In the aftermath of the volcanic event, the Head Gamemaker receives a special video call from the President of Panem.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!"

"That's entertainment, Mr. President. Isn't that what you wanted when you promoted me to this prestigious position?" Washington D.C. sits on her pristine throne at the center of the control room, acting dignified yet disconcerted despite her ruthless leader's irate tone.

"The complaints I've received across the Capitol think otherwise," they lament. "The people fear you'll end the 50th Hunger Games without a victor after that stunt you pulled."

"That's ironic." She takes a sip from her wine glass. "Didn't they also complain about last year's Games being extremely boring because nobody died during the infamous Bloodlessbath?"

"Twenty-two tributes have died before the first night in the arena. This may as well be a typical Hunger Games."

"Have more faith in me, Mr. President. I promise the Games will be a success."

They sigh, "I'll admit you surprised me with that arena event. While I appreciate your bold attempt to draw in the audience, I don't want the Games to end in a disaster."

She smirks, "Very well. I'll lay back and let things play out."

☆☆☆☆☆

At long last, night has fallen for the first time in the arena. The dark as a force can escalate one's fears of danger, isolation, and the unknown. After everything that has happened, however, the dark has become something of peace and comfort. Almost like it's bringing the world back to a sense of normalcy. No longer is the ground shaking, nor are the forests on fire. Not a single speck of dust is flying in the crisp clean air. The sky is entirely black, but it's full of white stars instead of orange embers. Most importantly, it's silent—eerie but silent nevertheless. Just for tonight, let it stay that way. Please, let it stay that way...

"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU, FUCKEYE?!" Michigan roars like a ferocious lion, fearless in her search for optimal prey. "Don't think you can sleep like a baby tonight! Day or night, I don't care what time it is! All you need to know is it's time for you to die like the—" She stops short of finishing her sentence when she hears orchestra music. 

Michigan surveys her surroundings until she catches a spotlight of the Capitol's symbol in the night sky. Soon after, it transitions to a boy's face along with a caption of the district they represent. She doesn't recognize him, but she does recognize the next face that appears next. 'Wow. That guy died. I thought he was supposed to be tough.' The District 6 female continues to watch more faces pop up in the sky, remembering them more or less. 'Huh? Don't tell me.' She blinks in disbelief at an all-too-familiar face. 'No, you idiot...'

"What the hell, Fuckeye?!" Michigan shouts at Ohio's face among the stars. "How could you get yourself killed on the first day? You fucking idiot! You scared piece of shit! I was looking forward to butchering you, but you just had to die and ruin my day!" She drops to the ground on all fours, punching the ground in frustration. "Damn it! I hate your guts!" She grits her teeth.

Her outrage gradually transitions into subdued sadness as she thinks about home. For some tributes, winning the Hunger Games means bringing glory to their home district. Michigan can't say she cares for District 6. It isn't exactly a marvelous place. It's cold. It's depressing. It's full of drug users and homeless people. Having grown up in a rough neighborhood, she feels like she doesn't owe her district any favors. She does want to achieve fame, fortune, and a future without the fear of feeling famished. However, such luxuries don't fuel her fascination with fighting in the Games.

During the Reaping, Michigan was filled with dread upon getting called to come up to the stage. Though she had a miserable upbringing, she didn't want to die as a spectacle for the cruel masses. Even if there was a chance of her becoming victor and turning her life around, it was very slim in the Second Quarter Quell. She thought, 'I'm fucking screwed.' But then her ears perked up, recognizing a familiar name get called. All of a sudden, revenge was on her mind. A former friend was now her foe in the Hunger Games. Ohio was deemed her archenemy whom she would kill for self-gratitude. It was a goal she could imagine herself accomplishing—until now.

"Idiot. Who am I supposed to kill now?" Michigan murmurs dully.

~

Other tributes react differently to the faces of the fallen tributes that appear in the starry sky.

After another cool soak in a creek, a naked Florida starts a fire near the riverbank, using the fire starter kit that was inside her backpack to ignite a small pile of tinder, kindling, and logs. She's mindful to keep her distance from the campfire, only needing it for a source of light rather than a source of warmth. As she's inspecting the burn on her upper left arm, she recognizes something in the sky from the corner of her eye. The District 4 female beams, "Oh, hey! Long time no see!" She waves at North Carolina's holographic face. "I know you're super dead, but can you send me a sign? I need some advice on how to deal with a nasty burn. Believe me, it's really nasty." Despite her pleas, her former ally's face disappears without providing an answer.

"Down in the valley, valley so low~ Late in the evening, hear the train blow~ The train, love, hear the train blow~ Late in the evening, hear the train blow~" California tries to sing herself to sleep, but it's impossible with orchestra music echoing around the arena. The District 1 female opens her eyes, hoping the beautiful view of the bright stars can comfort her from the nightmarish images of fires and earthquakes. Instead, her face turns pale from the sight of Arizona's smile in the night sky. She promptly shuts her eyes, continuing to sing softly in the desolate darkness of her environment.

'I'm so sorry.' New Mexico watches the last face to appear among the stars with somber eyes, reminding the District 10 male of his failure to save them. He struggles to hold himself together. Just as he's about to break down into tears, he notices something flying in the distance. As it comes closer to him, he realizes it's a parcel attached to a parachute. He receives it and finds fresh food sent from a sponsor named Hawaii. "Please accept this plate lunch I made with love and care. I've added extra kālua pork and another block of haupia just for you," New Mexico quietly reads the note that came with the gift. "Look up and don't give up. You can do this. We believe in you..." 

~

Idaho cooks the baby white potatoes he received from an unknown sponsor, using a pair of sai as skewers to roast them over a fire. 'Gosh darn it. Good for nothing bastard.' Since spotting Oklahoma's face among the fallen tributes, his mind continues to be stuck on what happened earlier. It gives him another dose of frustration and humiliation, building up anger and resentment within him. Idaho tries to suppress his negative emotions, reasoning Oklahoma's death is a good thing. He may have lost an ally, but, he benefits from having one less tribute to compete with. Plus, the sai he stole from the District 9 male may come in handy despite not being his weapon of choice. Regardless of such reasons, Idaho can't forgive the clusterfuck that forced him to retreat like a coward.

