Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Techno sat up abruptly from the bed. It was very uncomfortable and left his back aching for at least an hour afterwards. He groaned as he stood up, taking steps through the rickety house. It belonged to his parents but had been worn down in their absence. Before stopping at the kitchen, he walks by the bedroom door his younger brother had painted with yellow flowers. He knocked loudly, opening the door when he hears a groan from within. Techno smiles at the sight of his dishevelled brother. His golden hair, which desperately needs a trim, is mussed in his face. Tommy looked a lot like their mother, inheriting her pale, freckled skin and  bright blue eyes. 

“Come on, Theseus, we’re going to be late.” That's a lie, they’re actually ahead of schedule, but Tommy’s distant cursing draws a laugh out of Techno. He trudges into the kitchen and grabs two slices of burnt bread the old baker had kindly given Tommy the day before. He grabs an apple that his brother had snuck from the orchard and cuts it in half before setting the two plates on the table. He sits down with a grunt and waits for his brother to come down before starting. Tommy hobbles in yawning and looks at the clock on top of the bookshelf before turning to Techno with a look of betrayal when he realises the time. 

“Fuck you, bitch.” He mutters before focusing on his breakfast and taking a bite of bread. Techno can tell he stayed up last night worrying about today's reaping. It's his third year of his name being in the reaping bowl. District 11 has strong men and women working on farms and orchards, but it’s not it's not often the underfed and overworked district has a winner. The District’s last winner was 15 years ago, when then 17-year-old Philza Craft won. 

“You’ll be fine, Theseus.” Techno grabs his brother’s wrist from across the table. 

“Yeah, I know Tech.” Tommy reassures Techno and himself. “Can you braid this bit of hair?” Tommy asks, grabbing a section in the middle of his hair. Techno smiles and nods before taking both plates, walking them to the sink, and leaving them for later. 

“Get dressed, I’ll do your hair in a minute.” Techno says, as Tommy disappears down the hall. In the  bathroom he stops in front of the mirror and begins to carefully tie his long brown hair back. His rough hands, calloused from working on the potato farms all day, work elegantly as he wraps a golden string through the hair tie. It’s become a tradition that for each reaping they braid a string in their hair. Techno wears a golden one for Tommy’s golden hair. Tommy has a brown string braided to represent Techno’s. 

Tommy knocks on the door, “Come in.” Techno mumbles out as he finishes his plait. Tommy opens the door dressed in his pale red tunic with three-quarter khaki pants. Techno picks up and places the stool in front of him before tapping it. Tommy hops onto the stool, zoning out on Techno’s hands working the brown string into a rear section of his hair. 

Once he finishes, Tommy analyses the braid in the mirror before smiling brightly and turning to hug Techno.

“Thank you, big man! Now let's go, I want to be able to find Purp.” He grabs Techno’s wrist and drags him out of the bathroom. Techno groans sighs fondly? and rolls his eyes as he detaches Tommy’s hand from his wrist. Tommy sits by the door, puts his shoes on, and waits for Techno to lock the house. Techno moves methodically around the house, pulling shutters closed and locking them each. He finally finishes up and meets Tommy at the front door, slipping his shoes on before grabbing the keys, walking out the door and locking it behind them. He faces the green door with Tommy’s hand-painted yellow flowers. Taking a deep breath, he turns to Tommy and gestures for him to keep walking. 

On their way, Tommy talks animatedly about the cow, Duffle, who he had been taking care of not far from the potato farm Techno worked on. Once they reach the muddy main road, Tommy spots his friend Purpled, a blonde-headed boy wearing a muted purple tunic in the crowd. He hurries through the crowd a bit faster, Techno speeding up to follow. When Tommy taps his friend on the back, the boy whips around, after noticing its Tommy his face softens and they continue to trek through the muddy roads. When they reach the check-in, they line up in their respective lines. Techno watches Tommy wince as his finger is pricked – not quite used to the pain yet. Techno is next, and as he is identified, he watches Tommy walk with Purpled to the designated area closer to the front of the town square. Techno stands near the back since it’s his second to last year. 

It’s an awkward five minutes of silence until the district’s escort, Kristin Rosasles, walks out in a long, flowy gown of dark purple. The glitter on her face sparkled under the stage lights. “Hello, Hello everyone!” The crowd is silent. She pauses before starting again. “Happy Hunger Games!” She is again met with silence, but smiles: “Well, the time has come for us to select our courageous young men and women to represent District 11 in the 74th Annual Hunger Games.” She moves to the glass bowl in the middle of the stage, twirling her hands elegantly before pulling out a name from the bowl. She unfolds it, and Technoblade can feel a rush of anxiety hit him like a train.

“Purpled Grayson.”

The boy Tommy had been friends with glances around, panicked and scared. Techno watches as Kristin’s smile slips. She sees how young the boy is. The boy turns to hug Tommy who has a broken and distraught look on his young face, and Techno acts on pure instinct.

“I Volunteer!” 

The words slip out of his mouth, and he watches as everyone whips their head around to look at him. He doesn't register what he’s done as he walks out from the crowd. He doesn’t when he looks at his younger brother, who doesn’t know how to feel. He doesn’t register it until he’s standing on that stage next to Kristin Rosasles. He stands there looking at the ground, refusing to look up and let everyone see his tears. He can see Kristin moving to pick a new name from the bowl, and Techno doesn’t know who to want to have alongside him. An enemy or a friend?

“Thomas Innes.”

The name is a blade to Techno’s heart. His head whips back up, and he makes eye contact with his terrified brother. Tommy shuffles forward slowly, until a guard harshly nudges him from behind. He takes his place on Kristin's other side. The blade in Techno’s heart is twisted when he quickly glances over at his brother who is sniffling – trying to hold back tears. 

Kristin sucks in a breath. “Well, there we have it: District 11’s tributes, Technoblade and Thomas Innes.” She doesn’t sound as excited as she was when she first walked out, and when Techno looks at Philza up and down, his eyes are caught on his white-knuckled grip.

Fuck.

___________

Techno sat in the room alone. He had no family except Tommy, who he wasn’t allowed to see until they arrived at the train station. Techno has never really had silence like this before. Usually, something accompanies the silence: the sound of potatoes being ripped from the ground, the chirps of the Capital Crows or the sound of his little brother. Tommy was talking to Purpled, but Techno never had friends like Tommy had. His brother had always been the more social between the two. By the time Tommy was six, he had managed to charm at least half of the ladies at the pit. 

Techno is ripped from his thoughts by the wooden door creaking open. Philza Craft walks through the door with a smile that rivals Tommy’s. The silence continues as Philza takes his spot in a seat next to Techno. “Are you scared?” The older man asks. 

“Only for Tommy.” Techno smoothly replies.

Philza turns to look at him. " Are you expecting anyone?” Techno drops his gaze to his feet and shakes his head. It’s silent for a while again. “I’ll try my hardest to make sure he wins,” Philza assures him, but Techno hears doubt in the man's voice. 

Still, like a child, Techno asks, “you promise?” 

Philza pauses, “I stopped making promises a while ago, mate.”

Techno clears his throat, “right.” 

Philza was brutal during his games; he had heard the ladies at the pit talk about it for months after. He heard how he killed everyone he came across in terrifying ways. It wasn't until he met a twelve-year-old from District 4 that he stopped his barbaric behaviour. He had promised the boy that he would get him home, but in the end, the boy was bitten by a creature that made the boy turn insane. Philza was forced to kill him; he had stabbed a sword straight into the younger boy's stomach and cradled him for an hour afterwards.

“They call you the Angel of Death. They say people thank you when you kill them.”

“Yeah, I'm not proud of that.” Phil shifts from one foot to another nervously.  

“How often do you think about that kid?” Techno breaks the silence. 

“Every single day.” 

Peacekeepers throw the door open. " Let's go, " one of them says harshly. Techno walks out of the room, Philza following closely behind him. Techno sees Tommy standing facing the glass doors that Purpled has obviously used to exit. The boy's face is red, puffy, and shattered. “Tommy,” Techno grunts out. Tommy moves his body slowly, his eyes glued to the floor. Techno watches a teardrop on the perfect flooring. Techno rushes forward and hugs his brother tightly. 

“I hate you.” Tommy grits out as he tightly wraps his arm around Techno. 

“That's fine.”

Chapter Text

The train shuddered as it sped through passing dry landscapes. The Capital train was the most luxurious thing Tommy had ever seen. Pristine and modern and in Tommy's honest opinion? Too formal. Two people dressed in blood-red jumpsuits stalked the corner of the carriage, white masks fitted to their faces.. After trying to communicate with them, Kristin told Tommy that they were servants to the Capital and that their masks prohibited them from speaking. 

Tommy refused to talk to Techno. He had sacrificed himself and volunteered for Tommy's best friend. Then Tommy’s name was called. 

Tommy sat next to Phil on the opposite side of the table. A large assortment of foods was arranged for them, but Tommy had only been eating the bread.. 

“Tommy,” Techno spoke loudly enough to pull him from his thoughts. 

Tommy glared at him over his plate of bread. 

Techno rolled his eyes. “Eat something other than bread.” 

Tommy reached over Phil to drop another loaf of bread on his plate. Techno scoffed, turning back to Phil. They discuss the games, but Tommy pays no mind and explores the other food options. Tommy picks up a weird wrinkled fruit and inspects it, squinting as he envisions seven different ways to try and eat it. Kristin clears her throat quietly enough that only Tommy notices. She plucks the fruit from his hand and places it on her plate, cutting it in half and placing one-half onto his plate again. He stares at the bright yellow pulp and black seeds inside. When he looks up at her, she points to a small spoon next to his plate before taking her own and politely scooping the pulp into her mouth. Tommy follows and eats a spoonful of the pulp. His eyes light up at the sweet and sour taste. 

Kristin chuckles, “It's called passionfruit. They’re tropical fruits, and they’re native to District 4.” She explained with a warm smile. Tommy returns the gesture before tuning back into the other two's conversation.

“—And what will you do when it’s you two at the end?” Phil asked.

“I’ll kill myself,” Techno responds quickly. Tommy's smile falls.

“Wha—? You can’t kill yourself for me?!” Tommy stands up.

“Yes I can. People need you back home. The only person who might miss me is Mr squiggle idk give him a name.”

“I’ll miss you! Have you ever thought about that?” Tommy slams his hands on the table and Tommy storms out of the train carriage. Tears stung at his eyes as he fell  onto a couch in the empty carriage. He grabs the remote for the TV and turns it on. Charlie Slimecicle, the presenter for the Hunger Games, appears on screen. He's yammering on about the last games. The previous year, 14-year-old Toby Underscore, had won his games by making a makeshift bomb that blew up the careers at Cornucopia. The boy had also managed to blow half his face off in the process, leaving him with an ugly scar that bisected his face. Tommy had been watching with Techno, and all Tommy was thinking about was how badly he wanted to be friends with the boy. Slimecicle continues to talk about what possible arenas they might have this year. Tommy sighs and sinks back into the couch, mindlessly picking at his fingernails.

“You know, people place expensive bets on what they think the arena will be.” Phil's voice cuts through the silence. 

“You trying to get me into gambling, Philza Minecraft? Did you know I'm a fucking minor?” Tommy teases the man, grinning when Philza’s face drops momentarily. 

“Can I?” Phil asks, gesturing to the couch. Tommy sighs but scoots over, patting the cushion beside him. Phil lands with a groan.

“Prime, you really are old,” Tommy smirks.

Phil lightly smacks his arm, “You little shit.”

“So… what's everyone betting on?” Tommy asks.

Phil hums, “Snowy.” 

Tommy rolls his eyes, focusing on the TV and not his mentor next to him. Slimecicle is talking animatedly on the screen with Head Gamemaker, Quackity, about this year's games and next year's quarter quell. 

“If it's snowy, I’ll kill myself,” Tommy announces, not taking his eye off the screen. 

Phil looks at him, confused, “why would snow be bad?”

Tommy sighs, “because I love the snow, and it will be one more thing the Capital will ruin for me.” He crossed his arms and drawing his legs into his chest. 

Phil nodded. “Makes sense, kid.” 

“I'm not a fucking kid.” Tommy snaps back at him. 

The door rolls open behind them, and Kristin and Techno walk into the room. 

“We are arriving now!” Kristin says excitedly. Tommy shoots up, walks over to the small window in the train, and stands on his toes. Hundreds of faces are smiling and waving at him. Cameras are flashing, and it's almost blinding. Still, Tommy waves his hand happily, beaming at the strangers. 

Tommy always liked to look at the fancy clothing. He and Techno would watch the tribute parade and judge the outfits, laughing at their own comments or when an outfit was so ridiculously ugly. Tommy liked to sew. He didn’t know much except fixing holes in socks or hand-sewing patches on top of aprons or tops. He really liked to embroider. He was horrible, but the old ladies at the pit would reassure him and give him tips.

Tommy gestures for Techno to join him. As Techno walks up to the window, Tommy throws himself on his brother's back and continues to wave happily. 

___________

Techno lies on the hard, cold table silently. Two people work around him, and after an eternity of facial massages, waxing, plucking and scrubbing, Techno fears all his skin has been scratched off. Whilst this happens to him, all Techno can think about is Tommy, and how much he would hate this. His brother used to fuss when Techno would do his hair or cut it. Tommy used to scratch and bite when they’d try to put the boy into the tub. It would take Techno and their father to hold him down while their mother washed him.

They sit him upright, and he can feel them gently brushing his hair. Behind him, he can hear snips, and he is praying to Prime that they didn't just cut all of his long hair off. The two people guide him to stand and walk him to a bare grey room that is cold and silent. They instruct him to lie on a cool solid table.

They take him to a different room and let him lie alone on the table. As the door clicks shut he sits up to take in the grey room, playing with his thankfully still long hair.

After a couple of minutes of sitting with his thoughts, the door clicks open, and a woman with beautiful pink hair, sparkly makeup, and a flowy, soft ruffled outfit walks in elegantly. Her clear heels click against the concrete of the room. Techno thought he was hallucinating for a moment. A real-life fairy. 

She smiled warmly as she sat beside him. “Hi! I’m Niki, I am your stylist! I’m sorry I took a bit longer; I was talking to your brother's stylist, about the designs.”

“Hi.” Techno responds dryly.

Niki held his gaze for a moment, like she was looking for something. “You were brave to volunteer for that other kid.” She rests a manicured hand on his shoulder. “I’m here to talk if you need anything. I can't say I give good advice, but I will try.” 

“Thank you,” Techno says softly, transfixed on her hair. He’s surprised to find he means it.

“Tonight is the Tribute Parade. This is our chance to take you out and show you off to the Capital. Usually, they dress people in the clothes from their district, but I'm not dressing you as a farmer. That's an insult to my work and yours.”

Before Niki can explain the costume further, Techno interrupts. “Um, quick question: Do you happen to have any more of that pink hair dye?” He gestures to her hair.

Niki's face lights up.

___________

Sam was nice. He helped Tommy feel more comfortable about his situation. Sam had dark green hair and a leathery outfit enveloped in a long white coat. He was tall and made Tommy look like a toddler by comparison. Sam talked to Tommy as he did his hair, and Tommy could rant to the man about the random things pissing him off in the Capital. When the hair and makeup were done, he gave Tommy a handheld mirror to let him see the design.

“Well. Thank God you didn't make me a farmer or a giant flower or something stupid.” Tommy acknowledges, admiring the vines and tiny flowers in his hair. He has a slight gold tint on his cheeks and half of his face was littered with flowers.

“Somebody as kind as you shouldn't be dressed in a costume like that,” Sam states.

Tommy stutters, “I'm not kind, you bitch. I'm stoic and cold-hearted,. Prick.”

Sam chokes out a laugh. " Yes, Tommy, you are so stoic and cold-hearted.” Sam turns around and grabs a garment bag. He sits down on a stool across from Tommy and pulls out a dark green tunic followed by very baggy brown cuffed pants. What catches Tommy's eye is that vines are wrapped around the outfit and white flowers have been stuck on the shimmering fabric. 

