Training, Day 3, Part 1

Ilithyia leapt out of the elevator with a huge grin on her face and bounded into the training room, her footsteps echoing around the place. The room was largely empty this time of day, save for Ven and Adora waiting at the center. She couldn't imagine why the others wouldn't be down here yet. Wouldn't everyone want to make the most of their time? Even if she won, she might not ever re-enter this special room; this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. And today was day three! The last day of training. Ilithyia had zero intention of wasting a second.

"Good morning!" She waved at the two from District One. "Oh my goodness; time flies!"

She and Adora hugged quickly, and then she turned to Ven. For a split second, he just stared back at her before his face broke out in a grin and pulled her into a bear hug. It was strong and warm, almost crushingly so, but oooh! That's what made it so Ven and so good!

"You're not sitting out today." She winked at him. "I'll make sure of it."

"Ili—"

She laughed. "Don't 'Ili' me! You're fantastic and everything will be fine."

Though he smiled at her, she could see the tension all over his face. First Balios, now Ven—why did nature ever decide that some of the nicest people in the world had to freak out around large groups? Maybe that's why she was here. If Ven didn't want to be social and make some friends on his own, she'd push him to.

"So. Last day of training," she said. "How do we feel about private sessions?"

Adora tilted her head thoughtfully. "What is there to feel about it? We know what we're going to do; they already vaguely know what we're going to do; everything will be great."

"I guess they already kinda know." Ilithyia hadn't thought about it like that before, but she wasn't sure she liked thinking about it that way. It didn't quite sound as exciting. "Like what are you going to do—go in and sort plants?"

"To be fair, Adora here is pretty good at those plants," Eros said.

Adora blushed, averting her eyes shyly. "Oh no, I'm just a beginner. Did you have to learn plants in Two?"

"Plants?" Ilithyia paused to think. She vaguely remembered there being some kind of classroom setting, but weapons and fitness training dominated her memories. "I… think so?"

"Did they offer plant classes?" Eros said, turning to Ilithyia. "Not gonna lie, I probably failed it."

Ilithyia gave him a hearty slap on the back. "Oh, come on! You gotta give yourself more credit than that."

"Yes!" Adora chimed in. "He learned really fast when we looked at plants on the first day."

Ven hadn't spoken a word the entire time, watching them silently with a neutral expression and respectful eye contact. Ilithyia hoped he didn't feel like an outsider. Maybe he was one back home, but none of that mattered here. She'd had to rope him in somehow.

She turned at Ven. "What about you guys? Did you have plant classes in One?"

His eyes immediately widened, as if he was shocked to be spoken to. "O-Oh, we had a few. It was mandatory until Year 4, but a lot of us took it afterwards anyway."

"Really? That's so cool." Eros nodded along.

"It was mostly because it was right after lunch and the instructor let you sleep in class." Ven chuckled, a deep melody that set Ilithyia at ease. "So how much of the info actually stuck is… debatable."

Adora giggled. "Oh my goodness, how could I forget! Mr. Arian is the best."

Ilithyia wasn't sure, but she could've sworn she saw a shadow pass over Eros's face—or was it Adora that suddenly shifted? She glanced at Ven, who looked back with concern. The air wasn't right. She couldn't place a finger on why something just felt off. It just did.

No. Ilithyia refused to have it. So when the elevator doors opened to reveal the Tens and Sevens, her heart leapt for joy.

"Buenos días! Good morning!" Nevaeh's voice was music to her ears. Ilithyia didn't have to go meet the Ten girl, for the Ten girl jogged over and wrapped her arms around Ilithyia before Ilithyia had a chance to move.

"Hermana!" The foreign word still felt strange in Ilithyia's mouth, but she made up for her lack of fluency with unabashed confidence. "It's so good to see you!"

Nevaeh patted Ilithyia on the shoulder and broke out laughing. "Sos! She's picking up the lingo!"

"Ay! She'll be a proper District Ten muchacha in no time." Sos grinned.

"I'm trying! 'Y'all' need to keep teaching me!" Ilithyia couldn't help but laugh along as well. "Adair! Liat! Hi! How do you say it—buenos dias or something?" She waved at the Sevens, trying not to crack up with Nevaeh's renewed laughter in her ear.

Adair looked back and forth between them. "What'd I miss? Y'all are havin' a hog-killing time down here."

