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"Panem et Circenses" Bread and Circuses.

Every year since the Dark Days, which occurred 75 years prior, the Capitol hosts an event called the Hunger Games. The Games consist of a gladiatorial-style battle royal combat fought amongst twenty-four teenagers (tributes) aged 12–18, with one boy and one girl chosen by lottery from each district (except for District 13). This was known as the Reaping. The game is held to remind the citizens of the districts of their failed rebellion and the absolute power of the Capitol while simultaneously providing entertainment for the Capitol citizens. Also, every 25 years starting after the first Hunger Games, a special Games is held with a unique alteration of the rules. This is known as a Quarter Quell.

❝ Welcome back tributes! Today we gather here to celebrate our victors, inviting them to participate in one last game with us. As tradition demands, every 25 years we must host a Quarter Quell. Quells mark the anniversaries of the districts' defeat  by  the  Capitol,  and include special  celebrations. These  games are notoriously difficult, containing  twists  and  turns, surprises around  every  corner! How  exciting!  If  a  district does  not  have a living male   and / or  female  victor, a random citizen from that district will be reaped to take their place. So, without further ado, let us begin drawing the names for the fourth Quarter Quell! ❞

As the  dreaded  return of the  Quarter  Quell  approached,  victors  may  find  themselves  reliving  the horrors  of their last game. They must once again fight  to  survive  for  the  mere  amusement of the capitol. However, there are many who  have  had  enough  and  are  looking  for  an end to these games. Whispers of a rebellion have been sweeping through  the  districts.  Will  the  victors  light  the  spark  it  takes  to  end  the games, or will the games get the best of  these  men  and  women,  and  lead  them  towards  another  battle  of  survival  until one remains?

tributes
females: 6, 2, 1, 4, 7, 12 (reserved)
males: 4, 7, 2, 1

𝒮𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝐸𝒹𝑒𝓁𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒾𝓃
Content Warning: Makeouts, PDA, Dissociation

The rattle and shake of the train cart didn’t register as the locomotive sped faithfully towards the awning jaws of fate, the carriage nary making a move as the insidious inventions of the nation’s capital far outstripped anything that the districts could ever hope to create. The interior was lavish, decked out in all manner of finery from opulent oak tables imported from prized farms and crafted bespoke by famed craftsmen, to gaudy rugs that lined the silver floors, soft to the touch yet scratchy as the yarn gouged at the soft layers of skin covering one’s feet. Outside the sky zipped past, blurs of blue, green, and red shifting into one unrecognizable mass that carried the passengers within further and further away from coastal blue shores and hearty cheers.

Across from him, nestled into the humming metal of the wall above the ornately carved doorway, was a television. The leek and compact showcase of District 3′s impeccable electronic craftmanship replayed what seemed to be a movie that quickly lost its viewer's interest with its slow pacing and repetitive script. Ah, but right here, there was a deviation from the monotone drone, a slender arm shooting up from the rows of heads, the owner’s form exuding perfection from the pulled back shoulders to the elegant curve of the back, carefully primed lips enunciating words so clearly that anything that came out would by crystalline and worth its weight. When it reached the listener’s ears, however, it was warped and muddied by the ton of water which drowned their mind, yet the croon of a temptress still slipped past to whisper the words: “I volunteer as tribute”

The next scene was almost comically predictable, the volunteer’s companion whipping around fury and confusion viscerally smashed over the flawless visage. Entirely kissable lips, enticing even through the distorted lens of a camera, moved yet nothing could break through the film which blanketed the audience’s ears. The petrified smile carved over the unfeeling face dipped in sadness, a clench kickstarting an unbeating heart back into action. The last time he had seen those delectable lips in person, they had been pressed against his, a final desperate declaration of devotion and love.

“Don’t forget your promise.” He had murmured as they briefly separated for a gasp of air before he drowned himself in the fountain of assurance once more, hands chaffing against fistfuls of crumped fabric as if that would remove the thin barriers between them.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Came the resulting gasp, drawn out of kiss swollen lips as a mark was nibbled onto sun-tanned skin, a tongue laving across the freckles which dotted his flushed skin. “I’ll take care of them, but you better come back too. We aren’t a family without you.”

