One thing is completely certain for those roaming the dank cave system that are either trembling in their boots or staring down the coral that had led them to where they now stand or float: they are utterly lost. Helplessness is common amongst them all, for some more than others, but there nonetheless. As Steve stares down at the pit of boiling water mere inches from his feet, he can't help but think he's more helpless than the lot of them.

I am helpless, he thought. And he was. Steve couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, he was stuck and nothing could ever save him. I'm going to die before anything is fixed. Everything was dreadful and rotten, ruined, broken beyond repair. "I've got to get out of here."

His mind raced as he frantically looked for a way to save his life. The creatures would return soon if he didn't get away. Boiling water could only protect him for so long. The walls around him weren't smooth, but he had no guarantee how long he could climb them. Steve had to move quick, otherwise he'd find himself dead.

"What do you do with bad chemistry jokes?"

Lifting himself up, Steve began to climb upwards. Each movement pulled his muscles taut against one another. With the barest chuckle he responded, "You barium." Another bad one. Still, he had to. The jokes were his only escape.

"I can't sea why people don't like water jokes. What's the hydrophobia for? I'm shore they just don't understand how funny they really are. Whale, what a waste."

Rocks upon rocks filled his vision as he continued on. Stress was a drug and he was happy to drink it up as he reached a ledge and pulled himself onto it. His stomach burned as the porous walls scratched him. Just as he managed to stand again there was an intense screech. A young boy was screaming his lungs out.

Despite his better judgement, Steve found himself turning in the child's direction.

His steps echoed through the system as he approached the noise, his hand dragging along the wall in case this was another trap, another maze. The caves were a maze themselves, and after that coral incident, he wanted to avoid another one. A second screech ricocheted against the same wall he clung to. It echoed down the tunnels. Steve shivered.

"What's a ghost's favorite dessert? I-scream," he said with a nervous chuckle. It echoed as well. God, I sound like a comedian with alzheimer's. "What do you call it when a ghost skins their souls? A boo-boo."

He made haste with his walking, knowing that if he didn't it would only get worse. The creatures could come back, there could actually be a ghost, hell, there could even be a deadly tribute just waiting to slit his throat. The screams were tortured, gargled even, like whatever child was making them had water running past his lips as he did it. And, although Steve couldn't see it, he was correct.

Reed thrashed about in a pool of water, his thoughts a mess, his body a mess. The eels clung to him with their jagged teeth, digging in every time he resurfaced to cry for help. Neri was long gone, along with Aeren, and he was left alone, left to die. He'd been left for dead by someone he thought trusted him, and that hurt far more than the bites did. What made all of his struggles pointless was the fact he couldn't swim. He was helpless, too.

Stomach clenching at the sound of splashing water, Steve walked closer. Whimpers met his ears. His instincts overwhelmed him, and he rounded a corner, finally seeing for himself what was happening. His heart pounded in his ears but it was overthrown by the splashes and screams of the young boy. Crazy as he had seemed--always calling people animals and giving malicious looks--the boy was too small to die in such a way.

I should leave him, Steve thought. He's going to die anyways. This is the Hunger Games, I can't show mercy, I can't-

As if to laugh at his own thoughts, Steve reached down and grasped the young kids hand. Reed prepared to sink down once more, dragged by his ankles, the eels teasing him. Drowning was a prolonged way to die, he decided, too much struggle, far too much time spent exhausting himself until he'd finally give in. However, instead of submerging, air filled his lungs as he was lugged out of the pool. His back met rough ground and he coughed up the water that'd tried to infest him.

"And so," he gasped, "the knight realizes heavy armor perhaps isn't the best garb to wear in moats." He clutched his chest, clawing at his jacket, tearing it away so he could see the full extent of the eels attack. At the sight of blood streaking down his arm he was hit with a wave of lightheadedness.

Steve didn't know what to make of the situation. At least it's not too deep... Here he was, crouching by some boy's side, completely lost on what he was to do. The boy was injured. They had no supplies. Can this situation get worse? Hell, the damn kid looks like he swallowed poison. Well, he thought, laughter is the best medicine."Did you hear about the wanna-be knight named Plus? He tried to get into the kingdom but they didn't want a knight Sir Plus."

