Author's Note

I do not own the Hunger Games.

District Twelve Female, Calida Blackwell, 17

The first part of the climb was the worst, as there'd been nothing to hold onto. The second slope was far more straightforward in terms of simply climbing, so long as they avoided falling on any of the blades.

Cali kept Kai and Cash close to her, monitoring them as the others scattered to find better paths up the slope.

"Don't spread out too much!" she shouted. The last thing they needed was to be divided here. Not now, when they were coming to trust each other. "We can't lose sight of each other!"

That was what would lead to disaster.

Still, Jarrod and Amarine were straying further and further to the right as they climbed in their attempt to find a safe route upwards, while Micah had drifted to the left. Cali would have to trust they'd regroup when they reached the next ledge. It was hardly like they'd be coming out in vastly different locations, such as when they were trying to get through the doors from swimming, or even when they were climbing to the glass boxes.

On the next slope up, Cali caught a glimpse of blue. Not someone from her alliance. One of the girls from Four, a tall, muscular girl holding onto a trident in one hand.

So the surviving tributes were starting to regroup again on this slope. That was either going to be a good thing or an absolute disaster.

"Keep going!" Cali shouted, gesturing for the younger tributes with one hand. "Don't slow down!"

"If I had some foam…" Cash mused, an unhelpful comment that did little to assist them right now.

"Come on!"

There was a scream somewhere away to the right.

And then silence.

For a moment none of those climbing said anything. It felt like whatever that scream was had drawn the attention of all and sucked the sound from their lungs.

Another one dead.

Cali closed her eyes, steadied herself, and then opened them again to look around her allies. "Keep going."

This was no time to stop.

District Four Female, Arika Tulius, 16

She and Tristan were slow to the top of the first slope, having chosen to throw a rope up at one of the spikes above in order to use it as climbing support. It was a method that got them to the top, but she could see that the other tributes in this area were already far ahead of them, scaling the second metal wall with a worrying swiftness.

"We need to go faster," she said.

Tristan shook his head, doubling over as he caught his breath. "They didn't say nothing about this one being a race. So long as we keep moving and stay steady, there's no reason we won't get through to the next… whatever it is they want us to do."

"And what if it is? What if there's some reward for the first ones to get there, like we got in that box?"

Once they had finally cracked the lock code, they had found the metal box to be filled with food, enough for them to both have good meals for two days, along with two good daggers. They had theorised that it was meant as a prize for the first tributes to arrive in the glass boxes. Or maybe all the boxes were outfitted with the boxes, to stop the tributes starving to death during the competition. Then again, this was the Hunger Games. The suffering was part of the point.

"Then we won't reach it if we break our necks trying to go faster!" snapped Tristan. Arika so rarely knew him get angry that it came as a surprise. Tristan was usually so easy going.

"Fine. But we need to stay somewhere in the middle. For all we know, they might kill off the last tributes."

That, at least, Tristan could agree with, and so they continued their climb at a slightly reduced pace. They were still ahead of plenty, as evidenced by the screams and yells of those caught in blasts of steam and hot chunks of rock down below. She couldn't see Zale though. He must be much further to one side or the other. Arika doubted he'd somehow gotten ahead. Not if she was here. He'd never been able to beat her.

But it didn't matter. What mattered right now was getting to the top.

And not being last.

District Three Male, Toshiro Micron-Bundar, 13

Climbing up these slopes was painfully difficult without anyone to help. Toshiro could hear other tributes shouting to each other, their voices ringing across the slopes, encouraging each other, urging each other on. He'd abandoned that in the name of safety. Part of him wanted to regret it, but the choice was already made. There was no point mourning and reconsidering it now. All he could do was get on with matters.

The first slope was difficult, and he shredded his hands on the sharp edges of the hole as he struggled to climb up. The second was easier, and all he had to do was avoid falling on one of the blades and gutting himself. An easier task, but still a challenge. To his left, one of the tributes from Seven had cut their leg and was cursing it as blood pooled beneath them.

"All I have to do is get to the top," Toshiro muttered, reaching for the next handhold. It turned out to be sharp, cutting his hand open in a second place. He gasped and wrenched his hand back, but that only threw his balance off, and he had to grab another blade before he could lose his balance and grip altogether. He spent a moment steadying himself and catching his breath, listening to the echoing pound of his heartbeat inside his ears. Nausea rose up his throat.

