They rolled into camp on tired limbs and dust-covered hover bikes. The parking was plentiful, an indication that more had died, or that there were others still making their way across the sun-scorched landscape to the safety of the neutral zone; the second camp. Jax dusted off his clothes as he stepped off his bike, removing his goggles and shaking out his hair. Thorne stretched, the two of them having been hit by a dust storm a few minutes outside of the camp.

"I'm gonna look for a tent to put our stuff in," Thorne opted, turning away from him, perhaps needing a few moments alone. Jax nodded, "I'll get us some food and something for that scratch," it was minor, but Throne's scratch from their encounter with the archer still needed treatment. Thorne rolled her eyes, but waved. "I'll be fine," she insisted, sauntering off.

Jax headed in the opposite direction, in the direction the sign with the big red cross pointed. He was lost in thought, attempting to take a mental stock of their remaining supplies and what he would need to replenish their bags.

On approaching the medical tent, Jax caught sight of a familiar face. White horns, black hair, and unmistakable red eyes—it was Boqin, alive and kicking. Jax had brought the man back from the precipice of death, and though his movements were rigid from pain, he was upright and lucid. It would have been difficult not to take some pride in that.

Gathering medical supplies into a small basket, Boqin did his best to guess what would help. Human medicine was beyond his understanding, and his herbs from home were notably absent from the pharmacy.

Jax ducked into the medical tent and paused, wiping his eyes in case there was sand in them. Could it be?

"Boqin," he grinned slowly. "What a surprise," Of course, Jax would not mention why this occasion was surprising. He had not expected Boqin to make it through that evening, much less to the next camp. The little fish must have nursed him, because stars only know that the wolf was no nurse.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, reaching to grab a pack of gauze that was on the shelf above Boqin's head.

The mutant turned slowly, trying not to twist his body and pull at his wounds. His gaze went from stern to soft, and he bowed his head in greeting.

"As though I have been stabbed and tormented," he answered bluntly. "Yet I remain," he added, "thanks to your care."

He looked the leopard doctor up and down, evaluating his mood. "How have you and your company fared? Is the winged one still with us?"

"Alive is all we can hope for in a place like this." He clapped Boqin softly on the shoulder, "I'm glad to see you still around and kicking." His smile fell a bit when Boqin inquired of Ten. "No... she... didn't make it past the first camp." He spoke quietly, recalling Thorne's wails of distress.

The screams of the remaining were something that would never leave him. Jax would do his best, but he could not save everyone.

Boqin grunted in pain, but stood firm, accepting the gesture and listening closely. "I see. My condolences," he answered, shutting his eyes for a moment of silence. When he opened them, some of his initial stoicism had returned.

"We will not be in camp long. But if you will permit it, we all ought to share a meal before departure," Boqin suggested.

Jax had not known Ten for long. Coming into this game, he had not expected to grow close to any of the competitors, but when she and Thorne propositioned him for help, he could not turn them down. It was his own fault for allowing his feelings to get the better of him. Jax would not make that mistake again. He was here to free his sisters and that was it.

"Thank you," but Jax still appreciated his words.

"I'll suggest it to Thorne, I'm not sure if she'll be up for it." He looked at the basket of items Boqin had gathered and frowned. "Does someone on your team have a cold? That's an antiviral." Unless Boqin was gathering supplies just in case?

Boqin picked up the bottle, turning it over. "I...am in unknown territory. The medicines I am familiar with are absent." He set it back where he found it, then asked, "What is your recommendation?"

"What are your symptoms?" Jax asked, his ears pulling forward, he had gone into doctor-mode. "An antiviral is good if you have things like a cough or a sore throat. They can't do much for pain."

"Pain everywhere, felt most acutely at the chest. Shortness of breath, sluggish movement, weakness of my limbs... I need to feel strong and energized for the next leg of our journey, if it is possible; I sense bad omens." Boqin rubbed at the shoulder that Jax clasped earlier. "Spare not the whip, if you catch my meaning. We are in a game of life and death, after all."

Jax nodded, "They're pretty well stocked here, so let's see what we can give you." With his original reason for coming here forgotten, Jax got to work. "Antibiotics won't do you any good, because they'll make you feel sluggish. Antibiotic cream on the other hand, is localized and topical, so it'll be good to apply to your wound. Here, acetaminophen is a fever reducer, but it also works to keep the pain at bay. Anything stronger than that risks knocking you out. Ibuprofen could work, but it's a blood thinner and because you suffered a hemorrhage, you want to stay away from blood thinners. I would still take it with you, but only take one if necessary. No medication can really offer you energy, except maybe Vitamin C, but they don't have that here."

Boqin nodded, gathering the medicines suggested to him. But he sensed there may have been more that could be done. The Games were not subject to the same medical restraint and regulation that was afforded humans, since all the medicine was for mutants, who were considered lesser beings.

"There is a plant that grows near to the corrupted forest floor...it sharpens the eyes, stiffens the body, quickens the heart...I have seen men on the verge of death consume its leaves and decimate a village. Do humans have medicine like that?"

Jax quieted for a moment in thought. He had heard of humans consuming a drug like that for pleasure, but he did not know if it was lab grown, or natural. "There is something called angel dust, but I doubt we have access to that here, since even for humans, it's pretty expensive." Jax shifted through the shelves, "Energy drinks might help with the fatigue..." he trailed off, murmuring in thought. "What you're looking for is a stimulant, I think."

Jax shifted through the shelves, sifting through medication boxes and bottles before settling on something. "Guarana," Jax reached for the box. "This is good for energy and focus. It has a bit of a bad rap and I'm not sure if it'll give you the strength of ten men, but it might be what you're looking for."