Sam helps Tommy get the outfit on. 

Sam steps back and takes a deep breath, admiring his work. He moves over to a box, opens it, and delicately pulls out a flower crown. Tommy's jaw drops, and Sam carefully places it on his head. He pulls bobby pins from his pocket and secures them to Tommy's head. “Let's go find your brother. I'm sure Niki will be done by now.” Sam holds out a hand, and Tommy takes it. 

When they reach the chariot, Techno and his stylist are close by.. Tommy has to do a double-take. Techno, instead of having his long brown hair, has pale pink hair placed in a thick, low bun. 

“What the fuck?” Tommy half shouts from behind his brother. His brother spins around his body, relaxing when he makes eye contact with Tommy. 

Tommy takes a step back to see what his brother is wearing. Techno is wearing the same tunic and pants as Tommy, except the top is washed-out white, and Techno is wearing ankle-high brown boots. A single vine wraps around his brother's arm to his hand. On his brother's back is an animal pelt that is set like a cape. More importantly, a pig skull covers most of his brother's face.

“Technopig.” Is all Tommy seems to get out, and the three older people burst out laughing. 

Technos stylist speaks up. “I’m Niki, and technically it's a boar skull.” 

A high-pitched chime makes Tommy flinch, but Niki and Sam seem to understand the meaning. 

“Okay, time to get on your chariot. Remember to smile.” Sam ushers them on the chariot, and Tommy stumbles slightly at the shakiness. 

From behind, Niki twists a vine that was around Tommy's arm so it connects with the one on Techno's arm. As the Chariots start to move out, Tommy looks back at the stylist one more time. He is met with warm smiles and thumbs up.

As they reach the end of the dark tunnel, the muffled screams and cheers become louder and clearer. Tommy has a nervous feeling deep in his stomach, and as they make it out, Tommy squints, and light blinds him. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Techno tense up. Tommy snakes around Techno's arm and holds his brother's wrist tightly. Tommy smiles so much that his cheeks hurt and waves happily at the people in the crowd. He has never seen people dressed so weirdly. 

As they pull to a stop before Dream, Tommy continues his death grip on Techno's wrist. Dream walks up to the microphone on the elegant balcony. He is a young man with brown fluffy hair who recently inherited the presidency after the great war, which was more commonly nicknamed the ‘Doomsday War’ by the districts. 

“Welcome, Tributes, to the heart of Essempi. We admire your courage and your sacrifice.” He smiles creepily at them, but the crowd cheers as he grins. “Happy Hunger Games!” For a moment, Tommy feels as though the man is looking directly at Techno. Tommy releases his grip on Techno's wrist as they start moving again.

___________

The chariots roll to a stop and they are helped out by Sam and Niki. Kristin hugs them both tightly. “That was amazing! The people of the capital love you!” She pats them both on the shoulder before turning to both of the designers. “The designs are gorgeous, you two are magic!” She chirps happily.

Phil walks forward, “Good Job you two. All eyes were on you two.” He says his words slightly slurred and the smell of alcohol on the man's breath. Tommy leans back slightly as the man continues to yammer on about sponsors. Tommy and Techno are guided towards a double metal door. Tommy spots a golden boy with black glasses and a golden crown on his face looking at him. Tommy pays no mind to it and steps into the small room with them. Kristin presses a button and the room moves in action. Tommy clutches Techno's hand out of instinct and doesn’t let it go until the room lets out a ding and the doors slowly slide open.

“And here it is!” Kristin says excitedly as they step out of the elevator. Tommy's jaw hangs open as he takes in the gorgeous room. Kristin guides them up a short staircase that leads them to the centre of the apartment. Now, you each have our own rooms," she continues. Dinner will be ready in about an hour, so you have time to explore and adjust to your rooms. Please check out your closet and change out into something more comfortable.” 

Tommy nods and splits from Techno, making his way to his room. Tommy walks a slow lap around the room in awe before heading to his bathroom. The marble walls and cold grey tiles make him shiver until he scrubs himself clean in the steaming shower, soaking in the floral scent of his body wash. Tommy gets out of the shower and scours through his closet until he finds a light blue flowy long-sleeved shirt and equally flowy grey pants.

Tommy moves back into the steamy bathroom and stands in front of the fogged-up mirror. Scowling, he picks up a face-washer and wipes the mirror. He pauses to look at his face, and he pulls at his skin, looking for an imperfection the Capital did not erase from his face. His skin is clearer than ever –his unruly hair combed and unmaintained eyebrows now trimmed and plucked – he looked like he belonged here. Not in the worn-down cottage he belongs to. Tommy hates it. He hates that his last days on this Earth are spent looking like someone he isn't. He messes up his damp hair and walks out of the bathroom falling flat on his bed. He groans as he feels the soft fluff of the blanket between his toes. He lies there until he can hear a knock on his door and Kristins yells enthusiastically, “Dinner!”

When he sits down next to Phil, he shifts uncomfortably against the hard stone seats. Technoblade comes from his room, sitting diagonally from him, and they all begin to eat. The table is filled with lots of savoury and sweet food. Tommy puts a steak and a couple of carrots on his plate. After grabbing the carrots, he realises golden carrots are mixed in with his normal orange carrots. Tommy squints and inspects the carrot before looking up in shock to see if anyone else sees this. All he sees is Kristin giggling at him. Phil and Techno continue to be engrossed in whatever they are discussing. 

They finish up dinner swiftly and say their goodnights. Tommy walks back to his room, and as excited as he possibly can be, he slips into bed and falls asleep in the soft and comfy nest he created.

Chapter Text

Tommy stood further away from Techno as the woman spoke to them. He knows he should stand near his brother to show the other tributes that Techno will, most likely, put a pickaxe through their skull if they attack him. Tommy giggled to himself at thet thought. Tommy listens to the sharp looking lady speaking to the group. She starts listing all the stations, which bores Tommy quickly, and his eyes wander. He glances around at the other tributes; he sees a clump of boys around his age, and he makes eye contact with one before quickly glancing away. He then spots two small kids standing next to each other, holding eachothers hands tightly; they look no older than 12. Lastly, he looks up at a tall, athletic teen with brown fluffy hair – he’s one of the careers. Techno had told him all about them when Tommy was younger. They’d sit on the patched up couch of their living room eating potato fries and Techno would talk about them as they watched the games. Techno made Tommy look away at the bloody scenes, covering his beaming blue eyes with a calloused hand.

Tommy looks over at his brother – something about him slightly unrecognisable. Maybe it’s the fact that the older teen dyed his hair; or maybe that his brother has such an intimidating and serious look on his face that Tommy hasn’t seen since their parents died. When he would use his body as a shield for young Tommy. Stopping the corrupt peacekeepers from taking more from his family. Techno being serious means Techno is afraid, because despite his brother being an indifferent asshole, he is still human, and humans are born with fear in their veins.

Tommy gets a nudge from Techno. He glares at his brother for a moment before walking off, realising that the guide had stopped talking. Tommy sends a sharp look over his shoulder signaling to his brother that he should not follow. Techno rolls his eyes as he moves towards the rope tying area. 

Tommy sighs, unsure where to start, he begins to walk towards the fire-starting station. He forms the sticks in a weird looking triangle he’d seen tributes in previous games make. He sighs slightly, shoving the husk under the sticks to make it look slightly better. It takes the boy a couple minutes of scraping the knife against flint. Tommy’s furrowed brows relax when it finally catches and he blows on the spark until it’s a flame. After a moment of staring at the fire a boy  settles near him, attempting to light a fire too. As Tommy puts out his own flame, he watches the boy attempt to make a spark. 

“Tilt your blade more.” Tommy advises the boy.The boy’s  glossy eyes look up at Tommy through curly dark hair. Tommy chuckles before kneeling down next to the boy. He place his hands over the smaller boys dark skin and guides the hand to tilt back more. He pushes down hard and flicks it forward fast – creating a flame. Tommy smiles at the boy. 

“You did it!” Tommy holds his palm out and the boy high fives it with a shy smile. Tommy ruffles the kid’s hair and walks off to a different station.

___________

Tommy finds himself sitting far away from his brother again. The table is full of luxurious foods and delicacies. Tommy starts to actually eat more than bread and dishes out a variety of foods. At least three different colours of food on your plate. His mother would tell him. Tommy makes sure he has enough colours before starting to eat. 

“So, how are the tributes? Did we gain any allies? Any enemies?” Kristin asks, curiously looking around the table. 

“I think some people are scared of me after I practiced with axe throwing.” Techno mutters.

“Prime, you're humble.” Tommy snorts and rolls his eyes.

“Bruh.” Techno looks up at him with a deadpan expression, “Tommys got a shadow.”

Phil’s head raises at this statement, turningto Tommy, “Yeah?” 

“What?” Tommy’s head turns slightly.

“Little boy from District 10, I think his name is shout or something along the lines.” Techno says. “The careers have been looking for weaknesses too. I heard them talking about strategies, but they quietened down before I could get anything valuable out of them.” 

“I helped the kid light a fire, that's why he's following me.” Tommy brushes Techno off.

“Well, he’s not a good ally. Don’t get attached.” Techno cautioned. Tommy falters, taken aback by what the teen just said. Phil chokes on his food slightly.

“What…?” Tommy looks up at his brother. A sour look falls upon the younger boy's face.

“I want you to come out of this alive Theseus.”

Tommy throws his fork onto his plate, half shouting, “So does that kid's family.” 

Techno stutters and Tommy doesn't give him a chance to explain himself; he stands up, his chair screeching loudly against the cold floor, and he storms into his room. As he slams his door shut he stands there for a moment. There’s a burning pain his chest and Tommy doesn’t realise the hot tears streaming down his face until a drop lands on the ground. He reaches up to his cheek and feels the tears. He wipes them off quickly before heading towards his bathroom.

He looks into the mirror again.

He still looks perfect.

Tommy sniffles and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. In a fit of anger he grabs a toothbrush and throws it hard at a wall. He watches it fall to the ground with a clatter andchuckles at it sadly. 

In the bedroom, he pulls back the feather-soft covers and curls into a ball. The door creaks open and he doesn’t bother to check who it is. The mattress dips as a pink-haired teen settles into the space next to Tommy. They both stay silent, until Tommy turns towards his brother and sobs into his chest. His body shakes with every sob, Techno places a comforting hand on the boy's head and hums a lullaby. 

“I’m still mad. Don’t let yourself think I’ve forgiven you.”

Tommy falls asleep not long after.

___________

Tommy sat on the porch of the cottage. He’d been mad at his brother for yelling at him when he had been playing in the mud. He had called Tommy a gremlin after Tommy got some mud on his brother's top.

He pouted as he sat alone, staring at the field that stretched ahead of him. The door behind him screeched open and the young boy turned to look at his mother. Her long blonde hair was braided elegantly over her shoulder. She wore a long white and blue dress that Tommy liked. When it would rip she’d let him help her patch it up. 

“What's wrong, Sunshine?” His mother asked, taking a seat next to him. Her blue eyes filled with worry. 

Tommy huffed, “Tech’s bein’ stewpid.” 

His mother let out a bright laugh, “yeah? What’s he done now?” Her head tilted to the side. 

“He said ‘m a gremlin.” He crossed his arms dramatically, “I am not a gremlin.”

His mother reached up and caressed his cheek with a gentle hand. “I know sunshine.” She said with a warm smile, “Techno was just a bit angry. Sometimes people get so stressed and overwhelmed they say or do things they regret.”

Tommy looked up at his mother as she pinched his chubby freckled cheeks. “Is Techno better now?”

His mother nodded. She picked him up by the underneath of his arms and placed Tommy in her lap. He rests his body against her chest. She sings a familiar lullaby to him, sometimes Tommy likes to sing or hum along. Tommy can hear his brother and father in the kitchen. Techno would always help father prepare whatever animal he had shot in their field. Usually, it was a duck, chicken or rabbit. Tommy always found it so mean so his mother would distract him while they did it.

The sun began to set, and the golden rays hit Tommy’s pale skin. His mother stops her singing. The chirping of birds and the rushing water fills the silence. She stands him up, rising with a groan herself. She held out a hand and looked down at her son with a kind smile. Tommy’s tiny hand manages to grab only her middle and index finger. She guides them into the field of green flowered grass ahead of them, stopping once they reach a particularly flower populated area. 

She sits down on the ground and Tommy stands behind her. He plays with her braid, carefully placing daisies throughout the braid. Tommy rambles animatedly to her as he grows tired and ends curled up against her chest again. He can hear his father call them inside for dinner and his Mother rests the young boy on her hip.

Tommy plays with a daisy he plucked from her braid as his mother begins to sing the familiar lullaby. Tommy hums along until she reaches the porch.

“Promise me, no matter how much you and your brother fight and disagree, you’ll always be there for eachother.”

“I promise, Mama.”

___________

The second day of training is less fun. Tommy can feel the eyes of the careers follow him as he moves through the stations. Every so often when he looks up he meets the eyes of the boy from yesterday. He moves to the fish hook station hoping to be left alone.

He makes a mediocre looking fish hook, and finds himself at the camouflage area. After a few boring minutes of painting his middle finger to be bark he decides to paint yellow and white flowers on his hand. He probably looks like a loner but it calms his thoughts, that go a hundred miles an hour. 

“You're pretty good at that huh?” A voice speaks up from behind him causing him to jump. 

“What the hell man? Scared the shit outta me.” Tommy shrieks, putting his hand over where he thinks his heart is. 

“My bad,” the boy sticks a friendly hand out, “Im Deo. And you are?”

“Tommy.” He shakes the boy's hand kindly, letting Deo sit next to him. 

“Can you do that on mine?” Deo asks.

Tommy looks at him confused for a moment before straightening up, “sure, why the fuck not. We got nothing better to do with our time.”

He paints an orange flower on the top of the boy's hand using paint they made together whilst talking about the other tributes as they do. Tommy laughs when Deo says that one of the boys from District 3 looks like he has a fake mustache. When Tommyspots the boy he doubles over laughing. Tommy distracts Deo for long enough to draw a penis on the boy's arm – cackling when Deo lets out a couple swears and a lighthearted insult after noticing.

Together, they move to different stations. Tommy sighs and complains when Deo is inevitably better than him at tying ropes. Tommy laughs in triumph when he’s faster at the ropes course. 

They end up at the hammock making station together.

Tommy looks up for a moment and watches a career throw axes at the dummy with amazing precision, "Have you seen them? The Careers...  Prime, they’re like a whole different breed. It’s like they're on fucking blue or some shit.”

Deo lets out a bitter laugh and looks up from his hands, "Yeah, no kidding. They’ve been training their whole lives for this. They were born for it." He glances over at the careers too.

"I don’t even know how some of us are supposed to compete with that. They’re strong, fast and they actually know how to use their weapons. We’re just... Well, we're just trying to survive, right?" 

"Survival’s what matters. But still, you can’t ignore them. They’re dangerous. They know how to kill. That’s what scares me the most. We’re not supposed to be here, but they are. They’re trained to win." Deo explains.

Tommy huffs out a laugh, “You sound like my brother.” 

“Your brother sounds like a smart man.” Deo beams. Tommy flicks a spot of dirt at the boy's head.

"Who do you think they’re going to target first? They could fucking kill us without even breaking a sweat."

“Whoever it is, they won’t expect us to fight back. They think they’re untouchable, like nothing can get through their perfect little world.” – Tommy looks up from his weaving – ” 

After a few moments Deo looks up at Tommy too. “What?” Deo glares back.

“That sounded too smart, go back to making jokes about that guy's ugly mustache.” Tommy snarks. Deo rolls his eyes with a laugh and holds his middle finger up. 

Tommy cackles.

___________

Techno stands under the warm stream of the shower, letting the water fall into his eyes and getting lost in his thoughts. He doesn’t care about wasting Capital water. After a few more silent moments Techno shuts off the water. He pushes the clear glass shower doors open and dries himself off with a fluffy towel. Techno finds a pair of comfortable pants and a plain grey shirt. He takes his time drying off his hair, his arms beginning to burn. When he eventually gives up on fully drying his long thick hair he braids the pink strands. He enjoys braiding his hair, it helps him feel like him.