"Keep going!" Someone shouted. For a moment it felt like they were talking to him, but when he turned, he found himself looking at the tributes from Ten, who were already far above him, yelling encouragement to each other as they climbed.

Toshiro narrowed his eyes. He'd had to leave Cash and Kai behind. He didn't have a choice. But it stung to see the others working together so well. They had people to rely on.

He had his family, back home. That was what he was fighting for. His aunt, and uncle, and cousin. Not these strangers he didn't know. No, he had his motivation. All he had to do was let it take him to survival.

Toshiro reached up, scrambling for the ledge above his head, but each time his hands slipped and he almost went plunging straight back to the bottom again. He grabbed the spearhead that stood as the only reasonable handhold and steadied himself.

And then the slope was shaking, trembling beneath him as though to cast him off. Toshiro held tight, but even still he was slipping, and for a terrible moment he had visions of being impaled on one of those terrible spikes.

Then all the shaking was over and he was still clinging to the climbing wall.

Toshiro steadied himself and took in a breath.

Then he reached up for the next handhold.

He could do this. He refused to die here.

District Seven Male, Terro Fields, 18

Two was doing better at climbing than he'd given her credit for. But Terro wasn't proud. They weren't really siblings. Not even friends. They just had to maintain this charade.

Terro pulled himself onto the second ledge, gulping in air and rolling his aching shoulders. Two was barely reaching the ledge now, fighting to get her hands over the edge. "Can you pull me up?"

Terro crouched and grabbed her wrists, hauling her up beside him. She was heavier than she looked; she must be muscle under all that scawnyness. "Damn, how much do you weigh?"

Adrianna shrugged. "I'm within good bounds. I'd have needed to diet if I wasn't."

"They expect you to do that?"

She'd always had so much damn food in her house. Iris had come home with baskets full some days. Terro had tried to make her send it back originally. They didn't need charity. But Two kept insisting, and their mother was grateful, considering their sometimes desperate need for food.

"Gotta stay fit," chirped Two far too happily.

And that was how the Capitol treated those loyal to them.

"What do we have next then?" Two turned to the next slope. Terro followed her line of interest. This one was less steep than the first two, and had no obvious traps or dangers.

Terro knew better than to trust that.

"Any ideas?" he asked.

Two dug through her bag and pulled out a small coil of wire. That, she tossed up the slope, watching as it came bouncing back down.

Terro frowned. "What was that meant to prove?"

"Just testing." She tossed the spool again. It struck the slope with a clang and rolled back to the bottom. This time, something exploded and something gave way beneath the spool. It disappeared into the abyss.

"Cool," said Two.

"Definitely not," muttered Terro.

She giggled. "Come on. No point in stopping now."

"And the traps?"

"Don't worry." She grinned, all teeth and insanity. "I'm sure we'll find out about those as we go."

District Ten Female, Laika Bergfalk, 18

They hadn't accounted for the alarms. They'd have to remember that for the next time. There must be Gamemakers watching them on camera and setting the alarm off from outside, given that Ariel should have disabled anything attached to the door.

But it didn't matter right now. What mattered was keeping their headstart. They were still significantly ahead of the other tributes, even if not so far as they'd hoped. That gave them an advantage.

They just needed to keep it.

"Keep going!" Dirgo called down to Aiolin. She was struggling the most of all of them. Ariel seemed to be having no problems at all, while both Laika and Diego were older and stronger. But while she was small and thin, Laika still doubted she was light enough for either of them to carry, which meant she had to climb like the rest of them.

"She'll never make it," said Ariel, though Laika wasn't sure who she was talking to. Her attention was focused upwards while her body was tilted to the left. "The doors shall go shoomf and she shall be trapped on the other side."

Chills ran down Laika's spine. That felt like a declaration more than a belief.

"What's that meant to mean?" Laika asked.

"We're all bound for death. Her more than any others."

Laika looked down at Aiolin. She shouldn't be her responsibility. She was smart, but physically she was only slowing the alliance down. She and Diego were strong, and they needed Ariel to help keep their advantage, but Aiolin was just slowing them down.