Boqin examined a few bottles in an attempt to help, but contributed little, as what he was looking for wasn't there - at least not in a form he would recognize. When Jax found something similar, he stepped over to him and hummed in thought.

"Perhaps it is not the same plant...but if it will help, I must make use of every advantage available to me for survival. I do not doubt these medicinal tents were designed to advantage those with knowledge. I am grateful for your aid."

Jax nodded, "What sort of doctor would I be if I just let my patient live in pain?" He was glad that his knowledge was useful here, at least. "All of these are safe to take together and don't interact with each other, just make sure you only take them 1-2 times per day. Except the guarana, that should only be taken once. It'll make your heart race, if you aren't used to the feeling, but it'll give you plenty of energy." It was a common stimulant found in energy-giving drinks that both humans and mutants in the dead cities consumed. The first time Jax had drunk something with guarana in it, he had thought his heart was going to explode out of his chest.

Boqin showed Jax a rare smile, bowing his head again in gratitude. "I will reserve it for times of crisis," he resolved, placing it in his basket.

As if suddenly remembering why he had come to the tent in the first place, Jax turned back to the shelf to replenish his own stock. "Good and only once a day. Knowing your team, you might need it more than one time this round." His tail flicked and he grinned. "I'll let you know about dinner. What tent are you staying in?"

"Tent 16," he answered. "Thank you again," he said with one last bow. "I look forward to it if it can be arranged."

Off the side of the road was an alcove with the memory of what was once a bustling strip mall. From the cracked earth, bits of pavement on a forgotten road stood upright, the yellow lines intersecting the cracked bits of concrete having been faded by the sun. Their trio stopped inside of one such building, whose front had completely come off, but the roof and three walls were still standing, enough to provide them a bit of shelter from the sweltering heat.

Scout turned off her bike first, performing a cursory sweep of the area to make certain that they were alone. Once she was sure, she nodded to the others, but her shoulders did not ease and her ears remained alert. The floor in the old mall, like in most places in the Wastes, was covered in dirt and sand, blown inside from years of storms. The wolf stretched her legs, a bit sore from sitting for so long on her bike.

Ljilja wriggled inside, wasting no time in tugging back her hood to spit out the dust in her mouth. She emptied the remainder of her sponsor's water canister in her face, blinking and rubbing her eyes to clear it. The little fish groaned with relief, dangling limply from the giant metal arms that supported her in the air.

In the distance, a muffled blast signaled the launch of a replacement canister, which moments later, pelted the sand outside like a meteor. Ljilja scurried right back out to get it, then huddled back inside the ruined storefront, clutching the Hyper-Drive canteen to her chest.

Boqin dismounted his bike and hobbled his way inside. He had other reasons to clutch at his chest. His wounds had grown infected, though luckily his lungs were still functional. He was alive and kicking, but he needed proper treatment at a real medical facility. Boqin stepped onward into the building, sitting down out of sight behind a counter to tend to his injuries.

In the meantime, Scout's stomach growled, gnawing at her insides. The wolf was perpetually hungry, but the last few days, especially so. She was struggling to keep anything down and the food in the packets was not helping. Despite this, Scout knew she had to try. Dumping the contents of her extra bag on the floor, she reached for a dehydrated spaghetti and meatballs. Before tasting the food served in the mutant corridors where they had trained, Scout would have thought these packets were a five-star dinner.

Now, however, she knew what pancakes were and the taste of thick, rich, hot chocolate. Compared to those, the packets were dry and tasteless. Still, Scout used a little bit of water to hydrate hers and placed it on the sand to wait. Never the conversationalist, she sat with a thunk! Facing the outside, so that she might watch for approaching predators.

Ljilja watched both Boqin and Scout isolate themselves, but supposed that Scout could make better use of the company. The little blue aquatic shuffled out of her Longjacks and, as they folded themselves up, took and rehydrated a packet of her own, tossing it beside Scout's.

Then, she scooted up next to the wolf, her little hands reaching out to try and take hold of her arm.

Scout's ears flickered at the sound of Ljilja's food packet dropping beside her own. A body joined her in the sand and in typical Ljilja fashion, she reached for the wolf. There was no use in trying to stop her, Scout had come to realize. She didn't say anything, while Ljilja attempted to take hold of her arm.

Attaching herself to Scout, she settled beside her, resting her head against her shoulder and staring out into the sea of sand. For a mutant like Ljilja, this must have been the last place she wanted to be, but with any luck, it would all be over soon, and she would be on the next flight to Staša...preferably with the wolf in tow.

Clinging to her arm, Ljilja murmured, "Will you sleep tonight?"

Scout glanced down at Ljilja, then back at the packet of food, which had become bloated from steam. "No," the wolf replied, her voice low and gravely. She reached forward to pick up her food pack, which was probably only half cooked "I'm not tired, so s'okay," Scout amended. Her body, however, told a different story. There were bags beneath Scout's eyes from getting such little sleep and her movements were slow, as though she had to think each step through.

Ljilja released Scout's arm and looked her over with worry. Just as Scout felt powerless to stop Ljilja from being clingy, Ljilja felt powerless to stop Scout from pushing her body to its absolute limits. She frowned, bending forward to reach for her own packet, slowly inching it across the ground with her fingertips to avoid getting burnt.

Scout rummaged through her rucksack, offering Ljilja the gift of a fork. It was a metal fork, clearly not from their kits. "Lifted it from one of the dining halls," Scout explained, just in case Ljilja questioned where she had gotten it from.

Ljilja bowed her head in thanks and took the fork, using it to drag her heated food packet into reach. Then, she stuck it into the packet's opening, plying it apart to let the steam and heat escape.