While the District 7 male is busy brooding, South Carolina of District 8 takes pleasure in her sister's early demise. "Bwahahaha! I can't believe she's already dead! How pathetic!" She rolls from side to side on a bed of pine needles inside a shack, laughing her head off.

"Hey!" He snaps at her. "Quit laughing like a lunatic!"

She pouts. "Shut up! You're not the boss of me!"

"Well, excuse me, princess! If you don't shut up, other tributes are gonna hear us and know where we are!"

"Y-Yeah. Let's try not to make a racket," says Vermont in a soft and polite tone.

"That's right—" Idaho cuts off his sentence. He's slower to realize he and South Carolina have suddenly become a trio.

"What the Hell?!" She drags herself outside the shelter, approaching the encroacher with her wooden spear. "Who are you? What are you doing here? How did you find us?"

"I-I-I'm Vermont. I-I don't want to cause trouble. I heard yelling, s-so..." He cautiously steps back, looking at his fellow tribute from District 7 in desperation. "P-Please. Help me. Tell her to calm down."

"I can't drop these hot potatoes, so you're on your own, dude," Idaho mutters without glancing at the other District 7 male.

Vermont ends up backing up against a lodgepole pine tree. He's within the range of the spear's attack. Again, he pleads, "Please don't kill me. I mean you no harm."

"What's with the ax then?" South Carolina glares at the weapon in his trembling hands. "Were you thinking about decapitating me?"

"N-No! Not at all! This ax is just a tool!" He drops his ax and gets down on his knees, begging, "Please believe me. I don't intend to kill you."

"Why come here then?" She draws her spear close to his head.

"I, erm..."

"Spit it out!"

"I-I wanna sleep with you!" Vermont blurts out.

"... Dude, why are you horny?" Idaho gives him a judgmental look.

"U-Uh, no! S-Sorry! T-That's not what I mean to say! Don't take this the wrong way!" He blushes immensely.

"It's all good," South Carolina chortles in amusement, surprising Vermont who expected to get stabbed for what he said. "No offense. I'm flattered you're enthralled by my flawless beauty, but I prefer guys who look taller and tougher than you."

"Um, thanks, I think..." He clears his throat. "I'm sorry, but I mean to ask if you won't mind letting me sleep in your shack for tonight."

"Why can't you build your own shack?" Idaho questions.

"Well, I did build one," Vermont explains, "but I got spooked by a bobcat."

"Seriously? How soft are you?"

"B-But it was a mommy bobcat with cute kittens. It would be cruel to kill them."

"I've made my point."

"A-Anyway," he mumbles shyly, "it was pretty late, so I couldn't forage to build another shelter in the dark. I tried to sleep in a tree, but it wasn't comfortable." He brings himself to look directly at South Carolina. "Honestly, I knew you were roaming around here. I wasn't sure how you would react, so I left you alone. However, I decided to gather the courage and ask if it would be okay for me to join you." In his head, he adds, 'I would've probably not bothered to ask, however, Idaho was around to my surprise. I thought he could vouch for me, but...' He glances at Idaho biting into a hot potato.

"Hm..." She ponders for a moment. "... Honestly, you're still not my type. Regardless, I don't mind letting you come inside my shack since you're quite cute-looking— Why are you laughing? What's so funny?" She glares at Idaho's snickers, unaware of the unintentional innuendo.

"Um, thank you," Vermont smiles innocently.

"You know there's only enough room in that shack for two people," says Idaho.

"We'll make it work." South Carolina lets Vermont into her shelter.

"Don't bother. I'm not getting involved in a threesome with another dude." He eats his food before putting his fire out.

~

'I can't believe it...' Missouri continues to look out the cave, having recently witnessed the fallen tributes in the night sky.

The District 6 female initially thought Iowa was exaggerating the exact number of cannon shots he heard. She imagined the death toll would be more significant than that. After all, it would be abnormal to have minimal casualties after a volcanic eruption of that magnitude. Not to downplay the destruction of the arena event, but she anticipated more than half the starting number of tributes to be dead by now. Against the odds, however, more than twenty-four tributes remained alive like her after that absurd shitstorm. It was astonishing to see. More importantly, she understood just how dangerous this was going to be for her. Being responsible for one of the fallen tributes, Missouri must accept the fact more tributes would need to die for this nightmare to be over.

"How about we sing some songs to pass the time?" suggests Iowa, snapping the other tributes out of their thoughts.

"No, thanks. I prefer to eat my fish in peace," says Wyoming, not in the best mood to sing.

"Oh, come on. It's awkward and depressing eating in silence."

"You can't make me sing," Missouri grumbles, reluctantly agreeing with the District 12 tribute for the second time.

"Sure, but..." He sighs. "Very well. Both of you can just listen to me cheerfully sing songs. I don't have a gifted voice for signing, so I only ask you don't make fun of me for it." He takes a moment to clear his throat. "Old Iowa had a farm, E-I-E-I-O~ And on his farm—"

"Why are you singing a children's song?" Missouri stares at him weirdly.

"N-Nothing wrong with a children's song. It's cute, innocent, and easy to follow. I-I also like to own a farm one day, so this song is quite special to me," he stutters and blushes. "A-Anyway... Old Iowa had a farm, E-I-E-I-O~ And on his farm, he had a pig, E-I-E-I-O~ With an oink-oink here and an oink-oink there~ Here an oink, there an oink, everywhere an oink-oink~ Old Iowa had a farm, E-I-E-I-O~" He stops singing to look at his ally. "Come on. Don't be shy."

"No." Wyoming stubbornly crosses his arms, turning the other cheek.

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

He groans, "If I sing one verse, will you leave me alone?"

