Author's Note

I do not own the Hunger Games.

District Ten Female, Laika Bergfalk, 18

Her face was still wet with tears, her eyes burning and her vision blurred. Laika scrubbed at her eyes, but it didn't help. She groaned, leaning back against the glass wall.

She'd thought she'd be okay with watching Hunter's face projected across the door, but as it faded, the tears came, and she hadn't been able to stop them since. It was humiliating, but she was being overwhelmed by the tears and all she wanted to do was sob and scream.

It wasn't fair. Why Hunter? Why them? None of them were rebels. None of them deserved this.

So she sat and cried for Hunter as her heart broke. She was still trying to get her head around it. Hunter wasn't a friend, wasn't even someone she knew well, but he was a face she'd been seeing her entire life. Heck, they'd bonded over laughing about his crazy sister!

And now he was dead.

Laika would have to face that crazy sister of his and talk about his loss. She'd have to look at his family and tell them why she couldn't save him. She'd have to face her District, knowing she'd watched Hunter die, and try to live her life.

She wanted to scream.

"Everyone dies some time," muttered Aiolin. She had rubbed her eyes until they turned red, but otherwise seemed to have pulled herself together. "No one lives forever."

"Forever is one thing. But he was only sixteen!" snapped Laika.

And she was only two years older. She could die in here. The thought hurt. Fear twisted inside her heart. She liked a good thrill, but entering the arena hadn't ever occurred to her.

She liked adventure, not certain death.

She ought to consider going it alone, but then maybe that would be more dangerous. There was strength in numbers, and none of them needed to die. All they had to do was make it to the other end.

Aiolin nodded. "But we blame the Capitol. Not the arena, or each other, or even the girl from Two."

"The girl from Two killed him!" snapped Diego.

"The shadows in her heart killed him," said Ariel, inclining her head.

"She killed him," muttered Laika.

But their alliance had more holding it together than what she'd seen of the careers. If they were even still together. She had caught glimpses of the younger pair from Four disappearing up a ladder together without the rest of them. If they came up against the career pack…

"If we find her, we kill her," said Diego, who must have come to the same conclusion.

"All vengeance will do is feed more blood to the storm and the predators in the dark," said Ariel.

"Hunter deserves vengeance," said Aiolin.

Her eyes were empty as she spoke.

District Eight Female, Meredith Singer, 18

Nadine looked to have fallen asleep. How she could sleep through something like this, Meredith didn't know. She wasn't afraid, nor did she care about the other tributes.

Though maybe it was all an act of bravado. Kids her age did that kind of thing as an act of self-defence. Still, Meredith couldn't help her from here in the arena. It was life or death in here, not a place to make a new addition to her family, no matter how bad she felt for the girl.

Meredith twisted her hair into braids, the way Reese used to do when they were nervous. Around them, in the other boxes, she could see other tributes asleep, curled up on the floor or in beds.

A few were awake, some seemingly keeping watch, much like her, others pacing the room. The exception was one group in a box higher than theirs off to their left. They seemed to be investigating the far end of their box, as though they hoped they could somehow get the door open.

Meredith stood and moved over to their own door, running her hands over the smooth metal. She could find no lock nor hinges. Maybe it slid into the wall, like some of those from the preparation rooms. There was nothing that looked like it would break open or otherwise serve as a handle.

She settled on the floor, pressing her back against the door. The cold of the metal seeped through her clothing. Meredith tipped her head back and was about to close her eyes when she caught a glimpse of the alliance in the box above her. They now seemed to be working to force the door open, and from this angle it appeared to be working.

Meredith frowned and straightened up to watch the proceedings. Above, they were certainly succeeding in getting the door open, a taller figure standing half-in, half-out of the box.

What was she looking at here? Was she missing something? There must be a trigger somewhere inside the glass boxes that opened the doors.

Hurriedly, she shook Nadine awake. Nadine groaned, rubbing her eyes. "What's going on?"

"There must be a way of getting the doors open. They're getting out."

"What?" Nadine sat up, following her gesture to the bigger alliance above them. "Oh, fucking hell."

