Everything in The Arena looked the same, even smelt the same, but Aimee and Stefan could feel a difference. Change was usual, but this version of The Arena had been specifically designed for Aimee. And Stefan wondered if maybe his being there with her again had something to do with the sudden shift.

They walked up the stepping stone path. The water was moving in muffled waves and the sun was muted in the skyline, but the trees were high and thin. Bits of bark cracked until they curled over like weak strips of paper; the sound broke the silence. Aimee held tightly to Stefan's arm, and that bothered her more far more than it bothered him. She let go again promptly, already doubting her readiness for what was to come. She glanced at Stefan's face, wished that she could be as fearless as he appeared to be.

"What do I have to do?" she queried, sounding much too nervous for her liking.

"I can't really explain it... but I guess you could say it's like the physical version of that simulator you were just in. In there, you can tell yourself it isn't real. In here, you're still conscious; your body experiences everything and can actually be injured." He glimpsed imperceptibly at Aimee's side, remembering what Gavin had told him.

Stefan's casual demeanour proved that it was safe to talk, even with cameras camouflaged in the area. They stepped onto the beach sand and paused.

"So, like The Hunger Games?"

Stefan looked at her docilely, "You won't have to kill anyone with a beating heart."

"But I'll have to kill life-like copies, right? This is going to mess with my head like the simulator did," she said matter-of-factly.

Stefan frowned dolefully, nodding, but barely, "What happened in there?"

"I saw a memory of Gavin and myself, then I destroyed wall-camera-machine-gun-things, and then I spoke to you. But you weren't... you." She saw the concern in his eyes. "Don't worry, I'll be fine," she whispered with the intention of sounding sincere, convincing.

Stefan squeezed her hand, "I know. Still, I won't leave your side."

For a moment, they could ignore the video cameras they knew were there, and whoever controlled them, watching, recording.

Stefan led Aimee along as he vaguely recalled spotting a 'hideout'. It just seemed like a smart idea to have a Fort Knox in case someone got hurt or they couldn't find the door. They came upon a cluster of massive rocks that created a sort of boarder between the beachfront and the marsh. Climbing over them was relatively easy. Onward was an enormous cliff – it seemed to mark the end of the beachfront – with a sand trail running to its summit. Stefan walked Aimee along the seam of the swampland that thrived on their left and the expanding cliff face. After a while, they found an opening in the cliff, a narrow cave. That was where they would hide. It was curtained with vines and reeds, which were not too difficult to manoeuvre through.

They sat on the floor like kindergarteners at story-time. It became exactly that when Aimee began to ask her eager questions.

"Is this your special hideout?" she asked what seemed like a probe into his real life. She wanted to know him better. "You look so comfortable."

He grew aware of his posture as he leaned his back against the wall, right at the mouth of the cave, peeking through its leafy teeth.

"I hid here once when I was younger," he elusively explained. "I think it's here... because I am."

"What do you mean?"

"The simulation is supposed to be unique to you, the trainee. My presence may be compromising that."

"Well, I like your presence," Aimee smiled, although it did not last. "What's wrong?" she asked, anxiety kindling her nerves as Stefan's expression turned anomalous.

"Stay back," his voice scraped the lining of his throat.

She had not heard him, even as her heart and breaths slowed nearly completely, and she crawled up to him. She watched his eyes, and then ogled though the vines, before her eyes fell upon a face still fresh in her memory, upon a man who stood no further than three meters away, smirking at them.

"Leo."

A sneer crossed his hound-like face, "Aimee! You miss me, too?"

"Stay here," she told Stefan, and placed her hands on his chest.

"What are you doing?"

"Stay here."

She pushed through the reeds, too far too fast for Stefan's reach. He still rushed out after her, scrambling on the smooth, claylike floor of the cave.

"Still defensive over the kid, I see," commented Leo. Aimee's eyes never left him, and her bravado did not leave her, she would not allow it to.

Stefan looked between them, even though his eyes were confused as to where they should look, "Aimee, I can –"

"I need to do this. Please don't stand in my way," she brashly told him, without making eye contact.

His eyebrows rose almost ad infinitum.

"Wow, okay then."

There was heartache in his tone, Aimee could hear it, but what else could she have said? He had become... a distraction? She had to train.

Leo neared Aimee leisurely, she watched him with strong expression. Her fists clenched and elevated to her chest.

"You're going to punch me?" he snickered. "I'm terrified."

Aimee dropped her fists again and confronted Leo halfway. So they stood – her nose to his chin.

"Look at you, so adorable in that uniform," he said.

Hearing that gruff voice, Stefan was annoyed, impelled to jump up and punch Leo himself, but he only imagined the scene: a fist to a face. Aimee could not be as offended by the statement; she had heard those exact words before from the fat-headed jocks at Ulysses S. Instead, she found herself skimming Leo's clothing to figure out whether he was with AIM America or not. He did not wear the scarlet-and-black getups that the others did. He wore a fitted, sleeveless black jacket and jeans that he tucked into his tan hiking boots.