"Sure," he beams.

After inhaling a small breath, Wyoming starts singing in a low tone, "Old MacDonald had a farm, E-I-E-I-O."

"That sounds terrible," Missouri remarks, unimpressed with his boring voice.

"You should try incorporating your name into the song," Iowa suggests. "You'll have a lot more fun that way."

Irked by their criticism, Wyoming starts over to sing again, begrudgingly adding a bit more passion on his second attempt. "Old Wyoming had a farm, E-I-E-I-O~ And on his farm, he had a cow, E-I-E-I-O~ With a moo-moo here and a moo-moo there~ Here a moo, there a moo, everywhere a moo-moo~ Old Wyoming had a farm, E-I-E-I-O~"

"Good job. That was wonderful." Iowa gives a round of applause before turning to the District 6 tribute. "Okay. It's your turn."

"Uh, well, I don't—"

"Sounds like she's too chicken to sing," Wyoming retorts.

"Shut up! I'm no chicken!" Missouri rebukes. Irked by his criticism, she starts singing to make her point. "Old Missouri had a mule, he-hi-he-hi-ho~ On this— What? Why are y'all giggling?" She scowls at their laughter.

"What's with those lyrics?"

"It's the version I grew up singing about, okay!" She glowers. "Instead of describing different animals, we described different parts of the mule."

"Sorry. We didn't mean to offend you. We were just caught off guard by the lyrics," Iowa chuckles sincerely. "Please. Carry on. I like to hear more."

Though reluctant, Missouri resolves to suck it up and get this over with. "Old Missouri had a mule, he-hi-he-hi-ho~ And on this mule, there were two ears, he-hi-he-hi-ho~ With a flip-flop here and a flip-flop there~ And here a flop and there a flop and everywhere a flip-flop~ Old Missouri had a mule, he-hi-he-hi-ho~"

"Well done. You were just splendid." Iowa applauds. "Now that each of us has sung, let's try to sing together this time."

"Absolutely not." Missouri and Wyoming pout.

~

"One of my elders told me a story when I was very young," says South Dakota in a calm manner. "There was a woman pregnant with twins. Her husband warned her not to look at any strange person that visited their lodge while he was away for she could be in danger. Well, one day, a strange person came to the lodge while the husband went out hunting. The kindhearted woman allowed the stranger to come inside, however, she heeded her husband's words and sat with her back to the stranger. She didn't look at the stranger, not even when the stranger returned the next day and the day after that. For three days in a row, the woman refused to look at the stranger. But when the stranger returned on the fourth day, the woman couldn't suppress her curiosity. She got a peek at the stranger's back and saw the stranger had a second face at the back of their head. The woman became paralyzed with fear the moment she laid eyes on them.

The stranger then revealed itself to be a malevolent man-eating ogre called Two-Face. The monster proceeded to cut up the woman and eat her, leaving behind her remains for the husband to discover in despair, knowing what had happened. When the husband began to grieve, he noticed something move within his wife's remains. He took a closer look and saw the baby was still alive. Under the father's care, the boy grew up civilized. Eventually, he reunited with his twin who had been growing up in the wilderness after getting thrown out of their mother's womb by the monster. The twins would go on to become heroes, killing Two-Face and avenging their mother's death," South Dakota concludes. "... Though, nobody knows whether Two-Face is just one monster." She stares at the District 7 tribute sitting on the opposite side of the campfire. "Other farming villages in my district believe there exists a race of Two-Faces—male and female."

"What are you implying?" Oregon questions with a dark undertone.

The District 9 female doesn't answer, sitting silently before cracking a smile. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. It's just a morbid legend used by elders to tell naughty children like me to behave and beware of strangers." She lets out a laugh. "Don't tell me you actually believe in such stories?"

"Uh, no..." Oregon mumbles awkwardly. "Maybe not Two-Faces, but I do believe monsters exist."

"Really?" She briefly ponders over her answer. "In a way, I guess there are monsters in this world. They're about as scary as humans acting true to themselves, even worse to each other if you get what I mean... Have you seen a monster?"

"I have," she answers without hesitation. "I have seen plenty of monsters."

"What did they look like?"

"They were human-like," Oregon describes. "The first ones I saw worked in a timber yard. Making money in District 7 wasn't the worst, but it wasn't the best either. I didn't know what lumberjacks did to make up for their poor salaries until near the end of my first week on the job. After my shift that late afternoon, three older workers took me and the other recruits to the denser parts of the forest. Initially, they showed us various plants, teaching us how to identify and make use of them. I thought that was nice and considerate of them to train us how to be resourceful. Because considering the circumstances like now, the other children and I would have the benefit of plant identification to aid in survival. Of course, that wasn't entirely the case. They weren't getting paid to be survival coaches.

The reason they were bringing us to the denser parts of the forest was to make money. I didn't realize their intentions until I began to question the axes we brought with us. It was illegal for us to carry axes outside of work due to fears of murders and riots had we kept them. When I asked them about it, they told me this was an exception..." She pauses for a moment. "They took us to a stream that led us to a pond inhabited by beavers. They ordered some of us to break the dam while the rest were ordered to swim to the lodge and tear it open. The commotion caused one beaver to emerge from the forest. A worker ran over to the animal and bludgeoned its head, taking them a couple of blows to kill it." She pauses again.

"I didn't participate. Regardless, I couldn't stop them. Some of the beavers were able to escape, swimming to safety in the deeper areas of the pond. However, my peers had broken through the lodge and drag out five beaver kits. I told them to leave them alone, but they laughed and mocked me for being soft. They gave me a chance to prove myself. Still, I refused to join them. I wanted to go away, knowing my words wouldn't change the outcome. But I was stopped by two people who forced me to watch the others beat and butcher the beaver kits until they were done skinning their pelts..." She blinks her eyes at the crackling firewood. "I wasn't invited to their hunts since that day. I was ostracized, but I didn't mind since I wasn't keen on their activities. Regardless, there wasn't a day at work when I wouldn't hear some kind of insult aimed at me."