A breathless laugh was shared, breaking the bubble of love and affection that had blanketed the couple and sent them to their own world of their making, where tragedy was but a bygone thought and nothing existed outside of each other. Reality didn’t wait for anyone however and with a final peck to a nose sculpted by the gods themselves, they pulled away. There they separated as the audience was led to his seat as his lover watched, beautiful cerulean hues flooded with love and grief, other emotions spilling over and running down beautifully contoured cheeks. Oh, how he wished to kiss them away but there was no time for that as fate pulled her audience by the hand and pushed him on her personal train which sped towards the ending to his pitiful story.

With a drawn-out groan, Sorrento stretched out languidly from the chair he had draped himself on, yawning as he surveyed the nearly empty cart. Ah, that wouldn’t do, the tribute tutted as he let his slender legs glide over the coarse rug, his bare feet itching under the unfamiliar material and sauntered towards the opulent door the monotone movie blaring on repeat above him. Gripping the handle of the door, the clink of a heavy yet loving promise wrapped around his finger rubbing against his bare skin bringing him out of his revelry as he let out a breath. The faster he worked to wrap everyone around his pinky, the faster he could go home.

---

Oh the memories... They came flooding back like a waterfall, the train ride was nearly identical to the one he had experienced at the young age of 16. Amonei had to go to hell and back once again, just for entertainment. He usually wouldn’t be too worried about it, but he had recently noticed his strength had been sapped, like his abilities had been suppressed. Would he even manage to win the games this time? Who was he kidding... His heart wasn’t set on winning anymore, what was there to live for. He had no family to go back to, he had no goals, and no one seemed to care about him anyways. Why was he put through all of this if someone cared about him? He stopped himself before he could make anymore depressing thoughts, he didn’t want to randomly slip up on the train of all places. His semi-lengthy snow colored hair draped over his eyes as he bent over in his seat, his arms resting on his leg and his hands clamped together. He had briefly saw outside of the train window, and that was enough for him.

Seitem had the weird dilemma where she wanted to be here but she also didn’t... She found it quite strange, as she didn’t think that a simple mask would affect her internally as well. Well, guess that’s the nature of the human mind. Continue acting like something and you’ll eventually fit into the act. She tried not to let it bother her as she stared out of the train window with a sad smile on her face. She honestly couldn’t remember the first time she had come here, even though it was such a major event in her life. She had become hated all over the districts due to her victory through pure luck. Even her friends had slowly turned away from her. Admittedly, that was partially her fault. She was the one who hid herself away. This time was different for her though, she had a fresh start and she could hopefully be useful for once. Maybe she should try to start a conversation with someone... It could help her get her mind off of things... She looked around, hoping to find someone that didn’t look so secluded and gloomy, but unfortunately, she couldn’t. She was left all alone once again, left to her own thoughts and the view outside of the window to help comfort her.

---

Ryan Speirs
Content warning: Blood, Language, French

Precursor

Warrior prince? Yeah, right. This idiot has no idea what he was getting into. Already, I was battered, bruised, bleeding, and essentially screwed. My opponent gritted his teeth hard, blood dripping from his knuckles. He stumbled, ever so slightly. Maybe I wasn't screwed after all. We were both the same at the moment; no better than the other's were our wounds. However, now it was up to willpower. We'd both fought like rabid dogs in this little alley, and one of us was clearly going to fall soon. To me, it was obvious who it was going to be. This bastard was running out of energy to fight back, his hits becoming softer and softer as we went on. Now, I lowered the iron defense of my forearms. He glared at me.

"Still got something left in you, huh? Too bad your princess is gonna lose her precious warrior." That had been the plague of all who met him. 'Little Prince' this, and 'Princess misses' that. I was out to end it. I grinned to myself, knowing I had won.

"Too bad mommy can't bail you out of this one, eh? She's too old to be your guardian now. You're too old to be her baby boy. But you still act like you are." I stepped forwards, bringing my fist towards his perfectly messed up face. He put his hands up to block it. My knee was my real move here, aiming for his soft, bruised belly. Contact, a cough and a spatter of blood. He stumbled back, gasping for air. He glared at me with fading eyes, his diaphragm going into a minor spasm from the impact. Then, he fell.