Techno walks out of his bathroom and towards the dining area where dinner is being served. he smell hits him first: roasted meats, freshly baked bread and a variety of dishes too extravagant to name.Techno takes the seat next to Kristin, noticing his brother glance at him for a moment before looking away. The two of them would always get into fights where they wouldn’t talk to each other for days. Since the death of their parents, that's become less frequent.

Dinner is silent, no one dares to talk, not wanting to start anymore arguments between the two brothers. Usually, Techno would continue to talk strategy with Phil and Tommy would roll his eyes and talk to Kristin about prime knows what. Techno could tell by the way Tommy would pause for a moment before continuing that he was listening in. The dinner continued to be painfully quiet right until the Avox started to collect the dishes from the table. Only then did some talking start, Phil whispered something to Kristin and she proceeded to lock eyes with him. 

Tommy stood up and headed straight to his room. The night before Techno had cradled the sobbing boy into a calm sleep. Techno couldn’t seem to get through to his little brother. He fears it will affect their games. He did notice that today Tommy had made an alliance with another boy around his age. Tommy had been going to a lot of the survival skill stations and not practicing with weapons. Techno had been doing the opposite, planning on spending his last training day practicing on survival skills.

Kristin places a soft hand on his shoulder and he looks up from the now empty table. He turns to look at her, soft brown eyes meet his. She squeezes the hand hard before standing up and walking to her room.

He leans back in his chair, playing with the end of his braid. He huffs, blowing a pink strand out of his face. 

He eventually heads towards his room, preparing himself for a nightmare-filled slumber.

___________

Tommy walks into the training center for his final day with a lump in his throat and butterflies in his chest. He immediately spots his new friend, Deo, and split from his brother to join the boy at the axe station. Deo was slamming an axe into the back of the dummy with loud thwack’ s . 

Tommy snuck up behind him. “Careful, you might kill someone with that.” 

Deo jumps which gets a laugh out of Tommy and a giggle from the shadow that's been following them. “Dude, never do that again, I might take your eye out.”

“Nah, the axe looks too heavy for your piss weak arms, you might be able to get a leg though.” Tommy offers with a sly smile.

Deo gives him a deadpan expression before turning back to the dummies and practicing his agility with the axe. Tommy turns to grab one from the rack as Deo begins to speak again, “Keep up the trash talking and maybe I'll put this axe through your skull.”

“People say I’ve got a thick skull so I probably don’t need to worry about that.”

Deo lets out a loud wheeze, “You’re a dickhead.”

“You’re a prick.”

They hang around the axe station for a couple more minutes before moving to the archery station. Tommy completely misses his first try and sinks to his knees in embarrassment. Deo has a go and misses too, although he manages to at least get the arrow closer to the target.

"Why do they have to make us go in alone? I’d feel a lot better if I could see what the pricks want." Tommy huffs lining up his bow to take another shot but inevitably missing, he lowers his bow with a loud sigh and gives his friend a death glare when he snorts.

"Because they want to mess with your head, make you sweat before you even step into the arena." Deo shrugs. “Listen, It’s not like they’re expecting us to do five backflips and a fucking dance recital. Just show them what you’re good at." Deo closes one eye and manages to hit the edge of the target.

“Easy for you to say.” Tommy groans. Deo rolls his eyes before helping Tommy line up his bow.

“Pull the string back more, all the way to your cheek. Anchor it right below your eye, that’s your sightline." Deo instructs him. Tommy releases and laughs in triumph when he manages to actually hit the target, he high-fives Deo.

“Do you have any strategies? Like are you gonna do the whole ‘fake bad’ or really do your best.” Tommy asks as they place the bows back on the rack and head towards a new station.

Deo ponders for a moment. “Not sure, you?” 

Tommy sighs, “I don't have a fucking clue.” They make their way over to the knives area as the careers vacate it. “Maybe I’ll just lie down in the middle and pray that the roof collapses and kills me.” He grabs a collection of small knives and manages to throw them quite accurately at the target.

Deo dramatically gasps, “That was my plan!” 

“Dickhead, you’re before me. They’re gonna think I copied you.” Tommy rolls his eyes as he watches Deo throw knives a lot less accurate than Tommy. Tommy mimes placing a crown on his head.

“Calm your ego, man.” Deo teases sticking out a tongue.

“Not likely, prick.”

___________

Techno spares a quick glance at his brother. Tommy looks like he might just implode on the spot. The boy is sweating the last district 10 tribute was just called in. Techno rests a hand on his brother's shoulder, much like the kind one Kristin laid on his shoulder the night before.

“You’ll be alright, Theseus.” Techno assures his brother.

Tommy groans, “I know, I’m not worried.” Tommy looks up at Techno, who is looking back at him with a deadpan expression on his face. The room falls back into silence until a mechanical voice breaks the eerie silence.

“Thomas Innes.” A voice calls over the intercom. 

Tommy stands up with a sigh and walks away. Techno watches him disappear through metallic doors. Techno sits and debates what skill he’ll show off. He was always skilled with a blade, he could skin a rabbit like it was butter. He would help his father get game, instead of shooting with one of the guns his father owned, Techno could quietly walk up behind his prey and kill them before they could react. Techno would go back home and tell his Mother, and Tommy would scrunch up his nose and block his ears.

“Technoblade Innes.” The mechanical voice speaks again. Technos taken aback slightly, surely it had not been more than five minutes. Tecchnoblade walks towards the metal doorway he saw his brother disappear through not long ago, feeling uneasy. The training room looked much larger than it did before. Techno can’t help but feel vulnerable. He stands in front of the hole in the wall full of rich assholes. 

“Technoblade Innes, District 11.” He says with a monotone voice looking into the eyes of the head gamemaker, Quackity. A real piece of work if you ask Techno.

He stands awkwardly in front of the sword rack not sure what to do. He can see all of the men and women up their losing interest in him and by the time he’s picked a sword up they're all gathered around a giant cake.

Technoblade throws his sword to the side, it falls to the ground with a clatter. He walks towards the fire making station and begins to grab as much as wood as he can carry. He goes back for more until he has a mound taller than himself. He takes some dry grass and places it all on top of the wood. He quickly makes a spark and the chunk of dry grass in his hand is alight. He throws it onto the pile and rushes backwards.

He stares as it goes up in flames, the fire is big. Big enough to capture the attention of all the people who were distracted filling their plates. He can see the flames in the reflection of Quackity’s eyes. Techno walks off as they erupt into chaos, happy with what he’s done.

___________

Techno had proudly explained what he had done over dinner. Tommy was trying to suppress his laughter. Phil wasn’t holding back laughter and Krisitn had her head in her hands. Safe to say that Techno had no regrets.

The next day they sat on the comfortable couches of their living room. Niki and Sam had come to join them, the two stylists were both as shocked as each other when they heard how his evaluation went. Phil, still after hearing it again, could not stop laughing.

The announcer Charlie Slimecicle appeared on screen. His bright and cheery smile never faltered as he explained: “As you know, our tributes were rated from one to twelve over a three day evaluation. Our gamekeepers would like to acknowledge the hard work these tributes put in this year.” Charlie began to read out the score, the lowest from the careers being a nine.

When it’s Deo's turn, Tommy sits up a bit straighter, he silently celebrates when Deo manages to get a nine. Tommy discovers that his shadow is named Shroud and the boy had scored a 5. 

Eventually, Tommy’s face appears on the screen. “From District 11, Thomas Innes with an eight!” Charlie exclaims excitedly. Kristin gasps and gives him a hug from the side. Techno’s face appears next, followed by an eleven. Tommy’s jaw hangs open and he whips his head around to look at his brother –still staring at the TV in shock. The room erupts into cheers and celebrations. Phil pats Techno on the back hard enough to make the boy stumble. 

Tommy stands in front of Techno for a moment, before giving in and hugging his brother. For a moment, Tommy felt the safest he’d been since Prime knows when.

Chapter Text

Phil wakes up to a knock on his door. He groans and some loose strands of hair from his bun fall onto his face. He manages to pull himself out of bed and quickly before whoever it is can get another knock in. Kristin's soft, brown eyes await him on the other side of the door. She stands in front of him momentarily, before pushing her way in.

“Kristin… What are you doing...?” He yawns as she steps into his cluttered walk-in wardrobe.

“I'm going to wake up the boys in a moment. You need to get ready for today. You can train Tommy for the interview; I’ll tackle Techno. They have a fitting with Niki and Sam later today, and while they're doing that,” Kristin shoves a white button-up shirt into his hands, “you will be going to get them some sponsors.”

She hands him a pair of black slacks and a crisp black blazer before walking out the door, patting his bare chest on her way out. 

“Thanks, Kristin.” He mutters as she slams the door shut. Phil throws the clothes onto the bed and heads into the bathroom. Phil loved the Capital showers, the water was perfect and rained down on him in a way that eased the everlasting tension in his shoulder. He lets the shampoo roll down into his eyes, he lets out a swear and blinks away the pain. 

Thomas and Technoblade had been a difficult duo. Thomas was too stubborn to forgive his brother, and Technoblade let it happen. Phil knew it would be the death of them. 

Phil rushed to get ready as quickly as possible. He buttoned up his shirt with a scowl, sighing every time he struggled to get the button through the hole. Finally ready he swings the heavy door open and walks into the silent hallway. Straightening out his shirt as he walks, he startles when he bumps into Thomas.

“Sorry,” The smaller boy mumbles, sparing a shy glance at Phil. He hated how much Thomas had reminded Phil of himself. Baby blue eyes and straw coloured hair much like himself – it was unnerving. Phil looked back to watch the boy hurry away for a moment before shrugging to himself, and walking towards the dining area. 

Kristin is sitting alone at the table sipping tea with her pinky help up high. “I let the two boys sleep in, they’ll need it,” Kristin said, not looking up from the glittery magazine in front of her.

“Well, Thomas is already awake, just bumped into him in the hallway.” Phil walks towards the dining table picking an apple and taking a bite. 

“Oh, well. Must be hard to sleep this close to the games…” She finally looks up to the magazine. They both ponder for a moment before Phil lets out a long sigh and returns to his apple. 

___________

Techno sits at the dining table with Kristin who’s trying to get him to practice smiling. Kristin had remarked that ‘Phil would just add more brooding to Techno personality.’ So Tommy went with Phil, stifling his laugh with his hand. He left the room behind Phil, nervously glancing back at Techno. 

Kristin was wearing a plum ruffle dress that did not make sense to him at all one strap was half falling off and the ruffles of the dress were messy and uneven, her dress was short providing her no warmth. The only thing keeping her legs warm were dark glittery tights followed by some black high heels. Her curly hair cascaded down her back, and had jewels added to it.

“Techno, I’m sorry, you need to try.” Kristin urges him.

“Bruhhhh, I am.” Techno sighs falling back into his chair.

Kristin takes a sip of her drink and clears her throat, “Listen, Charlie Slimecicle's job is to help you and make sure you don’t fuck up. Doesn’t mean you still can’t say the wrong things, All you need to care about is yourself.” She points to his chest with her manicured hand.

Techno nods, “I don't… I'm not as social as Tommy. It took the ladies from the market a couple of years to warm up to me.” 

"You don’t have to be charming, you just have to be memorable. Think about it. What do you have that the other tributes don’t?"

“Brain cells.” Techno replies and Kristin smacks his arm, “You should see them!” 

"Funny. Look, they love a good story. What’s your angle? Are you a tough fighter who doesn’t care about anything? Underdog trying to survive? The tragic kid who lost everything?" Kristin flips her notebook page over and he sees that the only thing she had done on the page before was draw crows. Techno smiles at it fleetingly. “So you can smile.” She grins.

“Oh no. You have seen through my dark and menacing disguise.” Techno drawls, “I have to kill you now.” 

Kristin's eyes crinkle from the intensity of her smile. Techno motions to the lead markings on her paper. “Do you like to draw, or do you just like Capital Crows?” 

“They like to sit on the balcony of my apartment. Can’t seem to get them to go away.” She flips her book over to look at her drawings, “They just look so cute! Especially the tiny, baby birds.” She fawns over the drawings. Techno can’t help but smile, though his smile quickly fades away. Coming to the realisation that the Capital's lives are so simple they get excited over birds.

“One time Tommy found a Crow out the front of our home and had nursed back to health, I was the one who had to comfort him when the bird inevitably flew away.” He shakes his head fondly at the memory.

“Do you get Capital Crows in your district?” Kristin tilts her head.

Techno shrugs. “Some strays, we call ‘em District Crows, A lot of hunters like to shoot them down people think they're a curse on the district if it flies through.” 

“Huh. Right, let's get back to work…” Kristin looks down at her notes, “Where were we…?”

___________

Sam stands behind Tommy and helps him straighten out the flowing green and white material of his blouse. Sam worked in silence as he decorated Tommy with flowers, he stood back away from the boy and let Tommy admire himself in the mirror. Sam grabbed a glass of water and sat down on the nearby sofa. Tommy watched as the man delicately tucked a flower behind his ears.

“Do you like it?” Sam asked as Tommy finally stepped away from the mirror. 

Tommy turns to look at Sam, “Ehh, I could do better.” He answers. Sam groans and rolls his eyes, setting his glass of water down as he moves beside Tommy. Sam places delicate hands on Tommy's shoulders.

“You’re nervous.” Sam concludes.

“Obviously.” Tommy rolls his shoulders, releasing the tension. “What if I fuck it up somehow by saying something rude. I'm good at that.” 

“Just pretend you're talking to me. Or Niki. Or even Kristin.” Sam squeezes his shoulders in reassurance.

Tommy raises a brow, “Not Techno or Phil?”

“I'm trying to help you not cuss out Charlie.” Sam retorted, and Tommy laughs involuntarily. “Come on, we gotta go.” 

Sam guides Tommy to the area just before the wings, where they spy Techno and Nikki talking to each other. “Aw man I thought we beat you this time…”

Niki turns to face them both. “You gotta try harder than that Sam.” 

Techno’s outfit is nearly identical to Tommy’s, the same sheer material and canvas pants, except a flower crown atop of Techno’s curled, pink hair. 

“Come on, you gotta go, and we need to get our seats.” Niki ushers both of the boys to the line of tributes standing in front of the staircase leading to the wings. They stand Techno in front of Tommy and Tommy has to stand on his toes to get a glance at Deo.

Niki and Sam give them their final ‘good lucks’ before an organiser hurries them backstage, and Charlie Slimcicle begins his introduction, the crowd roars when he speaks. Tommy can’t see Charlie from behind his brother, so the man's iconic and silly voice is his only indication. 

One by one Charlie introduces everyone and asks them questions and helps them give a good impression. Mumbo, a boy from district 3, lists incredible things he’s invented. Whilst the girl from district 8 shows off her fabulous dress which wows the audience. It's the end of the last District 10 tributes interview and as Charlie starts to introduce his brother he watches Techno tense up.  

“Technoblade Innes!” Charlie yells enthusiastically. The butterflies in his chest become very noticeable and Tommy is left to spiral, rubbing his sweaty palms on the velvet pants.

Alone, in the wing across from him, a man is staring at him. Tommy squints slightly before his eyes widen when he realises it's the head game maker, Quackity. When Quackity realises he’s caught Tommy's eye he straightens his back, holds his arm in front of him and moves his hand into the form of a gun. He then moves his arm so now the ‘ gun’ is pointing to his forehead, and with a serious expression, he mimics the gun being shot and lolls his head to the side. Tommy's eyes widen as a cheery voice cuts through Tommy's worry like a bullet through glass.

“Thomas Innes!” 

Tommy's head snaps up and he walks towards Charlie Slimecicle, focusing on not falling off the platform. He reaches Charlie and forces a happy smile. “Dap me up!” Charlie holds out a hand and Tommy's hand meets it with a clap. They sit down on their separate chairs, "How are you feeling tonight? Nervous? Excited? Ready for the challenge?" 