Ilithyia looked at Nevaeh, who looked right back at her, and the two instantly burst out laughing again. Oh, how thankful Ilithyia was to have the Tens around! She practically drank their enthusiasm by the bucketful; she relished in Nevaeh's zest for life—and the Ten girl's zest for queso, but that was basically life anyway.

"Day Three, here we come!" Ilithyia said. "Woo!"

She looked around at her group—well, their group; she didn't mind sharing the leadership with Nevaeh—but her smile damped, just a tad bit. Something was off; she knew it. Was it just her, or did Adora seem more uptight now that the Sevens and Tens were here? Could Eros' concerns about everyone else possibly have some kind of basis?

Absolutely not. That'd be implying something negative about Nevaeh, and heck, she almost trusted the Ten girl more than her own district partner. Besides, that would also imply that there was something fundamentally wrong was the alliance, and Ilithyia refused to accept it. They were a team; they would work together, and she'd have a blast.

Things were fine. There was too much for her to experience for her to waste time worrying.

"Day Three, here we come!"

The time had come for Liat to make her choice, but all of a sudden, she felt unready. Much as she tried, she couldn't rescue her sinking heart, which settled in the bottom of her gut and left her restless all over. The same thing had happened yesterday; she'd originally planned to break her ties to the other trained tributes after lunch, but everyone had seemed so nice and she wasn't sure if she wanted to lose everything they'd built up over the past few days.

Of course, seeing Adair pummel the Four boy last night had pushed any doubt out of mind. She didn't want to go into the Games anywhere near him; his very presence unsettled her. Did he smile like that behind closed doors, or did it hide something more sinister underneath? Gah—she'd seen it happen yesterday. Four attacked first, just like he did the Eleven boy, but somehow, she just knew Adair was behind it all.

She looked at the other members of the group, right as they split up for the day. Time was slipping away. Right then, the sudden urge to stay whispered soothing temptations in her ear. She'd avoid making a mess. She wouldn't have to risk hurting any feelings, and she'd go into the Games with at least six people watching her back. Hadn't she adapted to logging work, as much as she wished to write? She could adapt to this group as well. Ilithyia and Nevaeh and Ven and Sostonio—they were good people! Wasn't she being unreasonable to break all ties just because Adair was involved?

But then Clarke's blonde streaks caught her eye, and she bit her lip. She had to snap out of it before she gave up and gave in again. This was more than just about Adair. For once, she'd choose herself and what she wanted.

As the others dissipated, she cleared her throat and spoke.

"Hey Ilithyia, Nevaeh—do you have a moment?"

The two were the de facto leaders of the group. No one had ever questioned it; it just happened.

Nevaeh smiled. "Of course, hermana. What's up?"

"I…"

She glanced back and forth between their warm, lively gazes. Maybe it was a mistake to approach both of them at the same time—breaking the news would've been hard enough one on one—but she'd gone too far to turn back now.

"I think I'll be leaving the alliance."

A shadow fell over Ilithyia's brow, the first time Liat had ever seen it happen. "What's wrong?"

"If it's someone in the group, you can leave it to me." Nevaeh's eyes had darkened too, revealing a new ferocity that hadn't shown through before. What was this girl's background, anyway? "Does someone need my 'special charm'?"

Liat gulped. She had braced for hurt feelings and accusations, not this. She opened her mouth, ready to talk about Adair—but what did she really have to say? Any evidence she had was merely speculative; all she had was that ugly gut feeling that refused to go away. It'd be wrong to make a public accusation without proof.

"Please don't hate me," she said. "You guys are all so nice, but I don't know if this group is for me, you know? I don't fit in well, and…"

"Is this because you haven't trained as much?" Ilithyia said. "Look, that isn't a problem here."

Liat bit her lip. The two of them were… disappointed. She hated disappointing people. "That's not all of it… but it's complicated."

"Are you sure you wanna do this? It won't be good for your odds." Nevaeh's voice was earnest. "We'll be enemies."

Ilithyia chimed in. "I don't want to fight you from the start."

"That's the Hunger Games for 'ya. We'd have to fight eventually, either way, right?" Liat forced a chuckle. It was easier than the alternative.

The other two girls looked at each other and then at her. The silence stifled Liat's voice, but she forced herself to speak.

"So… I'll be leaving now. I thought you guys deserved a proper goodbye."

"Ay, we can't stop you." Nevaeh crossed her arms in resignation. "We can't promise much, but we'll do our best not to fight you at the Bloodbath, right?"

"For sure." Ilithyia nodded in agreement. "But after that… all bets are off."

"Buena suerte, hermana. Good luck."