"I win, you jackass. Learned your lesson now?" He groaned, answering the rhetorical question.

"No? Shame." I stepped forwards, stopping a foot from him. Then, I brought my foot back, swinging my leg so that my toe met his nose. The sickening crack of a break echoed through the streets around us. He was still breathing, unfortunately. He still lived, despite the torture I'd subjected him to. He was unconscious, though. That was a plus. He couldn't cry out for help for a few hours. I shoved my hands into my pockets, the denim soaking up a bit of blood from my skin. Stepping to the entry to the alley, I glanced back. The sound of saliva meeting stone echoed for a moment.

"I win."



I wished I was back there, suddenly. It had been a few short years. I hadn't been thinking about who would be getting called up in the Reaping. I hadn't cared. Now, I sat in a train again, carefully dragging a wet cloth over my stained face. Red was the color of the aforementioned cloth, soaked with blood of two foes. One foe, one Champion. That was who I was. I was Champion. I ruled the alleyways and slim streets, the king of vengeance. My name was known in my district, and for a damn good reason. Because I was who they feared. Not the Capitol, not the Peacemakers. Me. Ryan Speirs, the vengeful one. And just before the terrifying news that Victors would be chosen again, another man had been beaten down. He lay in the same alleyway, gasping for air.

Kayda Oaks
Content warning: Violence and hints of depression

Blood, there was so much blood. The thick substance was caked on her knuckles and it dripped from her fingertips. It was splattered everywhere. On her shirt, her pants, even on her face. That wasn't even the worse part, the worse part was when she looked down, finding the source of the blood. She gasps, falling onto her butt and shuffling away from the body. Tears streamed down her face. "Not again, please, not again!" She whimpers. She tries to look away, but everywhere she turned, she found another body. She shuts her eyes, trying to shut them out, but something strikes her face. She gasps again, opening her eyes to see the zombified bodies attacking her. "No!" She screams as she tries to wiggle out of their grip. They drag her to her old house, ignoring Kayda's desperate calls for help. They shove her inside, and she is met with a horrifying sight. Alice, Felix, Charles, and her sister- Margo were laying on the floor- dead. With a choked cry Kayda turns away. "Please let me go" she whispers. This had to be a nightmare... she wanted nothing more than to wake up.
"Welcome back" A voice hisses. It was her parents. She swings around, her terror fueling her. She dodges a punch and returns it. But her punch, usually a KO move, does nothing. Just like that one day... She tries to fight them. She was stronger now, and she had fighting experience. But she was still just as powerless as the first day she fought them. The Careers join them, the nine attackers quickly overwhelming her. She screams out in shock and terror, finding that she was unable to escape. Undead nails tear at her flesh as they furiously try to tear away her life force, one scratch at a time.

Kayda finally wakes up. She is clenching her sheets so hard that her knuckles have turned white. Her breathing was ragged, almost as if she actually just finished fighting them. Her throat was raw from her cries. Tears slip down her cheeks as she stares up at the ceiling. It had been a year since she had this dream. Why was it back so suddenly? Kayda was desperate to escape her suddenly tiny room. So she changed into shorts and a T-shirt, then races outside. She purposely runs into the wind to dry her tears. Why now? Why did this dream have to return? Pure agony, that's all that she felt. There was only one-way Kayda knew how to deal with this- work out. She would push her body to her limit and she would welcome the pain that follows. It was far better than this. Her day already started terribly, there was no way it could get any worse...

But it did, this year, victors from every district were being chosen. Kayda internally screams. She imagines herself slamming her fists into the floor, and tearing her vocal cords apart as she undergoes a mental breakdown. Please... I can't do this again Kayda thinks to herself desperately. But her silent begging wouldn't change the outcome. She would have to be strong again. She simply just stares into space, her whole demeanor calm and unafraid. Nobody would guess that Kayda was quite literally dying inside.