Tommy lets out a large sigh followed by a laugh, “Shit, probably all of them.” Tommy says, quickly clapping a hand over his mouth afterwards, “Oh, Prime, am I allowed to swear?” 

The crowd loses it. Charlie lets out a wheeze and places a hand on his shoulder, “I'm sure one word will be okay Thomas. You’re looking incredible tonight, how does it feel to wear something designed just for you by Awesam Nook?”

Tommy's eyes widen, “Is that actually his full name?” He says it with a big smile on his face, discreetly glancing towards the wing where Quackity had stood moments before. Charlie nods enthusiastically, amused by Tommy's reaction. “Prime, Sam is very talented and nice and I'm glad he’s my stylist.”

“Well Thomas all I can say is that you look fantastic. So tell me,” Charlie leans forward in his seat, “do you have any other family back at home?” Tommys lip trembled slightly; he looked down at his hands before turning back to Charlie.

“No. Just Techno.” 

The audience coos and Charlie turns to the audience and pouts. “That is sad to hear about but Thomas, I have one last question for you. Is there something you'd want the people of Essempi to remember you by?”

Tommy pauses for a moment, “That I was more than just a tribute—I was a person.” Tommy looks out into the audience to see thousands of smiles. His eyes catch on Sam who gives him an approving nod. 

“Well Thomas Innes of District 11! It was a pleasure to meet you!” Charlie Slimecicle stands with him and gives him a firm handshake. Tommy waves at the audience with a toothy smile before exiting the stage. 

Tommy exits the stage looking back for Quackity. The anxiety he had pushed down had come back up and Tommy had been guided to meet all the others in a backstage room. As he approached Sam stepped forward and gave him a pat on the back. 

“Good job kid.” Sam smiled.

“That was great!” Kristin beamed and she hugged Tommy tightly before stepping back. 

They stood there and chatted about the interviews and Phil would talk about the potential sponsors. Tommy spots Deo walking to the elevator with a group. Deo turns around to make eye contact with Tommy, bats his lashes and pouts his lip.

Tommy rolls his eyes and scowls at the boy before turning and focusing back on the conversation.

Chapter Text

Tommy hid behind his mother as they entered the kitchen together. He covered his eyes with small hands until his mother had made sure the animal his father had killed was no longer resting on their table.

When his mother gives him two taps on his head, Tommy timidly uncovers his eyes. There at the table is a lovely roast his brother and father had probably cooked together. Techno and his father were setting cutlery on the table when they noticed the pair walk in.

“Ah! Just the two people we wanted to see!” his father smiled kindly, his brunette hair had splotches of flour. Tommy's mother guides him to the chair next to his brother. Techno's hair had just grown to shoulder length now; he’d been dedicated to growing it out ever since last year, after reading a book where the main character — a king — had long pink hair.

Tommy looks up at Techno, “I’m still mad at you.”

Techno narrows his eyes at the boy.

“I'll forgive you if you pass me the salt.” Tommy huffs. Techno smiles before handing his brother the jar of salt. Techno ruffles his brother's hair before continuing to eat his dinner.

Their mother and father give each other a knowing smile before continuing to eat dinner.

___________

It's the night before the games and Tommy sits alone on his comfortable bed. The room was quiet, and the silence began to hurt. Dread had begun to coil around him like a heavy chain, tightening with every passing second. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths as he struggled to shake off the sinking feeling that had rooted itself deep within him.

Tommy can't help but give a sombre sigh as he continues to worry. He thinks of his best friend Purpled, he’ll never see him again. He thinks of Deo, who is painfully similar to Purpled — Prime, he hopes he makes it further than Tommy. His hands move up, trembling, as he presses them against his ears. Maybe, just maybe, if he pressed hard enough, he could block out the thoughts, the memories, and the fears. Tommy squeezes his eyes shut, his breaths coming in sharp gasps.

Tommy sniffles before standing up. He takes a moment to look out the window, down at the bustling streets of Essempi Capital. He catches his reflection in the glass, he takes a moment to take himself in.

He is crying, yet he still looks perfect.

Tommy walks out of his room and stumbles slightly in the pristine hallways. He finds himself at the door of his brother's room. He stands in front of the door, his head hanging, he sucks in a breath.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Techno swings the door open with a scowl, his face softening when he sees his brother.

“Theseus. Come in.” He welcomes him in, helping his brother to the bed. They sit together on the bed and Tommy sniffles again, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve. Techno scrunches up his face at that.

“I'm sorry.” Tommy apologises. He looks up at his brother when Techno makes an unimpressed grunt. “Shut the fuck up, don't be a prick.”

"Promise you’ll find me," Tommy muttered into Techno’s shirt.

Techno ruffled his hair roughly — too roughly — like he was trying to hide the way his hands were shaking.

"Of course, Theseus. Always." There's a pause for a moment. “Wanna sleep here tonight?” Techno offers.

“Sure, just don’t snore or I’ll suffocate you with a pillow.” Tommy lolls his head on an angle to look up at his brother.

“Bruh.”

___________

Techno had woken up with Tommy still tucked in his arms; it was a nice calming reassurance. Fearing it might be their last hug, he hugged his brother tighter. Kristin knocked on the door of his room, he got up slowly and answered it.

“Hiya, Techno!” she said with a warm smile. “Peacekeepers will be here soon; Phil will go with you to…” She looks past Techno's shoulder to find Tommy asleep in Techno's bed. Techno also glances over his shoulder and lets out a snort — Tommy was spread out like a starfish on Techno's bed.

“I’ll wake him up.” Techno affirmed. Kristin focused back on Techno and nodded calmly before going back to her room to get ready. Techno shuts the door and turns his attention to his brother, he walks over and gives his brother a shake on the shoulders, “Come on, Theseus, we’re going to be late.”

Tommy whips his head with panicked eyes, calming when he sees his brother's smirk, “fuck off dickhead.”

“Go have a shower, we’re leaving soon.” Techno instructs his brother. Tommy gets up with a huff and hobbles to his room.

Techno gets up from his bed and moves to his bathroom, he showers quickly and dries his hair off with a fluffy white towel. He pulls out two strings — a brown string and a gold string he kept in his pocket every reaping. He braids the golden string into his hair and looks at it in the mirror with a smile, his braid reaching just below his hip.

Tommy comes in again with his hair everywhere. Techno laughs before gesturing for him to stand in front of him. He braids a small section of Tommy's hair just above his ear. He carefully braids in the brown string.

There was a long, sullen pause before Tommy spoke up again, “We better get moving, Kristin will probably kill us if we’re late.”

When they walk out of Techno's room and to the living room to meet their mentors, Phil and Kristin sit nervously on the couch. Kristin goes to give Techno a hug before Techno leans back slightly and holds out a hand for her to shake before moving towards Tommy. Techno stares at Phil before the man gives Techno a firm pat on the back.

As peacekeepers enter the room, Techno sucks in a deep breath.

___________

Tommy walks with two peacekeepers through the catacombs, their footsteps echoing throughout the plain halls. Every footstep adds more dread to his situation. His arm tingles from when they had placed a tracker in his upper arm. A peacekeeper opens the door with a click and Tommy walks in, taking a sharp breath. There he finds Sam sitting at a desk; the man stands up instantly and walks towards Tommy. Tommy lets the man wrap his arms around him, he doesn’t cry.

Sam steps back and grabs the tank top off a coat rack, “It looks like it’s gonna be hot.” he says, handing Tommy the top. With shaking hands, Tommy pulls off his other top and puts on the tank top. Sam grabs onto Tommy's shaking hands, “I believe in you, kid.” He pats down Tommy's hair and clothes.

“I’m not a kid.” Tommy huffs. Sam lets out a breathy laugh.

“30 seconds.” A robotic voice calls over an intercom.

Tommy flinches and looks up at Sam, who gives him a reassuring look. Sam pulls him in for a tight hug once more.

“10 seconds.”

Tommy moves timidly towards the tube, he steps inside and turns to face Sam as the door closes and he is slowly brought to the top. As his face meets a warm light and hot air, Tommy sucks in a greedy breath, squeezing his palms into fists.

Chapter Text

Tommy emerges from the ground, and the platform jolts him slightly as it stops. Leaving him to face towards the Cornucopia. Twenty-four crimson brick bridges lead towards the center of Cornucopia. A circular area with brick arches that look like they’re ready to crumble at any moment. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, let the seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!” Quackity's voice booms throughout the sweltering arena.

Sixty seconds. Tommy has sixty seconds to find Techno and figure out what he’s going to do. If he stands on his toes, he can peer off the ledge of the bridge and see the lava far down below the bridge. 

Fifty seconds,  Tommy anxiously taps his hands against his side, scanning the tributes circled around the Cornucopia for a flash of pink hair.

Forty seconds, he finds Deo first; the teen is setting himself up to run towards the middle. Tommy bites his cheek as he continues his search for his pink-haired brother.

Thirty seconds, He finds Techno almost opposite him, and he can see his brother searching for him.

Twenty seconds, and Tommy tells himself that he just needs to run and hopefully meet Techno. 

Fifteen seconds, and Tommy's fixing his stance to run towards the Cornucopia. He’s fast, agile and can fight from when he and Techno would train. His brother told him it was just a fun game, but Tommy had always known he was preparing for the worst.

Ten seconds, he meets Technos' eyes through the green holographic that is counting down to the gong.

Five seconds, and Tommy's watching him get ready to run towards the centre as well.

The gong sounds, and Tommy leaps off his platform, his sturdy boots moving swiftly across the bricks and making sure to watch for any cracks in the stone whilst watching out for anyone coming his way or towards the centre. When he makes it to the end of his bridge, he finds the majority of the careers there, followed by some other tributes. He spots a small bag not too deep into the Cornucopia. A hard body collides with his side, and he falls to the ground, rolling with whoever is on top of him. He stares up at the face and meets the dark eyes of a Mumbo, a teen from District three who Deo had dubbed ‘Jumbo’ after watching him lift heavy weights. 

Tommy rushes to push him off as he winds his fist back. He manages to duck his head out of the way, Mumbo’s hand hitting the ground with a piercing crack . Tommy takes advantage of the moment, kneeing him in the gut and slamming the bag next to him into the side of his head. The boy barely moves until a rough foot collides with his shoulder. Techno grabs him off the floor. “What were you thinking?” He shouts at Tommy, yanking him away hurriedly from Cornucopia.

“I don-” Tommy stutters, running as fast as he can behind Techno. They stop suddenly when two fighting tributes move in front of them. One successfully pushes an axe deep into the other girl's chest, and a loud boom of a cannon follows a strangled cry. Lizzy, the girl from District 2, turns her head, pulling the axe from the lifeless body before swinging at Techno and Tommy. 

“Run!” Techno barks at him, dodging the wild swing of the axe. Tommy stumbles back a few steps before running away towards a lone bridge. A career stops him swinging his sword, which Tommy ducks under, sprinting past him and kicking his knee in. A triumphant laugh escapes Tommy's lips, and a hand grasps around his ankle and pulls him to the ground. He falls onto his back, and the career crawls towards home with a murderous look. Tommy's eyes widen as he inches back, trying to regain his footing. A rock hits the career in the head and knocks him over, a hand grabs his forearm and lifts him to his feet. 

“Come on, Tom!” Deo shouts, looking at him with wide, nervous eyes. Tommy casts one last frantic glance for Techno, but turns and runs after Deo. A District 9 girl named Beau runs towards the same bridge. When he reaches the start of it, she pushes him into the bridge's wall with two strong hands.

 Tommy looks over the ledge at the bubbling magma. She screams from behind him, and Tommy whips his head around to see the same career that attacked him, pushing her over the ledge of the wall. Deo bolts for another bridge without looking back.

Tommy grabs Beau's dropped sword and races down the bridge, towards the blue forest. He stumbles slightly when his foot hits a crack, turning his head to see if he can find his brother. After not being able to find Techno, he turns back around and carefully approaches the turquoise grass. He takes a cautious step before confirming his safety, and another boom of a cannon causes Tommy to break into a sprint.

Wind whips in his hair as he runs through the crunchy grass, a distant screech throws him off and he whips his head around, not stopping; a moment later, he turns his attention back to infront of him, just a second to late and he runs face first into a maroon and turquoise tree. He falls back with a cry, his sword clattering to the ground. Tommy reaches a soft hand up to his nose to feel a stream of blood run down from his sore nose to his lip. 

“Yeowch.” Deo spoke from behind him. Tommy whips around to face him, smugness already tugging at his lips.

“Fuck off, prick,” Tommy muttered, reaching for his dropped sword before standing up to face Deo. He takes a moment to admire his surroundings, tall turquoise trees and grass warms his vision, it’s hot, really hot. Tommy wipes sweat from his forehead before admiring the roof of the arena. A crimson cobble lines the roof, a glowing golden rock littering the roof. 

“We better get moving,” Deo says, looking around for a moment, “here.” He hands Tommy a small backpack. “I managed to grab two.” 

Tommy grabs the bag off him and slings it around his shoulder. “Thanks.” He smiles at Deo before walking away from Cornucopia, moving into the dense forest. Tommy and Deo talk and reminisce about their districts as they walk through thick vines and prickly bushes, having to stop and pull out thorns from Tommy's ankle. 

They eventually find a division in which the turquoise foliage turns a deep, blood-red colour. Tommy cautiously steps on the grass before confirming it's safe. There are ash-like red particles that float throughout the air, and Tommy pulls up his tank top that covers his lean figure just above his nose. Once they reach the edge of the forest, an endless lava pool stretches across the horizon. The cornucopia is held up by columns that go up far above the lava. He wonders if you’d die from the fall or would have to burn. 

Tommy winces at the thought, hoping that when he dies, it's not to lava. He turns to Deo, “fucking massive innit?” 

“How did they even get lava here is my question.” Deo stands in awe, admiring the fortress in front of them. 

Tommy turns to him and shrugs. “Might wanna avoid the fortress, seems like a career hangout spot to me.” They decide to walk along the edge of the forest, looking for a place to stop and rest for a couple of hours. They are both growing tired; Tommy even lets out a yawn every once in a while. Deo and Tommy finally find a suitable tree to climb, he tugs on a vine, which seems sturdy enough before using it to pull himself up. He climbs past two thick branches before finding the perfect one. Deo climbs up to the one above him.

He carefully uses a rope to tie his legs to the tree, ensuring he doesn't fall off; dying like that would be embarrassing. A blue light from the sky and the loud melody of the anthem stop Tommy before he can say his goodbyes to Deo. 

The fallen.

Tommy stares up at the sky, and for the first time in his life, not wishing to see his brother's face. 

The red-headed boy from District 3 is the first to appear, followed by a green-eyed girl from District 4, a brunette boy from District 8, and lastly, a freckled boy and Beau from District 9. Tommy sighed in relief and let his eyes close as Deo rustled around above him.

___________

Six-year-old Tommy wildly swings his wooden sword, which his father had carved for him. Techno dodges each one without a worry. After a while of dodging, Techno huffs, and a strand of brown hair falls in front of his eyes. He steps past one of Tommy's wild swings and taps Tommy's side, being delicate so as not to hurt him. The golden-haired boy gasps before dropping his sword on the floor.

“Shit.” Tommy swore.

“Language, child.”

Tommy glares at him with his bright blue eyes. “You always win.”

“That’s because you're swinging your sword around like a madman.” Techno points out.

Tommy looks at him with angry eyes; he picks up the sword from the dirt and walks into the farmhouse. Techno is left to stand and watch his brother disappear into the house. A few months ago, their mother read them a story about a noble king. He was fierce and stopped at nothing to protect his family and his kingdom. Techno had begged his father to carve him a sword to practice with.

Tommy had asked for a smaller sword, too, so he could play with his brother. The two would play all day, switching roles from an evil tyrant to the King who would save the town from him. Techno had always ended up with bruises on his arms and shins from Tommy whacking him a bit too hard, but he never really cared. 

