dare shout for Phoenix? What if one of the Gilmores was close? They might not know them well, but they might remember who she was if Luminescence went screaming his younger sister's name at the top of his lungs. He couldn't risk it. All three were bigger and more combat inclined than her. They'd crush her. And he might lose her for real, might have her taken from them by whoever was running this version of The Game.

Etheria ran to him as he reached a longer section of grass, a large war hammer gripped in her hands and a backpack on her back. Her eyes were wide with panic and fear.

"Have you seen either of the others?" he shouted.

She shook her head, red-faced and breathless. "No."

"We need to find them. Come on." He grabbed her arm and dragged her along after him.

From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a golden haired figure throwing a mousy brunette to the ground, pummelling her with fists and the dagger in her hand until her armour hit zero. Even as Luminescence passed them a pool of blood began to form around her. The golden haired girl gave her one last stroke before standing and sprinting towards him and Etheria. Etheria shrieked as Luminescence raised his spear to fend her off, shoving her aside with the barbed end. She swung back round, drawing a greatsword from her waist. Luminescence dodged aside. His spear should still give him the reach, but a lucky blow from that would take a good chunk from his armour.

"Leave him alone!" Etheria cried, taking a frantic swing at her with the hammer.

"Didn't you hear the announcer?" he shouted, backing away as she continued to move towards him. If they died here, if they died today…

"I heard her!" the girl replied with a grin.

"Then what are you doing? We could kill each other!"

"Oh, I know." She lunged at him, passing his guard and bringing her sword into his side, dropping his armour to six in one blow. He couldn't take another attack like that. He needed to get away from her.

Or stop her.

He waited for her next swing before lunging forward with his spear and slamming it into her abdomen. Her armour dropped to seven. She dodged his next strike, drew her arms up – and a spiked ball crashed into the side of her head, sending her tumbling to the ground.

Luminescence grinned as Radiance swung his mace back to his side. The two of them hurried past the floored girl, seeking to put some distance between them while she was dazed.

Luminescence clapped his brother on the back. "I've never been more glad to see you! Now let's find Iri–"

Radiance shook his head. "No time for that."

"What?"

"There's no time for that. Phoenix got on one of the trains."

"She did what?"

"Going that way!" Radiative pointed and Luminescence veered towards the indicated track.

"Doesn't she know?"

"Apparently not!"

Maximillian Marcus Badondé, 18

He had fled across the beautiful flower meadow, which finally gave way to a bright, beautiful, lush forest. The small backpack bounced against his back as he ran, making his way through the large, colourful trees. This should be perfect for him, he'd have more than enough places to hide. And poison, he could coat his arrows–

Which he might not have many of. He hadn't checked when he grabbed the quiver, but it felt dangerously light. He might have to make some of his own, or see how much they cost with sponsor points. But it would do for now, until he could get away. His heart thumped in his chest. Those damn bitches had dragged him in here, and now he might die for it. If they hadn't died in the bloodbath, they would be the first people he tracked down.

Maximillian slowed a little and glanced about himself, scanning the forest. The trees were made up with multicoloured leaves, and bright birds perched on the branches. The scent of honey and sweet pollen hung in the air.

He reached back and took his quiver from his shoulder. Sure enough, there was only five arrows in it. He was going to need more than that. He sighed and swung his bag to the ground, pulling it open. A loaf of bread, a packet of salted beef, a small canteen of water, a roll of bandages, and a pack of matches. Not bad, but he still needed more arrows.

"Err. How do I check the sponsor store?" he asked, looking about him.

He'd expected flashing information, a screen of some kind, like was shown in the recorded playthroughs, but nothing appeared.

Never mind. He'd figure it out later.

Hortensia Chrysallis, 18

She was away from the cornucopia, but whatever this arena was, it wasn't the Fiftieth. The ground was black grass, with a layer of white mist swirling above it, thickening the further she went. She could be running in circles for all she knew, the deepening fog hiding everything else.