Reed groaned, more out of annoyance than pain. "Shut it, spider monkey. I've got a raging headache and your gibberish isn't helping." He laid back, stroking the bite marks along his arms. They were like those of a terrifying beast, he imagined. And this peasant, Steve, had come to the rescue. Reed couldn't help but feel an inkling of jealousy, but gratefulness trumped that. He forced himself to a stand. "Thanks, anyway."

Steve scratched the back of his head. "Well, I couldn't just let you die." But I should have. Why did I help him? No, bad. I can't just allow people to die...even if it is the Hunger Games. He coughed away his thoughts, gesturing to the way he'd come. "We should find a place that doesn't serve human soup and eel salad."

As much as Reed wanted to deny the offer and head his own way, he knew he wasn't in the best state. This tribute had saved him, after all. He smirked. "You aren't bad for a spider-monkey-peasant." Steve raised a brow, opening his mouth to retort, but Reed held up a hand to silence him. "Have you seen the wench who took off with my bow?"

"Guess who the roundest knight was at the stone table?" Steve asked, dodging the question. He waited a few seconds, then finished his joke, "Sir Cumference."

Reed shook his head and sighed. The boy kicked a rock out of his path and watched as it skidded to a stop at the edge of a wall. Steve didn't let that stop him. If the boy wasn't going to talk he'd have to find something for them to say. Anything was better than that god awful silence. Steve chuckled at his own joke and added on with a, "He gained weight by eating pi."

Reed wasn't impressed.

"Does it look like I want to hear you, peasant?" Reed snapped, glaring up at him.

The two walked in silence. Neither knew where they were going to go, not really, but that didn't stop them. Minutes passed like that as they went through the caves, each turn leaving them feeling more and more lost. Steve breathed in and out deeply after a few minutes, preparing to make a new joke, but his words faded out as a package beeped its way down from a hole in the wall.

Both boys glanced at each other warily, as if one may pick the other off in order to get that package. Reed held no fear, or if he did, he simply denied it. Still, a sense of unease fueled his hesitance when looking away. Steve held the same sense of foreboding, like the kid would pull on a knife on him as soon as he turned his back. He probably will, that devil.

Caught in a staring contest, Reed finally let himself breathe and took the first step towards the sound. With caution, Steve followed. Both took slow and even steps, as if expecting someone or something dangerous to pop up. Once the silver package was in sight, Reed quickened his pace, and soon he held it in his palm, squinting at the tag attached. "It's for you," he said bitterly, tightening his grip around the sponsorship. It's not fair, he thought, I'm obviously the better fighter, and far more sophisticated. How does the Capitol, the royalty, not see this in me? What use do they have with that peasant?

"Reed?" Steve asked, raising a brow at the boy's reluctance to hand over the gift. His mind whirred with ways to lure the boy out of his evident jealousy. Clearly, normal tactics wouldn't work with him. Crap, what makes kids not jealous? Why couldn't it have been someone normal I got stuck with? "I doubt it's anything good. Probably just a pack of crackers, or something." Why'd they send me something? I'm just a boy from Nine.

Confident in what he'd said, Steve didn't expect Reed to hang his head, nor did he expect what the child had to say in reply. "That's not the point. This shows they see something in you. They don't want to see you hurt." Giving the package one last sour glance, he shoved it into Steve's hands and stepped back, muttering to himself. "People don't care if I'm hurt. They never have - in fact, they were the ones to do the hurting." Sure Steve hadn't heard, he raised his voice. "Open your stupid package."

In all his life Steve had never heard something so pitiful. With a sigh, he twisted open the package. Inside was a small, round disk with a square of orange in the very center. He took it out and felt it ever so carefully in his hands. In Nine, they didn't have things like that. It was some sort of electrical device. "Huh," Steve said, "it doesn't look too useful. I guess they didn't like me too much 'cause I can't figure out what the heck this odd thing does. You got any idea?"

Reed was too busy sulking to care. Steve didn't bother too much with the kid. Instead, he just shrugged and began to walk again. The disk had little groves inside it that felt nice when he ran his fingers around them. The middle was a complete mystery, as it was soft like felt, but thick. I wonder what'll happen if I...

Click.

The disk suddenly began to tick, loud and echoing in the dense cave system. Oh hell, what's this?

