Author's Note

I do not own the Hunger Games.

And we're back after the New Year! Hopefully for the next while, this fic will be updating on Tuesdays.

District Ten Male, Callum Tanner, 15

His hands were still wet with blood.

Callum had searched the tiny hole he'd been shoved into, but he couldn't find anything containing water. Or a toilet. The bunks had no blankets, and he didn't want to waste the water in his backpack.

Callum sat on the lowest and rubbed his fingers together.

He'd killed a girl.

It was still a strange feeling. She'd been brought here, so she must be a rebel, connected to those that killed his own blood. This was why he'd been training. So he could have vengeance like this.

He just wasn't sure how to feel now he had the opportunity.

He looked up at the walls of the room. "I'm not one of them, if you're watching! I'm not some rebel scum! I'm the descendent of a Capitolite; I'm just like you!"

He was met with silence.

Callum sighed and slid to his feet, taking a moment to wipe his hands across the bunk. It didn't clear all the blood away, but it removed enough. He chose a different bunk and opened his backpack to begin digging through it.

"Just point me in the right direction and give me the chance." He pulled out the bottle of water and ripped the cap off. "I won't let you down."

District One Female, Daisy Jetson-Brie, 15

She was still covered in Tatiana's blood. It was drying on her shirt, sticky on her arms, trapped and grimy under her fingernails.

Every time she breathed she could hear that terrible noise of the knife plunging into her.

She'd not known Tatiana for long, but she'd been from home, and Daisy had known her face from around the District for longer. She'd been part of some big dance show last year, her face was on all the advertisements.

"You alright?" asked Marcellus.

Daisy twisted her hands together. "I think so. I just…" She rubbed at her eyes. "She was right there."

Marcellus laid his hand on her knee. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, we weren't… I didn't really know her. I just…" Sobs rose in her throat. She shouldn't be crying, not really, not for a girl that had admitted she didn't like her barely five minutes after they met, but she was and she didn't really know how to stop.

"You were still right next to her when she died." Marcellus wrapped his arms around her. Daisy learnt into him. He was a stranger too, but she just needed to breathe and feel better.

"Why did he do that?" she asked through her tears. Her voice trembled. "He didn't need to do that. He could have let her go! We could have all lived!"

"I guess this is still the Hunger Games," said a boy.

Daisy raised her head. It was the boy from Nine, who was sitting with his District partner, her shoulder pressed against his.

"We're still meant to fight."

"But we don't have to," whispered Daisy.

The boy laughed bitterly. "But we will. Because that's what we are, isn't it? Monsters."

"I'm not a monster!" protested Daisy.

She and her family had always been so careful. They rebelled in small ways. Never anything that would hurt anyone. Or get them hurt.

Until

Temo.

"We'll all drag each other down and be the savages they want us to be," he continued.

"But why?"

"The lady is right!" declared the boy from Seven, stepping forward with his head held high. "We needn't harm each other! Who does it hurt to be kind?"

"The Capitolites," muttered the boy from Nine.

"It's not necessary for us to fight," said the girl from Twelve, the first thing she'd said since they all made it in here. "We can work together and all make it out alive. I told you in the hall, but I'm Cali. District Twelve. How about you guys?"

The room was frustratingly quiet until Daisy nervously raised her hand. "Daisy. District One."

District Seven Male, Terro Fields, 18

Now he was no longer in a tank of water, his wet clothes were only making him cold and dropping his body temperature. Terro peeled off his jacket, draping over one of the spare bunks, and sat to remove his boots. It was warm enough in here, though he wasn't sure they'd dry.

Two had already begun bouncing around the room, tapping her hands against the walls and pressing her ear to the bunks.

"What are you doing?" asked the girl from Eight.

"Well, they said this was a Game, right?" Two grinned, wide and excited. "So there must be a way to keep progressing. They wouldn't just lock us in here and throw away the key. That's no fun."

"Maybe they just wanted us all to suffer first," he grunted.

"They've got other ways of doing that without setting this up." Two bent over to peer under the bench.

"What are you aiming to find down there?" Terro asked.

"The door." Two reached under to bang her hand against something. "See?"

The girl from Eight leaned down to glance under the bench she was on. "Do they open?"

Two rattled with something. "No."

"Then how..?"

Two shrugged and bounced up, swinging herself into one of the bunks. "I guess we wait for instructions."

Terro scowled. "What do you expect us to do; take a nap?"

Two laughed. "Something like that." She closed her eyes. "I definitely need a nap."

"You're fucking insane," Terro muttered bitterly.

District Ten Female, Laika Bergfalk, 18

She kept expecting the door to fly open and peacekeepers to enter. Or someone all official, telling them this was one big joke.

They never did, and so Laika remained there, surrounded by people she barely knew, waiting for her heart to stop hammering against her ribs.

"So, we gonna talk about anything that just happened?" asked Hunter.

"You mean the stuff where we almost died?" replied Diego.

"I meant… everything. Now we know what's happening."

"Do you?" asked Ariel.

"We're in the Hunger Games," said Laika. Saying it made it feel true. "We're in the arena."

God, they could all die. She looked at Aiolin, younger than Hannah. She didn't deserve this.

"But you heard what the lady said." Aiolin might be younger than Hannah, but she acted nothing like her. She was so much more confident, so much bolder and bossier. "More than one of us can survive, just so long as we all make it to the end. We could all live."

"But we won't," said Ariel.

"You're not helping."

They could all live. Laika wanted to survive more than anything, but if the others could all live too, if they could do this together and make it to the end…

As much as she wanted to live, she didn't want to be the cause of their deaths either.