And yet at the same time she was just a kid.

Laika slowed slightly and reached down to offer Aiolin a hand. "Come on. We're not leaving anyone behind."

Aiolin smiled and took her hand.

Laika pulled her upwards, helping her to the top. "You alright?"

"Just a bit winded." Aiolin wrapped her arms around herself, heaving for air. "Thanks."

Laika patted her on the shoulder. "Let's keep going. I get the feeling they didn't appreciate us using what we've got."

Aiolin frowned at the next slope. "What's wrong with it?"

"I don't know."

Aiolin dug her blanket from her bag, rolled it up, and tossed it up the slope. Something exploded and the blanket burst into flames.

Laika grimaced. "Glad you warned us about that."

They did have a use for the smart kid after all.

District Eleven Male, Bakula Kalanit, 12

Rhea lay at the bottom of the slope, bloody and broken. Her hair framed her little face like some mockery of a halo.

Bakula steeled himself and turned away to focus on the climb up the second slope.

"I'm sorry," said the box from Six.

"Not your fault," muttered Bakula.

Rhea hadn't been a traitor like Toshiro. It wasn't her fault he'd stabbed them in the back. She'd seemed as shocked and upset as the rest of them. But she wasn't as strong as himself and Greg. That much was clear. She'd struggled to keep up with them in the arena.

"But she was your friend, wasn't she?"

"Kind of," Bakula muttered. It was largely a lie, but what else was he meant to say? He gestured at the slope above them. "We need to keep going."

"You can stop and…"

Bakula shook his head. "We need to keep going."

Slowing down, stopping, was what had killed Rhea. They needed to keep going and get up and out, before they had another trap take one of them out, just as it had Rhea.

She'd deserved better than that.

Bakula scanned the area around them. The girl from Eight, the one who killed Saigon, was to his far right, working with another girl from her District.

Bakula wanted to tear her throat out. She didn't deserve an ally, and her ally definitely deserved to have someone more trustworthy.

Bakula cupped his hands around his mouth and raised his voice. "Girl! With the bitch from Eight! Don't trust her!"

He wasn't sure if she heard him, but it made him feel better. Bakula grinned and turned his attention to the next slope.

District Nine Female, Wren Willows, 18

Climbing again. And nothing this time that would burn. Ugh. It felt like this section of the arena had been entirely designed to remove all attempts at having fun. If they'd had an ordinary arena, she could have started a few fires by now, let the flames spread until there was nothing left but ash.

Instead, they got this terrible onslaught of stone and metal. Nothing flammable. She wondered if they were doing this deliberately, blocking her from her love of fire. Wren focused instead on clambering upwards, but she still wondered how much more the other tributes would scream if she lit a few fires and let the smoke begin filling the space, as it had when they dangled over the abyss. If only there was something here she could use to burn.

"Looks like there's another three sections," Wolf said as he reached down to help her up the last section of her current slope. "They get less steep as they go up though."

"Because that's such a comfort," Wren grumbled, glaring down the slope. Tributes were scattered across it, struggling to drag themselves up. Anyone with a ranged weapon could pick opponents off, but they hadn't got their hands on a crossbow yet. Not that it would help. She wanted to watch dead things burn, not be occupied trying to climb up some torturous slope.

"Once we're at the top, we might be able to pick a few off," Wolf said, tapping his knife.

"That won't be as fun," Wren muttered.

She wanted to watch them burn.

"Come on. " Wolf stepped onto the next slope – only for it to give way beneath his foot, sending him lurching forwards. He yelled, windmilling his arms. Wren grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

"Are you alright?"

He grunted, scowling as the new hole in the slope sealed itself closed. "Fine. I guess we watch for hidden traps with this one."

Wren nodded, finding his hand. "Come on. We can do this."

They might have been thrown in here because they were monsters, but monsters had fangs.

District Four Male, Zale Tulius, 18

He couldn't see Arika.

She hadn't been among the faces of the fallen, but there had been two canons since they entered this next section of the arena. Though Zale doubted his golden girl sister had gone down so early in the Games. He'd never let their parents forget if she had.

"There has to be an easier way of doing this," grumbled Andrew, red-faced and panting.

"It's the Hunger Games. It's not meant to be easy."

