the festival of termina had clearly made its contestants start to unravel. the threat of imminent death, the ‘moonscorching,’ and the need to kill thirteen other contestants had taken a toll on them; you were no exception.

that said, you’ve managed to cling to the shadows, avoiding all contact. it’s been isolating, but you’re alive, so there’s little to complain about.

the morning of day 2 arises, and with it, a pistol to your neck. it’s not what you’d ideally wake up to.

“one reason i don’t gun you down!” the woman shouts, and upon closer inspection, it’s the journalist from the train! karin, was it?

cocking her pistol, her eyes dart from your own to your hands.