"Spider monkey," Reed began, lifting up his face in terror, "you set off a bomb!"

"What?"

Steve was frozen stiff, the disk in his cold hands. A bomb? It wasn't real, it couldn't be. What sort of sick person sends--Eyes wide, he realized it was still in his hands and threw it down. Then, adrenaline rushing and his heart violently pumping, Steve grabbed Reed's arm and ran as fast as he could. The boy tripped over his own feet but neither stopped.

It ticked louder as the seconds passed. Footsteps were the only other sound. A stampede of two trying to escape the vicious grasp of death. They had barely made it five yards before it exploded. Walls trembled and cracked, falling in on themselves. The air blew past Steve and Reed, knocking them both to the ground upon impact. The water that held all the eels wasn't too far away, and most of it had traveled right under their feet.

The caves rumbled. Water slapped the walls and roof as it began to build up before their very eyes. Reed screamed and tried to stand, but Steve's body was on top of him and he was frozen with fear again. "Move, you idiot!" Reed shouted, pelting the bigger boy. "It's coming!"

The situation finally dawning on him, Steve rose and launched himself forward. Reed struggled to stand as his elder dashed off, betrayal diving through him. He just left me! Shaking his head, he took off, pumping his legs harder than he ever had in his short years of endless adventure.

The truth was, Steve had only forgotten the boy, and by the time he had remembered the kids' existence, he was already several yards ahead. The kid could take care of himself anyhow, he was positive.

Huffing breaths, pounding feet, thudding hearts, all these sounds ricocheted down the corridors of rock, all of them drowned out by the rush of water crashing against the walls, like a terrible beast come to consume them. Minds ran wild, imaginative and rational alike. Although he hid it well, Reed was panicking far more than he ever had before, and he couldn't control the scream that left him as the water nipped at his heels, then engulfed his legs, his torso, and finally his head.

By the time Steve had realized this, Reed had already been swept up, and there was no choice but for him to keep moving. Thoughts travelling rapidly, his darting eyes caught sight of a rather high ledge, one he could just reach. He could hear the water gaining, feel it splashing at him. As quickly as possible, Steve began to climb upwards. His heart pounded wildly as he reached the edge of the ledge and pulled himself over it, stomach scraping against the rocks.

As much as he'd love to forget the boy he'd briefly known, he couldn't help but squint down at the water rushing by, hopeful he'd see a shoulder, or an arm, or something to indicate the kid was still alive and kicking.

He got more than that, as within a few seconds Reed's head had popped out for a second and let out a shriek. "Calm down," he said, "I'll help you!"

Reed was too busy freaking out to listen, his legs kicking wildly while his arms splashed, unable to keep himself afloat for long. I'm gonna drown! he thought, reaching for anything to latch onto, anything to get him out of this nightmare.

Thankfully for him, and to the relief of Steve, he did find something, and before he could comprehend what it was - an arm - Steve had already yanked him out of the water and placed him on the ledge. Reed stole oxygen back, baring his teeth at the water rushing by beneath them. "And so, we outsmart the serpent!" he snapped. Steve found it unsettling how the boy snarled at it, how he chuckled at the waves, and how, at the child's remark, the water began to recede, offended.

"You're freaky," he whispered.

"I try," Reed shot back.

And so, they began their trek in search of someplace safer. Steve wondered if such a place existed where they roamed. Doubtful. Still, it warmed him to know he had company - company that semi-trusted him, at that. The boy was half his height and appeared to him as eight rather than twelve. That made everything all the more comforting, despite Reed's unpredictable behavior. Had Steve had children, he envisioned this is what it'd be like, father and son, toughing through trials. Except in his visions he never figured his child would be so odd.

As they ventured, Reed avoided eye contact with Steve. No words would be exchanged, for a king never conversed with his subjects. Of course, there were always exceptions. Perhaps the king opted to court a fair maiden? Reed stuck his tongue out, scrunching his nose. He didn't want to marry that guy. He had weird hair, and smelled funny. Reed was only there for a quick helping of assistance. Once he had a weapon, he was out.

Loneliness was awfully boring, though, wasn't it? And if there was anything Quillearoy hated more than old guys that smelled funny, it was boredom. Maybe I'll stick around, he thought. Steve ain't too bad. Nothing mints can't fix.