Techno sighed before walking towards the back of the house to watch his father cut logs. He perches on the rail of the house, fiddling with his sword. His long brown hair reaches his lower back now, and Technos has been having his mum braid it for him. He ran a soft thumb over the details of the sword. Inside, he hears Tommy chatting to their mother about something. When his mother murmurs something in response, his brother bursts into a fit of laughter. Techno smiled to himself, balancing the wooden sword on the rail. 

“Hey, buddy! Do you want to come help me haul in this wood?” His father calls out.

Techno's head perked up. “ok!” He replies eagerly. When he walks through the house with a couple of logs in his arms, it's silent. His father is not far behind them as he placed down the wood beside the small fireplace. 

Techno walks behind his Father to the back door again when his Mother and Tommy jump out from the kitchen wall. Tommy holds up his sword and has a pillow tied around his waist. His mother, with a blanket over her head and a wooden spoon as a sword in one hand and a pillow in the other. The pillow is thrown roughly at his father's head, and Tommy lets out a cackle. His father turns to look at him with a smile before picking up the pillow from the floor. Techno grins and steals a pillow from the couch.

Tommy shrieks as the duo moves towards them, “Run, ma! Run!” 

___________

The human body can withstand extreme heat for longer than many estimates suggest.

This requires both preparation and control; Consisting of gradual exposure to hot environments and learning how to stay hydrated and balanced, even when sweating profusely.

Control is mostly mental. As the body overheats, the brain sends signals of discomfort, warning you to stop whatever is causing this. These signals can be ignored, and must be ignored, if the goal is to endure. Relaxation is vital; tension burns energy and creates more heat. The body needs to remain as calm as possible to function properly.

Heat tolerance is defined as the ability to shed excess body heat.

300 degrees is the limit.

There are involuntary responses such as sweat dripping, a pounding heart, and even the fog of exhaustion. Yet, humanity has a way of pushing, and pushing, and pushing those limits.

It’s not the heat alone that overwhelms, but the failure to keep cool. That’s what conquers you.

Snap!

A branch snaps under Techno’s foot. It's been a couple of minutes since the fallen were displayed in the sky, and a sigh of relief had escaped him when he didn’t see his brother's face. He managed to escape the bloodbath with only a shallow cut on his ankle. He had also managed to swipe a bag and a battle axe; he only ran in after Tommy, not really aiming for anything. Tommy had run into the blue forest. His brother had always been fast. When they were kids, Techno had taught him how to dodge. Tommy would always run through a particular field full of freesia, a flowy and colourful flower that matched his brother's personality.

Techno so badly wants to call out Tommy's name, but giving away the little cover he has would be the death of him. His sweaty hand is wrapped around his axe, just waiting for someone to come at him. 

Eventually, he stumbles across a winding river of cloudy, lukewarm water. He hesitantly steps into it, hoping that walking through the river will help cover his tracks and be less painful than the thorny turquoise grass. The water seeped into his cargo pants, cooling him down only slightly. He wipes the sweat off his forehead and continues to wade through the shallow river, looking for a safe place to take a break.

He comes to a stop at the mouth of a cave. Sucking in a deep breath hoping no one is there to kill him, he walks into it, hands clenched around the axe. The cave isn’t too dark, so he can still see inside. It’s cooler in the cave, and as Techno walks to the end slowly, he finds chunks of what seems to be gold. His eyes catch on the glittering ore, mesmerised, he runs his finger over it. Managing to pull out a piece, he inspects it carefully before moving to the back wall of the cave.

He sits down with a groan, his legs aching from walking. Techno leans back against the cool, rocky wall, his breath still ragged from the sprint. The sound of distant screams and cannon shots echoes in his ears, and he can’t quite shake the feeling that someone’s out there, watching. But the weight of his body is too much. He pulls the bag to his chest and places the golden ore in it. He places the bag on the ground, using it as a pillow, and rests his head on it. His axe still held in his hands, he falls into a restless slumber.

Chapter Text

Techno had spent his day moving in and out of the cave. He’d make a new trap, set it up, collect the mutant fish or animals from the others and walk back into his cave to create a new trap. He fell into a steady rhythm, a cannon had echoed throughout the arena earlier, making the shaking in his hands return, which wasn’t handy. He had managed to bring back chickens with his traps; they were small and had golden feathers. Some had burns on their feathers or had burnt off a toe. They tasted fine, but had an artificial taste that lingered in his mouth after eating, which made him uncomfortable.

He lounged against the wall of the cave, axe in his lap, twisting a wire between his thick fingers. Occasionally, he stopped to wipe a pink strand out of his face. Around him, the turquoise forest buzzed with the sounds of a world falling to pieces: distant groans, the creaking of trees, and the occasional squawk or groan of a creature. The cave was damp and hot, and it made his nose and throat burn with every inhale. The cave wasn't very big or tall. He had to bend his head if he wanted to stand straight in the cave.

He was having the time of his life.

He hadn’t heard a single cannon go off since he woke up from a short nap. He couldn't even tell what time of day it was. It was always just light enough to see but dark enough to be an annoyance. 

The air smelled like moss and rot, thick with humidity. His tight clothes clung to him with sweat and dirt. Somewhere in the distance, something squealed, something not quite human. A bead of sweat dripped onto his hand as he twisted the thorny grass into somewhat of a circle. He had given up on making traps; now, he was trying to occupy his hands and mind so he would not grow anxious. Tommy won’t survive if Techno spends his nights worrying. 

He’d built the last trap using a bent tree branch, thorn grass for string, and jagged glass from a broken tribute pack. Setting the bait with burnt fish, he adjusted the trigger until it was hair-thin. Each trap he made worked a little better than the last, but they still weren’t fast enough to stop something smarter than a chicken.

Somewhere nearby, he heard the growl of a pig. It was close to a pig noise, but it was too deep and didn’t squeal. Techno stood up from his seat, not adjusting his tight grip on the axe, and moved towards what sounded like a pig. He squeezes through two trees when he spots it.

It was not entirely a pig. It was just a bit taller than he was, a human-looking thing if it weren't for the pink pig skin and face and the rot that covered half of its body. It was naked except for the brown cloth around its waist. It wandered aimlessly, not looking aggressive; it clutched a golden dagger in its hand, the gold gleaming with each movement the humanoid pig made. 

Techno finally musters up the courage to walk up behind it. The turquoise grass crunches beneath his boot as he walks slowly behind it. It suddenly whips around and Technos' wide eyes stare into its decaying eyes. It huffs and growls at him before walking off. 

Techno tries to quickly snatch the dagger from its hand.  ,The golden dagger was heavier than it looked. Ornate, but with a sticky, tacky handle slick with a reddish-brown substance. Techno barely had time to examine it before the pigman's hollow eyes snapped toward him.

“Shit.”

It moved fast. Too fast. Not like the shambling creatures he'd seen from the cave mouth. Techno’s shoulder slammed into a tree as he dove aside. Splinters tore at his arm. The dagger clattered to the ground beside him as the creature let out a warbled shriek and raised its fists.

He scrambled, heart hammering, an axe suddenly heavy in his hands. The first blow hit the creature’s ribs with a sickening crunch, but it didn’t fall. It shrieked, staggering, and then lunged again, hands outstretched.

This time, Techno didn’t hesitate. He brought the axe right down the middle of its head.

Techno takes a few hurried steps back, his boots squelching in the mossy ground. The air around him shifts, humid and thick, pressing against his skin like a damp blanket. The stench of sweat still clung to his clothes, mixed now with the sour reek of the dead pigman. He could taste iron on his tongue, maybe from the fight, maybe just from breathing in this cursed place.

___________

"There's gotta be something we can eat that doesn't look like it’ll melt our insides," Tommy muttered, crouching low to brush aside a patch of turquoise mushrooms with orange spots. They pulsed faintly under his fingers. "Okay, never mind. These are probably fucking alive."

"You're alive, and I still have to deal with you," Deo quipped from a few feet away, flipping over a mossy log with the edge of a sharpened stick. A beetle the size of his fist skittered out. "God, I miss real food."

They both chuckled for a second. The air was heavy and wet, clinging to their skin and making every movement feel like walking through soup. Tommy could hear his own breathing in his ears.

“Back in my district… District 11. I used to eat these fucking rabbits that my brother caught with the berries we grew in our garden.” Tommy explains with a smile on his face. The memories of eating a warm home-cooked meal with his brother caused his mood to brighten. “I would do anything for that right now.”

Deo hums as he slashes a vine out of the way. He opens his mouth to talk, a  light chuckle leaving his lips before he continues, “My mum made this pine nut salad, we basically lived off pine nuts.” Deo licks his dry and cracked lips before continuing. When it was a special day, she made a berry pie. Best pie ever made.” He chuckles to himself, shaking his head.

“I wish I could try it,” Tommy mutters from behind Deo. “My brother wasn’t the most creative with our meals, but they were always warm and tasty.”

“What about your parents?” Deo stops walking and faces Tommy.

Tommy hesitates, biting his lip, “dead. I said in my interview? Did you not watch it?” Deo shrugs. “Bitch.” He pushes Deo’s shoulder, making the boy stumble forward slightly. 

They meet a lava river, its heat making more sweat drip from Tommy's forehead. “How is anyone meant to get to the other side without going through the fortress?” Tommy complained, staring down the river of molten lava with a look of defeat on his face. “We are so fucked.” He ran a hand down his face before pulling his hand back and staring at the now sweat-soaked palm. 

“We could walk down the river, find a way to cross over?” Deo suggests.

“What if we get ambushed and someone pushes us in? I refuse to die by lava, that's just in-con-ve-nient.” Tommy stressed to the other. 

Deo looks around for a moment, “Well, do you have a better idea? Im fucking starving and crossing over is our best option if we wanna eat!” Deo half-shouted, obviously frustrated.

Tommy opens his mouth to retort, but is cut off by a loud CLUCK! They both whip their head to the source of the noise with wide eyes. A golden feathered chicken stares up at them with curious eyes. “Fuck right off.” Tommy says in disbelief. Deo is quick to act as he brings his sword down and slices right into the chicken's back. Tommy flinches.

“How are we gonna cook this without drawing attention?” Deo says, pulling his sword from its stomach.

“We could use the… Lava?”

Deo thinks it over for a moment. “That could work.”

The two boys spend the next few minutes gathering vines and sticks, laying them out in a spot next to the river. Using a dagger from Deo's bag, Tommy sharpens the ends of a sturdy stick. At the same time, Deo preps the chicken, carelessly plucking the feathers, removing all the useless body parts and insides. Once both are done, they skewer the stick through the chicken, wrapping the vine over the chicken and stick, making sure it's secure. 

They precariously hover the chicken over the lava, muttering prayers under their breath. The pink skin of the chicken begins to turn brown, and they slowly move it around, ensuring it cooks evenly from every angle. They bring it back to their little makeshift camp. It's burnt in most places, but it's edible. They slice it down the middle, eagerly taking a bite of the bland chicken.

“I could cry it’s so fucking good,” Tommy says, taking another bite of the chicken. Deo hums, taking another bite of his half. They sit in silence with only the sounds of the arena to accompany them. There's a loud squeal from somewhere deep in the turquoise forest. It’s inhumane, sounding much more like a pig. Tommy furrows his eyebrow at the noise, staring at Deos's face for a moment before going back to eating the last part of his chicken. 

Finally, they decide to hide their trail by throwing the inedible parts and bones into the lava. Taking a couple of steps back, when the fiery river spits out a couple of molten droplets. 

“What now?” Deo turns his head to Tommy as he hoists his backpack up onto his shoulders once more. 

There are voices, not far behind them, causing them to pause in their steps. The duo pause in their step, going deathly still.ll Deo holds up three fingers and mouths to him, ‘three people.’ 

“Fuck.” Tommy mutters under his breath. They move slowly and quietly behind a thick layer of vines and trees. The voices grow closer, and Tommy stops breathing when they pass by. He recognises them instantly. A pink-haired girl from district two, Lizzie, accompanied by two brown haired boys, Joel and Jimmy, B. East. Careers. Tommy shuffles back away from them with Deo. 

SNAP!

Tommy and Deo stare at each other with wide eyes as the careers stop moving. 

“Seems like we got some hiders. Wonder what district you're from…? District 9?” Jimmy starts to talk as they move closer to the sound, Tommy taking a step back for every slow step the careers take forward.

“No, can’t be, me and Lizzie put a blade through both of them,” Joel adds, pulling out a dagger. “I hope it's the pink-haired brother from eleven.”

Deo turns his head to face Tommy, the fear evident on each other's faces. With one more glance back at the approaching careers, Deo turns to Tommy. 

“Run.”

Tommy attempts to run off, but a thick hand roots itself into his scalp and yanks back. Tommy's hands fly up to the hands holding his scalp, and he falls back with a yelp. Lizzie manages to tackle Deo to the floor, Tommy watches Deo writhe under her.

“Well, look what we caught, Jimmy smirks, looking down at Tommy. “You wouldn’t happen to be accompanied by your brother, kid?”

Tommy stays silent, scared to talk. A bow is drawn, aiming for Deos' chest as Lizzie climbs off him, standing up above him. Tommy's heart seizes. He stabs the dagger into Jimmy's thigh, stumbling to his feet as the man cries out in pain. Deo takes advantage of the distraction, kicking both feet into Joel's groin, causing him to bend over in pain, dropping the bow. He then kicked Lizzie's stomach, causing her to clutch her stomach with a gasp of air. 

“Holy shit!” Tommy yells, running towards Deo, grabs his arm, and helps him stand up. The careers regain their senses and, with a cry, Jimmy lunges for them. Quickly dodging out of the way, the duo turned to the bright foliage of the arena. Taking off, attempting to lose the career pack. 

They continue to sprint through the thick forest, not caring about the thorn bushes they run through as the careers cackle and yell from behind them. Deo runs in front of Tommy, guiding him through the turquoise maze.

Deo’s foot lands in a ditch, causing him to fall over, er, twisting his ankle. Tommy falters, skidding to a stop. “Go! Tommy, trust me.” 

“They are catching up, let me help you up, we can keep going!” Tommypanicss, his arm reaching out for Deo. The careers are visible now with their shouts louder than ever. 

“Don’t wait for me!” Deo ts, and Tommy spares him one more glance before taking off into the forest. The careers are on his back until he can hear them. The footsteps and the clattering of their weapons. Tommy swears under his breath as he takes a sharp turn, running along the lava river, hoping for a way to cross over. 

Tommy finds a patch of pure black cobbly rock, separating a river of water that runs through the blue forest and the lava river that splits the two biomes. He takes a hesitant step to see if it's safe enough. He notices the rock also runs through the lava, making a makeshift bridge to the other side. Tommy wastes no time running over it and to the other side. It burns the bottom of his feet, and tears sting at his eyes as his running slows and his breaths become more panicked. Squeals from what seems like pigs grow close, and Tommy runs toward them, hoping to use whatever is making the noises as cover.

He finds an opening in the trees, and in it is a crowd of human pig hybrids. “What the fuck man.” He groans, not stopping his half run until he reaches the start of the crowd, praying to prime they won’t attack him. 

“What the hell are these?” Joel shouts from behind him. Tommy whips his head around to face the crowd before flipping them off with two hands and slowly entering the crowd. Tommy doesn’t touch any of them, just bumping shoulders, his nose is overwhelmed by an overwhelming scent of rot and death. He stands up close to them; they are taller than he by a few inches, but that doesn't stop him from seeing the bones and tendons, being the only things holding their limbs together. 

The only thing that alarms Tommy about the careers getting closer is the sudden aggression from all zombie pigmen. They don’t attack Tommy but instead start to move towards Jimmy, who has put a sword through the stomach of one. 

“Fuck this!” Jimmy yelps as all three careers run off, chased by the pigmen. They push Tommy andthe shoulders of them throw around himm, before he falls flat on his ass. Tommy chuckles as he’s left alone in the forest. Finally sucking in a deep breath and deciding to find a tree to sleep in, not far from the clearance. 