Everything is a blur to Kayda. She seemed to be moving on auto pilot until now. She is now on the train and she has never felt more alone. Her hands shake slightly, so she clenches her fists together. Nobody has to know that she is terrified. Nobody has to know that everytime she shuts her eyes, she sees them! Brutally slaughtering her teammates before turning the knife on her. Just breath she reminds herself. This year she wouldn't get close with anyone. Nobody she loved was going to die. She had nobody to love, which meant she had nobody to lose. She can't help but glance at the Careers, her gaze steely cold as she eyes them up. She can practically see them turning on her right now. Who would be the one holding the knife this time? She wasn't going to find out, because she wasn't going to trust them!

Amonei could feel ice cold eyes glaring at him, the intent to kill and destroy burned through two holes in his body like a focused ray of sunlight. Those eyes belonged to him once, everywhere he looked he could see the damage the glare had caused, the effect it had on people. Those eyes also blinded him from compassion, from emotion. He was really just an empty puppet, a puppet for the blood thirsty. He managed to suppress a cough, one that left a small taste of blood behind. He had tasted it far too much to be able to differentiate it between a tangy juice. Even with all this thinking, all the covered emotions he knew he had, he still couldn’t find sympathy for anyone here. He still couldn’t find a care in the world. No matter how much the younger self begged him to even regret feeling like this, he couldn’t. He couldn’t even say sorry for not being able to. He adverted his eyes from the floor to the ice cold stare that had started his thinking yet again. It seemed to be a woman younger than him, a deep layer of hatred was visible on her face. Was it because he was a career? Not like he could help it... The girl didn’t give him a reason to stop moping around anyways, so he looked back to his hands and sat there in silence.

”Please.... Stop! I can’t do this any longer! Why do you do this to me!” The weak echo of this plea did nothing to stop the one it was directed at. A bruised, beaten, scarred, and frail young boy stood, tied to a tree and facing 3 older figures in front of him. 2 were adults, the other was a teen. Each of them had some sort of rod in their hands, and with every word they swung said rod at the boy. Their faces showed no remorse as the beating continued, and the screams of the boy grew more and more desperate. “I did nothing to you! W-why... Why do you have to go this! I can’t survive like this...” the last sentence was quieter than the rest before dead silence arrived. The boy tied to the tree had fell unconscious, the amount of wounds and marks on him where beyond imaginable. Tears were still sticking to the destroyed face of the boy while pure hatred stuck to the 3 others. It was true, the boy did nothing wrong, but for some unknown reason they did what they did.

The boy was now 16, a day of nonstop work, training, and torture lead up to the reaping. The boy had made his decision, he was either going to die to the ones that were supposed to love him, or he was going to die on the field. He wouldn’t die such a cruel death back at home, so the only other option was to die another cruel way. “I volunteer as a tribute!” At the reaping he immediately volunteered, but was heavily pitied and asked to reconsider due to his figure. His skin was almost completely pale due to all the scars, and even through the constant training and work, he still looked very frail. His bones looked like they could break at a single touch and his skin was as thin as paper. He went anyways and the games begun. Long ago he already told himself he wasn’t going to do anything. He was going to die by someone else’s hand or through a lack of resources. He would even let the other survivor kill him if they were the only 2 left.

Day 1, only 1 person was killed at the start nearly everyone ran away and the 3 that ran to the center had a quarrel. 2 survived and 1 died. The boy ran as fast as he could to the woods, hoping no one followed him. The rest of the day was everyone searching for supplies. Day 2-4 wasn’t very eventful, other than 3 others dying in that time frame and the boy making a friend. He had ran into another person who seemed about the same age has him. “I-I’m not going to do anything... I’m Amonei...” the boy said cautiously, hoping the other one didn’t attack. They let out a relieved sigh and laughed. “Oh thank goodness! I was scared out of my mind that I would get killed out here or something... I’m Levion by the way, nice to meet you. District 1!” He said with a smile, walking towards the boy. As he got closer his eyes widened. “Good grief... what the hell happened to you?” The boy lowered his head and sighed. “Don’t ask...” his tone was almost threatening, just like the tone the boy’s family used to him. After the exchange the two set up camp and shared supplies. Levion had volunteered to go and get more supplies and such, and told Amonei to stay and guard camp. He wasn’t too happy about it, but agreed and stayed. He began to inspect all the weapons they had, and before realizing it, he wondered how they would be able to use them to kill the others. He had completely forgotten his vow. Without making a sound, Levion returned and greeted himself with a cheerful “I’m baaaack!” The suddenness of it and his thoughts at the time led him to act on impulse, quickly rising from his sitting position and lunging at his friend, the knife making contact with the skin then digging deeper until the head was cut clean off. A few moments passed and the realization struck him. “No... no no no no no...” a wail had left his mouth and rung throughout the forest, alerting everyone of his location. He didn’t care. He raised the bag of tools seconds later with a deadly gleam in his eye, then ended the game. The boy knew what he did was just like his family, at that point he didn’t care. He stood victorious at the end. He got his belongings, accepted the perks the capitol gave him, and returned home. His hatred filled face stuck with him on the ride, scaring away everyone around him. He would intimidate, threaten, and kill anyone that tried to stop him or talk to him about the games.