"I'd give you a compliment, too," her eyes moved to his, "but then I'd have to lie."

A second ticked by when Leo gave her a smile – a heavy punch to her stomach followed. She bent over, but wordlessly, as if to persuade herself that Leo had done no pain.

"I don't wanna hurt you, Leo," she said in a hoarse voice that relaxed slowly, progressively. "And I'm just not in the mood. So how about we call it a truce and you F off?"

"Hmm... maybe your boyfriend wants to fight, huh?" he remarked. "He's the reckless type. And where's that ginger who killed Abba's men and cost Celeste and me our reward money?"

"You're not listening to me," she sighed, and reminded herself that the fact that Gavin was so not a ginger was irrelevant right then.

"What am I supposed to do with you? You're a girl," his hand hatted her head, "a scared, defenceless girl."

She slapped him, her hand moving as hastily as her courage was decreasing. Maybe she was scared, powerless. She thought this as she walked – somehow, it did not look like she was running away – back towards Stefan before Leo could do anything to her. But then the wind changed and Leo vaulted in front of her – vaulted like some high jumping panther on two legs. She gawped at him; her lungs left without air to scream as she stumbled in the same way Leo approached her. It was inborn for her to hide her face behind her arms and shut her eyes.

Silence.

Then a thud and a grunt intervened.

By the time Aimee had opened her eyes, Stefan had tackled Leo to the terrain. He sat on Leo's spine, trying to grab his arms and pin them to his back, only when he did so, the wind changed again and Leo vanished. Stefan was flat on the ground, sitting on his good leg with the other stretched before him. He punched the dark sand where the body used to be, and the dirt clung to his fists, while Aimee watched his frustration. She was close to yelling at him for saving her again, but she did not. Instead, the words 'thank you' escaped her lips, and she gave him her hand and helped him up.

They returned to where their hideout had been. Had been described best how the opening was now an impenetrable clay blockade.

"What the heck?" Aimee articulated, nudged the blockade.

"It's okay," Stefan eased his vexation by drawing in deep breaths. "We'll find somewhere else, maybe someplace with more trees."

A peculiar voice interrupted, "I have an idea."

Someone Aimee could trust – at least, in the real world. She advanced toward him, but refrained from any form of speaking. Stefan followed at his own pace.

"Hello, Gavin," he said, and smiled a lopsided smile when the figure greeted him back.

"You have an idea?" wondered Aimee.

"Ohm, yeah," he beamed, and pointed them further into the marsh, to a nearby helicopter.

"Convenient," Stefan mumbled to himself.

Gavin strode ahead of them to get their door. Once Aimee and Stefan were inside and temporarily alone, Stefan reminded her that they were in The Arena, that none of it was real. Aimee nodded and then stood up as Gavin approached; she had been in his seat. She stayed standing, even when Stefan said she could sit on his lap. She did not want to pressure his leg again. Stefan's eyes mindlessly watched the digital clock in the dashboard. Aimee's half-hour was almost over.

"What's on your mind, bud?" asked Gavin.

Stefan glanced at him out the corner of his eye, his head remained unmoving. "I'm not your bud."

Gavin had a concerned look on his face – even though he was exempt to the ability to feel concern – before he braced himself for ascension. Airborne, they joined a flock of interesting animatronic birds that were passing by. Their wings were like glistening arrases, and Aimee ogled them with chaste fascination. Gavin rambled about how all the trees were growing, even though there was rarely any precipitation over the marsh or the tree plantation.

"There wouldn't be, not in here." said Aimee, her eyes still observing the outside, with her hand against the roof for balance.

"Why not?"

Aimee did not know how to respond to that.

"You actually believe you are real," remarked Stefan – it was neither a statement nor a question.

"I am real," he replied, but to Stefan, his voice was non-existent.

The lonely cliff suddenly became an entire range, unfolding before them as they descended. One summit was particularly flat and became their destination. Its ground was strewn with rocks, and morsels of grass threatened to grow and fill the sandy gaps between them like links. Aimee would have seen the top of a mountain for the first time – one that was both natural and unnatural. She would have taken in the slightly stingy air and the clouds that almost hugged her. But all of this was ripped from her when she accepted Gavin's assistance and was pulled from the helicopter with such a gale that she tripped. Or maybe he tripped her, letting her go over the edge. Instead of showing her warmth, the clouds gave her the film reel of her life, and in between, Stefan screamed her name.

Stefan's mind seemed to explode. How could he have been so careless? Aimee's half-hour was almost over. The Arena would reset itself – trainees decided how long they would use it for, before whole surroundings dematerialised, like burning paper transforming into ash – unless someone in Central Command was monitoring The Arena. That someone could save Aimee, spawn something to break her fall. But what if that someone was not there?

But Stefan was someone. He knew that what he was about to do would either spare Aimee's life or cost him his own. The latter meant near nothing to him. He leaped for her and his fears revealed themselves in his eyes.

Were they both about to die?