Scout could smell the salty aroma of preserved food, but also caught the scent of Boqin's first aid in the background; he was evidently washing his wounds, because Scout could hear him quietly wincing among the sting of strong synthetic alcohol mixed with dried blood. Quickly the burn of the isopropanol became all that was detectable; he began wrapping himself once more with bandages as the liquid rapidly evaporated.

Scout's ears twitched and her nose gave a subtle wiggle. The sharp twang of the isopropyl was a familiar smell, one that she could never escape from. The wolf ripped open the top of her food packet with her teeth, staring down into it to see the noodles that would be slightly too crunchy and the meatballs, which, despite absorbing the water, would still be far too dry, even with the watered-down sauce that had reanimated itself at the bottom of the packet.

She stuck her fork in, swirling it around to try and spread the tomato paste, her tail swishing slowly in the sand behind them.

Ljilja, none the wiser, simply sat and waited for the packet to cool, humming her waiting song to herself.

Boqin emerged wearing his hoodie and holding the strangely shaped bottle from before. Its paper label was covered in strange, hand-brushed inscriptions that looked more like small sketches than letters. Likely, this was Boqin's language.

He stepped over to the wolf and fish, extending out the bottle for examination. Uncorked, it smelled of rosy flowers and strangely not at all of alcohol.

"Would either of you care to sample this gift?

Scout looked up when Boqin approached them, having been staring down her dinner. "What is it?" She asked, head tilting slightly. From her seat, she could smell it, a scent she could not recognize. Scout had never been around flowers, so it was no wonder she was unfamiliar with their scent.

"A form of sake," he explained. "We flavor it with blossoms found in the area around Minu. Though...this one appears to be from a different land."

It took Scout a bit of effort to not grimace. They were going to drink alcohol? Here? "No thanks, one of us has to stay sober," she excused. While many of the dead cities had laws surrounding drinking, almost no one followed them. Scout had seen first-hand the effects of what alcohol could do to a person. She had no desire to partake in it.

Ljilja tilted her head, confused by the objection. She had only positive associations with inebriated people, though it had been said that liquor brought out a person's true self.

"One sip would hardly encroach upon that," he said, slowly settling himself down to sit on the floor beside Scout and Ljilja. "I assure you, the taste is not unpleasant."

"No," Scout said again, a bit stronger, this time. "You can drink yourself blind, but I'm not having any." She stabbed her fork into her food packet, hitting an unsuspecting meatball. It looked like even the wolf had some morals.

He sighed with disappointment, taking a small sip from the bottle. "As you say," he answered. It seemed like there was more on his mind than just the objection; he gazed upon the label, reading it to himself and frowning.

"I want some!" Ljilja proclaimed.

At this, Boqin turned. "Are you sure that is wise, little fish? Have you had alcoholic beverages before?"

She nodded ecstatically. "All the time! They are part of rations! Tata and I would get dizzy together and laugh at silly things."

The smile on Ljilja's face slowly disappeared as she came to some sort of realization. To snap her out of it, Boqin extended the bottle for her to take.

"I believe you. Have some," Boqin offered.

Ljilja sipped at the bottle, then hugged it to herself and swayed in place, savoring the flavor. "It tastes like flowers!" she exclaimed.

Boqin grinned. "It does," he answered.

Scout watched them pass the bottle between themselves, her gaze wary. What was so great about it? What did flowers even taste like? Scout had only ever heard of flowers. Nothing grew in the Wastes and the forests were too dense and toxic for anything so pleasant to blossom. The only thing that ever grew in the Tundra were vegetables in greenhouses, and her old owner had never brought anything like flowers home.

Now, as she neared the end of her lifespan, Scout doubted she would ever get the chance to see one.

Somewhere along the way, between Boqin and Ljilja taking swigs of the bottle, Ljilja had eaten her share of the food packet. She gave the rest to Scout, certain that she would want the extra.

"This for you," she declared, holding out the remainder of the food to her wolfish companion. "You eat more than me," she said. While it was certainly true, her statements were becoming increasingly direct and plain.

Scout had been eating slowly, washing down every few bites with a sip of water. Not to make the food more palatable, but to keep it down. Someone had taken notice and by the time Scout had emptied her packet, Ljilja reached out to hand the wolf the rest of her food. "Thanks," Scout took it from her, her stomach turning over at the thought of eating more, despite the constant gnawing. She fell silent once more, eating quietly. Her brooding expression had softened just a bit as her fork picked at the leftover rice and ground meat that Ljilja had been eating.

At least rice was easier, she thought. "What's so appealing about getting drunk, anyway?" She grumbled beneath her breath, tail laying still in the sand.

"It is hard to say unless you feel it. It is...like floating on the sea, water calm," Ljilja explained. It took her a minute to realize that Scout did not have the same associations with the ocean. She fell back into Hrvat, the tongue of her homeland, but again had to reel herself back to recall that Scout would not understand that, either. She resigned herself to simply saying, "It makes you stop worrying so much!"

Scout did not think anyone would have heard her, she was almost surprised that Ljilja answered. "It brings out an ugliness in people," she spoke plainly. "It makes you hurt people," That was the alcohol that Scout knew, not this ocean of calm that Ljilja spoke of.

Ljilja snuggled up to Scout, doing her best to wriggle beneath her arm. Even ordinarily, she was something of a cuddlebug, but apparently the alcohol was making her bolder. "Am I ugly?" she asked, beaming up to Scout with bright blue eyes.

Scout looked down at Ljilja, whose eyes were glittering innocently. "I don't think so," she grumbled, crumpling up their garbage to collect it. She shuffled in the sand a bit, attempting to put a bit of distance between her and Ljilja.