"Come on," Meredith said, directing her towards the door.

Nadine stumbled to her feet, staggering over to the door. "How are they doing it?"

"There must be a trigger somewhere. Come on, help me find it. We can't be the last ones out of here."

District Seven Female, Phoebe Farley, 18

The glass box was annoyingly hot, but no more so than prison, and she napped on and off while Falcon kept watch. Down below, the coyotes were still prowling, growling and howling, the sound of their ferocity echoing through the darkness. The iron rich stench of their blood filled the air.

'Are they still down there?' she signed to Falcon as she woke.

"Still," he agreed.

Phoebe groaned and yawned. 'The girl from Ten?'

"I don't know. I don't know which box they're in."

They'd have to find her on the next level. Steal her away from those lying allies off here. She belonged with them. And she was their proof.

Phoebe rolled from her bunk, rolled her shoulders, and paced the confined box like a caged animal. 'You should sleep too. I'll keep watch.'

"Are you sure?"

'We both need to rest.'

It would do her no good if Falcon collapsed of exhaustion.

He nodded and flopped down in the bunk. "Wake me if something else happens."

She nodded.

Even now, she felt uncomfortably weak and thin. When they'd entered prison, they'd both been fit and strong. They'd both lost that now. Falcon had grown gaunt, she'd grown scrawny, and both of them had lost much strength.

If they were attacked, in a close quarters fight, they might not be able to protect themselves.

But that would make the girl from Ten a good addition to their little group. She would be stronger than them and more capable of a physical fight. They could provide ranged fire while she used her fists.

It would make a suitable arrangement.

Phoebe paced the box, watching the coyotes do the same beneath her. Nothing had come yet to remove the bodies of the two kids that fell, and she could see them lifeless in the dark, the predators feasting upon their flesh.

That was the fate that awaited them all.

District Ten Male, Callum Tanner, 15

He'd had a decent night's sleep, but what he really needed was another powerful kill. He had to take down one of the older tributes, or one of those that had proudly declared themselves rebels. They were the ones with blood on their hands, and those were the ones whose actions had killed the family he'd never known.

Callum paced his glass box, waiting impatiently. They had to open the door sometime soon. There was no entertainment in watching them sit in glass boxes.

Off to the far left, there were several empty boxes. There must have been more than were needed. Or maybe one of the deceased tributes was meant to take it. Either way, he supposed it didn't matter.

There was a hum and a ding, followed by a vent above popping open. A small metal box tumbled out and clattered across the floor. The vent closed again.

Callum frowned and crawled over to grab the box. It was fine and white, with the District Ten seal stamped into the center of one panel. A sponsor gift. He pressed his thumbs into the seal. It buzzed and sank inwards, the sides of the box opening outwards. Within, there was a bottle of water, two bread rolls, and a large, curved knife.

He grinned, biting into one of the rolls. The other he'd have to keep for later. "My fanks to the Capitol for the generous gift."

It wasn't much, but it proved someone somewhere was watching and supporting him. That gave him something to work with. And it gave him hope.

He gulped down his bread and half the water, packing the rest away for the morning. Though the biggest boon here was the knife. That gave him another weapon, and something he might be able to use in a close combat fight, unlike his much smaller weapons.

Callum smiled and nodded to himself, looking out over the tributes in the other glass boxes.

He'd make them pay.

One at a time, if he must.

District One Female, Daisy Jetson-Brie, 15

She slept on and off, though her dreams were plagued with blood and screams. She remembered Tatiana's hand falling from hers, limp and lifeless, followed by her face shining from among the fallen.

She'd been younger than Daisy.

She'd still died.

Around her, the rest of her alliance was in various states of rest, tossing and turning on the glass floor. They couldn't sleep any better than she could, clearly.

Daisy rolled over and sat up, huddling with her knees pulled up to her chest. Marcellus was laid beside her, but he didn't look asleep either, his hands cupped behind his head, his legs sprawled out before him. He had offered her the blanket, so he lay bare, though it was hot enough in the glass box that really none of them needed a blanket.

