His mother's laugh rang in his ears like the bells of a foreign tower looking down upon the world in its dying disease—living its final hour.

She rose from her chair, extending the movement with an elaborate slow.

"And what is a sparrow going to do with a pretty bow and harmless sticks for arrows?" She addressed Vaughn with a brief glance of amusement. "Tickle our feet?"

His purpose reporting his findings had not been to disarm Io of his rightful weapon. It wasn't the act of leveling the playing field that unsettled the creature in his cage but more often so, the sparrow's lack of understanding. Understanding of the notion; the notion of giving up.

How awfully disgusting it was for Vaughn, to witness what he could not have done himself and face the weakness that was inherent within—

"Vaughn? You look pale," The headmistress noted with a frown, peering at him with her head inclined, forcing him to look her in the eye. "Tea?"

He would prefer not to return to the horrors of his mind, alone.

"Yes mother."

"Good on you to catch that sneaky thing," She put together saucer and teacup, filling the latter with the same black, abyssal liquid that she so adored. "It is well that he's so insistent too, don't you think? This will make them learn. Ah, that there's no such thing as breaking the order in this world."

The mother offered it to her child with a wry smile. "Reading again? At this late hour."

"...yes, I was," Vaughn lied through the bars of pride. After all, nightmares were for children. "By the window, when I saw him."

"Oh good, good." She nodded, pleased. "Silly little thing, really. Only fools can be so brave and thoughtless."

He laughed when she did. Vaughn had to admit that the very thought was on his mind; conflating with the confusion and resentment that he harbored against the sparrow who, so easily, broke out on his own.

But alas, Vaughn corrected himself that the sparrow was not alone. He had something he called a friend—oh! That was foolish in itself, too. Everything about Iolani Tori was nice and sweet and foolishly disgusting.

"Let us have dinner tomorrow," V said decisively with a sudden snap of her fingers. "It has been quite some time since I've cooked, and, oh! Chicken soup sounds absolutely fitting to prepare you for the games, no? Chicken soup it is." She nodded to herself, then turned to Vaughn with an unusual frown, as if having not noticed he was there.

"You don't like spicy food, do you?"

______________________________

It was the day for things to come to an end, and Io understood just why it was. Thinking was one; being was another—for the world to saturate around a single point of concentration, clouding his mind with all but one: it had to be the idea of an end.

Before the wall had been the path that he had chosen to take; to reach such an end. Worth or not, Io began to realize the depth of his hell as his days amounted to this one. How had he failed to see this?

This particular season games was no longer a search for a way out—it had become, inevitably so, a hunt for just one thing. Whether it was him, or his hopes and dreams; his heart; whatever he had placed on that table to make his world a different place, all seemed to be a loss before anything had begun.

It was everyone

Against him, the Joker.

It being a rematch had eliminated the stage of hide and seek. The phase of seeking out the one and only role that had to bear the weight of virulent eyes.

He stood alone—both against the world that lived inside, and independent of himself. How was he to be in control of anything at all?

A bluejay came into his field of vision as he was walking; approaching the starting point where ends would begin. The bluejay had led Io's gaze to his Winged, and then, to the other two who Io recognized as the first years who had attended the briefing with Pipa and himself.

The kiwi and the magpie glanced in his direction—and, as if having seen something they should not have, averted their gaze soon after. Io bit his lip uncomfortably, but smiled nevertheless. The bluejay waved dismissively, pointing towards his starting point to her far left. At least two hundred meters away.

Their conversation was carried out in hushed tones, but not so soft as to neglect curious ears that couldn't help but listen.

"—lie low. That's what we did previously, and it worked didn't it?"

The magpie nodded. "Works for me. You?"

"I'm fine," Said the kiwi, who turned to the bluejay. "I'm sorry I'm not very fast. The last time..."

"Forget it," The latter bit her lip uneasily. "It's not like we have a choice anyway."

There was a silence as Io increased the distance between him and the rest; and he couldn't seem to hear them any longer.

"We do, actually," The kiwi reasoned very quietly, staring at a lone daisy by her shoe—something she could have so easily crushed without notice. "To conform; escape; or to challenge, it's our choice. We choose the first two just because it's easier, as to the last which invites risk, alienation and condemnation."

Shel Castillo blinked at the barrage of words he did not understand.

"No shit Rien," The bluejay snorted, "everyone wants an easy way out."

*

There was a thundering in his cage that spoke of fear—withered and pale—as the sparrow, alone, took his place before the Joker's gate.