"That's..." South Dakota frowns. "It must've been difficult being forced to work alongside monsters that constantly torment you."

She nods. "It isn't too difficult. I've managed to ignore their comments until recently."

"Recently?"

"It wasn't serious, but..." Oregon doesn't finish that sentence, deciding not to tell her about it.

"... I grew up in a small town in District 9," South Dakota speaks to fill in the silence between them. "I only knew people in my little community, so I assumed everyone in the world was friendly and polite like them. Until one day, when my brother and I were playing hide-and-seek in the wheat fields, I met someone I never met before. He looked different compared to everyone working in the fields. His hair wasn't messy with sweat, and his clothes weren't ragged like our overalls. He even smelled different, wearing a strong scent I later learned was cologne." She smiles sadly. "I wish I could remember his name and what we talked about. I can recall him smiling and patting me on the head, but that's it. I haven't seen him since then..." She breathes slowly. "... Four days later, my brother and I went home with our papa to find our mama dead in the kitchen."

"Oh my god..." Oregon covers her mouth.

She nods. "One of my relatives was arrested and executed, although they pleaded their innocence to murder. While my papa grieved, my brother and I stayed with some kind elders who told us some stories, one of which was about Two-Face and the Twin Heroes... Do you think I have what it takes to kill someone?" Her question catches the District 7 tribute off guard.

"Um, why are you asking me that?"

"I'm just curious." She lets out a yawn. "It sounds silly, but I've always imagined my brother and myself traveling the continent to slay monsters. By chance I find that old stranger along the way, I wanna know if he's connected to my mama's death. If so..." She lets out another yawn. "Sorry. I'm struggling to stay awake."

"That's okay. It has been a long day for us, so I think it's about time we get some rest."

"Yeah. You're probably right," she agrees while crawling over to the cave. "Who knows what'll happen tomorrow? Another eruption perhaps? I hope not."

"Mmhm." Oregon wriggles inside the small den. "Fingers crossed nothing bad happens tomorrow." At the very least, she hopes nothing bad happens to her. She can't say the same for South Dakota, however.

~

'What's that noise?' Wisconsin wakes up in the middle of the night, unsure if she's imagining things. The District 7 female reaches around her sleeping bag until her hands grasp the hard cylinder base of a flashlight. She presses a rubber button to turn it on as she's putting on her glasses. The first thing she sees is a big mass of black fur sniffing and clawing at her backpack placed near her feet. The bear becomes startled by the bright beam and the blaring shrieks, backing off immediately. Still, Wisconsin panics. She grabs her torn bag and flees the opposite way, leaving behind her sleeping bag.

Elsewhere in the forest, North Dakota stays awake to test out the night-vision goggles he received from an unknown sponsor. So far, he can see perfectly in the dark without needing a source of light to guide him. 'Is that...?' He stops in his tracks when he spots a creature emerging from a hole in the middle of a clearing. He sees it's a badger—an angry badger to be precise. "S-Sorry. I'll be out of your way." North Dakota makes a rash retreat from the aggressive animal's territory.

Little do both tributes know, they're about to run into each other.

As North Dakota checks to make sure the badger isn't biting his butt, Wisconsin slips and tumbles over a short ledge where she isn't looking. She lands on top of the District 9 male who unwillingly cushions her fall. Otherwise, they appear fine after the accidental collision.

"Ope! Are you okay, bud?" 

"Yeah," North Dakota groans. "Can you please get up? Your butt is breaking my back."

"Uh, sure. Sorry." After getting up to allow him to stand on his feet, Wisconsin notices the throwing knives in a holster worn around his right thigh. Though her face appears flustered from embarrassment, she's wary of the power he has over her. Having hours ago sacrificed her ax to kill someone, she can't be careless around him. "U-Um," Wisconsin speaks up, "do you like cheese?"

"What?" He gives her a weird look.

"I-I have some cheese and crackers." She rummages for them inside her backpack, relieved to find them intact after the bear attack. "I feel kinda bad for almost crushing you to death, so take it as an apology from me," she beams.

"Um, thanks." Upon taking the snack out of her hand, North Dakota notices some dried specks of blood all over the front of her clothes. He figures the blood must have come from someone else considering she doesn't appear to have so much as a scratch on her body. How it got on her is a question he can attempt to ask, however, that may put her off. She may have a weapon like a pocket knife that can potentially injure or kill him. At the very least, it'll force him to put up a fight. Right now, she appears friendly and generous. Perhaps it's an act to catch him off guard. Still, she has yet to show murderous intent. 'Can I even kill her?' North Dakota wonders. He can't decide on what to do with her.

"So," she disrupts his thoughts, "all is forgiven?"

"That depends." He sighs. "Do you agree to a truce for the night?"

"U-Uh, sure! Do you need help with something?"

He shakes his head. "I don't exactly need help, but I appreciate being on neutral terms." For now, he wants to keep his distance from her.

"Oh, okay. That's perfectly fine with me," Wisconsin smiles, agreeing on the same page. "Well, if that's all you have to say, I'll be going now."

"Mmhm." North Dakota watches her take off before heading in the opposite direction.

~

Despite her pleas for peace and mercy, Kentucky defeats Minnesota in a lopsided fight. Without a weapon to defend herself, the District 3 female is easily overwhelmed by the District 6 male's strength. So much so that he doesn't bother to use his hatchet to kill her immediately. Kentucky punches and kicks her like a boxing dummy until she trips and falls backward over a log. Minnesota tries to get up, however, he pins her to the ground to prevent her from escaping.

"Can't run from me," Kentucky gloats.

"P-Please. Let me go," Minnesota whimpers. "You won't gain much from killing me."

"That's not true." He takes out the hatchet hanging off his belt. "People are watching me, betting on me to win. This ax is proof of their faith in me. If I don't step up and prove myself, I'll be losing their confidence and wasting their time."