Both of them were alive, and Prophecy too, somewhere, while Tatiana had died.

Across the room, Cali was awake, watching the other boxes. Daisy crossed the box over to her, sinking to the floor at her side.

"Can't sleep?" she whispered.

Daisy shook her head. "Nightmares."

Cali nodded. "A place like this'll do that too you."

Daisy pulled her knees back to her chest. "You're so good at drawing everyone together and making this work. How do you do it?"

Cali shrugged. "It's not that different from home. Just a bit more dangerous."

Daisy managed a smile. "It's nothing like District One."

Cali laughed. "No, I suppose not. I guess One's less dangerous than Twelve?"

"Depends. My family aren't exactly… well liked."

Cali frowned. "You're rebels? From One?"

Daisy shifted uncomfortably. "Not exactly rebels. Not really. More like… dissonants."

"Huh."

"And you? Twelve is full of rebels, isn't it?"

"Not as much as the propaganda would tell you, but plenty enough."

"So are you..?"

"Me? No; no. My family… wanted to make more for themselves. But we're not rebels. Just… hardworking people trying to get by."

Daisy nodded. She'd been protected from so much, even with her family's beliefs, growing up in One. They'd never had to worry about 'getting by,' nor where their next meal would come from. Daisy had never needed to sign up for tesserae.

"We all work together to do so. It's the only way to progress."

Daisy nodded. "Do you really think we can all get out of here alive?"

Cali sighed. "I don't know. But I hope we've got a chance.

District Seven Female, Adrianna Orita, 17

They took it in turns to sleep and keep watch, though she doubted anything would happen while they were trapped in these glass boxes. The Capitol wanted a show, not to watch trapped tributes suffocating, or being torn apart by mutts. More likely they would be released when it was morning on the outside and the largest number of people could attend the showing.

Adrianna laid on her back during her watch and waited. It felt strange still. She shouldn't even be here. Iris was the one they'd wanted, not her. And yet here she was.

She wondered distantly whether any of her friends back in Two had recognised her and started asking questions yet. She wasn't sure yet whether the Macedons recognised her. They had been in the year above hers, and rarely associated with Octavian, which might have been the only way they might have known her. That gave her some sense of safety, and yet she didn't know. Something about the way they looked at her made her uncomfortable.

When Terro took over for his watch, she closed her eyes and attempted to rest, but she was haunted by the screams of the dead and the snarls of whatever beasts were prowling down below. At last, she rolled over and stared into the darkness below. "Terro?"

"I don't want to hold a conversation."

"Are there mutts down there?"

"Go back to sleep."

"But the mutts?"

"There aren't any mutts."

"I can hear them."

Terro groaned and banged one foot against the ground. "If you don't want to sleep, you can take my shift for me."

"No, no. I'll sleep."

She closed her eyes and drifted into a light sleep. As she rested, strange images flickered behind her eyes. A storm, lightning, a great black beast with blood dripping from its foam-flecked jaws. A flood of blood, trees tumbling to the ground, her signings screaming for her.

And silence that lasted for an eternity.

By the time she woke, Terro had fallen asleep himself. He'd have to do better the next time he was on watch. Adrianna shook him awake. "You're not meant to sleep on watch."

"Sorry for having a long day."

She shrugged. "I'm sure it will be again."

District Ten Male, Diego Butcher, 17

Diego had to admit, he hadn't really expected Aiolin's mad idea of using Ariel's strange power to their advantage to work. He'd assumed the Capitol would have some measures to prevent them successfully repeating what had accidentally been done from the other waiting room.

But instead, Ariel had napped beside the door for a while, their seal had begun to fail, the buzz of their air circulation had faded, and the hum he hadn't realised the door was making had stopped.

From there, all they had to do was force the thing open.

That was arguably the hardest part. The door must have been on an automatic release, and pulling it open by hand was difficult. Even with both himself and Laika together, it was a long, hard strain.