Ljilja giggled and attempted to sit back upright, but wound up flopping into Scout's lap. She wriggled for a bit, then decided that it wasn't worth the effort to get back up.

"I do not hurt people either," she said. "So it does not make me bad. It just makes me more...me!"

Scout sighed again, her ears falling forward. Scout's aversion to alcohol was not something others could easily understand, not unless she told them, but that likely was not going to happen. "It doesn't matter," She shook her head. Ljilja did not have that ugliness inside of her, Scout didn't think, but there were few that the wolf could ever trust with the truth.

Boqin reached out and patted Ljilja's head. "It is enough that she has said no," he said, remarkably lucid in comparison. He held his liquor well.

"Fiiiine," Ljilja whined.

There were a few moments of silence before Ljilja began to sing, this time in English.

"Oh, what a rotten time we've had—yes, we say so; and we know so—while you lay on your feathered bed; oh, poor old man!"

There was some relief in Boqin respecting her decision. He seemed not the slightest bit tipsy, or if he was, he hid it well.

It was a wonder how Ljilja could remember all of these songs. "Is it another timing song?" Scout asked, referring to the tune Ljilja sang to time her food, or was this one different?

Ljilja shook her head. "It is a home-song. When you arrive home from a long trip," she explained.

"But he won't bother us no more; no, he won't bother us no more; and you won't see his like no more; you won't see any of his like no more!"

She stretched out her arms to either side of her, sighing warmly. "I miss moj tata," she admitted only several drinks in.

Scout brushed a hand through her tangled hair. "What was your home like?" Scout asked, wondering what it was about it that Ljilja missed so much. Boqin, too, was only in this death game for his village.

What was it like to have something you cherished so much, you were willing to die for it?

"My home?" Ljilja asked, remembering only after that Scout did not understand Hrvat. "I meant my dad. Home is nice, but...it is not the same now."

Scout frowned, was it because her Dad had died? "Oh..." Scout trailed off, not sure what else to say. She wasn't good with sentimentality.

Ljilja grabbed in Boqin's direction, evidently wanting another sip.

"It is nearly finished," he said, "but you may have the honor."

Taking the sake from him, she gulped down the last few swigs and set the bottle aside.

"He had the Ori. I find out just before I leave," Ljilja explained. Her grasp of English seemed to be deteriorating, and her gaze was hazy, like she was looking through fog.

Scout's lips pressed together. "Quiet," her ears twitched. There was a hovercam floating just inside, its lens zooming in to focus on the scene.

"Sh*t," it probably already caught that. Scout rose, depositing Ljilja's head gently on the sand. She stalked towards it, the AI controlled camera having no sense of danger.

Before the AI could detect what was happening, a sword had buried itself in the lens, the glass cracking and the bot fizzing and smoking, before hitting the ground.

"Alright," Scout gave it one last kick for good measure. "The humans will use any bit of information they can against mutants." Was the excuse Scout used and it was probably true, but Scout did not want the cams to broadcast Ljilja's grief.

Ljilja did not understand the need for secrecy, either because of her inebriation or because she was not one to keep secrets. Either way, she watched, her head resting on sand, as Scout stabbed a camera.

As Scout returned, Ljilja reached out her arms toward her. "Put me baaaack," she whined. Back where? In her lap?

"I think you need some water," Scout replied, taking the canteen and holding it out in Ljilja's direction. "At least you'll sleep well." She glanced in Boqin's direction, who had been silent for a majority of the evening. "You should rest, too."

Boqin looked at Scout and nodded, remaining silent. He stood and walked to his bike, grabbing his sleeping bag and heading to the back of the small store.

Ljlija guzzled down the water offered to her, already beginning to fall asleep where she was. "Pilloooooow," she whined, her little arms waggling in Scout's direction.

Scout was not sure what Ljilja wanted, they hadn't had pillows this entire time, only their sleeping bags and backpacks. "Here," Scout knelt in the sand, holding out Ljilja's sleeping bag so that she could use it to rest.

Ljilja wrinkled her nose. She took the sleeping bag, but also reached for Scout's hand. "Sit, sit," she pleaded.

With another sigh, Scout sat in the sand. Did alcohol always make people this needy?

Finally, Ljilja shuffled into the sleeping bag, resting her head in Scout's lap. There, she closed her eyes, seeming content at last. "Very better," she murmured peacefully.

Scout shook her head, tail moving slowly in the sand again. "You're both gonna regret this tomorrow,” Scout grumbled.

No response was forthcoming; her body had fallen limp, and she was sleeping soundly where she was.

There was a chill riding the wind, an unusual feeling that pricked at Scout's skin, creating gooseflesh on her arms. Something about this day was off. Maybe it was because they had woken up late that Scout felt this urge tugging at her stomach for them to hurry. They were nearing the next camp and the wolf was ready for another cup of cocoa and a shower. Who knew that these things would have made a lasting impression in her mind?

There was another reason that Scout was rushing, aside from the tempting luxuries normally only afforded to humans. It was the weariness that made her eyes bleary and shoulders ache. The fatigue of not having slept for another night, which made her sway slightly on her bike. Scout bit down on her lip, hard enough to wake her up, but not to draw blood. Her ears pulled forward, alert, but the only sound they could hear was the wind whipping sand against Ljilja's giant mechanics, making tiny pings! Eventually, they began to meander up a sandy hill, the height of it providing a bit of shade from the sun and protection from the sandstorm, a rare reprieve.
Ljilja's Longjacks scooped at the sand as they stepped; she was struggling a little to climb the dune, but it wasn't anything she hadn't encountered before. She adapted her pace, shuffling her way up while trying her best to keep sand out of her face.