"N-No. You can't do this." Her eyes start to water. "Please. You don't have to kill me. You can let me go instead. You've already proven you're capable of fighting."

"But if I let you go, you'll come back and attack me."

"No, I won't." She shakes her head. "I don't want to hurt people, not even you. I want to live as much as you, but I won't take another person's life. I can't allow myself to live with hands dyed in blood. Believe me, I'm willing to do anything to survive as long as it doesn't result in someone's death. I only ask you to spare me. I promise I won't attack in exchange for your mercy." She rambles on, hoping her words can move his heart.

Alas, Kentucky moves his arm instead, lifting his hatchet over his head. "Sorry," he mutters, "but I hate to look like a fool in front of the entire country."

"N-No! Please! Wait! Don't—" Minnesota screams, shrinking as the hatchet comes down hard on her. She shuts her eyes, assuming it's over for her. She waits. She anticipates the killing blow. Two seconds have passed without intense pain passing through her. Still, the District 3 female doesn't open her eyes until she peeks one open upon hearing a tired groan.

"Yeah, I'm just not feeling it." He puts the hatchet back in its sheath.

"W-Why are you...?" She blinks back tears.

"Don't take this the wrong way. I'm no softie. I have no qualms with killing someone, but..." He scratches his reddened cheek. "Honestly, it feels weird to kill a wholesome girl who refuses to punch me. I know I'm gonna be a murderer, but I don't want to be that kind of murderer." In a sudden turnaround, Kentucky spares her life on one condition. "Do as I say. Give me whatever you have."

"O-Okay. I don't have much on me, but I do have this lamb stew with rice." She reveals the container she received from an unknown sponsor before he arrived at her camp.

He moans, "It's not fried chicken, but it'll do."

"Thank you." Minnesota watches the District 6 male have his way with her food, relieved to be alive despite being under his subjugation.

~

"Is that it?!" Maryland receives clean water from an unknown sponsor, much to her disappointment. "Come on, people! Give me something useful like a spear or a sword! I'm a Career! I deserve something better than bottled water!"

"At least I don't have to share my canteen with you," Washington quips.

She huffs, "Oh, shut up. This isn't funny."

"It kinda is," says Colorado, startling the other Careers for appearing at their campsite out of nowhere.

"What are you doing here?" Washington questions, holding a trident by his side.

"Chill out, my dude." He holds up his hands in defense. "I'm not here for a fight. I'm here for a light."

"A light?" Maryland cocks her head.

"Yeah. Don't mind me." The District 2 male takes out a tin box from his jacket pocket, opening it to pull out a readymade blunt.

"Where did you get that?" She gawks at the pothead. "I recall that's not allowed in the arena."

"I didn't smuggle it if that was your assumption. I just got it from an unknown sponsor." He suspends the tip of the blunt over the campfire, allowing it to catch fire. "Whoever they are, they're a total bro for hooking me up. If they're watching, I'm ripping this one out in honor of their sacrifice." He inhales and exhales the blunt. "Bless them. Never forget the poor dude that risked their life getting this dope for me."

"Um," Washington awkwardly asks, "can I get a puff of that?"

Colorado smirks, "Sure, my dude. Knock yourself out."

"Hold on." Maryland grabs her ally's wrist, hissing close to his ear, "What are you doing? We're Careers. We're the pride of our districts."

"Our districts take pride in us murdering people, yet smoking weed isn't cool with them?" He gives her the stink eye. "Look. It has been a long day. Weed won't hurt me as much as what happened earlier, so you don't need to worry about me." He pulls his arm away from her.

"But—"

"If you want milady," Colorado interjects, "I can offer you a blunt. You look pretty stressed out."

She scoffs, "No, thank you. I'm a good Catholic girl from District 1. I do not need the Devil's lettuce to inhibit my judgment and motor skills."

"Don't bother with her," Washington convinces the District 2 Career to leave her to sulk alone. "Anyway, I'm cool with us chilling out until the fire burns out. Is that alright with you?"

"Sure, dude. It's not like I have anything else important to do. Besides, it's nice to have someone I can relate to keep me company." Colorado moves over to sit and snuggle with him by the fire, sharing a blunt with them.

~

Louisiana of District 5 climbs a tree to rest. Her legs and feet are aching terribly after running for her life all afternoon. Most likely, she has done a lot more damage to her sprained ankle. Nevertheless, she's lucky to be alive and breathing. According to her, it's all thanks to a small cloth bag worn like a necklace underneath her shirt. She takes out the lucky trinket and holds it in the palm of her right hand. Though she can't see in the darkness, she knows what it looks like in her memories.

After the Reaping of District 5, Louisiana was given some time to say her goodbyes to loved ones and the rest of the community. Among the people wishing her farewell, one was a witch doctor. Despite a history of troubles with Peacemakers, the witch doctor went out of their way to give her a tiny brown pouch called a gris-gris, explaining it would bring power and confidence as long as she kept it secure on her at all times. This led to an argument between them and the mentor for District 5 over what was inside the mysterious satchel. According to the witch doctor, the bag shouldn't be open. Otherwise, the amulet would lose its magic. The mentor worried whatever was inside would give Louisiana an unfair advantage which would then cause problems for everyone involved. In the end, Louisiana asserted she held the witch doctor in good faith, swearing the gris-gris was merely a token and nothing more.

'So far, it's working out for me.' Louisiana smirks with a twinkle in her eye. 'Though, maybe I should've asked them for a gris-gris that could bless me with good health and success. It would've saved me a lot of trouble.'

~

"Tex? Tex!" Nebraska suddenly loses sight of where she is. She tries to locate the beam of her ally's flashlight, but all she can find is darkness. Even more worrying, she hasn't received a reply after calling their name a dozen times. Nebraska slowly recalls her steps, carefully navigating around the bushes and the trees to get to where Texas is supposed to be waiting while she's relieving her bladder. "Tex, please answer me." She grasps her trident tightly. "Are you okay? Is the flashlight not working?" She picks up the click of a button behind her. "Tex—"

"HOWDY!"