His charm laid its icy palm over the heart and Io shivered to the breath of dawn. Harper stood a distance away, watching as she, too, waited for a disaster to brew. Io could feel the weight of his arrows in his bag. The short bow as well, stowed away in the biggest compartment, pressed against the back to prevent suspicion of a strange shape. He willed for the sun to rise and for the games to start. Io would bring these in, with, perhaps, an increase in his chances of winning and—

"Sparrow," He turned to the smiling voice with a quickening of his heart. "You seem particularly pleased this morning, I wonder why is that?"

The headmistress came forth with Callaghan at her heel and another man on her right. Io found him particularly familiar.

"I slept well ma'am. Maybe that's why," The boy answered quietly, fingers gripping tight on the strap of his bag.

"Really?" She laughed, signing the man on her right to come forth. "I find that quite hard to believe."

He advanced towards Io and held out his hand.

"Your bag."

Fear rattled against his cage.

"Why?" He shrunk back. "You didn't check the others."

"Oh was that your concern?" V mused with a hunger in her eyes. "We decided to start with you, dear. Is that a problem?"

Someone had told her. He knew—from the look in her eyes—that she knew. There was no hope in lying.

His grip loosened on what he was holding onto, and the man snatched it out of his grasp. Emptying its contents with a decisive jerk and violating the rest of whatever it was, Io's weapon lay on the ground in all its hopeless glory.

Handmade arrows—which were, he admitted, too blunt to hurt; too fragile to break another before it was broken itself—scattered across the earth. Had he the chance of victory from the start? Perhaps all that happened was the result of sheer luck.

Fortune that had been in his favor and had, now, left him behind to the eyes of laughter.

The vulture advanced, and, without heed, stepped on the arrows that snapped under her weight—the sound of crushed hopes and bleeding dreams.

"Mm," She dismissed indifferently. "They break so easily."

Io felt the violent crack of his heart as though it had been trampled on. He gave a strangled cry as she broke all of them into two. He fell to the ground, hands reaching out and gathering—

Only to realize that there was nothing left to pick up and go on.

Desolation raised its gaze to meet the triumphant one that stared down upon its laughing loss; all was dark. His movement stilled without the drive of purpose and the death of will seemed to render the sparrow immobile.

He watched, lost, as the man reached down to confiscate his weapon.

"Oh, don't bother. He can keep the bow," She smiled ruefully. "Not that it would be of any use without arrows, you see."

Crushed; the light that once filled his eyes shriveled up and died.

"I even wonder where you got that pretty little thing from? Your friend, perhaps," She nodded satisfactorily and began to leave him behind. "You understand now, then—the benefits of having a predator's fancy! How awfully sweet."

"No."

V turned around with an amused arch of her brow. "No?"

"I don't understand," Io shook quietly, bent over the cursed earth. "There are no benefits to be gained; friends or not."

A wry smile possessed her lips as she shook her head in disbelief. "Ah! Denial. They all begin so," She said to herself before striding away from the gulf between predator and prey. There was nothing more for her to say.

Callaghan glanced, helplessly, at his student whose eyes were almost empty, and willed his own to turn back to where they should have been. They began to leave, one by one, just before the break of dawn where the sparrow should meet his own demise—for the only thing breaking would be nothing more than himself.

He took the hope that Luka had given him in his arms, cradling the treasure that had never been the bow itself, but a gift from Luka, who, despite all odds, was his friend.

Io picked the broken pieces of himself off the earth and, as though piecing them back together himself, straightened up with a stumble.

"You...okay?" Harper's voice cracked as she bit her lip, having stood a distance away from where he and the vulture had been.

No.

"No."

Harper blinked, starting a little. "Uh sure. Okay." Perhaps she had expected the answer that was typical of all mankind to expect and conform to. And perhaps it was because of this very reason, that Harper knew not what to say in return.

"It's okay, Miss Harper. I meant that I was fine," Io corrected himself to save her from the discomfort of forced conversation.

"Okay, good. The gate's going to open any time now, so." Her gaze skimmed the tops of the stone, where the sun had cast its rays upon. The sparrow's steps were tentative as he approached the place where his horrors would begin once again, and could almost feel its pale mist whispering against the stone gate—seeking for entrance.

For the best place for fears to reside 

was in the heart.

"Hey." Harper said suddenly, willing him to meet her gaze. "Why aren't you asking any questions this time?"

There was a sound in his chest and it felt almost like a ring—the ring of a bell.

"I...I thought you didn't like that."

"I never said I liked it, sparrow," Harper clicked with a languid raise of her brow. "I'm just saying you're a fool."

She produced something from behind her back; an arrow. Harper had retrieved one—just one lucky arrow—one that had strayed far from the others the moment all of them had been scattered across the ground and in the midst of doing so, saved itself from its demise under V's heel.