He stepped out of the vehicle at the entrance of his house, greeted by his “beloved” family. Through all the hatred, he managed to put on a fake smile. He gave them the first hug he has ever given. The boy who was tortured by them, the boy who’s spirit had been taken to hell by them, the boy who rejected them, the boy who gave them their final breaths before sending them off to the place they damned him to. A fatal stab of the knife was all it took for the two to leave this world they lived in. After that, he finally smiled. A real, genuine smile. The smile hated appearing on the face of a murderer, it hated appearing on the face of the boy filled with hate and sorrow, but it did it anyways. The smile soon disappeared along with its companion, as they both disappeared off the face of the earth for many years until now. Only one of them came back though...

𝒮𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝐸𝒹𝑒𝓁𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒾𝓃



Pushing open the door, Sorrento whistled when he spotted his fellow careers in the next carriage. "Oh my, what a dour atmosphere! Do lighten up please, these are our last days alive we should all enjoy it to our fullest. To waste it simply being suspicious of each other is such a waste" He declared brightly with a hearty clap, eyes immediately scanning who was present. Kaya was someone who was wary of careers and would be harder to lure in as his alley. It wasn't impossible, but it would require a tremendous amount of effort and time that Sorrento doubted he had time for. But if he decided to pursue that route the results would be more than worth it, having such a powerful ally. Kaya's reputation certainly preceded her, a lioness who fiercely protected the sheep that she kept hidden away from the horrors of the world. Sorrento could always appreciate someone who held family above all else.

Scheming eyes flickered over to the next person in the cart and his dancing smile slipping into something undeniably sinister for the briefest of moments before it slipped back into a cardinal and polite upturn of thin lips, hiding away how his brain ran through the many many ways he could possibly twist the man's actions to his favour. While Amonei was a wild card, untamable evil through Sorrento's whims, he could at least use his unpredictability to his advantage. It would just be a matter of understanding how Amonei worked and exploiting those to his advantage.

Sensing that the tension would not be so easily dissipated, Sorrento's smile turned placating. "Come now, I understand that we all have our differences, but shouldn't we at least celebrate our lives before we are thrown into the same song and dance once more. Enjoy what you have, since you don't know when you'll lose them, right?" He elaborated, silken voice coaxing some of the careers to look his way, contemplating among themselves before leaving to a different carrage. Ah, so his little tricks still worked even for trained killers, hm? That was very good to know

---

Saitem was slightly relieved that someone had comes to lighten up the mood, but as soon as she realized what this guy was, she regretted it. Even through his charm, the way that he spoke, all of the things that made him irresistible, she could tell that he was trouble. She situation immediately got awkward and frightening to her, most likely due to knowing his power but also being slightly... entrapped in it. She wasn’t exactly the person to ever be enticed by another, but somehow this guy managed to barely do it. She gave a frown, showing her displeasure of her own thoughts and the man’s appearance. In order to try and steer her attention away from all of this nonsense, she continued to look out the window to see the different shades of green fly by like a blur. Different sizes, different colors, different everything, but it all seemingly repeated the same pattern. She couldn’t tell one area a few seconds ago from the area she was looking at now. It made her sad, knowing that such a beautiful thing can be so... repetitive... Just like the man who entered the room... Using the same tactics to get your way, even though it’s slightly different every time... What’s the point? Where’s the unique part about it? It was all just a sad cycle, a sad loop, something that kept going and going and going, a little different every time. Might grow more evolved as time flies by, but it’s still the same in a way...