"Bwaaah!" Nebraska's heart nearly explodes seeing Texas suddenly pop in front of her face. Though relieved to find her ally alive and laughing their ass off, she's unamused of the jump-scare. "Don't do that ever again," she scowls.

"Sorry, partner," she smiles unapologetically, lifting her glasses to wipe a tear from her eye. "I was getting bored, and I thought it would be funny."

"It wasn't funny in the slightest. I could've killed you."

"Naw, you wouldn't," she chuckles. "Anyway, let's keep going."

"Keep going where exactly?" Nebraska stops her ally from moving onward. "It's very late. I think we should stop, rest, and prepare for tomorrow."

"But I'm starving~"

"Don't you have canned food stored in your backpack?"

"Yeah, but it's all canned chili with beans," Texas groans. "You can stay here and rest by yourself, but I'm gonna find something edible that doesn't contain beans."

Despite her objections, Nebraska reluctantly follows Texas's lead, believing it's better to stick together than be left alone. Her fellow tribute of District 10 is strong and stubborn, but she'll eventually grow tired of wandering in the dark forest. By then, Nebraska hopes she'll give up and heed her advice. In the meantime, she continues to walk behind Texas until she notices the beam of their flashlight disappear. She stops short of bumping into her ally.

"Don't do this again," she grumbles.

"I'm not trying to be funny this time." Texas turns on the flashlight, however, she points it directly at the ground this time. "Do you see what's in front of us?" She stares straight ahead.

Nebraska looks over her ally's shoulder, narrowing her eyes at a small light with a warm tone in the distance. "Fire?"

"I think so," she mumbles in agreement. "Let's get a closer look."

"Is that wise?"

"If it's one tribute, I'm confident we can handle them," Texas snickers. "If they have food that doesn't contain beans, it's all mine for the taking."

Both District 10 females sneak closer to the source of burning orange light. They hold their breaths, stepping carefully to not make any audible sounds that may alert whoever started the fire. Whenever do make a slight noise, it's hardly heard. The chattering and singing over yonder has given them some room to breathe. However, it worries Nebraska. As they're peeking around the trees, she and Texas soon learn it isn't one tribute they have to deal with. There are four tributes—two male and two female. Among this unruly group, three are Careers.

"I don't think we can take them on," Nebraska whispers.

"I think it's possible," says Texas, not in the slightest intimidated by the group's size advantage. "Look at them. They're too busy yapping and howling to notice us this close to their camp. If things go according to plan, we'll be victorious."

"What plan are you suggesting?"

"A surprise attack, obviously. First, we target the ones with the range weapons. With your trident and my ax, we'll be able to fatally wound them at least. Once they're taken out, we focus on taking out the other two. One of them has a dinky pair of sai, so it'll be a piece of cake for either one of us to kill them." She giggles, "It's that easy."

"It's still risky," Nebraska counters. "It's us versus the four of them. They can easily overwhelm us."

"Technically, it'll be us versus the two of them if our ambush goes well."

"It doesn't matter how you spin this. There's always a risk factor in these types of situations. Anything can go wrong."

"Nothing bad will happen if we do this correctly."

"That's a big if. The odds of pulling this off are slim."

"Still, there's a chance my plan will work."

"Don't be stupid."

"You better not back out of this."

"I'll die if we go through with this."

"You have a trident. You just need to stab two people in the guts."

"That's easy for you to say. There's a big difference between practice dummies and human beings."

"Quit being a coward about this."

"There's nothing cowardly about being reasonable."

~

Leading up to now, Georgia along with Virginia, New Jersey, and Massachusetts have been acting unusually carefree. Despite their different backgrounds, they cheerfully sing songs together, behaving like close childhood friends. It's all festive and fun after a long chaotic day. Of course, they know they're not out of the woods yet. They're well aware of the uninvited company spying on them from the shadows of their surroundings.

'How long are we going to pretend to not notice them?' Georgia wonders in annoyance. 'I swear they're the loudest imbeciles on God's green earth. Even the Devil and their lackeys can hear their murderous plot from deep underground.' Regardless of her gripes, she and Virginia keep singing happily as planned.

However, Massachusetts is about done with singing like a complete dunce. "I've heard enough," he utters, refusing to ignore the menaces lurking near them. He's about to bring an arrow to the drawstring of his bow when someone places their hand on his arm. He glares at the other male in the group. "Why are you getting in my way?"

"Trust me. I know what I'm doing. Don't attack them yet." New Jersey gives him a smirk and a pat on the shoulder as he's standing up. He signals the rest of the group to cease their singing before turning to the whispering woods behind him. "Yo! Wanna join us?" His question silences the trees.

"Are you crazy?" Massachusetts hisses.

"Put down any weapons you have and join us," New Jersey continues speaking with a cordial smile. "We can fight tomorrow. For tonight, let's celebrate our first day in the arena. Sounds awesome, yeah?" He blinks his eyes at the shadows of silence. "No need to be afraid. We won't attack you. We're just happy to have more company."

"I think what we have is enough company," Massachusetts grumbles.

"We have plenty of food and water if you're hungry or thirsty," Virginia adds. "We won't force you, but I think it'll be in your best interest to join us, even if it's for a moment."

"What do you mean by that?" A voice from the forest responds with interest, much to the delight of New Jersey who lets his ally keep speaking in their favor.

"We can exchange information about what we know so far. We can trade items if you're curious about what we have. Or, we can talk purely about anything on your mind." She pauses. "Lucky for you," she speaks in a soothing yet ominous tone, "our group isn't interested in fighting. Nevertheless, we don't take kindly to being watched like a herd of deer. Don't think we're naive to your intentions." Her chilling words send down a cold sweat, unnerving even her allies. "You have two options: You can sit with us by the campfire, or you can stay far enough away to not be able to shoot an arrow at us when we sleep peacefully under the stars. Either way, I can't tolerate assassins. You have ten seconds to decide because otherwise..." She gives a nod to Massachusetts who prepares to act upon her signal.