Hortensia clutched the bow she'd grabbed from before her podium. It had been there, clearly intended for her, but she had no arrows. Jerk move from the programmers. Maybe they'd intended to force the archers into some sickening competition for ammunition from the cornucopia. They might even hope for some drama later in the Game. It was the mind of thing Capitol Gamekeepers would do, after all. Dad had told her about once designing certain substances for one of the arenas that would pitch the tributes into a frenzy.

The audience loved drama.

Something caught under her foot, invisible in the fog. Hortensia stumbled, flailing and failing to catch herself. She dropped the precious bow to avoid the risk of breaking it if she landed on it, and caught herself on her elbows and knees. Her backpack jerked forward and slammed into her head. Stars flashed in her vision. She groaned and rolled onto her side, sucking in air. No footsteps around her that she could hear. But even with the fog, she wasn't hidden here. She had to keep moving.

Hortensia propped herself up onto her knees and reached out to grab her bow with a trembling hand. She needed to keep moving, to find somewhere quiet she could set up camp. She shifted the bag against her shoulders as she stood, turning to feel for what she'd run into. A short, rectangular stone square, sticking up from the ground.

Fog and stones.

There had been an arena like that, hadn't there? She'd seen it in reruns.

Hortensia glanced about herself. There were voices, somewhere off in the distance, which gave her no time to stop and think about things.

As she stood, a dull, familiar pain shot through her ankle. One of the nodes on her jumpsuit blinked and went out.

"Hey! I'm not hurt!" she protested, which was soon proven wrong as she stepped forward and sharp pain twinged in her ankle. It felt like she'd twisted it-

But it felt real.

Hortensia picked up her bow and forced herself to continue moving.

Artemis Gilmore, 17

Apollo was a dead weight against her shoulder, blood dripping from his mouth and a gash across his forehead. His breath was heavy and laboured in her ear. One of these backpacks better have some medical supplies in; they'd ended up with three, plus a few loose objects that had been scattered across the ground when she found her twin brother, bleeding out at the foot of the golden horn.

If that announcer had been telling the truth, he could well be dying for real.

"Don't die," she said, squeezing his arm. "Don't you dare die."

They disagreed, sometimes, fought, every so often, but he was her brother and she still loved him. She could only hope that the usually digitised medical supplies would actually do some good against his injuries.

"Dddon't plan on it," he slurred, his head knocking against hers. Pink and blue. Contrasts, but together.

"What happened?" she asked. They'd have to stop soon, so they might as well talk. She wouldn't get him much further. She'd never realised just how heavy her brother was. He'd grown bigger than her as they reached their late teens, and bulked out in the shoulders.

"Radiance Sterling," he replied, the words a ragged whisper.

Hot rage rose up inside her. The fucking Sterlings. They did this? They had put her brother into this condition and left him like this, easy prey for any of the other players that might have found him?

They'd all knocked each other out of the Game in the past. This time they just might kill each other.

"Tried to get him at the cornucopia. Hit me with one of his damn maces," Apollo continued.

Artemis groaned, shifting his weight against her shoulder. "Why would you take that risk? Losing this Game could be permanent!"

"That was my point!" He grunted, raising a hand to his head. It came away red with blood. Artemis caught his wrist and pulled it down. Apollo grumbled softly. "Reckoned we could get rid of them for real."

"That's murder."

"This is the Hunger Games." He glanced at her. "We've got an angle. We should play the part."

"This is real life! And now you're injured with no armour!"

"You can patch me up, and then we look for a power-up."

"For all we know, it might not work like that in this Game! Everything else seems to have changed."

"What else do you suggest then?" His arm slipped against her shoulder, and she grabbed at his wrist to pull it back into place. "This is real life. Do you want to die?"

Artemis let out a long whoosh of air. She'd wanted to compete, to show her superiority.

She didn't want to actually become a tribute.

"No," she said.

"Well then."

Artemis groaned and pushed a bloodied lock of pink hair behind her ear. "What role do you think we should play?"