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to walk, and Tommy's body is growing increasingly tired. He wonders about his brother; thankfully, he had not seen his face in the sky. He imagines Techno coming to save him, helping him walk and fixing the burns on the bottom of his feet. The boots had been fire and heat proof, but probably not good insulation. They had become a furnace for the short time he ran across the obsidian. If he could find the river, he could put his feet in it; surely that would help somehow. He wipes the blood dripping down his face, a thorn had cut his face during his mad dash. Eventually, he finds an easy-to-climb tree. With a sigh of relief, he lifts himself on the branches using mostly his arm, using his feet only if necessary. 

With his back against the trunk Tommy ties himself to a tree branch, sucking in a greedy breath, the ashy air filling up his lungs making him cough for a moment. Tommy stares up at the sky, waiting to see if Deo or Techno are ok. To see if he missed a deafeningly loud cannon boom. Tommy falls asleep before he can.

___________

It was a warm summer day, and both of their parents had left to work on the farm. It wasn’t often this happened, but their parents trusted Techno to take care of his brother. Tommy had dared Techno to jump across the creek behind their house.  They walked down the dirt path together, Tommy blabbering on excitedly, waving his hands around occasionally, to swipe his golden curls out of his face. Once they reached the creek, they stood at the ledge. “If I can make it, you can too, Tech,” Tommy said proudly with his hands on his hips. 

“Bruh. You did not make that jump.” Techno objected,

Tommy stammers, “Yes I did bitch! It was so good and all the ladies loved it! They said, ‘Tommy, you're the biggest man ever, let me be your wife.’” He crosses his arms.

Techno chuckles, “You are eight.”

Tommy goes to argue, but his footing slips. He slides down the rocky and muddy hill. Leg scraped on the rocks and half-drenched, lying in the shallow water for a moment. Tommy attempts to sit up as much as he can.

Techno hadn’t laughed. His eyes went wide. He slid down the bank, grabbing Tommy by the armpits and hauling him back up like he weighed nothing. Carrying him up the slope and setting him down in a patch of grass and flowers under a nearby tree.

“That’s why we don’t jump creeks, Theseus,” Techno had muttered, wrapping his makeshift cape around Tommy’s bleeding leg like a bandage.

Tommy had sniffled, teeth chattering. “I could have gotten up myself.”

“I bet,” Techno had said with a grin, bumping his shoulder.

Chapter Text

It was unusually quiet when Techno woke up. The silence pressed against his ears like a thick blanket, the kind that made you wonder if something was wrong. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, groaning as he sat up. His back protested from another night on the hard cave floor, the jagged stone digging into his muscles.

With a slow exhale, he pushed himself upright, brushing dust from his worn shirt. The cave was as small and cramped as ever, just enough room for him and his pack. He slung it over his shoulder and grabbed his axe, the wooden handle smooth against his calloused palms.

Outside, it was still as foggy as ever, and the ash in the air seemed to be thicker than usual. Techno stepped into it and squinted, letting his eyes adjust to the thick ash. Pigs squealed in the distance, but the air was unnervingly still otherwise. Even the usual rustling of small animals seemed muted. He didn’t like that.

He started walking, marking his route like always. Each time he passed a tree, he carved a shallow notch into its bark with a flick of his axe, leaving behind a breadcrumb trail of scars so he could find his way back to the cave. The forest was too big, too easy to get lost in if you weren’t careful.

It was halfway through marking another tree when he froze.

A sound cut through the silence, a low, guttural groan, not far away. Human.

Techno turned his head slowly, his entire body tensing like a bowstring. He adjusted the grip on his axe and began moving toward the sound, each step careful, deliberate. No thorny grass crunched under his boots. No twigs snapped. He was a shadow among the trees, slipping through dense undergrowth until the foliage grew thick enough to hide almost anything.

Then he saw it.

A boy, curled on the forest floor like a wounded animal.

His skin was shockingly pale, almost translucent where the little light touched it, and his curly white hair caught the light like spun glass. His lashes were just as pale, framing eyes that, when they opened, shimmered an unnatural shade of violet, though Techno knew better. They weren’t truly purple. That was just the blood vessels showing through the irises, the way they did in people with severe albinism, Philza had explained it to him when they went through the tributes. His pupils quivered slightly, darting from side to side in tiny, involuntary movements.

Techno’s breath hitched.

He knew those eyes.

Steve Polar. District 4.

Techno raised his axe anyway, jaw clenching as instinct kicked in. Wounded tribute. Easy kill.

But then Steve rolled over with surprising speed for someone in his condition, curling into a defensive position with one arm braced against the ground. The motion revealed a dark stain spreading across his side. Blood. Lots of it. A stab wound, deep and angry-looking, had soaked through his shirt and into the waistband of his pants.

Techno’s mind raced. He could leave. Walk away. That would be the smart thing to do. The only thing to do.

Instead, he swore under his breath.

“Bruhh...”

Lowering his axe, Techno crouched beside him. Up close, Steve looked even worse, his lips were cracked, his pale skin flushed faintly pink in patches where burns had already taken hold. Of course it had. With skin like his, he’d burn in minutes without shade. His condition wasn’t made for an arena like this.

“This is gonna suck,” Techno muttered, looping Steve’s arm over his shoulder. The boy was lighter than he expected, too light, probably from blood loss.

Steve flinched when Techno hauled him up, a strangled sound escaping his throat. Techno ignored it.

He adjusted his grip and started dragging him toward the cave, each step punctuated by Steve’s ragged breaths and the low hum of dread in Techno’s chest.

Dragging Steve into the cave was harder than Techno expected. The kid wasn’t heavy, but every step felt like hauling dead weight through wet sand. Steve tried to help at first his legs shuffling weakly, breath rattling, but by the time they reached the cave mouth, he’d gone limp against Techno’s shoulder.

Techno half-dropped him onto the rocky floor, wincing as Steve let out a sharp hiss. The sound bounced off the cave walls, too loud, too fragile. Techno shot a glance outside, making sure no one had heard. The forest was still silent. For now.

He crouched beside Steve, shoving his pack closer. “Alright,” he muttered, more to himself than to the boy. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

Steve’s shirt was soaked through, sticking to his side like glue. The fabric was torn near the wound, and what Techno could see made his gut clench, angry, raw flesh, blood sluggishly oozing from a gash that looked like it came from a blade, deep enough to hit muscle but not quite fatal. Yet.

“This is gonna hurt,” Techno warned. No response. He tapped Steve’s cheek with two fingers until the boy’s eyelids fluttered open. Up close, his eyes were startling wide and glassy, pupils jerking side to side like tiny marbles. Nystagmus. Techno remembered the name from Kristin, though it didn’t matter much now.

“Stay with me, Steve,” he said.

Steve made a sound like a laugh, weak and breathless. “You… know my name?” His voice cracked on the last word.

Techno didn’t answer. He just reached into his pack, pulling out a battered water bottle and a rag. He poured some water onto the cloth and pressed it to the wound, firm enough to make Steve jerk and suck in air through clenched teeth.

“Prime-” Steve bit down on the inside of his cheek, knuckles whitening as he gripped the cave floor. His pale skin almost glowed in the dim light, and Techno couldn’t help but notice the scabs along his arms and neck he was burnt.

“You been lying out there for long?” Techno asked, rinsing the rag and going in again.

“Day… maybe two.” Steve’s words slurred, but the answer told Techno enough. No wonder he looked half-dead, burned, dehydrated, bleeding. If the stab wound didn’t kill him, the arena would.

“Hold still,” Techno muttered, fishing a small tin from his pack. Inside were strips of cloth he’d torn from old shirts, a needle, and some thread. Crude supplies, but better than nothing.

Steve eyed the needle, his face draining even paler. “You’re not-”

“Yeah,” Techno said flatly. “I am.”

He didn’t give him time to argue. He cleaned the wound as best he could, then threaded the needle with hands steady from years of practice. The first stitch made Steve jolt so hard Techno had to pin him down with one arm.

“Breathe,” Techno ordered through gritted teeth. “In. Out. You don’t do that, you’re dead. Got it?”

Steve nodded, jaw clenched so tight a muscle twitched in his cheek. He tried to follow Techno’s rhythm, inhale, exhale but the next few stitches dragged muffled groans from his throat. By the time Techno tied the last knot, sweat slicked Steve’s forehead and his breaths came in shallow pants.

Techno sat back on his heels, wiping the blood off his fingers with the rag. His own heart was hammering, though his face stayed calm. Always calm.

“You’re lucky,” he said after a beat. “Another hour, and you’d be dead.”

Steve let out a shaky laugh that turned into a cough. “Some… luck.”

Techno ignored the comment. He reached for his water bottle again, tipping it toward Steve’s mouth. “Small sips,” he instructed. Steve obeyed, gulping at first before slowing down, water dribbling down his chin.

When he finished, Techno pulled off his own jacket and tossed it over him. The cave was cool, but Steve’s body was trembling, not just from shock, but exhaustion.

“You rest.” Techno said, settling back against the wall. His axe lay within arm’s reach. Always within reach.

Steve blinked at him, eyes glassy but searching. “Why… help me?”

Techno didn’t answer. He just stared at the cave mouth, listening to the wind in the trees. Out there, someone had probably heard that groan earlier. Someone could be hunting already.

Helping Steve was stupid. It broke every rule he’d set for himself.

And yet, he didn’t move.

___________

Techno kept himself busy. It was easier than thinking. He gathered twigs and branches, arranging them in the shallow hollow of stone that passed for a fireplace. Flint struck steel, a spark caught, and soon a small fire licked at the kindling, its glow painting the jagged cave walls in restless orange. The warmth spread quickly, though Techno was careful to feed it only enough to survive, no more. Too much smoke, and someone would find them.

Steve stirred faintly, watching him with half-lidded eyes. His breaths rattled, but there was stubborn focus in them, as though he refused to look weak for too long. Techno recognized that kind of pride. He didn’t comment.

From his pack, Techno pulled the spoils of yesterday’s hunt: a scrawny rabbit, already cleaned, and a handful of roots he’d dug up. It wasn’t much, but it was food. He skewered the meat with a stick, setting it near the flames, the fat spitting as it heated.

Steve’s nose twitched at the smell. “That… for me?” His voice cracked thin as parchment.

Techno grunted. “For both of us.”

When the meat browned enough, Techno tore it in half, tossing the smaller portion to Steve. The boy fumbled but caught it, staring at the steaming strip like it was gold. He took a bite, winced at the dryness, then ate again, faster this time. Techno chewed slowly, watching him, as if making sure the kid didn’t choke.

After a long silence, Steve spoke. “You don’t… have to keep me alive, y’know. Would’ve been easier to… leave me there.”

“Yeah,” Techno said simply. He didn’t explain further.

The fire snapped, filling the cave with restless echoes. Steve leaned back against the stone wall, his violet-tinted eyes glimmering in the dim light. “District Four’s by the ocean. Grew up by the docks. I could hear the gulls from my window every morning. Smelled like salt and fish guts, all the time. Most people hated it. I didn’t.” He shifted, wincing. “The sea’s big. Makes everything else feel smaller.”

Techno said nothing for a while. Then, almost grudgingly, he muttered, “I grew up in the fields. Mountains.The animals were friends, not like in here.” He tossed a twig into the fire, watching it curl into ash. “Doesn’t feel small out there. Just… endless.”

Steve let out something between a laugh and a cough. “Guess we’re both from places that swallow you whole.”

Techno didn’t respond. But his jaw unclenched, just slightly.

Night had settled heavy and dark by the time Techno shifted Steve closer to the fire. The boy was shivering despite the jacket draped over him, his wound stitched but angry. Techno checked it again, frowning at the faint heat radiating from the skin. Infection was already setting in.

Steve stirred awake with a groan, eyes fluttering open. “Still here?” he whispered, voice hoarse.

“Yeah,” Techno said. His axe rested by his side, his hand never straying far from it.

A silence stretched, broken only by the soft crackle of fire. Then Steve said, quieter still, “If you wanted me dead… you could’ve left me there.”

Techno didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at him. His gaze was locked on the cave mouth, body taut, listening to the forest beyond. Somewhere in the night, a branch had snapped. Too far away to be certain. Too close to ignore.

His grip tightened on the axe handle. “Sleep,” he said at last.

Steve obeyed, drifting back into shallow rest, his breath hitching every so often with pain. Techno sat awake, eyes fixed on the dark beyond the firelight, waiting.

                                                           ___________

Tommy hated the quiet.

Not the normal kind of quiet, like the end of a long day when the crickets started up and you could hear the hum of your own heartbeat. No, this was the suffocating kind, the one that sat heavy on your chest and made you wonder if something was waiting, just out of sight.

“Yeah, fucking awesome,” he muttered, stumbling over a patch of cracked stone. “Love that. Love wandering around in this stupid fucking arena.”

His throat burned. Every word rasped against the raw scrape of dehydration. He hadn’t had water since yesterday, since he had left his spile in Deo's pack, and his lips were split and stinging under the brutal sun. His shoulders ached from carrying the pack, though it didn’t even have much left in it, a few crumbs of stale bread, a bit of flint, nothing useful.

“Fantastic arena design,” Tommy grumbled, waving a hand at the endless rock around him. “Starve us, burn us, cook us alive. Yeah, no, that’s fine. I didn’t need comfort anyway. Not like I ever wanted to survive or anything.”

The arena stretched in every direction, a maze of red foliage and thorns that stabbed into Tommy. The trees loomed over him, each one taller than the last, ash filling his lungs with every inhale. He dragged himself on, boots slipping on the grassy floor.

The air shimmered with heat, the horizon bent and blurred, but Tommy’s skin still prickled with unease. It was wrong. All of it. The landscape looked real enough, but it didn’t feel right. The lava rivers, the rock formations, even the faint breeze that sometimes stirred the ash, it all felt staged, artificial, like props in a play.

He kicked a pebble, watching it skitter across the rock. “Bet the Gamemakers are having a right laugh,” he muttered. “Zoomin’ in on me with their little cameras. ‘Look at the sad little Tommy, dying of thirst. Ooo, he’s sunburnt, isn’t that funny?’ Yeah? Well fuck you Pricks!” He flipped both hands at the sky, voice echoing throughout the forest. “Bet you’re all sitting there in your comfy chairs with your wine and your cheese and your stupid little fuckin’ fancy snacks. Hope you choke on them.”

His throat caught on the last word, and he wheezed, stopping to lean against the red tree. His face was flushed, sweat dripping down his temples, but his skin still felt too hot. He could feel the sunburn pulling at his neck and shoulders, his pale skin blistering in angry red patches. He tugged his shirt collar higher, but it was no use. The heat was winning.

The ground dipped ahead, sloping toward a glowing fissure that ran jagged between the rocks. Tommy squinted, blinking the sweat from his eyes. Lava.

He slowed, stepping carefully down the slope. The molten river bubbled sluggishly, throwing up bursts of orange light that painted his face. It looked real enough, the kind of real that made your skin crawl just standing near it. But the closer he got, the stranger it seemed.

The heat… wasn’t right.

Tommy crouched at the edge, frowning. Lava was supposed to scorch the air, sear your lungs, melt your skin if you got too close. He knew that much. But here? The warmth barely reached him. It was hot, yeah, but not that hot. He held his hand over it, slowly lowering.

“...What the…”

It should’ve burned. At this distance, his skin should’ve blistered instantly. But the warmth was only the kind you’d get standing near a campfire. A strong campfire, sure, but not liquid rock.

Tommy jerked his hand back, eyes narrowing. “That’s weird. That’s so fucking weird.”

He shifted, peering closer at the surface. The lava rippled like thick soup, the bubbles rising in too-perfect intervals. They didn’t burst naturally, not like he’d seen in school footage. Instead, they popped with the neat precision of a loop, repeating over and over.

He pushed himself upright, swaying a little. His heart hammered against his ribs. He swallowed hard, glancing up at the nearest pillar. The crimson brick loomed over him, its surface scarred and uneven. He grabbed a sharp stone and scratched a line into the side, just above the lava. Then, for good measure, he stacked two smaller rocks at its base, clumsy but noticeable.

The laugh that escaped him was brittle. He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand, shaking his head. “No, no, it’s fine, this is fine. Just warm lava.”