'Damn. I didn't expect her to resort to threats.' New Jersey stifles a small chuckle. 'Oh, well. It is what it is.'

'10... 9... 8... 7...' Massachusetts readies his bow and arrow. '6... 5... 4... 3... 2...'

"We swear to a truce!" A tall girl with a blonde ponytail emerges from her hiding spot behind a pine tree. She looks behind her for a moment, pulling another girl with black hair out of hiding to face the group. "We're sorry for intruding. We appreciate your generosity if you don't mind letting us join you. Right, Tex?" Nebraska nudges her ally lightly with her elbow.

"A-Ah, yeah," Texas agrees begrudgingly. "Pardon us. We mean no harm."

Massachusetts scoffs, "Liars. We heard you two whispering about kill—"

"Enough talk about killing people, man!" New Jersey comes up behind both newcomers, putting his arms around their shoulders. "Don't worry about Masshole. I'll protect you if he tries to pull something dirty."

"I suggest they worry about you instead." He pouts.

"Nonsense!" He laughs as he's bringing the newcomers closer to the campfire. "Don't believe a word he says. He's just jealous of me for having a fan club."

"Fan club?" Nebraska quirks a brow.

"Indeed, I have a devoted following who call themselves The Jersey Devil's Cult." New Jersey offers them a couple of water bottles and a large box of beefsteak he had received from his loyal fans. "According to the note I got from one of the leaders, the club is working to save up money in the hopes of sending food and supplies my way. They also talked about shedding their blood for rituals to make me stronger as well as some suggestive stuff about what they wanted to do with my abs. Would you like to see—"

"NO!" Georgia and Massachusetts shake their heads frantically. "You don't want to see. It's very disgusting."

"Uh, okay," Nebraska mumbles.

"Thanks, but I'm fine with eating your tiny steaks." Texas proceeds to gobble down stacks of beefsteak as though she had been starving for several days.

"That's cool," New Jersey smiles. "Do whatever makes you comfortable. We can chat, sing, dance, or fuck around." 

"Hopefully, the last one isn't literal," Virginia remarks.

~

Despite a lack of drugs and alcohol for a wild party, everyone still had fun eating, chatting, and singing together. It was awkward for Nebraska who wasn't accustomed to parties with people she hardly knew. Eventually, she got comfortable with listening to Virginia who was nice enough to offer her some advice. Despite her suspicions, Texas quickly came around to enjoying their company filling her belly with beefsteak. Out of the four tributes, she liked talking to Georgia. They both came from poor districts specializing in agriculture, so they could relate to each other's struggles. While the ladies were enjoying themselves, New Jersey attempted to lure one of them for some private action, but nobody in the group was interested. Even if somebody agreed to join him for a private session elsewhere, Massachusetts warned he would literally kill the fun. Fortunately, the party continued without interruptions until it got to the point when their bodies were done for the night.

'Oh, God. Maybe I shouldn't have eaten so much...' Texas climbs a tree to rest. It won't be comfy sleeping high up in a tree. Still, she feels it's safer than sleeping on the ground. The only things she'll have to worry about are Massachusetts's arrows. She looks around her tree, spotting the District 3 male sound asleep in another tree across from her. The District 10 tribute affirms his snores before shutting her eyes. She prays nothing bad will happen while she's drifting in dreamland.

Laying next to Virginia who's fast asleep on the forest floor, Nebraska rests in a sleeping bag she borrowed from Texas. 'I don't know why. I feel sorta bad despite not asking for it. I know she insisted I take it, so I guess she isn't mad at me for dragging her along to join them. Still...' Nebraska can't blame her ally for being cautious. She has no idea what New Jersey, Virginia, Massachusetts, and Georgia are capable of. With that in mind, it's hard for her to sleep without feeling on edge.

Georgia also shares that feeling of uneasiness. The revelry has given her some ease, but it's a brief distraction that doesn't remove them from this harsh reality. Being the only tribute alive to represent District 11, the odds of her survival have become a focal point of her anxiety. She has been aware of her district's poor record in the Hunger Games ever since her name started entering the reapings. Her survival after the arena event must have been a shock for Panem. However, it's still too early to tell whether she's capable of going the distance. After her close encounter with death, she doubts she'll be able to last much longer. She thinks it's only a matter of time.

'Who am I kidding?' Georgia questions her sanity. 'I should've died in that crater. I'm not strong enough to win this on my own. I'm only alive because someone saved me.' She shakes her head in distress. 'It's only a matter of time before I become another losing tally to my district's legacy. I don't know when or how I'll die, but I can't see myself being crowned the victor. I'm—'

"Yo." New Jersey snaps his fingers in front of her face, startling her. "You good? You look like you need some beauty sleep."

"I-I'm fine. I don't feel tired yet," she stammers. "No need to be concerned about me. I'll keep watch, so you can get some rest."

"You sure?"

"Massachusetts told me to wake him whenever I feel like hitting the hay."

"Ah, I see." He slowly nods, laying back against a tree. "... What's your opinion of Masshole?" 

"Excuse me?" She gives him a weird look.

"It's just a question. Nothing offensive about it. I'm just wondering."

"Well, I guess he's reliable." She purses her lips. "He saved me from getting killed earlier, and he offered to keep a lookout for danger."

"I see," New Jersey simpers. "Don't be fooled."

"Pardon?"

"He is reliable, but he has no reason to rely on us." He looks up at Massachusetts sleeping soundly in a tree. "You know, he has a clear shot on all of us. Two kills at least if he's accurate."

"Please stop talking," Georgia scowls. "I don't appreciate you scaring me with such nonsense."

"Nonsense? Why do you think that?" He pauses. "What else did you and Masshole talk about?"

"It's none of your business."