"Where...? How—"

"But you know," The raven held out his only arrow left. "I guess it's alright sometimes. To be a fool in a world that's too clever for its own good."

__________________________

The cut on her arm would not stop it's bleeding. Neglect was the only reasonable response to an injury of such severity. It was the hand over her lungs clenching it tight that made more sense to her clouded mind that lacked air and, insofar, hope. Part of her blamed it upon the sparrow who raised the idea of a repeat—a repeat of the horror she had been glad to put behind time.

Being a kiwi had its elements of relief, for there was no need to fret over looking good, or looking better. Season would pass without a problem and she would not have to think of it ever again—leave it as it was, alone.

No one wanted a kiwi. Oh it was all fine that she could not fly, but ugly? Ugly was big. Ugly was a problem—no one wanted ugly.

Perfection was survival and

Beauty was key.

What did that matter now? To Rien, this mattered not. She had to run from her fears of this terrible place before someone would leave her behind, no! Not again—

The bluejay behind her had let out a cry and Rien turned with severed thoughts and heightened fear. What? What was it? She could not ask.

Her eyes darted from the place where her fellow Mark had stood and where she stood—no, crouched—at present, behind a tree with a tremble in her frame, gripping the magpie by his wrist.

The three had their eyes fixed on an approaching figure that was fast. Running, closer; sure to spot them at any moment.

He entered Rien's field of vision first—with a reckless invade—and her eyes widened in a conflict between doubt and relief.

It was Iolani, the sparrow...the cause of all this and the pain that he had made her go through once more and served no purpose. It was him, the one who the canary had tried so hard to protect—where was she? Dead?—and it was...him; the joker.

She turned to the rest with a gaze so conflicted that they knew that was no predator. For predators filled only the space of hope and joy with empty darkness and despair. The kiwi had seen something else.

They rose from the place where they were hidden in his line of sight, and revealed themselves to the thing that Rien had seen.

Tori? Oh this was a disaster, thought the bluejay immediately. There was little common sense in the knowledge that anyone who were with the Joker would have to had, simply put, drawn misfortune upon themselves as a choice. Predators—more specifically, the hearts; vultures, eagles, harpies, hawks, falcons—sought the sparrow's role. Only this time, they knew who exactly to look for.

Staying with Io was, by extension, taking on the burden of the Joker—the scapegoat and distraction that was, really, what everyone needed to save themselves.

He saw them as soon as they had seen him, and it was a matter of time before Io would approach his fellow Marks with a curious smile. The bluejay however, turned her back on him and began in the opposite direction before Rien stopped her with a tug on her arm. She gestured for her to wait.

Shel Castillo, the magpie, swallowed as he checked their surroundings—ensuring that no one was following the Joker before finally facing him with a nod.

Io greeted him in return.

This exchange was without a word and the next step to take for the sparrow was not an easy one.

He beckoned for the bluejay and kiwi to come closer, alongside him and Shel. Rien nodded lightly and was obliged to drag the reluctant bluejay along. She rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue in annoyance, still on the lookout for wandering predators.

Io first showed them his bow.

Their reaction was immediate, and expected—widened eyes.

Shel couldn't believe it; he took the short bow out of Io's grasp and stroked it. It was real, the weapon was. The bluejay held it next, and examined its grip and bowstring. Authentic. How did he get this?

Rien did not question the Joker. She was beginning to feel a building confidence in the sparrow and she knew not why. Perhaps victory wasn't impossible, if that was what he wanted.

Io picked up a stray branch on the forest ground and marked an X on the ground. He turned to them and pointed at it. He traced a path—a windy road, it seemed to Rien—that stopped all of a sudden, then marked the point where he had stopped EXIT.

This was all very well until the sparrow was in the process of scratching the final letter in the earth.

All at once, the four Marks snapped towards a single direction of caution—eyes and ears on a heightened sense of fear for something

Was coming

It was the moment of fight or flight; the instinct that any living being with a heart could relate and understand. No time for talk.

Io abandoned the branch and grabbed Rien's arm instead, tugging on it sharply to jumpstart the girl into running. She snapped, eyes wide and confused but unable to wriggle out of his grasp.

They picked up speed first before the bluejay went pale with rage for she had no choice but to follow and the magpie simply did without question, fear driving the beat of his heart.

Rien stumbled behind the Joker and panicked at the sudden speed he had picked up for she had difficulty in nothing but this; flight, running for the matter there was no stopping—they were aware, and the bluejay was right behind, propelling her back so that she would go faster and not be a weight to their wings and Shel for once was not distracted by the glint and gold of living but the near darkness of fear and despair; the inevitable heart that was chased by death, he swallowed still and watched as the sparrow turned around to mouth: Trust me.