"Thank you so, so much."

Liat wasn't about to complain or ask that they leave Clarke alone too; they'd been generous enough to give her a free pass on Day One.

She took an unsteady step backwards. Now that she'd done it… she almost wished she hadn't. If she changed her mind right at this moment, she knew they'd take her back. She wouldn't do it. She'd come too far to turn back now.

Ilithyia waved, though her movements looked subdued compared to her regularly limitless energy. Nevaeh remained still with her arms crossed, but she gave Liat a little head nod. Liat allowed herself to linger in the farewell, the conclusion to her little journey with the Star Alliance, the one her world had predestined for her. From now on, her future was her own.

One look. One smile. One turn around, and her life changed forever.

Immediately, she spotted Clarke at the weapons stations, and she jogged—no, skipped over, almost flying, her shoulders suddenly free of their burden though its removal certainly meant future danger.

"Hey! Clarke!" she called, heart leaping in her chest.

The Nine girl whipped around, face rapidly passing from shock to joy to disgust and then back to shock. "Liat! What are you doing—"

Liat almost felt breathless with excitement. Her life was now hers, all hers! "I'm not with them anymore."

Clarke's jaw dropped; she nearly dropped the mace in her hand. "What…"

"I decided that being with them wasn't what I really wanted. Maybe I'll die faster now, but we'll figure that out later, right?"

"How…"

The girl from Twelve ran over, district partner in tow. "What's going on?"

"Seven?" the boy said, brow furrowed. "What are you doing here?"

Liat waited for Clarke to speak, but for once, the Nine girl actually seemed speechless. So she extended her hand to the Twelves and smiled. "I'm Liat, from District Seven. Chatted with Clarke on day one. I was with the Star Alliance, but I'm not anymore."

The boy nodded slowly, still processing, but the Twelve girl didn't miss a beat. She grabbed Liat's hand and gave it a firm shake.

"Woah, that's bold—I like it! I'm Zirconia, by the way. My dumbstruck district partner is Zeph. He might be the boring one, but I promise he's not always like this. Are… you joining us?"

Liat smiled. The warm reception was nice. "I might, though I don't want to butt in if you guys don't want me to."

"We need to talk," Clarke said slowly. She turned to Zeph and Zirconia. "Could… you give us a moment?"

Zirconia shrugged. Zeph's eyes narrowed just a tad bit, but he didn't protest either. As Liat watched the Twelves walk away, she found herself gnawing on the inside of her cheek. She hadn't expected Clarke to seem so… hesitant.

"What's wrong?" Liat asked.

"What's wrong? All this is wrong!" Clarke whispered, yet she might as well have been yelling with the way the words spit out of her mouth. "You're not supposed to leave the alliance. I'm not supposed to be with effin' District Seven—that's almost as bad as dealing with District Ten."

"Maybe we could work something out?" Liat said, words tumbling over each other. "I really don't see why it matters where we're from."

Clarke crossed her arms. "We don't deal with Capitol lap dogs."

Liat stared back, stunned. Something caught in her throat; was Clarke mad at her? She hadn't hurt Clarke, had she? She didn't understand the Nine girl, but if she wasn't wanted here… who was she to intrude? Liat was bound to find someone else. Compared to the rest of the tributes, she was trained; that in itself was a tally in her favor.

"I… understand," Liat said. "If you don't want me here, I'll go somewhere else."

She'd made a mistake. When she broke off from the Star Alliance, she'd done it expecting to join another group—Clarke was half the reason she left. It'd been rash of her. She should've waited and gauged interest before jumping in the deep end; now she found herself stuck in loner limbo. Perhaps Azolla would like an alliance, especially now that the Fours seemed to have had a falling out.

Much to her surprise, Clarke visibly shook. Nine paused and then bit her lip. A flash of something new in her blue eyes—desperation. "No. Actually… Stay. Please."

"I thought…"

"Forget what I said; I didn't know what I was saying." Clarke said quickly. "Heaven's sake, I still don't know what I'm saying."

Now what? One moment, Liat was convinced Nine hated her guts—and now Nine wanted her to stay. "Are you sure?"

Clarke furrowed her brow and stared at the ground. "Please don't go. I know I'm not making any sense. I don't make any sense to myself either, okay? But…" She lifted her head. Gone was the fierceness, replaced by genuine fear. "Please stay. I'd… really love to have you."

Liat broke into a smile. "Clarke… You know I'd love to stay."