Boqin rode to the top of the hill on his hoverbike, covering his eyes and scanning the horizon. He could see other competitors, other teams, but by this stage of the event, he supposed many of them were worn down, looking to rush to the finish rather than to pick fights.
Scout blinked slowly, clearing her eyes of the fog. She removed her visor to swipe at her face, spitting out sand, which was gritty between her teeth. Just a little farther, Scout thought to herself. They would hopefully reach the third camp soon, then she could pass out. Not until then, Scout told herself. Her tail perked upright, catching the scent of another team. It was easier to smell them, considering how many competitors were sweating from the sweltering heat.

Even with the wind, the heat was stifling. "Guys-" Scout's stopped, her stomach dropped, picking up a particularly unpleasant scent.
Boqin turned to Scout, trusting her senses more than his own, even in her state of exhaustion.

Ljilja, for her part, had only just made it up the hill. She looked around, bright-eyed and curious. "What is it?"

Scout's tail swished from side to side slowly, as if contemplating on telling them. "We should hurry," she said, instead. Hoping that if they moved fast enough, they could avoid an encounter with those three. The memory of the shark-woman bearing down on another competitor was not one Scout would soon forget. She had heard of cabalistic mutants, but had been lucky enough to never encounter one herself, until now.

Ljilja shrugged and proceeded down the hill, sliding down its slope, finding that the safest way to quickly get down. Boqin lingered for a moment, meeting eyes with her. His culture was ordinarily terse; they knew how to speak with their eyes and deeds. Had he caught on?
Scout nodded subtly, confirming Boqin's thoughts. She had smelled something dangerous, something that posed a real threat. Her grip on the handlebars of her bike became a bit stronger and Scout looked forward, pressing on, taking the lead. She felt a bit more awake, now that her senses had caught on to a predator.He glanced opposite the direction of the wind, then his eyes caught it - the sight of three riders ignoring the forward path towards camp and barreling straight for them at full speed. Grimacing, he turned on his bike and joined her without further delay.
Scout's knuckles were white. It was rare that she was nervous facing off against an opponent. Scout had allowed Boqin to beat the daylights out of her as a challenge. There was something very important that Mercy had taught her, however, something she saw in that shark. Not to touch crazy. That it was unpredictable and almost impossible to win against. They just had to lose them, or beat them to the third camp.

Unfortunately for them, Ljilja's greatest strength was also their worst handicap. If they were all on bikes, they would be able to outpace their pursuers, but Ljilja would be left behind to fend for herself, for she could not travel as quickly on Longjacks. With each passing moment they traveled as a group, Scout could sense the Cortège gaining on them.

"Ljilja!" Scout suddenly snapped, riding alongside her. "Can those things go any faster?" She could sense them gaining on their team. Ljilja would probably be safe against them, sure, in her giant metal armor, but Boqin and Scout only had swords to defend themselves against... whatever weapon the other team was using.

Ljilja's bounding strides seemed to hasten, but it resulted in very little increase in speed. She was abnormally agile with them, but they were never designed to outrun hoverbikes. "I can only go this fast!" she answered, frowning earnestly.

Scout grit her jaw, she couldn't criticize the fish, she was doing her best, Scout could see. The wolf glanced back at Boqin, making sure she was keeping pace. In that moment, her eyes connected with the rider at the back of the group that was tailing them. The mutant gave Scout a slick smile, waving with glee, as though she enjoyed this.

Should they take a turn? Veer off course?

"We will not make it to camp first," Boqin finally voiced aloud, confirming Scout's suspicions.

"First?" Ljilja asked, looking between the two. She glanced back and gasped on seeing the others following them. "Who are they?!"

"Just keep going, don't waste time looking back!" Scout urged.

"We might not, but we can d@mn well try." Scout wasn't going to get caught up in a confrontation, not with these three. Her heart picked up speed in her chest, her tail wagging anxiously.

Ljilja squeaked with concern, her pace quickening, but she too could sense the figurative dogs snapping at their heels. They were gaining, and fast. The camp was still too far away; their foes would be upon them far sooner.

Thwack! An arrow whizzed past her shoulder, grazing her face. However, Scout barely registered the pain. She was much too busy focusing on staying awake. "Sh!t," Scout grit her teeth. Her vision was turning dark at the edges, narrowing, and closing in. Her eyes were blurry and her grip on her motorbike was loosening. "Ljilja," Scout slurred, her bike coming to a stop, but her body no longer on it. She had fallen to the side, rolling several feet down the hill before stopping, her swords tangling with her hair.

Ljilja froze up, her eyes widening with alarm. Boqin turned his bike to stop, and the pursuers began to slow their approach, growing a little more cautious. "Wha...what happened?" Ljilja asked, bounding up to Scout's unconscious body. "Down for the count, just like before," Boqin said. "Get her out of here." The hum of hoverbikes grew louder and another arrow soared towards Scout, but was warded off by Ljilja's metal arms. Now they were mere yards away. Ljilja scooped Scout up into one of the arms of her Longjacks as before, looking to Boqin and tearing up. "I cannot outrun them," she realized. "No need. I will fight. Go," he answered her. "But you will be alone!" she cried.

"Go!" he demanded, yelling at the top of his lungs, causing him to double over in pain from his injuries. Ljilja grit her teeth, then began barreling off toward the next camp as quick as she could, cradling Scout with one of her metal arms. She could not bring herself to look back.

There was something plush beneath her, a sensation that Scout was not used to. Someone had covered her body. Am I dead? Scout wondered, her limbs feeling heavy.

