Author's Note

I do not own the Hunger Games.

District Four Male, Zale Tulius, 18

Arika's face never showed with the admittedly very short list of the dead.

Zale found he was surprisingly relieved by that. His sister could be a pain in the ass, and she was a little bitch know-it-all, but she was still his sister. When the Simulation Hacking had occurred six months ago, they had watched siblings being torn away and apart, bleeding and crying for each other.

He didn't want to end up that way with Arika.

He'd never considered it to be an issue, he was two years older and looked at as the second best anyway; they should never have been in the same arena.

And yet here they were.

Fighting in the same arena.

Zale really wished he'd talked her out of going with the pair from Two, but maybe it said something about their relationship that she refused. She'd decided to go off with complete strangers sooner than stay with him.

Complete strangers whose intentions he still didn't trust. Those two had been behaving oddly, and in the Hunger Games, no one could be trusted.

Zale only hoped his sister bore his warning some heed.

District Eight Female, Nadine Stitcher, 16

The room looked a though it had been equipped to serve more than one person, but as the only person to make it to this one, she had it all to herself.

Nadine didn't mind.

Once she made it back to Meredith, she'd hopefully have a way to make it through the next level, and in the meantime, she had a space all to herself.

Her bag contained a meal and a blanket, but no water. Maybe she'd been meant to take some from the hall. Never mind. If Meredith or Judas had some, they'd surely share.

Nadine stripped her jacket and boots, hanging them up to dry, and sat to eat her bread. The faces of the dead were difficult, but neither were Meredith or Judas, which meant she had the chance to simply find them yet.

Once the faces had played, a counter appeared on the door. Almost ten hours. Long enough for her to get some decent rest. The bunk was hard, but it wasn't the worst place she'd slept. And she had a blanket. The only problem was the lack of toilet, but maybe she was expected to just… go on one of the other bunks. She could, with little problem. Especially if it was close to the end of the countdown.

Nadine zipped up her backpack and set it at the end of her chosen bunk as a pillow, settling under her blanket.

She'd need her strength for the morning.

District Eight Female, Meredith Singer, 18

Meredith had always been close with Reese. When their parents died, their bond had only strengthened as they took over the shop and found their feet running the business. When the first of their children appeared on their doorstep, they'd worked together to care for them. They'd always been together.

Terro and Iris Fields barely seemed to forage each other. At best, he behaved as though he were babysitting her; at worse he snapped at and insulted her. Iris, for her credit, took it in stride, brushing off his insults and remarks in favor of continuing to examine the room and the contents of their bags.

"You two could at least pretend you like each other," Meredith said at last.

Iris laughed. "Of course I like Terro. He's kinda grumpy, but he's got a good heart."

Terro only wrinkled his nose.

Meredith sighed. "Look, I don't know what's going on with the pair of you, but we all have more of a chance of survival if we work together. All of us in here together, I mean. Not…" She brandished a hand at them. "Whatever you call this."

"This is what she deserves," grumbled Terro.

"In what way? What could she possibly have done to you?"

Iris laughed. "The girl he had a crush on liked me instead."

Terro turned red. "To– Iris!"

"You're joking." Meredith looked between them. "That's what this is all about?"

Iris stuck her tongue out.

"Look– Look. I get you're mad at her. But surely you don't want her to end up dying in this death match. She's still your sister!"

Terro rolled over. "She's nothing to me."

"Dramatic ass," grumbled Iris.

Meredith sank back onto the bunk she'd claimed. Iris returned to bouncing around the enclosed space like a hyperactive squirrel.

"Are you interested in working together? And with the other tributes? To get more of us out alive?" Meredith asked.

"Shut the fuck up," mumbled Terro.

Iris only shrugged. "Sure, why not? Nothing I haven't done before."

Meredith decided she must be insane. Suggesting this alliance was only asking for trouble.

District Nine Male, Jarrod Palash, 16

The girl from One was still crying.

Jarrod didn't know how to feel.

He hadn't known her District partner, it didn't sound like she had known her District partner.

But she had still been a life, and a girl that didn't deserve to die.

This was what the Capitol did. They took the innocent and pitted t them against each other, made them fight, watched them suffer and die.

And they laughed.

Yet they'd hated it when they were put into the same situation. Mourned their children as though some great tragedy had occurred, rather than the same thing they had been doing to the Districts for years.

The anger only grew under Jarrod's skin. He hated the Hunger Games, but maybe if anyone deserved them, the Capitol did. They deserved to be punished. Feel the pain of the Districts.

After all, they were punishing him for something he'd never even had chance to do.

"What do you think happened to the Willows twins?" whispered Amarine.

Jarrod shrugged. "They bolted after they killed that boy. Smart. But I'm sure they'll pop up again."

He hadn't known the two, but he had heard their names. The children accused of beating two boys to death; the murderers with the faces of innocents.

If anyone had the bloodlust to survive the Hunger Games, it was them.

Amarine grinned. "Then I guess we better watch out for the Big Bad Wolf."

Jarrod groaned and let his head crack back against the wall. "I swear down, if you don't stop with the terrible jokes–"

"You'll feed me to the birds?"

Jarrod knocked her in the arm and flopped sideways onto the bunk. "I'm taking a nap."

"Mind out the fish don't get your fingers."

District Two Female, Freya Slate Harmon, 15

This Game was all wrong. The arena wasn't an arena, and the bloodbath definitely hadn't been a bloodbath, with only three dead. None of them by her.

And then there were too many of them, their Districts unevenly represented. Three from District Two, but six from District Four, even if not all of them had joined the pack, and, according to Prophecy, another four from District One, though one of the other girls, younger than Freya with fragile, breakable features, had died in the bloodbath.

Weakling.