Sostonio pressed through the questions on the screen, his rapid taps filling his ear with beep, beep, beep. Edible and Toxic plants. He knew these plants, almost all of them; he'd seen most of 'em around the ranch and the District Ten wilderness. But what if there was one he missed, one that could mean the difference between life and death?

Somehow, for him, it never felt like he just had to be good enough. He had to be absolutely good.

It was reminiscent of the mornings before final exams, back when he'd still been in school. Even though he didn't need good grades at all to run the ranch—pass and graduate and he'd move on with his life—he'd inevitably study his life off in a panic, terrified of a low number associated with his name.

In the Arena, it wouldn't just be a low number. He'd be dead. But when it came to the Private Sessions, it would be a numerical scoring, and these plants would do him no good there! Maybe he should be training at the weapons, learning a last minute trick with his preferred lasso and machete to eke another point out of the Gamemakers. He hoped he'd earn an 8, at the very least, though if he did well enough, a 9 was well within reason. But if 9 was possible, wasn't 10 as well? And if 10…

Breathe, Sos, Breathe. He forced himself to take a step back and stop working himself into a frenzy. Perfection wasn't the goal here. Survival was, though the costs of survival were a whole different problem here, one he really didn't want to be worrying about now of all times but he'd have to face eventually.

Voices floated nearby.

"You really think so?"

"It can't be nothin'..."

Ilithyia and Nevaeh. The two'd been as thick as thieves over the past few days; he'd had trouble believing it. One would expect the threat of imminent death to discourage potential friendships. Nevertheless, he was grateful for it, if only for the alliance's sake. He had zero interest in going through the messy alliance drama he saw on television.

But something was wrong; he could hear it in their voices. This wasn't their usual lively chatter. He turned just as they waved goodbye to each other and split up for the morning.

"Que pasó?" he asked.

"Nada," Nevaeh said, though something obviously just happened.

"C'mon." He gave her the look. "Something's wrong."

"Liat left the alliance."

He stared at her. She smiled back; he would think she was joking if the atmosphere weren't so clearly off. "No te creo."

"De verdad."

Her verbal confirmation didn't clear up a lick of confusion. He'd noticed that Liat always seemed… subdued when she was around the rest of them, but to leave an alliance—and the Star Alliance at that—something had to be going on.

"You think it's somethin' wrong with us?" He searched the room and found Liat with the Nine girl and the pair from Twelve, the volunteers. He hadn't paid too much attention to them; maybe he should've. "Or is it somethin' they got?"

"No sé; I wish I knew."

"She didn't say nothing?"

"Nada." Nevaeh shrugged. Her gaze darted off every few seconds; her expression otherwise didn't waver. "Something's up and I don't like it."

Sos frowned. Sure, there'd always been an underlying tension in the group, but he'd chalked it up to, well, the fact that the Hunger Games would begin in a few days. "Qué?"

She leaned over and tapped the screen Sos had been using, suddenly interested in the virtual cactus. It blipped to life again. In the corner of his eye, Sos noticed that Ilithyia and Ven had drifted nearby. He'd thought that their alliance was solid, but maybe he'd been wrong all along.

"You know all these?" Nevaeh said, gesturing to the plants.

" 'Course I do. This country boy ain't from the ciudad." He chuckled even as he wondered what was going through her head. "That cactus is mighty tasty, by the way."

"Do you just… cut it open?"

"You could give it a few good whacks, but it's easier to burn it like nopales." He found himself salivating at the thought of those cactus paddles; he used to grill 'em out back when papá was still alive.

"Ooh! I love nopales!" She clapped her hands, even as she gave him a serious look. "But I hate all their little spines you can't see. I don't notice 'em until it's too late, and then it really hurts."

He bit his lip uncertainly. Dealing in subtext wasn't exactly his forte. "You think we got spines to worry about?"

"Don't we always?"

"I dunno…" He glanced back at Ilithyia and Ven. He couldn't imagine them betraying him or Nevaeh—especially not Ilithyia. The same went for the rest of the group. They might have to kill each other to emerge alive, but he isn't sure if they'd stoop so low to treachery.

"I mean, there's always a few spines left on a nopal," she said. "Last time, I was watching my mamá prep some when she got a nasty poke in her arm."

"Ay, that's terrible." Sos nodded.

The 239th Hunger Games hadn't been a particularly good year for District Ten. The girl had trusted the pair from One, and they'd left her to die after a mutt bit through her arm. Though she survived the attack, she hadn't stood a chance when the Feast happened merely a day later.