Off to the left there was a flash of blue and for a moment Zale hoped. But as he got a better look at the figure, he could see they were too big and muscular for Arika or Tristan. Abalone then. And she'd made her stance very clear. Bitch.

The slope began to rumble and shudder under him, so violent it almost threw him straight from the slope. Andrew yelled as he slipped. Blood splattered the slope. His hand slipped on the blade he was holding to, slicing him open across the palm. He yelled, struggling to keep his grip. Several tributes to either side of him weren't so lucky, losing their balance and sliding back to the bottom of the slope.

"What's going on?" yelled Andrew.

"Earthquake?" shouted another nearby tribute.

"No, you idiot! It's obviously a trap!" Zale snapped.

"Whatever," she muttered.

Bitch. Well, more fool her if she fell. Zale reached up for the next handhold, careful to lay his hand on the flat edge, and felt for somewhere to put his foot. The arena continued to shake around them. A smaller boy further down screamed as he lost his balance and tumbled down the slope.

At last, everything stilled again. Zale drew in a steadying breath, forcing himself to calm before continuing upwards.

"That's a simple enough trick, but not an easy one to set up!" shouted Andrew.

"Meaning what?"

"They'll set it off again!"

Because it was the arena. The danger was the point.

"We best get higher quickly then!" Zale caught another flash of blue too his right, and for a moment he thought it only Abalone again, but then he got a better look.

Arika and Tristan. Not too far above, but a good way to the right. Still, reachable if he climbed diagonally rather than straight up.

Zale nodded to himself, plan made, and found his next handhold.

He might not like Arika, but he was going to get both of them, and Tristan, out of here alive.

They'd done nothing to deserve this.

District Four Female, Nixxie Cascade, 16

Her sisters back home would be ashamed of her, playing the Capitol's game. This was exactly what they were expected to do.

But she'd be no help to anyone if she died here.

Millie and Rusudan were trailing behind. Still mad at her. They didn't understand the survival aspect of rebellion. The three of them had argued for hours about Nixxie running ahead over the abyss, and even now she could feel their judgement for having pulled so far ahead of them.

"You going to leave us behind here too?" Millie shouted.

Nixxie stuck her tongue out. She might share beliefs with the other two girls, but so too did she have a family too go home to. They would surely rather her alive than for her to stick it to the Capitol, as satisfying as that would be.

"Prissy career!" shouted Millie.

"Yeah, why don't you stop falling and show your real colors!" yelled Rusudan.

Nixxie squeezed her eyes closed. Brooke would have had a good response. Cerulean would have given them both a fist to the face. But Nixxie didn't want to be alone in this hellscape, so she'd handle their criticism and mockery until it all became intolerable. Maybe then she'd blow her top and let them feel her rage.

Another shudder ran through the arena, less than the first time but still a terrible thing that jolted her to the core. Nixxie clutched to her handhold, fearing being thrown off and crashing into the girls behind her. Screams echoed across the room. Nixxie closed her eyes, clinging to the handholds.

"What are we running from?" shouted a girl. Four accent (Arika?) but not a voice Nixxie could think to place. She opened her eyes again and only the screams were left.

Shakily, she reached for her next handhold.

She climbed slower now, wary of another round of shaking, but at last she was pulling herself onto the next ledge. Nixxie collapsed, panting, and took a moment to catch her breath before reaching down to help the others up.

For all their complaints and mockery, both accepted her hand and allowed her to haul them up. They collapsed beside her, shaking.

"I'm not thanking you," said Rusudan, scowling.

Nixxie shrugged and signed several very impolite words.

It wasn't like they could understand her anyway.

District One Female, Daisy Jetson-Brie, 15

Her hands were shaking from the effort by the time she reached the next ledge up. Her legs shook under her. At her side, Marcellus looked little better, though he was already eyeing up the next slope.

"Marcellus…." Daisy shook her head, gulping down breaths of air. "Marcellus, stop. I think we all need a break."

"We can't stop. We're sitting ducks here."

That was, sadly, probably true. They had no plans to try and aim at any of the other tributes – but there were plenty that might aim at them.

Marcellus caught her arm. "Come on. We can have a break when we get to the top."

Daisy nodded, stumbling as she followed him to the base of the slope. Cali was just reaching the ledge now, Cash and Kai closeby.