NO! There was nothing to trust in a time like this no fear; no pain; no amount of night could feel this dark—and Io understood the doubt in their eyes for it reflected him, his soul within.

Apprehension made the eyes so clouded and the mind so obscure, there was nothing left to consider and reason, but of instinct itself. Io listened to his heart.

He turned behind once more for he had heard it, and Rien too for he felt her arm slip out of his grasp one moment and had to regain his grip in the next to remind her of their situation at hand—flight; for the kiwi understood, but was not in her nature to do and this the magpie and bluejay were both aware in their heightening fear they sprinted forth, much with a blind, as though dead were their legs and the only life ahead was in a sprint; but it was then when another was heard and the four had come to terms with a fear only worse—

There were two.

Coming from opposite directions to trap them in between, yes.

The bluejay jammed the breaks on her feet regardless of how fast she had been going moments before, grabbing Shel and making a break for the third option. Her Avian was fast but it only showed in contrast, the limitations of a human body which the bluejay was determined to abandon.

The predators—having shifted into their Avian—were faster. And it was in a matter of seconds that Io found one of them before him and another standing in the way of the bluejay.

Rien's nails dug into his arm and she willed him to use his bow, the quicker the better.

The first thing Io had noticed, however, was the familiar face before him. He could not identify exactly, what sort of Avian she had, for it was perched on a faraway branch behind her—it's wings folded, black and white. He spotted the size of his claws however, and was quick to understand that this was no ordinary predator.

She had to be a heart.

The first thing that registered in Lucienne's mind was the mere disappointment upon the sight of the sparrow.

This...was the one who got Luka's attention? She wondered if she had expected more; and in what manner. She had assumed that golden eagles had better taste in picking their prey but nevertheless,

A Joker was a Joker.

She seized him by the neck—

Rien screamed and kicked the harpy eagle's shin in panic and disarray. The latter turned to her with a murderous glare that seethed through her skin.

"A—" There was an incomprehensive shout from behind and Lucienne released her grip on the sparrow's neck. His hands, clawing hers from before, supported his weight on the ground as he tried to regain his breath and at once, turn to see what had happened to the bluejay.

She had been thoroughly shocked; put simply, that was how she was. And the phoenix before her helped little in light of this situation.

Shel had fallen on his back, holding his Avian to his heart close to tears from the pain in his legs and the pressure of having a predator of such rank before his very eyes and the bluejay was no different—she was simply hiding all this.

Regardless, they were not who Jing had been looking for.

She was here to play the game that she was required to play and that was her mere duty to be fulfilled.

That was all.

And so, she turned to the Joker.

No! Not her, Lyra despaired and felt the burning of hope through her tiny chest. We can't run.

Io concurred, but understood well that if this was where he gave up, nothing would come to fruition. Dreams—what were dreams? Merely the unconscious?

There were people beside him, frightened and bruised in their will; who else? Who else but he—if he had given up too, who would be left to do anything at all?

The phoenix met the gaze of the harpy eagle, and there was nothing to be said but a stare so simple and impassive. Lucienne glanced at the choker on the boy's neck that she had laid her hands upon for a brief moment, and thought how she was so close for once.

Then she backed away, acting rather disinterested and as though she had not seen anything in the first place. This behavior, caught by Io but went unnoticed by the rest, reminded him of the birds he used to see back in his village as they fought over crumbs of bread. The bigger ones got more.

Jing took no heed of the bluejay and her male companion, and approached without hesitation, the one who deserved the attention.

She held out her hand—believing that he would give it to her on his own accord.

He couldn't believe it.

He knew what she wanted, but still, he couldn't bring himself to admit that this—this was the line between predator and prey; friend and...foe.

Had Jing been his friend at all?

Io's hand closed around his charm, as though willing it to disappear.

It was yet another sudden movement that startled him; the bluejay lunged forth, tugging the choker from his neck—strangling Io in the process. There was a pleading in her eyes and a struggle in her form as her values became undone and there was no helping, no saving.

Just give it to her!

It's you she wants, isn't it? Why...why can't you just—

Tears framed her face; were they hers? For it felt like the world was struggling in its conflict, and the ground beneath her giving in to the vice of the world: to sacrifice someone else for self-preservation.

Was she being selfish? Or was she just like everyone else—being human?

These were Io's final thoughts.

____________________________

A/N: Rien means 'nothing' in French

-Cuppiecake.

See you next week :'D