Nevaeh sighed and swiped to the next plant. "Maybe it's best for me to avoid nopales."

"I don't think that's an option… You seem really attached." He smiled nervously. Did she intend to leave, too? "Attached to the dish, I mean. It's so nostalgic for all of us."

Between food and foes, this entire conversation was beginning to give him a headache, not to mention the rumbling dread—what if the others figured out what Nevaeh was actually referring to?

"Plus I ain't ever had issues with 'em personally," he added. He'd give his allies a fair fight if it came down to it, and he hoped they'd extend the same courtesy to him. "You just gotta deal with them right and you don't got any spines."

She flipped her hair over her shoulder and rolled her eyes at him, as if he'd just said something silly. "That's so optimistic of you."

He didn't blame her for it. She was the daughter of the Gabriel Jiminez, infamous drug lord, so notorious that even the government turned a blind eye. He didn't know (or want to know) the things she'd seen and done, but he figured it'd be enough to make anyone wary.

"You know what? Maybe we could talk it out with Darah," he suggested. Once they entered the Arena, their mentors would be able to see everything that happened. If anyone would catch signs of treachery within the alliance, it'd be them.

"You think so?"

"Take it easy." He gave her a pat on the back. "Estará bien. Everything will be fine."

She didn't look convinced, but she smiled at him anyway. "Oh, but seriously," she said. "If they actually have this cactus in the Arena, you'll have to show me how to eat it."

He cracked a grin. "You got a deal, chica."

Alone in the shaded corner of the first aid station, Navarro glared at anything and everything and nothing in particular, all at the same time, especially anyone that happened to look his way. Could they tell that he'd been crying? He'd stared at the mirror all morning, desperately hoping that his poor night's sleep had erased or at the very least covered the puffy eyes and red cheeks.

Because Navarro de Leon never cried. Ever.

Yet when the boy from Eleven glanced in his direction, he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact. His shoulders slumped and pulled in defensively; they still quivered as chills ran up and down his entire body. It had to be the cold air blowing from the vents. Since when was he ashamed? He had nothing to be ashamed of.

Well, nothing to be ashamed of, other than losing to Seven so easily and screaming his lungs out at Azolla. The former felt like it should be worse, yet the latter made him want to curl up in a ball and hide from… Eleven boy? Seven? The world?

No. To hide from himself.

The mannequin below him suddenly started to beep, turning the heads of the boys from Nine and Six, who were working nearby with the girl from Eleven. Gosh, this wasn't quite as easy as he'd imagined. How hard could fixing up a wound be? Wrap the whatever-cloth-thing around the bleeding part and call it a day! Why was it beeping now? Somehow, his makeshift bandage had only worsened its condition.

Pressure was supposed to stop bleeding, right? He grabbed the arm wound and squeezed it, only for the beeping to worsen. Water gushed out. He wiped his wet hands on the mannequin, but its plastic surface did little to dry them.

Gosh. Azolla would know what to do; she'd spent so much of her time here. Not that he missed her, not at all. She'd been almost always nearby for the past few days, but her absence hadn't affected him at all. It didn't feel strange. It didn't feel cold. It didn't feel… lonely.

At any rate, Navarro would have to deal with it—though there was nothing for him to deal with. They were completely separate entities now. He got the impression that he'd have to apologize to her if he really wanted the two of them to ally again, and he wasn't going to apologize because he clearly hadn't done anything wrong, anything that he regretted, anything that made him wither in shame.

He didn't need her. He didn't want her, not when her very presence constantly chipped away at him, poking for vulnerabilities. But he still looked until he finally spotted her at the weapons alone, unsteadily learning the basic motions of self-defense in her last half-day of training. He hoped she'd be fine alone, although he didn't care about her at all.

Why couldn't the mannequin stop beeping? Its noise rang incessantly in his ears. People were staring. His head was about to split. He slammed a fist into the stupid mannequin's chest; he needed it to stop!

Its volume instantly jumped. It made him want to scream, but that'd be even more embarrassing than everything already was. He grabbed it by its shoulders and slammed it against the floor, over and over until he heard a crack and it finally silenced.

Welp. Now it was dead.

It'd been at the worst time too, since Azolla had just left the weapons station and was headed in his general direction. Now she'd get to see his mess. Maybe she'd be happy to see him fail; he'd be glad if he were in her position. If there ever was something in her that really cared about him—which she didn't, she couldn't have, since no one ever did, not even himself—it was definitely gone now.