At first, he had tried to pull the door open while Laika tried to force her knife into the gap between the door and the frame, in an attempt to force the thing open, but that had quickly failed, and if not for Aiolin pulling Laika back with a cry of alarm, she might have lost her hand to the door snapping closed.

After that, they had to change their tactics. Both of them took to the side of the door, him taking the top and her the bottom, and they strained to pull it open. It screeched terribly against the floor, spitting orange sparks.

"Go!" Diego panted.

Aiolin jumped through, calling for Ariel to follow. A risk; the door might just slam shut and trap them on different sides.

"Can you hold the door from that side?" shouted Diego.

Aiolin did so, but she was smaller and weaker than himself and Laika, and the door threatened to slip again.

"Go," Diego hissed at Laika.

She nodded and stepped around him to squeeze through the gap, keeping hold of it from the other side.

All Diego could envision was the door snapping closed and splitting him in half down the middle, some cruel punishment for them defying the rules of this bizarre punishment and using Ariel's abilities for their advantage.

He closed his eyes and lurched himself sideways, letting go of the door as he did so.

It slammed shut.

Diego breathed again.

District Two Male, Alexios Macedon, 18

He was woken by the sudden blare of an alarm, and a red light flashing in their glass box, which suddenly felt suffocating dark. At his side, Freya was grumbling curses.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"I think they've turned our box off or something."

"Four tributes have been found to be breaking the rules. They are required to be located and terminated," declared the speaker.

Alsxios frowned. "Now, what do you think we are? Your attack dogs?"

"Rulebreakers must be located and terminated," repeated the speaker.

Alexios sighed and rolled to his knees, attempting to stretch the stiffness from his limbs. "I guess we don't get a choice then."

"What the hell is going on?" muttered Freya.

Alexios stumbled to his feet. "Mistress says go hunt. Come on."

"Go hunt?" she echoed, but he was already hurrying to the door. It slid open before he reached it, revealing a high metal slope. In several places, there were black, gaping holes, but it looked overall safe.

"So then do we climb?" asked Freya.

Alexios frowned, tipping his head back to get a look at the metal slope. "Well, there's nowhere else to go." He held his hand out to her. "Are we doing this then?"

She nodded. Of course, they'd both faced worse obstacles than this in training. "Let's go."

Alexios went first, stepping back to get a run up and then dashing forward at the slope. His boots slipped on the surface of it, squealing in protest. He reached up and grabbed the edge of the nearest hole, using it to pull himself higher. The sharp metal sliced into his fingers, drawing scarlet blood. He swallowed his yell, pulling himself high enough to get his boot over the lip off the hole and steady himself that way. His heart beat. He licked the blood from his fingers.

And then he got a look at what was inside the hole. "Shit!"

Freya lost her focus at his shout and slid back to the ground below. Alexios forced himself up using the sharp edge of the hole as leverage, but he needed to get away from it as fast as possible.

"What is it; what's wrong?" Freya shouted from below.

"We can't use the holes to hold onto. You'll have to find a space for a clear run and come up that way."

"But…" Freya eyed where he himself was holding the lip of the hole.

Alexios looked down at her. "Just trust me. Unless you want to have all the skin scalded from your hands."

District Nine Male. Wolf Willows, 18

"Attention tributes!" declared the speaker, her voice dragging Wolf from his sleep. Wren sat up beside him, her eyes blazing with a cold kind of excitement. Alerts meant action and action meant more fire. Hopefully.

"Level Three is about to begin early. Please stand by and be prepared. Good luck, tributes, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

"Something must have happened," Wolf said as the speaker went silent again.

"To make everything go early?" Wren asked.

He nodded. "They won't have planned for this. They've admitted themselves they're starting early. Either something's wrong with the arena, or something's wrong with one of the other tributes."

"Can we use that?"

"Maybe. Depends what exactly is going wrong."

They might be too busy keeping themselves alive, like they were over the abyss, to have chance to act against another tribute. Or another might seek to use the situation against them. It was almost impossible to say.

"Just keep your eyes open. The other tributes are going to be as disorientated as we are. We can use that."

"Can we burn them?"

Wolf grinned. "We can try."