The silence pressed in again, thicker than before. Tommy stared at the fissure, his reflection warped in the glowing surface. For a second, he thought he saw movement beneath it, something shifting, like a shadow swimming below glass. His chest tightened, and he stumbled back a step.

“...Nope. Nope. Not dealing with that.” He spat on the ground, though his mouth was too dry for it to land properly. “You don’t get me that easy. Nice try.”

He turned sharply and began climbing back up the slope, every muscle screaming. His pack thumped against his shoulders, his skin peeling with sunburn, but he forced himself higher. One step at a time, always moving, always leaving a mark.

At the top, he paused, chest heaving. He glanced back at the glowing fissure, the faint outline of his line visible on the pillar even from this distance. His throat tightened.

Someone else would find it. They had to. And when they did, maybe they’d understand. Maybe they’d realize the arena wasn’t just cruel. It was broken .

Tommy squared his shoulders, muttering under his breath as he pushed on. “Not gonna die in a fucking theatre set. No way pricks. Not me. I'm Tommyinnit, the wife haver and the biggest man ever.”

The silence followed him, deeper than before.

And somewhere behind him, down by the lava, the surface rippled again

Chapter Text

Steve is the one to wake Techno this time.

A rough hand nudges his shoulder, gentle but insistent, and Techno stirs with a sharp inhale, his whole body jerking upright like a startled animal. His eyes flicker open, wide and hazy from sleep. For one disorienting heartbeat, he doesn’t know where he is—only the cool press of stone at his back, the sour chill of stale cave air filling his lungs, and Steve’s silhouette looming in the half-dark.

“Heh?” His voice cracks with grogginess. He rubs furiously at his eyes with the heel of his palm, pushing away the grit of exhaustion.

Steve is wringing his hands together, thumbs pressing against each other in anxious little circles. His ears twitch nervously, and when he finally speaks, his words tumble out quick and hushed, like he’s afraid to be overheard.
“I can hear someone nearby. I just thought I’d… wake you. In case I’m right.”

The words hang in the air. Techno blinks at him, still half lost in dreams, then exhales slow through his nose. He nods once, sharp and decisive.
“Oh. Makes sense. Thank you.”

He drags one hand back through his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. The braid he slept in has come loose, strands of pink falling wild around his face. With a sigh, he reaches up and tugs the tie free, shaking his head to let the rest spill over his shoulders. His hair catches the faintest light seeping in from a crack in the stone above, glinting like faded rose-gold against the gloom.

Steve edges back toward the cave wall, folding in on himself again. His back presses against the damp stone, and he pulls his knees up, arms loosely wrapped around them as if trying to make himself smaller. His eyes track Techno’s movements—not in judgment, but in the quiet way of someone who finds comfort in routine, even if it isn’t their own.

Techno works through the strands quickly, fingers deft despite the lingering heaviness of sleep. The soft swish of hair sliding between his hands is the only sound besides Steve’s nervous breathing. His mind is already ticking, gears grinding against one another. Someone nearby. Could be an animal. Could be another tribute. Could be nothing. Either way, he knows Steve wouldn’t have woken him if it didn’t feel real.

The braid comes together with mechanical efficiency, and Techno ties it off before pulling himself to his feet. He stretches once, the joints in his back popping quietly, then dusts grit from his clothes. His eyes flick toward Steve, studying the boy’s hunched frame in the dimness.

“I’m gonna get some food,” Techno murmurs, adjusting the strap of the satchel slung across his chest. His tone is steady, but there’s a quiet edge of question threaded through it, an unspoken Are you going to be alright?

Steve meets his gaze only for a moment, then quickly looks away. He nods, shy and stiff, his fingers tugging at the hem of his sleeve. “I’ll be fine,” he says, though the uncertainty in his voice betrays him.

Techno doesn’t press. He only gives a faint grunt of acknowledgement, then starts toward the cave mouth, each step measured, careful. The air grows sharper as he nears the entrance, the faint scents of damp earth and distant pine drifting in. He pauses briefly at the threshold, casting one last glance over his shoulder.

Steve is still there against the wall, shoulders curled inward, but his eyes are fixed on Techno, watching like a shadow afraid to lose its anchor. Techno offers him the barest nod, then slips silently into the morning.

Techno moved quietly through the brush, his boots sinking into damp earth with every step. The ground was softer here than in the caves he had left behind, each step making a muffled squelch instead of the harsh scrape of stone. The air smelled richer too, heavy with moss, wet bark, and the faint, sharp tang of some flowering plant he couldn’t name. It was too alive, too open compared to the sheltered cavern. Every direction offered visibility, but none offered safety. His eyes kept flicking between the swaying branches above and the dense undergrowth below, never letting his guard drop.

The forest pulsed with sound. Strange birds let out cries that echoed unnaturally through the canopy, their calls bouncing between the trunks until it was hard to tell where they originated. A pair of insects whined past his ear, the buzz sharp enough to make him twitch his shoulder. Once, he thought he caught the shimmer of movement to his left, a flash of something pale between the leaves but when he turned, there was only an empty gap of trees. His hand stayed near his axe the entire time, fingers brushing the familiar grooves of the handle, as though reassurance could be carved out of the wood.

But that was the problem. He did feel hunted.

Every instinct screamed it. His spine stayed tight, his shoulders never fully relaxed. Even when the path ahead seemed clear, a trickle of unease worked its way under his skin. His eyes darted to the treeline, searching for breaks in the pattern, a branch bent at the wrong angle, a glint that didn’t belong to water or wing. Every sound layered on top of another, crowding his senses until he couldn’t tell if it was the forest itself pressing in on him, or someone moving within it.

Then, all at once, the forest stilled.

The shift was subtle, but Techno felt it immediately. The pig squeals faded into silence. His own breath became too loud in his ears, rasping against the quiet.

He froze, every muscle tightening as though his body had been strung taut like a bowstring. His ears caught it then  faint, barely a whisper against the earth, but unmistakable. A crunch. Someone stepping carefully, too carefully, but not careful enough. Whoever it was, they weren’t part of the forest.

His grip shifted, tightening around the haft of the axe. The weight of the weapon steadied him, but it also dragged at him a reminder of what it meant to raise it, what it meant to use it. He forced the thought away. Survival didn’t allow space for hesitation.

His eyes narrowed, scanning the shadows between the trees. The silence pressed heavier, the stillness unnatural. He knew eyes were on him, even if he couldn’t yet find them. His heart thudded once, slow and heavy, then again, faster this time, his pulse quickening in response to the unseen threat. 

Techno’s voice cut through the quiet, low and sharp.
“Who’s there?”

It wasn’t a question meant for an answer, not really. The tone was enough. It carried weight, steel, and warning. A signal that he wasn’t in the mood for games, and that whoever was out there should reconsider how close they wanted to get.

The silence that followed was almost worse than the crunch.

A shadow darted between two trees. Techno froze, axe raised, his pulse thudding hard in his throat. Then a figure stepped out.

Small. Wiry. A boy no older than fourteen.

His frame looked breakable, his clothes nothing but rags hanging from starved shoulders. His eyes were wide, half-wild, and ringed with dark circles that spoke of hunger, of sleepless nights. In his hands, he gripped a jagged shard of metal bound with tape not a weapon, not really, just a scrap salvaged in desperation. His knuckles were bone white around the hilt.

The boy’s chest rose and fell in sharp bursts, the way prey breathes when it knows the predator is close. But his stance was not one of surrender. There was no plea in his eyes. Only the kind of decision made by someone who had nothing left to lose.

“Stay back,” Techno warned. His voice came out low, harsher than he intended, but he couldn’t risk softness now. He lifted the axe, the blade catching a sliver of light given from lava through the trees. “You don’t want to do this.”

The boy said nothing. His jaw clenched tight, a muscle twitching. Then, with a strangled, wordless cry, he lunged.

The shard flashed. Techno twisted. He felt the rush of air where the blade skimmed past his ribs, so close he swore it carved the breath from his lungs.

The boy came again. Faster. More reckless.

Steel and wood collided with a metallic clang as Techno parried with the haft of his axe. The impact rattled up his arms, buzzing in his bones. The boy pressed in close, short, vicious jabs like an animal with its back against the wall.

He’s just a kid.

The thought screamed through Techno’s mind.

Don’t kill him. Just disarm. End it without blood.

But the boy wasn’t giving him that chance. His eyes blazed with something rawer than hatred survival. Pure, burning survival.

Another slash tore across Techno’s sleeve. He felt the sting, sharp and hot, and then blood welled against his skin, sliding down his arm in a warm line. The coppery scent hit his nose, and for one fractured second, he saw the boy’s pupils flare at it.

“Bruh,” Techno growled, shoving the kid back with the butt of the axe.

But the boy bounced on his feet like a feral thing, shoulders hunched, breathing ragged. No hesitation. No pause. Hunger and fear had stripped him down to instinct, and instinct told him to kill.

The fight became a blur, grunts, sharp breaths, the clatter of metal on wood. The boy’s strikes were sloppy, untrained, but they were relentless. Every time Techno tried to angle the axe to knock the shard free, the boy twisted at the last moment, eyes burning, as if his sheer willpower alone could keep him upright.

Hunger had carved his bones sharp beneath his skin. Terror had made him merciless.

Techno stumbled, boot catching on a root hidden beneath the brush. His balance wavered, the axe slipping in his sweat-slick grip. For a heartbeat, he was open.

The boy saw it.

His eyes widened, teeth bared in a grimace that was too much snarl, too little childhood. With a ragged scream, he hurled himself forward, scrap metal angled for Techno’s chest.

Time slowed.

The blade flashed. His face was inches away. His breath reeked of hunger, sour and sharp. His eyes were not wild anymore they were focused, locked on the kill.

Instinct took over.

The axe came down.

The sound was awful. Wet. Heavy. Final.

The boy’s scream broke off in his throat. He jerked once, body going rigid, then sagged, all strength pouring out of him at once. The shard of metal slipped from his fingers, clattering uselessly against the dirt.

Techno’s breath tore from his lungs as the boy staggered against him, small and light, before collapsing into the earth.

For a moment, neither moved. The forest held its silence, broken only by Techno’s ragged gasps. His hands shook against the haft of the axe. His vision swam.

Then his eyes dragged downward.

The kid lay sprawled at his feet.

Up close, he was smaller than he had looked at first. Too small. His ribs jutted like knives against his shirt, his collarbones sharp, his face sunken in from hunger. His eyes gods, his eyes were still open, staring wide at nothing.

Blood pooled fast, dark and ugly, seeping into the soil. It clung to the axe, to Techno’s hands, thick and hot. The smell of iron coated the air until he could taste it on his tongue. Technos axe imbedded in the boys scalp so hard Techno could see his skull and brain.

The weapon slipped from his fingers. It landed with a dull thud in the dirt beside the body.

Techno’s knees buckled. He dropped, hitting the ground hard enough to jar his bones.

His breath came shallow, too quick, his chest heaving like it couldn’t hold enough air. His throat felt raw, choked.

I killed him.

The thought repeated, unrelenting.

I killed a child.

The boy’s face blurred in his vision, and for a moment it wasn’t a stranger. It could have been anyone, a neighbor from home, a younger version of himself, someone who might’ve run beside Tommy. Someone who should have lived.

His hands trembled. His arms shook with it. He stared at the blood staining his skin, the creases of his palms filled with red. No matter how hard he flexed his fingers, it wouldn’t come off.

Techno bent forward, his forehead pressing into the dirt, into the same ground that drank the boy’s blood. He stayed there, lungs burning, eyes stinging, until the silence of the forest weighed so heavy it felt like it might crush him into the soil beside the boy.

His hands shook. He pressed them against his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He’d been in fights before, he’s killed tons of animals, but this was different. There was no reason, no purpose, it was avoidable. It was all for entertainment, this boy who’d wanted to live, and now wouldn’t because of him, because of the Capitol.

“I didn’t… I didn’t want to.” His voice cracked in the emptiness.

Minutes stretched. The forest gave no answer.

At last, Techno forced himself to move. He reached with numb fingers and pulled the boy’s bag closer. He told himself he needed to, he couldn't waste supplies. But his stomach churned with every motion. Inside he found scraps of food, a small canteen, and a pouch of carefully wrapped leaves and berries. Poison. That must have been the boy’s plan all along.

Techno stared at the pouch, then at the still form on the ground. A kid clever enough to carry death in his pocket. And yet he hadn’t lived long enough to use it.

He swallowed hard and stuffed the poison into his own bag. His hands didn’t stop shaking.

Then, without looking back, he picked up his axe and walked on.

                                                           ___________

The walk back felt endless.

Techno’s boots dragged against the dirt, every step a little heavier than the last. His legs moved because they had to, not because he willed them. The forest blurred around him, all green and brown and shifting shadows, but none of it settled in his mind. He knew this path; he'd memorized every curve of it when he’d left, marking trees in his head, counting his steps, yet now it felt different. Wrong. The angles are sharper. The air is thicker. As though the trees themselves had shifted behind him, twisting the forest into something unfamiliar.

He couldn’t stop replaying it.

The lunge.
The flash of metal.
The scream that cut off too soon.
The weight of the axe biting down.

It repeated, over and over, sharper each time he blinked. His eyes stung, dry from not closing long enough, but the moment he tried, he saw it again. The boy’s face slack, mouth open, eyes glassy and staring. Too young. Always too young.

By the time the cave mouth appeared, a hollow cut into the slope of the earth, Techno’s body had gone stiff, heavy, like stone wrapped in skin. His arms ached from gripping the axe too tightly, though at some point he couldn’t even remember choosing to hold it again. His shoulders hunched as if the forest had pressed all its weight down onto him and forced him smaller.

He ducked inside, grateful for the dimness. The cool shadows swallowed him, closed around him like water. But even here, safe from the noise of birds and the watching trees, the memory didn’t leave. He saw the streak of red in his mind’s eye, vivid as if it stained the rock walls. The cave smelled only of damp stone and earth, but in his nose, it was blood. Always blood.

His axe slipped from his grip, hitting the ground with a hollow clatter that echoed around the cavern. The sound was too sharp, like a bell toll. His pack followed, sliding down the wall with a dull scrape, forgotten.

Techno dropped down beside it, back pressed against the rough stone. His knees bent loosely in front of him, arms hanging heavy over them. Then he lowered his head, pressing his face into the crook of his elbows, shutting out the cave, the faint light, the sight of his own hands.

For a long time, he just sat there.

The silence pressed close, broken only by the faint sound of Steve moving near him, the soft scuffle and a whine from Steve. His warmth pressed against Techno’s shoulder, grounding, a reminder that he wasn’t alone, no matter how much the world felt emptied.

But it didn’t lift the weight.

Techno’s breaths came shallow, uneven. His chest felt locked, as if something had seized it from the inside. Every time he thought he might breathe properly, the image came back of the boy falling, the sound of his body hitting thorny red grass. And with it came the thought that wouldn’t let go.

He was just a kid.

Techno stayed there, unmoving, as the world went on around him.

The cave was quiet. A faint drip of water echoed somewhere deeper in the rock, steady and soft. Normally, the sound would soothe him, a reminder that life persisted even in the dark, but tonight it grated against his nerves. Each drip felt like a clock, marking the time he was still breathing while someone else wasn’t.

Steve shifted closer, boots scraping softly against stone. Techno flinched at the sound at first, but then the familiarity of Steve’s presence grounded him. He didn’t need words. Just the knowledge that someone else was here, breathing, watching, sharing the silence, was enough to keep the spiraling thoughts at bay for a few seconds.

Steve wriggled beside him, obviously trying not to fall asleep on Techno’s shoulder. His hand rested lightly on Techno’s back, hesitant, careful, like he was testing the boundary between comfort and intrusion. Techno barely registered it at first, but then the warmth of Steve’s touch seeped into his chest, steadying the frantic thud of his heartbeat.

“I didn’t want to do it,” Techno murmured, voice low, cracked, almost swallowed by the cave. “I didn’t… he didn’t give me a choice.”