Now she was passing by. She paused, she looked, she raised an eyebrow. A hint of an attempted smile danced across her lips but never came to fruition. For a moment, her mouth opened, as if to speak, but then it closed.

Navarro found himself talking before he realized what he was saying. "First aid isn't my thing, I guess."

"Hmm."

"Do… you know how?"

Though Azolla cocked her head and probed him with her gaze, she asked no questions. She dragged another similarly wounded mannequin over and sat down across him, pushing his cracked-up one out of the way.

"So," she said. She ripped off some gauze and folded it into a pad, which she pressed against the deep gash on the mannequin's arm. "First, you have to stop the bleeding. Remove the knife or whatever if you can if the wound isn't too bad, of course, but I'm assuming that's already taken care of."

"Stop the bleeding. Got it."

The corner of her lip curled up. "This is a training mannequin, so it'll go fast, but a real wound might take a while."

"And you just hold it there?"

"Yeah. Give it time for the blood to start clotting. If the gauze gets too dirty, you can change it up for a clean one. But now that it's stopped bleeding…" She grabbed a squeeze tube from the first-aid kit. "You have to add some antibiotic or else it'll get infected, and if it does… well, you could die."

"Gotcha."

Somehow, it looked so easy when Azolla did it, her hands flying around as if it were second nature for her. Gosh, she picked skills up really fast. It'd only been two days of training. Where did that leave him?

She tied the last bit of gauze down around the arm. "Then you bandage the wound. That's about it."

"Stop the bleeding. Apply antibiotics. Bandage the wound."

"You got it."

He stared at her. It felt like anything he said here would be so wrong, especially the words he knew he had to say. "Well… thanks. I guess. Did you learn this in training?"

"Oh no, I've known since I was ten," she said. Though her voice stayed as gentle and calm as always, a biting undertone crept in underneath. "We didn't have money for doctors back home, so we had to do it ourselves."

He pressed his lips together. She stood up, eyes already elsewhere; she walked away, a bounce returning with every step away from him. The brief moment had ended. What he'd done yesterday wouldn't be so easily fixed, and though she was willing to help him, they were still completely separate.

He thought he felt regret.

Maybe he shouldn't have screamed at her. He could've avoided the entire mess by leaving the conversation at the start, before her words had a chance to worm their way under his skin. What was he so afraid of, anyway? Neither heaven nor earth scared him—but he had needed to get away from her.

He hadn't been able to stand the feeling of a thawing heart, the terror of allowing anyone remotely near that… that effin' weakness he didn't have in the first place! He was not weak—he wasn't! He'd pummeled many a man to prove it too. After he'd lost the first fight he ever picked, he'd resolved never to lose again, never to bend his knee, never to submit to anyone.

Yet it had only taken a few looks from Azolla to pull him apart, to send him right back to his cold and empty house, the disdainful looks of his childhood, the sniveling boy that'd been him before he toughened up. He clenched his hands into fists; he had a mind to give the mannequin a few more good slams. That boy wasn't him anymore. He wasn't hurting. Not at all. He couldn't be hurt.

Why had he cried? Why did chills run from his face to his toes?

If he wasn't as strong as he thought… then where did that leave him? Just as pathetic as the dumb Five kid, who walked around trying and failing to assert his "dominance"?

No, not just as pathetic. Far more.

A/N After this chapter, we only have three Pre-Games chapters left! It's been a fun ride, but things are about to start hurting soon… In the meantime, I have two announcements:

1. A major announcement will be coming with the Launch chapter (Chapter 26), and I promise that you won't want to miss it. So I highly encourage you to be caught up on reading when I drop Chapter 26: Launch. If it's possible, I'd really like to get on VC for it, but that's up to y'all if you're interested. (If you're not on the discord and want to join, just let me know! We'd love to have you!)

2. It's time for the Justice Meme Competition! That's right—just like with Premonition, everyone is allowed to submit up to three memes (if you send me more, let me know which ones you're entering into the competition), either via Discord DM or email (josephm611 gmail. com). Sample memes can be found at [premonitionthg. weebly memes. html]
As with last time, the first and second place winners will get sponsor gifts to send anyone in the Arena! But wait—there's more! This time, I'm giving everyone that submits a meme a little spoiler as a participation award (if you don't want a spoiler, that's fine too). Details will be revealed later.
The deadline will be the release of the Launch chapter (Chapter 26), which will likely be in about three weeks.

I look forward to your memes, and I'd love to know your thoughts!