Marcellus put a foot on the slope – and something exploded above them, showering them with burning ash. Daisy shrieked, raising her hands to protect her head and hair. Marcellus pushed her back. Her footing slipped.

For a moment she was in midair, and all she could see was herself tumbling down that terrible and sharp slope, impaling herself on everything sharp as she fell, landing broken and bloody at the bottom–

A hand caught her arm, and then she was simply wobbling instead of falling. Small hands caught her other wrist, pulling her back onto the ledge.

"Thanks," Daisy mumbled as she found her balance.

Jarrod patted her shoulder. "No problem."

"Are you alright?" asked Cash, looking up at her with bright eyes.

"I'm fine," Daisy muttered.

Jarrod scowled as he turned on Marcellus. "You– What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't trying to push her off! I was trying to get her out the way of this ash."

"Well, maybe you should just be a bit more careful! You could have killed her!"

"I was protecting her–!"

"Some job you did!"

"It's alright. Please don't fight," pleaded Daisy, holding her hands out.

"He could have killed you–"

"He made a mistake," said Cali.

Daisy took Marcellus's arm. "Come on. This was by quite the break I wanted, but let's start going again."

District Seven Male, Falcon Farley, 18

Climbing was easy, and they must have been among the first tributes to reach the third slope. That one was harder, as there was nothing to signal the taps, and all they could do was try to jump aside when something went off. That included explosions, trapdoors in the slope, flying blades, bursts of flame, and sudden rushes of steaming water, along with various other traps.

Falcon ducked and jumped around the obstacles, protecting Phoebe from the worst of them, though some still fit into her, drawing streaks of scarlet blood.

They were climbing sideways in the hopes they could get closer to the tributes from Ten. But somehow they'd pulled ahead, even against Falcon and Phoebe's better climbing abilities. How they'd done it, Falcon was unsure, but they were now ahead of any other tributes.

Falcon kept himself in front of Phoebe as much as he could, though he couldn't protect her from everything. The traps went off at random, and something that triggered for her might not trigger for him.

This arena, he realised, had never been meant as a Hunger Games, or a challenge, or a punishment.

It had been meant as a method of execution.

None of them were meant to survive this. The Capitol just wanted it to look like they could, so it didn't look to their people like they'd just murdered forty eight kids as a method of revenge.

"Bastards," he muttered, his hands shaking as he neared the top of the slope. Even in the Hunger Games tributes had a chance at survival. One in twenty four, of course, not great odds, but still an opportunity.

Here there was nothing.

He stumbled onto the next ledge and turned back to help pull Phoebe up.

"No one's getting out of here." His voice trembled despite his attempts to keep it flat. "They're going to make sure of that."

District Eleven Male, Atticus Rúgur, 18

Tributes were scattered across the climbing wall, some higher than others, battling to keep pulling themselves up. In places, some would lose their grip and almost go sliding back to the bottom of the slope again.

"Keep going!"

"You're almost there!"

"We're making it!"

The cheers and calls of support rang out around him. Disgusting. Did they really think this would gain anything? Some of these brats just needed a knife through their eyes to teach them a lesson.

Atticus scanned those nearest. There were a few younger ones remaining, but most were in clusters with older, bigger tributes. He could take them, but preferably not two or three at a time.

One little boy, in a grey jacket, was struggling along on his own, off to Atticus's far right. Easy target. But then he might still be too far away. He could try moving diagonally, but with all these traps and challenges in the way, that might be too much difficulty. He'd have to get closer to the kid for the next level.

Or find another target.

There was another scattering of kids that seemed to be together but had ended up spread out across the wall, including one of the little brats from back home. He would be easy to take out.

Atticus grinned and began to make his way towards the scattered group. There were two younger ones with them, along with a smaller girl in the orange of the tributes from Nine. One of them would be an easy enough target.

There was another shudder, the arena shaking around him. His boots slipped on the slope. He lunged forward to grab at the slope above him to stop him from tumbling straight back to the bottom. Several tributes weren't so lucky and screamed as they fell, the girl from Nine among them. That put her further behind the rest of her alliance, even with her District partner holding back to wait and call for her.

Atticus grinned.

This should be easy.