"We can all make it out if we just stick together." Aiolin looked at them each in turn. She was so young, but Laika thought she might be more mature than her. She must have needed to grow up fast. "So are we sticking together?"

"It won't save us, in the end," said Ariel.

Hunter looked at Laika. "What do you think?" His voice was soft and hushed.

"I think we should do it."

"Are you sure?"

"I want to live. But if you guys can live too…"

"We won't," said Ariel.

"Then I'll work with you."

District Nine Female, Wren Willows

Whoever had been following them had stopped and turned back before they ever reached the door, leaving them with the room at the top to themselves.

Which was what they needed.

There was still blood on Wren's hand and she cleaned it off with her tongue as she tried to think. "I want to kill another."

"We will," Wolf replied, pacing the room.

"Is that why they brought us here? To kill the others for them?"

Wolf grinned, displaying his teeth. He was all violence, her brother. He just hid it a little better than her. "Cats among the pigeons."

"We can do that." Wren bounced her knee, turning her new knife over in her hand. "We can make them burn."

She'd like that. To watch them all go up in flames, burning down to the ashes they should be. Let them all come apart at the seams.

"I just hope there's no more water."

That would put them at a disadvantage. Water killed fire, and Wren hated swimming.

"They've already done water." Wolf settled to tear his backpack open. "Maybe they'll do fire next."

Wren laughed. "Works for me. What've you got?"

"Beef jerky, bread, water, and a blanket." He shrugged. "Not the worst. You?"

Wren sat to pull her bag open. As she did so, three electronic booms rang through the room. She jumped, almost dropping the bag.

"Canons," Wolf said.

Of course. Announcing the dead. Their dead, the little boy she killed.

And two more. Not much of a bloodbath, but that just gave them more prey.

This should be fun.

District Two Male, Alexios Macedon, 18

They'd lost one of the boys from Four, which was no big deal. If he was so willing to question and oppose them, they probably needed rid of him. That left six of them.

"So," said Aelianna, lounging against the wall. "Shall we do introductions?"

They looked round at each other.

"Well?" Aelianna gestured at the girl from One. She wasn't pretty, as most from One were, instead rough and muscular, almost Alexios's height and towering over Aelianna, with her hair shaven short. A jagged scar ran the length of her head.

"Prophecy Aster," she muttered with a scowl.

"I'm Aelianna. This is my brother Alexios."

"Siblings?" asked the boy from Four.

"Yes, that is what brother means," Aelianna replied.

"I'm Freya," said Freya, frowning.

"Arika Tulius," said the girl from Four. She was shorter than Freya, with long golden blonde hair and glittering eyes. "The arse that ditched us is my brother, Zale."

"And I'm Tristan," said the remaining boy.

"Great. Nice to meet you all."

"So what now?" asked Tristan.

"What?"

"What now? This is the Hunger Games, I think, but it's a different version. Are we still meant to be careers, or do we just… work to help everyone? I mean, in theory no one has to die."

Incorrect.

He had to die.

But they'd deal with that later.

"We are careers," said Freya.

"Yes, but we could all get out of here alive. We don't have to kill each other, or anyone else. We can all get out of here."

Freya folded her arms. "But that's not how it works. We are careers. We work together to eliminate the other tributes."

Alexios clapped her on the shoulder. "Very well said."

She wasn't meant to be here, but they'd find a use for her yet.

District Eleven Male, Bakula Kalanit, 12

The door lit up like a television screen, words in vivid red appearing across it.

THE FALLEN

Nerves twisted in Bakula's stomach. He'd seen Dove die, everyone had. He wasn't sure whether anyone else had gone down as well.

Dove's face appeared on the screen, smiling and full of life.

A boom. Dove lay dead in the water.

"Dove Greenling. Game over."

The image switched, and for a moment Bakula couldn't make sense of the picture.

Saigon.

Smiling grimly, alive and strong.

Then he was dead, torn apart in a pool of blood, limbs missing and eyes gone.

"Saigon Kalanit. Game over."

And in a heartbeat Saigon was gone, replaced by the golden haired image of a girl from One.

Saigon was gone.

Saigon was dead.

Saigon was never going to hold him again, never going to hug him again, never going to ruffle his hair or scold him for one of his tricks.

Saigon was dead.

I'll find you, he said, but he never would.

Bakula was never going to see him again.

Cash was saying something, but he couldn't hear her. Her words meant nothing to him.

The girl from Eight.

She had done this.

She had made them help open the door, she had run off without helping Saigon. If she hadn't done either of those things, Bakula's brother might still be alive.

His nails dug into his hands.

Plenty of tricks could hurt.

Author's Note

The Fallen

48th place: Dove Greenling, 14, created by me.

This was a tricky first kill, I will admit. Dove was originally created as an mc for a fic I never wrote, and I wish I could have taken him further, but ultimately, there were other tributes rust could carry out his plot function.

47th place: Saigon Kalanit, 18, created by me.

Poor Saigon, quite literally born to die. He was created to take this role, and couldn't have gone any further.

46th place: Tatiana Silver, 14, created by me.

Originally created for a first Games fic, Tatians has been submitted a few times to fics that always seemed to be unfinished. I hoped here that I could give her a chance, but when I reached this point and needed another tribute to kill, well, like Dove, I have other tributes that can play the same role.

(Yes, most of the early deaths will be my tributes (though that's not saying submitted tributes are entirely first. But you will notice that for the sake of fairness, a lot of the ones that go early will be mine)