The cave walls seemed to absorb the words, returning only hollow echoes that made the confessions sound weaker, less real. Techno’s fingers flexed against his knees, as if trying to claw some physical sense into the void. He rubbed his hands together absently, tracing the grooves in his own skin, seeking contact that would remind him he wasn’t alone.

Steve leaned forward, resting a hand on Techno’s shoulder with quiet insistence. “Hey,” he said softly, voice low and careful. “You didn’t… you didn’t have a choice. None of this is on you.”

Techno let out a humorless, empty laugh, shoulders trembling. “Yeah? Maybe. And yet… Here I am. Blood on my hands, and you’re just… still here. Guess that makes you smarter than most people.” His eyes flicked sideways toward Steve, searching, blaming, seeking some hint of judgment but found none. Only steadiness, warmth, patience.

Steve moved closer, sitting so that his legs brushed Techno’s. Without thinking, Techno leaned into the contact. Steve’s shoulder pressed against his, firm and grounding. Techno felt the steady rhythm of Steve’s breath, the slow rise and fall of his chest, and mirrored it.

 Inhale. 

Exhale.

 Inhale. 

Exhale . 

The world, spinning madly in his mind a moment ago, began to slow, to recede into the edges of his awareness.

Steve’s hand remained on his back, steady, reassuring. Techno let his own hands fall to rest loosely on his knees, then inch closer to Steve’s side, seeking the weight, the warmth, the silent acknowledgment that he wasn’t alone in this, not really. The ache in his chest didn’t go away, didn’t vanish entirely, but the sharp edge dulled, replaced with a quiet, fragile tether to something human, something alive.

For the first time since the fight, Techno let himself breathe without panic, letting the sound of Steve’s presence anchor him in the present. The cave remained dark, silent, unforgiving but in that quiet, heavy moment, it felt just a little less empty.

But the guilt remained. It crouched in the back of his mind, sharp and biting, a constant, twisting pressure that no amount of deep breaths could shake. He could still feel the resistance of the boy’s body under the axe, the sickening, hollow moment when instinct had chosen survival over restraint. This had been a desperate child in an unfair game, grasping for scraps, and he had been the one to end it.

Techno’s forehead pressed against Steve’s shoulder. The coarse texture of the fabric dug into his skin, rough and grounding, and he didn’t pull away. He let himself lean into the warmth, letting it weigh him down in a way that felt both safe and terrifying.

Steve didn’t move, didn’t shift. His hand rested lightly against Techno’s back, steady, silent, a tether to something real. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. He just stayed there, letting Techno’s grief run over him, letting it be witnessed without judgment.

Time passed strangely. The cave’s dim interior seemed to stretch and fold around them. Outside, the day shifted toward evening, and shadows grew long across the stone floor, thick and distorted. Techno barely noticed. His hand stayed tangled in Steve’s shirt, stroking almost mindlessly, a small, grounding motion against the storm in his head.

The questions came, one after another, insistent and sharp:

How many more?
How many before Tommy sees me as a monster?
How many before I see myself as one?

He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the darkness behind his lids could swallow them, but the questions didn’t stop. They clawed at him, gnawed at the edges of his mind, refused to be silenced.

Then Steve shifted. Slowly, deliberately. He wriggled until he managed to rest comfortably against Techno’s shoulder, legs folded awkwardly but without complaint. Heavy, warm, and solid, he refused to move once settled. Techno blinked, startled by the weight, then let out a hoarse, broken laugh. It was jagged and raw, but real.

“Bruh, my reputation…” he muttered, voice cracking, but edged with a faint humor he hadn’t felt in hours. “Fine. Stay.”

Steve leaned against him, snoring softly, reminding Techno of Tommy. Their breaths mingled in the still air of the cave. The quiet, once oppressive, now felt like a cushion, a small island of calm in a world that had gone violently mad.

Techno leaned back against the cold stone wall, letting the roughness seep through his shirt, letting it anchor him. For the first time since the fight, the trembling in his hands eased. The tightness in his chest loosened just enough for him to draw in a full, shuddering breath.

He wasn’t okay. He doubted he ever would be. But Steve was here, alive, warm, and steady. And for now, that was enough. Enough to keep him from unraveling completely, enough to remind him that even in the aftermath of horror, there was still something worth holding onto.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Techno let himself just be.

                                                           ___________

Tommy sat with his back pressed against the trunk of a warped oak, staring at the fortress where the Cornucopia was built. It loomed against the horizon like a jagged tooth, its spires clawing toward the sky and its bridges arcing across the air like broken ribs. In the fading light, the whole structure seemed to bleed, a deep crimson glow seeping out of cracks in the stone, like the place itself had veins.

For hours he’d told himself to wait. To stay hidden, be patient, keep breathing until Techno or Deo found him. That’s what Techno would want, caution, restraint, the kind of discipline Tommy had never been good at. But sitting still was killing him. Every second alone gnawed at his insides, the silence buzzing too loud in his ears. Every rustle in the warped brush sounded like a blade being drawn.

He dug his nails into his palms. Then he thought, Screw it.

The words hit like flint on stone, sparking something reckless. Techno wasn’t here. And if he wasn’t here, then Tommy had to move.

He shoved himself up, spear in hand. “Alright, fortress,” he muttered under his breath, adjusting his grip until his knuckles whitened. “Let’s see what you’re hiding.”

He crept through the trees, weaving between trunks that bent at impossible angles, their bark veined with faintly glowing cracks. The ground here was uneven, pocked with patches of scorched soil where nothing grew but the stubborn red-and-turquoise vines that curled over everything. Heat shimmered up from fissures in the earth, carrying a faint sulfur sting that made the back of his throat itch.

The closer he got, the faster his heart thudded, like it was warning him to turn back. He ignored it. He’d been watching the place for hours if the Careers were holed up inside like he suspected, there would’ve been signs. Smoke curling from a fire. Torches burning. Laughter echoing off the bridges. But the fortress had remained dead still, silent as a tomb.

Silent, but not empty.

The nearer he drew, the more it dwarfed him. The crimson-black walls soared overhead, scorched in places as though fire had licked up their sides. Turquoise vines clung stubbornly to the stone, their tips twitching faintly in the windless air as though they were alive. His stomach twisted.

The bridge stretched ahead was long, narrow, with no cover. Cross it, and he’d be exposed. The thought sank into him like a weight. He crouched at the treeline, eyes darting to every tower slit, every crack where an arrow might be waiting. Nothing moved.

“Could just… be empty,” he whispered, voice trembling. He hated how small it sounded, so he tried again, louder, with a weak grin. “Yeah. Empty. Too bitchy to stick around, weren’t they? Fuckin’ pussies.”

The words steadied him. A little.

He darted forward, sprinting across the patch of dead grass that yawned between forest and bridge. His footsteps sounded deafening in his ears. Sweat slicked the spear handle, and his breath burned his chest by the time he pressed himself against a tree trunk at the bridge’s edge.

And froze.

The tree was warm. Too warm. He frowned, looking down. Thin cracks ran through the bark, glowing faintly red, like molten veins under skin. Every few seconds, they pulsed, sending a wave of heat against his side.

Tommy’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “That’s… normal. Totally normal. Yeah. Fuckin’ gamemaker shit.”

The bridge yawned ahead, swallowing itself in shadow. His chest heaved once, twice then he forced his legs to move.

He ran.

Every step on the brick bridge rang hollow, too loud. The air changed as soon as he set foot inside the fortress grounds. It grew hotter, thicker, suffocating, carrying the acrid stench of ash and charred stone. Shadows stretched unnaturally long, like they leaned toward him, eager to drag him deeper.

Every creak, every groan of the structure made his skin crawl. He kept whipping his head back over his shoulder, certain someone was following, but the bridge always lay empty behind him.

Techno would tell me to slow down

He’d tell me this is dumb

The further in he went, the louder the silence grew. It pressed in on his ears, until even ash drifting in the air felt like threats. No Careers. No laughter. Not even the crackle of a torch. Just the fortress breathing around him low, groaning shifts in the brick that sounded disturbingly alive.

He forced out another shaky laugh. “Yeah, very welcoming place,” he muttered. “Lovely décor.” His words bounced back at him, thin and hollow, mocking.

But the jokes kept his fear at bay, so he kept going.

At last, he reached a broad stairwell spiraling downward into the earth. Heat rose from it in suffocating waves, licking at his skin until sweat trickled down his spine. Faint orange light pulsed between the cracks in the stone steps, like the fortress had a heart beating somewhere below.

Tommy’s grip tightened on his spear. The sensible thing would be to turn back, wait for Techno, not risk his life poking around in a place built to kill.

But danger was his middle name.

Ok, that’s a lie but it could be!

He spat on the ground, wiped his sleeve across his face, and stepped onto the first stair.

The stair groaned under his weight.

Tommy froze, blade clutched tight, listening hard. Nothing answered. No footsteps above, no shouts echoing from below. Only the fortress breathing its slow, volcanic sighs the distant grind of stone shifting, the faint hiss of heat escaping from the cracks.

“Fuck alright. Fine. Totally safe. Love this,” he muttered, forcing his legs to move again. His melted boots slapped softly against the stone as he descended, each step hotter than the last.

The spiral wound downward into a cavernous chamber. The air hit him like a furnace, thick with ash, and sweat slicked his back instantly. The floor was fractured, with thin streams of glowing lava cutting through the stone like veins of fire. Their light flickered against the walls, throwing long shadows that crawled like insects.

Tommy held his weapon tighter and pressed forward.

The chamber was huge. Arched ceilings soared overhead, blackened and warped like the ribcage of some colossal beast. Pillars rose up on either side, cracked and half-swallowed by crimson vines that twitched faintly in the heat. A shattered banner hung from one, its design burned away until only tattered threads remained.

No voices. No footsteps.

He crept along the wall, every muscle taut. His eyes darted to each alcove, each shadowed doorway. He expected Careers to leap out any second, knives flashing. But each corner was empty. Each side passage stretched into nothing.

“Oi!” he shouted suddenly, his voice cracking. It bounced around the chamber, scattering like frightened birds. “If you’re in here, come out already, yeah? Don’t be pussies about it!”

The echo rolled back, thin and mocking. Then silence again.

Tommy swallowed hard. He tried to laugh, but it came out too breathless. “Yep. Empty. Fuckin’ knew it.”

Still, he moved on, because standing still was worse. He climbed a cracked stair to an upper walkway, the stone slick under his palms. Dust coated everything in a thick film, untouched for what felt like centuries. His boots left marks in it, fresh and obvious. He hated how it screamed that someone was here now. Him. Alone. He went from room to room and hallway to hallway.

Empty. All of it.

His chest loosened a fraction, but the relief didn’t feel good. The emptiness wasn’t comforting. It was worse.

It meant the Careers hadn’t been here at all. Which meant they were somewhere else. Waiting.

Tommy pressed his back to a doorway, sliding down until he was crouched on the floor. His heart pounded like it was trying to beat through his ribs. He wanted to tell himself this was a victory that he’d checked the place, proved it safe, done something useful. But it didn’t feel like winning. It felt like walking through a grave.

He looked down at the glowing cracks that split the floor, the lava pulsing like blood beneath stone. The whole place thrummed with it, alive in a way it shouldn’t be.

“Yeah,” he whispered, voice small now. “Empty. Empty’s worse.”

His laugh cracked. He rubbed his face with a shaking hand, then pushed himself back up, hands shaking.

Tommy didn’t last long after that.

The silence pressed too tight, the walls too close, the air too hot. Every second alone in that place scraped his nerves raw. It didn’t matter that he’d checked room after room, that there was no laughter, no footsteps, no blades flashing out of the shadows. The fortress wasn’t empty, it was watching him. Breathing around him.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that if he stayed any longer, the stone itself would swallow him whole.

“Fuck this,” he muttered, voice rasping. “Not worth it. Not worth dying over, fucking nope.”

He turned and jogged, then ran, blade clutched against his chest as he retraced his steps through the chamber. His boots slapped the stone hard enough to echo, his breath ragged in his ears. Dust kicked up behind him, disturbed for the first time in years, as if the fortress itself was stirring in his wake.

The stairwell twisted up before him. He climbed two, three steps at a time, lungs burning. Every groan of the stone felt like it was chasing him. His shoulder caught the wall at one point and scraped raw, but he didn’t stop he just shoved forward harder.

At last, the dim orange light gave way to open air. He burst out into the threshold, chest heaving, sweat slick on his forehead.

The bridge stretched ahead, long and exposed, nothing but open stone. Tommy froze for a heartbeat at the sight of it. The emptiness seemed worse than a dozen enemies waiting with bows drawn.

“Just… run. Just run, you dickhead.” He sucked in a breath and bolted.

His footsteps clattered loud enough to wake the whole arena. Every second he expected an arrow to whistle past his ear, or the stone to crack open under his feet and drop him into fire. His throat tasted of ash, his lungs scalded by the hot air. The bridge stretched on endlessly, cruelly long, until at last the treeline loomed closer.

He leapt the final step onto solid ground, nearly tripping over his own feet as he dove behind the warped oak he’d first hidden behind. His back hit the trunk, his chest heaved, and he clutched the spear tight enough to shake.

The fortress loomed across the gap, glowing faintly in the dying light, silent as ever.

Tommy spat onto the ground, more to convince himself than anything else. “Yeah. Real tough guy. Real brave. Look at me, storming the bloody Nether fortress.” His voice cracked, so he lowered it, muttering, “Never doing that again. Not for all the loot in the whole fucking world.”

He hugged his knees to his chest, staring at the fortress like it might move if he blinked. But it stayed still. 

Tommy rubbed a hand down his face, shaky laughter breaking out of him like steam escaping a crack. “Techno’s gonna call me stupid for doing that.”

But he was out. Alive. And that was enough.

Tommy’s breathing finally slowed enough that he could uncurl himself from the tree trunk. The fortress still glared at him across the gap, spires lit red by the setting sun. He should’ve left just turned back into the forest, found somewhere safer, somewhere cooler. But his eyes kept dragging down, toward the fissures in the earth.

The lava.

He remembered the mark. Earlier that morning before he’d even dared approach the fortress, when he’d crept to the edge of a cliff where a river of lava churned beneath, rolling thick and slow like molten honey. He’d pressed the end of a sharp stone against a stone pillar that jutted from the rock face, carving a rough line into it. A point of reference, so he’d know if it was rising. So he could keep track.

Now, his gut twisted with dread. He had to check.

Tommy pushed himself to his feet, grumbling under his breath. “Just quick. Just to look. Then I’m out. Back to the woods. Not dying like an idiot over this.”

He crept down a slope where the ground split open into a lava channel. Sweat beaded on his forehead and dripped into his eyes. He shielded his face with his arm as he edged closer.

The pillar was still there. The one he’d marked earlier.

But the line wasn’t.

Tommy’s stomach dropped. He crouched lower, squinting through the shimmering heat. The lava lapped higher than before, glowing orange light spilling up the stone sides. The mark he’d carved was gone swallowed, erased under a surface that hissed and spat angrily.

The lava had risen. A lot.

“...Oh, fuck.” The words slipped out thin and cracked.

He stumbled back a step, spear clutched tight. The ground here vibrated faintly under his boots, like a heartbeat pulsing through stone. The cracks that webbed across the soil glowed brighter than before, threads of fire creeping wider.

The arena was changing. Rising. Closing in.

Tommy pressed his free hand against his hair, yanking at it in panic. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. That’s not fair. That’s not bloody fair!” His voice broke, echoing back from the lava walls.

He looked back up at the fortress, its silhouette blazing faintly in the twilight, and swore under his breath. “Of course. Course you’re sitting there all smug, watching me melt.”

The heat pressed harder, forcing him to step away from the edge. He backed up the slope quickly, chest heaving, until cooler air hit his lungs again.

Empty fortress. Rising lava. No Techno.

The arena wanted him cooked alive.

Tommy gritted his teeth, shoving the panic down. “Not happening. Not me. They don’t get that.” He spat into the dirt, then spun and bolted back into the trees, gripping his weapon like it was the only solid thing left.