But that wasn't meant to happen either. This room wasn't meant to happen. They were meant to have a cornucopia to work from. The trainers at the Academy had always assured them there would be a cornucopia for them to use as a home base.

Instead they had nothing. They'd not even had any time to get to know each other. They'd just all been thrown in here and told to do their best.

"We should all get some rest," said Alexios, gesturing at the timer on the door. "We've got the time, and we might need it in the morning."

"How do we know this isn't some trick?" asked Arika. That was a good point. Arenas could contain tricks and traps.

"They won't," said Aelianna.

"But what if they speed the timer up, or set something off while we're asleep?" asked Freya.

Arika grinned at her, as though she'd found an ally.

"Fine," muttered Alexios, rolling his eyes. "We'll keep watch. I'll go first. Who's next?"

The boy from Four volunteered, which prompted the girl from One to take the next shift, with Freya after her.

She took one of the bunks and curled up with her head on her bag. She didn't deserve to be here. But since she was, she'd play the game by the rules. It was the only way she knew how.

District Nine Male, Wolf Willows, 18

They shared the last of the bread between them for breakfast and then packed everything back into their bags, careful to share it evenly.

"We might be able to get more supplies along the way," Wolf said.

"I want matches," replied Wren.

"There might be nothing to fuel a fire."

"I still want matches."

"ATTENTION TRIBUTES!" boomed the speaker. "YOUR INSTRUCTIONS WILL SHORTLY APPEAR ON THE SCREEN IN YOUR INDIVIDUAL ROOMS. PLEASE BE PREPARED AND MAY THE ODDS BE EVER IN YOUR FAVOR."

The timer continued to tick down, but as it reached ten minutes, it minimised and zipped into the top corner, with a scrolling paragraph of white text taking its place.

"Your task is simple. In ten minutes, the exit doors of your room will open. All you must do is make it from this end of the tunnel to the entrance on the other side. A second tribute may only enter the tunnel when the first tribute reaches the red line. The entrance will be open for two hours."

Two hours. And there were only two of them in here. That was doable.

"We can't be going out this door though," said Wren, pointing at it.

Wolf frowned. That was a good point.

"Let's search this room then. There must be another way out."

District Seven Male, Micah Bradley, 14

It was hard to sleep on the bench and surrounded by so many people. Micah had always had a room to himself. Or when he slept outside, he could listen to the birds. But here it was all too loud, even when the others were being quiet.

He tossed and turned throughout much of the night. If it was night. All the lights had dimmed down, but there were no windows and nothing to tell them how long they'd been here except the timer on the door.

When he did manage to sleep, he dreamed of a huge, mangy dog with a bad leg hunting him through his kingdom. Every time Micah thought he might have managed to get ahead, another of the things would appear, snarling and showing their teeth, until there was nowhere to go but up, but when he stood at the top of a massive oak tree and spread his arms, rain began to fall. Lightning flashed in the distance. Down below, the dog-things circled.

Micah woke with drying tears on his cheeks.

The timer had ticked down to under two hours, and the others were whispering among themselves. So far as they'd seen, there was only the one door in the room, but surely they wouldn't be pushed back out again to that big hall? They'd already been there. Unless they were going to make it different.

"Has anything else happened overnight?" he asked.

"Nothing," replied the boy from One.

"Oh." Micah frowned. "Is that good?"

"Maybe. Means no one else has died."

The other five from his District were still alive. That could be good. It could be bad as well. Falcon and Phoebe were kinda scary. Although Micah didn't think he wanted them dead. They'd be like the wolves of his kingdom. Big and bad and scary, but the good kind of scary, not the mean kind of scary.

He ran a hand through his hair, fluffing it up, and dug through his bag for his small water bottle. He'd saved three quarters of it the night before, on the advice of the boy from Nine. He'd be a good advisor to the King.

Once he'd taken a mouthful and swallowed a chunk of beef jerky, he found a new problem.

"I need the toilet."

"Don't we all?" muttered the boy from Nine. Jarrod, he'd introduced himself as.

"Is there a toilet in here?"

"No."

"Then how are we meant to…"

"I guess we turn our backs," said Amarine.

Micah blushed. "With everyone… No! Ew!"

"Or you can wet yourself. I'm going to go with having you lot turning your backs," said Jarrod.

Micah turned his back and tried not to think about it. Maybe there'd be a toilet in the next room they came to.

District Seven Female, Adrianna Orita, 17

They'd have to crouch and crawl through the doors, but even then it would be a tight fit. She was small enough, but Meredith was taller and Terro was bigger and bulkier.

"Will you fit through there?" she asked.

Meredith frowned. "They wouldn't sabotage us that way, would they?"

Adrianna shrugged. "They might. I dunno. Do you think you can get through?"

"It'll be tight, but I'll fit."

Terro looked more dubious. "You two should go first."

That might be the nicest thing he'd ever said to her.

Adrianna turned to him and reached for his hand. He withdrew. She laid her hand on his knee instead. "Listen to me. I know you don't like me. But I am not leaving you behind." She grinned. "I need you to do all the manly climbing for me."

Terro rolled his eyes. "You don't change, do you?"

Adrianna turned to Meredith. "Hey, Eight, what's your claim?"

"What?"

"Well, I did the swimming because Terro can't, he's gonna do the climbing, since I'm shit, what do you got?"

"Uh… Leadership skills?"

"That doesn't count."

"Oh."

"Anything else?"

"I'm a butcher."

"Great, you can do the chopping!"

"T– Iris!" hissed Terro.

"What?"

An echoing beep rang through the room as the counter struck zero.

The hatch doors swung open.

Author's Note

You know what time it is? It's submitter check-in time!

Submitter Question: We've still got a lot of tributes at the moment, but are there any (other than yours) that you want to see go far?