I thought I had more time? strangely, Scout was not panicked by this thought. Was it the arrow that had killed her? The ori? At least it was painless, she mused, until sensation began to creep back into her limbs and Scout realized (with mild disappointment) that she was still alive. Slowly, her eyes opened, the room dark. Her head throbbed at the temples, her cheek burning. Someone had wrapped the arrow wound a bit clumsily.

"Hello?" Scout croaked, her throat as dry as the Wastes. How long had she been out? Where were the others?

Scout could hear Ljilja sniffling and start to see the inside of a dark room as her eyes adjusted to her surroundings. Suddenly, Scout felt a tight hug as Ljilja leapt upon her and squeezed her close. "I must...go get Jax...to say you are awake...he will know what to do..."

Scout nodded slowly, feeling the death-grip hug of what could only be Ljilja. "You don't have to do that," Scout's voice was hoarse. Had Ljilja been crying? "Where's Boqin?" Scout looked around as her eyes adjusted, realizing that he was missing.

"He...is coming," Ljilja answered unsurely. "Just...um...one moment..." she said to excuse herself. It took a few more moments for her to be able to bring herself to release the hug, though. Scout could hear her hasty padding footsteps as she called out, "Jax, Jax, she is awake!" while running towards his room.

Jax's room wasn't far from where Ljilja had left Scout. Their accommodations in the third camp, were akin to a hotel. With indoor, air conditioned rooms, real beds, in-suite showers, and room service. It was hard to imagine it getting more luxurious than this. Jax and Ten were sharing a cheese plate, when Ljilja’s frantic knocking sound from outside.

Ten rose, she had been wary to leave Jax's side, ever since she had found out who his latest patient was. "I'm coming," Jax nodded at Ten, indicating she should stay. Reluctantly, Ten sat back down. Jax grabbed his backpack, his makeshift medical kit, and opened the door to see the little fish standing there.

"Let's go," he said, gesturing for Ljilja to lead.

Ljilja skittered her way back to the room, using her wristband to unlock the door. The building had plenty of rooms for competitors, but distressingly many lay vacant.

The door chirped and Ljilja pushed it open, granting Jax access. "Thank you, thank you," she murmured in repetition quietly to Jax before scurrying to Scout's bedside.

Jax opened one of the curtains, allowing light to flood into the room. Scout winced, wondering what had warranted that. "Oh, it's you.” She grumbled, looking up at the mutant that had stitched Boqin up.

"You've got quite the friend," he said in reply, making his way over to the bed. Scout had not yet attempted to sit up. "Ljilja asked me to help you." He didn't have to, he could've turned his nose at her request, but Jax wasn't here to win the Games, he didn't mind helping his fellow players.

"She even bandaged your cheek for you." Scout attempted to sit up, but Jax pushed down on her shoulder, getting her to lay back down. "How long have you known you've had Ori?"

"Since before the Games," Scout spoke quietly. "S'why I joined them. I'm gonna die anyhow, may as well go out with a bang." Jax was quiet as he examined her. He had watched his teacher die of ori and many others after that. Mutants could not afford the cure.

"What's the diagnosis?" Scout drawled, her eyes darting to look at Ljilja, then back up at the snow leopard. He had gotten the message, loud and clear. For whatever reason, the wolf was protecting the fish, even from hearing something potentially upsetting. "Exhaustion and dehydration, you passed out from a combination of the two," he said at last. "My recommendation is to stay in bed for as long as possible and to drink plenty of water." Jax sniffed and wrinkled his nose. "And maybe hit the shower, once you're up for it." He turned to Ljilja and patted her shoulder.

"Your angry friend is gonna be just fine," he assured her. "You did the right thing, coming to me. Even if it wasn't serious, it's always better to be safe, than sorry."

Ljilja nodded softly to Jax, sniffling again. She didn't know what to say, so she simply repeated, "Thank you." She gave Jax a small hug before urgently grabbing her canister of water and offering it to Scout to try and help her follow Jax's direction.

Scout sat up slowly, taking the offered water from Ljilja. "Thanks," her voice was soft. "If you need anything else, you know where to find me." Jax said to her, before taking his leave. Scout watched him go, then, uncapped the water and chugged it. Would Boqin really meet them here? Scout thought back to the three attempting to confront him, her stomach twisting in knots. She looked at the ribbon, tied artfully around her wrist. It was a bit dirty, but still there.

"How long was I out for?"

"...a few hours. Maybe eight or nine," she answered before hanging her head in shame.

Scout nearly choked on her water. "Eight or nine!" She yelled, wrestling with the blanket momentarily. "Why did you let me sleep that long!" Of course, it wasn't Ljilja's fault, Scout had been out like a light.

"I tried to wake you, but you wouldn't get up..." Ljilja replied, sniffling again.

The moment she stood, Scout's head began to spin. She stumbled, falling to her knees. "We have to find him," she spoke quietly, but in this state, Scout would not be able to get far.

Ljilja slowly helped lift Scout back onto the bed, sighing with relief that she did not fight her. "I can get you food, then we can wash you," she answered. It was short-sighted thinking, but Ljilja didn't seem to be in the mood to consider anything much further than right in front of her. It was probably impressive that she managed to make it to camp, let alone with an unconscious Scout in tow.

Scout recognized that she could not be of much use, right now. She had become a burden to her teammate, something she never wanted to be. Scout leaned on Ljilja, hobbling slowly back to the bed, her tail hanging shamefully between her legs. She lay back down, her head spinning. "... That sounds good."

"What would you like? They have a full buffet," Ljilja suggested. She even mustered a little excitement to her voice to add, "All free, too..."