Amonei paid no attention to the newcomer, as we was stuck in his own thoughts as well. His voice pissed him off already, even when he barely heard any of it. He kept his annoyance and every other thought to himself and continued to stare at the floor like he was doing before.

---

---

Kallo Hadmer

District 1

CW: Some suicidal musings

---

He hadn't said much when the slip of paper with the name "Kallo Hadmer" was pulled, a sharp contrast to his first time as a tribute when he made sure to make confident declarations of bringing pride to his District whenever given the chance. But that time had been different and seemed a lifetime ago. For one, he had volunteered as was expected and, well, that life hadn't been grounded in reality.

This life?

Kallo was sat in a train headed for his inevitable death with his head down. Hunched as he sat with his forearms braced against his knees, he had his left hand clasped in his right, tracing the nail of his thumb up and down his left palm.

Up and down.

Up and down.

Up and down.

The repetitive motion and sensation grounding him to reality as his mind attempted to wander. Namely, to his inevitable death. Because it was inevitable. The two outcomes were the same as before, either he'd die or he'd win, and he didn't think he could win this time around. Not because of the competition, even though they're undoubtedly more formidable than the last, but because he just... couldn't. He had trouble keeping his head straight in training matches against real people and any hesitation would be ruthlessly exploited when it wasn't just training. Though even if he could have any chance of winning, he didn't want it. Not anymore.

So he was going to die.

Maybe he would just blow himself to kingdom come before the horn went off and the bloodbath commenced, at least that'd be-

His train of thought was conveniently halted with a small jolt as a whistle pierced through any other chatter that might've been present and Kallo had tuned out. The interruption stilled his fingernail seesaw for only a moment before he started again, not moving his head as his eyes slid up to search for the whistler as he spoke.

And boy did the guy speak.

Kallo didn't know where the young man got his upbeat attitude from or if it was genuine, but it definitely did nothing to cheer him up. Shifting his eyes back down to stare at his hands, Kallo pressed his nail hard into the center of his palm. What is there to celebrate? What does he have? Other than a life that was never really his to begin with. Not much to lose there so, in a way, he was fortunate compared to a lot of the others. No agonizing over friends and family left behind, one of his greatest assets by design.

But other people had things. His female counterpart, Lakshmi, being a part of "other people."

Kallo lessened the pressure on his poor palm as he finally lifted his head up a bit, in a bid to glance at his appointed partner in death. He didn't really know her that well since she was tossed into the Hunger Games several years after him and he never had an interest in socializing with his fellow victors. What he had gathered of her was that she seemed like a decent enough person. Or as decent as a victor could be.

He could help her win and that would help him as well. That would be a better path than his other two options, right? It had to be. Then his death would mean at least something even though his life hadn't. Relaxing his posture, Kallo released his palm from its plight as he merely rested his hand in his grasp now. His mind made, he let out a small puff of air accompanied by a faint snicker.

It'd also be his penance for Tayla.

---

˜”*°•.˜”*°• Faye Avalon Ischyros •°*”˜.•°*”˜

Faye thought she had seen it all. She had been in the arena twice before, once as tribute and once as mentor, she had spent years in the capitol, being bought and sold over and over again. But this? No, this was new. Poor Moriah, she only just won and now she has to deal with this. She was with the other careers, but she wasn't happy. "Hello, Sorrento." she mutters before going silent again. The scowl on her face deepens as he talks more. She spots Kayda a little farther down. "She looks more sane then most people, I think I'll go talk to her." she thinks. "Oh she's the one that hates careers.... I remember those games." she whispers to herself, and shudders. "Whatever. I still don't want to be near the rest of the careers right now." she thinks. She slowly stands up and walks down to where Kayda is, and sits down next to her. "You're Kayda Oak aren't you?" she asks, observing the girl. Now she remembered. "98 right? You're the one that killed multiple careers, after they attacked your campsite." she leaves out the part about them killing her allies. "I don't think I've met you before, but it is an honor to meet you now, Karma." she says, sounding genuine. She ran through a list of facts inside her head. "7 credited kills." she thinks.