"Was it about me?" He smirks upon seeing her eyes widen in astonishment. "Virginia told me you and Masshole were whispering while I was gathering firewood for our campfire. If so, it would be foolish of me to ignore it. Therefore—"

"Don't you dare." She glares, wielding her sai to discourage him from getting close to her. "He warned me not to trust you. He said you were dangerous."

"Dangerous? How?" New Jersey puts a hand over his mouth to suppress his laughter. "I acknowledge my status as a Career, but you can see I have nothing to use as a practical weapon. I have food and water. I have medical supplies. I can manhandle someone with my bare hands, but it's frankly not my style to beat up a pretty woman."

"Spare me your flattery."

"I'm just making my point," he excuses. "You said Masshole told you not to trust me because I was dangerous. Do you believe that?"

"I..." She hesitates to answer for reasons she can't comprehend.

"During the arena event, I gave you a respirator to protect you from breathing in the toxic air," New Jersey reminds her. "I checked you and the others for potential injuries after we escaped the crater. I volunteered to gather firewood while everyone else rested. I even shared the food and water I received from sponsors rather than keep it to myself." He laments calmly, "What have I been doing for the group? Is it not enough? Am I not reliable? Tell me the things I've done to cause you pain. I want to know why you think that way about me."

New Jersey waits and anticipates Georgia to give several reasons for her distrust in him. However, his defense proves to be too strong for her to poke holes into his story. It seems the District 11 tribute has lost her conviction. The way she shifts her eyes away from his. The way her lips tremble as she strains to form logic into a sentence. It's quite pitiful to see. There are so many questions and suspicions on her mind. The District 1 Career can see how vulnerable she was to easily take Massachusetts's words to heart.

"It's alright," he assures her in a hushed voice. "I don't blame you for thinking that way."

"You don't...?" Georgia cocks her head, slightly perplexed by his change in tone.

"You've been misled by Massachusetts," New Jersey tells her. "He's using you— No, it's not just you. He's using us."

"Why... Why do you say that?"

"Those bandages wrapped around his hands. His hands got cut up from crafting obsidian arrowheads. I helped him. I gave him medical supplies. I even lent him a hand in crafting his arrows." He shakes his head with a grimace. "Ask Virginia if you don't believe me. She was about to attack him, but I stopped her in favor of letting him join us as our ally. Looking back, there were red flags I should've seen. Had I known of his intentions, I..." He looks directly into her eyes. "Remember what he did to Oklahoma?"

She nods. "He killed him and saved my life."

He shakes his head. "That's not entirely true. He killed him, but it wasn't to save your life. He killed him because he and his ally were in the way of our escape. It just so happened to be your assailant."

"I... I guess I can see your point..." Georgia mumbles in a disheartening manner. "Regardless, why would Massachusetts warn me about you in particular? It would make sense for him to be concerned with Virginia since you said she tried to attack him. After everything you claimed to have done for him, what reason would he have to be suspicious of you?"

He shrugs. "I wish I could answer those questions. Sadly, I don't have the exact answers. I presume his prickliness around me is because I'm a popular guy with massive talent and a huge fanbase. I'm not sure if that's exactly right, but you can try asking him those questions," New Jersey chuckles. "Although, that may not be a smart thing to do."

"Why not?"

"As far as I know, Massachusetts is the only one out of the group to have killed someone, yet he has the gall to call me dangerous," he scoffs. "It's alarming how quick he is to resort to violence. I guess it's to make up for his lack of survival skills. District 3 isn't known for producing victors with physical prowess. Regardless, he has intelligence going for him. I'm certain he'll make you a target for his arrows the moment he suspects something amiss with you."

She gulps nervously. "A bit of an overreaction over some questions, don't you think?"

"He didn't hesitate to kill Oklahoma, nor did he consider sparing Texas and Nebraska," New Jersey recalls. "Seems like he'll attack anyone that gives off bad vibes. Now that things have calmed down, he has no reason to stay and tolerate us." They stare up at the District 3 tribute sleeping up high on a tree branch. "If he intends to rain arrows down on us, I'm gonna have to wake Virginia and ask her to keep watch for the second half of the night. Even if her presence dissuades him from attempting an attack during our rest, I'm sure he has another plan to take care of us."

Georgia frowns, "If you're right, what do we do?"

"What do we do, indeed?" He ponders. "What do you think, Nebraska?" He and Georgia catch a shudder from the blonde District 10 tribute.

'How did he know? Not once had I opened my eyes.' Nebraska cringes in her sleeping bag.

"I know you're awake. I can tell by the irregular way you're breathing," he speaks to her again in a low amused voice. "You don't have to answer, but you and Texas owe me and Virginia for intervening on your behalf."

"... I know what you're thinking, and I don't like it," Nebraska sighs, regretting her choices.

"Sadly, it's either him or us," says New Jersey with a sinister undertone. "If you ladies want to live, I suggest you listen carefully. Because if things go according to plan," he smirks, "we won't have to worry about Masshole ever again."

☆☆☆☆☆

•  THIS CHAPTER IS OVER 9,000 WORDS IN LENGTH! Like, I shouldn't be shocked since I have a habit of doing this whenever I don't limit myself like a shounen character wearing weighted clothing. I do feel somewhat foolish believing Day 1 and the Arena Event are gonna be the longest chapters in this story. If not for what happened in the previous chapters, this chapter may be considered boring for some readers with the lack of casualties and all. Certainly, there are sections I could've shortened. That way, this chapter wouldn't be so freaking long! But personally, this chapter has been a great opportunity for the characters to take a deep breath, relax, and flesh out their emotions. They deserve a bit of peace at least.

• For anyone wondering, the legend South Dakota told is called The Twin Heroes (or God Boys). There are various versions of the tale among the tribes of the Great Plains and parts of the Midwest. In some of them, a violent relative is the one that kills the twins' mother. Another key interpretation is how the twins are characterized. Some versions depict the "civilized" twin as being moral while the "wild" twin is depicted as being wicked. They have different personalities, but both twins are generally portrayed as benevolent heroes.

~

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