"Hot cocoa," was the first thing that came to mind. "And pancakes?" To her, those two foods were heavenly. Most of her life, Scout had subsisted off of those packets you put under a rocket. It was only after meeting Ljilja that she learned you were supposed to cook them, first.

Ljilja nodded and turned to the wall, tapping her selections into a screen and adding her own requests before pressing a button to submit it. Then, she crawled up into bed with Scout, not seeming to mind the smell. She herself was a pleasant lavender, having likely taken a long shower some time after Scout had been stabilized.

Scout took another tentative sip of water. Was rest really all she needed? Scout was uncertain. She touched her cheek, where Ljilja had wrapped up her cut. "Thanks..." Scout muttered, never having been good at showing gratitude. "For uh... this."

Ljilja hugged Scout tight, burying her face into her. "I just want you to be okay," she said, her voice muffled.

"You heard what the Doc said, s'gonna be fine." Scout recounted, hoping her words would offer some reassurance.

Ljilja whined in a way that seemed like a precursor to crying, but she had probably been doing plenty of that in Scout's absence. She just sniffled again, rubbing her head against Scout.

Scout awkwardly reached out, patting Ljilja's head. "S'okay," she reiterated, perhaps saying it a second time for her own sake.

Ljilja grumbled this time, unconvinced. Luckily, though, Scout was saved by the bell—a chime at the door signaled the arrival of their food. Ljilja slowly peeled herself off of Scout and rolled onto her feet, walking over to the door to let the food in. In short order the room was filled with the scent of hot chocolate, pancakes, waffles, butter, bacon, and...fried octopus. Ljilja ushered the automated cart in and to Scout's bedside.

"Lot of food," Scout wasn't saying that like it was a bad thing, though. At the smell of bacon, her stomach growled loudly. The perpetually hungry wolf was, surprise, hungry. "You're gonna have to feed me," Scout said jokingly, playing into her current sickness.

Ljilja, still tense from all the stress, took her words for face value. She grabbed one of the many slices of bacon and held it near Scout's mouth, not hesitating in the slightest.

Scout's face turned bright pink, "I was kidding," she managed to sputter, a bit embarrassed. Still, Scout opened her mouth, taking the bacon gratefully.

Ljilja muttered a soft "Oh," in reply. She let Scout finish the piece, then pulled up a chair to sit across from her and begin eating as well.

"How long are we going to wait around?" Thorne was growing anxious. They had stayed an extra day to treat someone else, someone who Thorne would've rather died on the playing field. "Why did you help them? That wolf is our enemy."

"She isn't much of a threat," Jax spoke quietly, gazing out the window of the hotel room. Their final camp was a full-blown hotel with facilities. If players dawdled too long, they could easily miss the deadline for finishing. Perhaps that was the point. "Besides, I can't turn someone away when they come crying for me to treat their friend."

"They can very easily turn on your in the next round!" Thorne snapped. "And I won't be there to help you!"

"No... they won't." Jax's words were confident. "She won't last long. Judging by Boqin's disappearance, I think it'll just be Little Blue, in the next round."

"And how do you know that?" Thorne's tone was accusing.

"She has Ori," almost immediately, Thorne fell silent. Her tone changed to one laden with sympathy. "Oh," Thorne walked up behind Jax, draping herself over him in a hug. In another world, in another timeline, maybe the two of them could have had something. In this world, however, the universe had other plans. He had no time for romantic escapades when two of the most important people to him were still suffering.

Outside, the sun burned red, another sandstorm was on the horizon. They had been happening in historic amounts, Jax wouldn't be surprised if the humans had something to do with it. It was normal for a desert to have sandstorms. It was not normal for these storms to spawn three to four times a day. "Why not quit? Come with me," Thorne whispered temptingly in his ear. He turned, her fingers interlaced behind his neck. He could smell the perfume she had applied, having found it in the supply room earlier that day.

"You know I won't do that." He wrapped his arms around her waist, the two of them swaying to unheard music. "I have to save my sisters."

"And what about me?" Thorne asked, she was pouting now, her face crinkling cutely. "What do you think will happen to me if I go back? Who will save me, now that she's gone?"

"You will," Jax reached up to touch her cheek. "Ten might be gone, but she would want you to survive, to keep going." Thorne bit back tears, her shoulders shaking. "I'll wait for you," her voice warbled like a sweet song. "You'll come find me, won't you?"

"Of course I will," Jax promised, pulling her close. His hand stroked her hair, the two of them swaying once more. "What do you think will happen once we cross the finish line? For the first round?" Thorne clung to him, balling the fabric of his shirt in her hands. "Once you quit, we'll be separated. I'll go back to the housing and you'll go home."

"Jax," he looked down at Thorne, peering into her eyes. "Someone is here," she mouthed. Someone was listening to their conversation. His ears twitched, he could hear breathing outside the door. Jax broke free of her grip. The camps were supposed to be a safe zone, but that wouldn't stop eavesdroppers, collecting information to get the jump on players, once they left. "I think I'll take a shower," Jax spoke loudly. Thorne nodded, "I'll get us some food," she grabbed her gun. The two of them tip toeing to the door. Jax waited a beat before grabbing the handle and yanking the door open, someone skittering away. With a slim white tail and short, round ears, the white tiger poured on speed, disappearing in the hallway.

Thorne ran, her bare feet padding against the carpet. "Stop right there!" She yelled, holding her gun out. Jax grabbed her, pulling her back behind a corner. "Are you crazy! If you shoot that thing in here, you don't even get to finish the first round!"

"Let go of me!" Thorne yelled, struggling against his grip. "That white tiger was gonna do something, first!"

"Yes, but that doesn't justify shooting him when all he's doing is running!" Jax dragged Thorne back to their room, depositing her on the other side of the door before realizing.