---

Kayda had stayed quiet during Sorrento's ramblings. But her jaw tightens up when she listens to his words. She allowed herself to miss the fact that he was trying to ease the tension, rather, she perceived his words as a personal attack. Her own bias clouding her judgment. How could one relax in a situation like this? They were being hauled off to the Capitol to be slaughtered like sheep, and the butchers were everyone who wasn't themselves. She had hoped that this would be over, that she would be done with the Games. All she wanted to do was shut herself away from the world. She was a curse that brought death upon all she loved. But she was back, and far too early. Feeling a heavy gaze upon her, she tenses up, but she doesn't bother returning the gaze. The next thing she hears is footsteps, which suddenly seem inhumanly loud. That's when it dawns on Kayda that she was terrified...again. She takes a few calming deep breaths, her nerves calming down just in time- because to her horror, a career had just sat down next to her.

Her face was mostly unreadable as she silently listens to her. But there is the smallest flicker of sadness on her face when she mentions her Capitol given nickname: Karma. Her nickname was a constant reminder of what she had been through and what she did. "You did your homework" Kayda replies suspiciously. She suddenly kicks herself for not doing the same. She was in the dark, she had no idea who her enemies were, but some may know who she was. That was an advantage in itself. There was only one way she could get ahead. Unfortunately, it meant doing the one thing she didn't want to do. She would have to talk to this girl. She could already feel her walls being built up. Fort Oak is up and running! "I'm sorry, I don't know who are you are... who are you?" she replies. She had honestly tried to sound sincere, but it comes out sounding confronting.

"I was a mentor in your games. I didn't need to do my homework." she says with a small smile. "My name is Faye. You may or may not have heard of me. Preferably not." she says. "Or the angel of strength. Or the angel of Avalon. Or the angel of power." she shrugs. "I have no idea what most people call me nowadays." she says. She catches the flicker of sadness on Kayda's face. "Hmmm, you okay?" she asks. "She looks slightly scared. And nervous. And like she doesn't want to be here." she thinks. "But it looks like Sorrento's words didn't convince her at all. That's impressive." she murmurs quietly.

---

For a small moment, Kayda allows herself to feel hopeful. Maybe she could trust Faye? She seemed sincere enough. Kayda also had to remind herself that Faye wasn't directly involved in her Games. Sure, she probably gave them a few tips on how to win the Games, but it's not like she ordered the Careers to do what they did. But she didn't want to trust her only for her to be let down. "Faye huh? It's nice to meet you." She is tempted to ask Faye how she got her nickname, if she knew that, then she could possibly get in her head. But she didn't want to push her, didn't want to risk poking a sleeping bear. Fortunately, Faye saves her by changing the subject slightly. "Hmmm, you okay?" Has she ever been okay? Short answer no, long answer... Well, she didn't want to get into that again. She has been pitying herself all day and it hasn't lead her anywhere. She would have plenty of time to feel sorry for herself after the Games. "I'm fine" Kayda lies. Her gaze sharpens when she asks, "do you know any of the other tributes? Would you be able to tell me about them?" Information was power and she would wring Faye dry of everything she knew.

CW: Brief language
Ryan drug the red cloth across another patch of blood, sneering as it only left more blood behind. Standing up slowly, he balled the cloth up in his fist. Then, with a step and a heave, he hurled the bloody scrap at a nearby Peacekeeper, starting to shout at the poor guard. "Damn you, get me another one! That one's wasted! Go! Go get it! What the hell is wrong with you! Go!" He had been steadily approaching the Peacemaker as they fumbled to grasp the red washcloth. Ryan grinned to himself as the guard reached for a taser, his voice becoming low and dangerous. "Do it. I dare you. Electrocute me. See what happens." He took another step forwards. "I dare you. You know who I am, right? You know what I can do? I can confirm that those don't do much. So, you still wanna try that taser?" The guard stayed silent. "Then go, god damn you! Go get another cloth! It's not that f----ing hard! For christ's sake, go get one!" The guard technically didn't deserve the outbreak of rage. Ryan thought they did. He knew they did. They were one of the Capitol's dogs. He wasn't. Ryan was the Vengeful One, the only thing they feared. He had iron skin and titanium bones, his spirit even stronger than those. In his mind, the Peacekeepers were the Capitol saying "I'm a coward." Ryan wanted to fight the Capitol one on one, then watch as it begged for mercy. He hungered for blood, but not of these Tributes that had been selected to go through hell again. Not all of them, at least. A few careers could choke on their blood before he got to the Capitol. Karma could be an issue.. She's stronger than me, easily. I saw her get on this train, which means she's fighting again. Ryan chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, thinking. Karma and Vengeance, two sides of a coin. We're not so different, except that... She's offense, I'm defense. We're opposites, but what if..? He lost his train of thought as a cautious Peacekeeper stepped back in, holding a white cloth in one hand.

"I know virtually everyone. But information is power, is it not?" she smiles. Faye looks closer at Kayda. "You don't trust me do you?" she asks. "Smart, not to let your guard down." she comments. "I suppose the stories are true, yes? You despise the careers as much as I despise water." she refers to her iconic hatred of water. "I suppose we are quite hate-able." she says with another shrug. "Honestly, I hate quite a few of them myself." she scrunches up her face, thinking of the careers she killed in her games.

---

So she was smarter than Kayda had thought. That wasn't surprising, most Victors were. Still, it was a bit irritating that Faye was unwilling to give up this information. But she wouldn't push it any further, that wasn't going to make Faye talk. "Is it that obvious?" Kayda asks, referring to Kayda not trusting her. "Can you blame me?" Kayda was tempted to ask, but she decided not to. "How can you possibly hate Careers?" Kayda asks sarcastically, but it would be difficult to hear her words due to some sudden shouting. Her eyes land on a blonde boy, who was busy yelling at a Peacemaker. She didn't know who he was, but she recognized that he wasn't a Career. A good sign, but still, she'd rather avoid him, but that would be difficult to do. She admired how he was unafraid to talk down to Peacemakers. Did he hold that same anger for the Capitol? She hoped so.

"I suppose you don't know the story of my games." Faye says. "Kind of refreshing actually. To meet someone who hates me not because I killed all of them." she says, bitterly. "Every career died at my hands. And that's not exactly the kind of thing that makes your district love you." her scowl deepens. She decides to tell her story. "I don't regret killing who I did. It made an impression on people I suppose. And that's how I got my name actually. 'Avalon' means strength." she says with a long sigh. "They deserved to die." she says dangerously, but quietly.

---

Sympathy fills Kayda's features as she listens to Faye. "It appears that I may have misjudged you. We are two very different people who have the same story." She meets Faye's eyes, deciding to ask her the one thing she wished others would've asked her. "How do you get through with it? How do you live life knowing what you have done, what you have seen, and deal with being a disgrace to your district on top of all that?"

Ryan gritted his teeth, pulling the now pink rag across his right arm. A long scratch went from wrist to elbow, likely from a knife or unexpected edge. After a moment, he pulled the rag away, examining his arms. "All clean, good." Taking the cloth in both hands, he stretched it tight, then flicked his wrist. Letting go of one end, he smiled at the washcloth made a sharp sound against the air. Turning to the Peacekeeper he'd yelled at a moment ago, he grinned. His eyes twinkled as he swung his new whip. "Go on, take the damned cloth! Get out of here! Go!" He whipped the Peacekeeper one last time, then threw the cloth. Turning away, Ryan grinned. He was going to sit down and complain about the train ride. That's what he was going to do.


Until he felt a jolt of electricity spike through his back, shooting towards his head and dropping to his feet. A normal Tribute would have collapsed. Ryan turned slowly, shaking a bit as his muscles spasmed against the electricity. After a moment, the electricity stopped. A black spot was now visible at the bottom of Ryan's shirt, a burn mark where the taser had made contact. Ryan straightened up, popping his neck and back. His eyes glinted in the light, full of fury. His face had gone from a cocky grin to a dangerous neutral, eyes fixed on the Peacekeeper. "Do you have a death wish?" His voice was a harsh hiss, slicing through the air.