Their room had been ransacked.

"We've been robbed."

The red haze crawled over the desert, blanketing everything as another sandstorm swept across the Wastes, devouring all in its grainy clouds. Scout sat at the edge of the bed, hunched over, watching. By now, Boqin surely would have raced across the desert to meet them, had he been victorious.

But Scout knew better.

Her ears pulled back in annoyance, her tail laying still on the bed behind her. Their room was otherwise silent, the tension in the air palpable. Slowly, she rose, the ache in her body easy to mask.

"C'mon," Scout gestured to Ljilja. "I'm tired of sitting around."

Ljilja could not help but hope that he would return in time. He said he would. It was as good as a promise to her. So she did her best to maintain that hope. Still, there was an ember of fear inside of her, scorching her mind a little at a time whenever she allowed it to linger.

So she would not let it linger. Instead they would enjoy this time as they waited. She scurried over to Scout, looking healthier than she had since they began this journey; Ljilja had taken full advantage of the virtually limitless water in the showers, soaking in it for far longer than any of the other competitors would likely have done.

"You should be resting, no...?" Ljilja inquired, though her body language indicated she was eager to get up to something with Scout.

"I feel fine," Scout lied. It was evident by her complexion, which had become ashen in the last handful of days. "Sittin' here 's gonna kill me faster," she grumbled half-jokingly, setting off for the door. "’Sides, ‘s better to do something than wait here, it's boring and I haven't gotten to leave the room yet," exploring would help them pass the time and take their minds off of the noticeable absence in their trio.

In her rush to leave the room, Scout had forgotten to put her boots on. The carpet beneath her feet was plush and luxurious, a dark color to hide the dirt the competitors tracked in. "This is fancy," Scout gave a low whistle, looking at the expensive light fixtures in the hallway.

Ljilja at least remembered to put her gear back on before she left, though the Longjacks remained in the room to charge. Scout was enough of a weapon for the both of them.

The little aquatic mutant was used to the people around her occasionally having nice things; a mining colony had certain benefits, even if you were technically all property of the corporation until you worked off your debt. "Mm-hmm, they have lots of goodies, too!" Ljilja explained, wiggling as she walked alongside Scout.

Scout led the way, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her shorts. Had Ljilja changed them while she was passed out? Or had her clothes magically been cleaned? Scout wasn't sure. Unlike the little fish, Scout was not used to being surrounded by luxury, even now. This hotel seemed out of place among the bloodshed. She suddenly leaned against the wall, momentarily dizzy.

"What kind of goodies?" Scout asked, wondering if Ljilja meant food, or something else. Even now, when she could barely tolerate it, Scout wanted to eat; there was a perpetual gnawing in the pit of her stomach. "There's an elevator?" Scout at least knew what those looked like, she had ridden in them on her way to prison and they had them in some of the Dead Cities, although not all of them worked.

"How many floors are there?"

"Three!" Ljilja announced, pointing at the symbol on the elevator's display. Is that what that meant? That squiggly line that looked like a butt-print in the sand? "And they have cookies and ice cream and hot chocolate and strudel and princes krafne and everything! Whatever you want!"

Ljilja was probably holding back from exploring too much until Scout came to - for as much as Boqin's well-being weighed on Ljilja's mind, Scout's had come quite deeply into question as well.

"Three," Scout repeated, her nose wrinkling. The humans would let this entire building rot once these Games were over. The elevator pinged, the doors opening on their own to reveal its sleek interior with tiled flooring. "Sounds good to me," her mouth watered, even if her stomach kicked in rebellion.

Scout took a short whiff in the air, the elevator having a strange scent to it, one she had only gotten to smell a few times in her life. "Flowers," it was the smell of perfume wafting underneath her nose. The other camps had been exposed to the elements, but this one was closed enough to retain certain scents.

The door pinged again, announcing their arrival to the first floor. Scout stepped off, greeted by an ornate lobby with opulent decorations, chaise lounge chairs, and chandeliers. There were corners to tuck yourself into and get lost in and racks with holo tabloids. A holo vision was mounted on the wall, playing a recap of the Games thus far. Scout turned away from it, blocking Ljilja's view.

"Let's go that way," Scout decided.

The excess of humanity's noblest was at its most abhorrent whenever it fell into mutant hands, for it only occurred in the case of vicious Games, slavery, or disposal. The end of all human luxuries was to be discarded once they had served their use; only after the humans were done with their toys and hedonistic goods were mutants able to pick through the scraps of what remained, the exception of course being when said mutants were their toys.

The wolf and the fish were no different. Ljilja followed Scout's lead as the two made their way into the lobby. She tried to get a look at the screens, but was unable. She was curious why Scout would direct her away from it, then remembered that the experience of most teams was probably far less pleasant than theirs. It had not been an easy ride through the desert, but save for some close calls and that final encounter, Ljilja had been spared the brunt of the fighting. That fact was probably something Scout could take pride in, if nothing else.

She had to walk quickly to keep up with Scout. Her hand reached out to try and take hers, that she would not get left behind.

An odd pair, they made. A tall, lanky, wolf, and a small, happy, fish. Scout hardly felt Ljilja's hand slip into her own, but she didn't reject it. Instead, the wolf slowed a bit, recalling that Ljilja could not walk as fast as she. Here; the hallway changed again. Signs began to pop up, pointing in the direction of the highlights of this building.

At one end, there was a pool, in another, a gym, and a third, the dining hall. There were signs for a supply room, a medical room, and an outfitter. All of it was for the use of the contestants, who were allowed to spend as much time as they wanted in any of these areas. At least until the clock struck midnight on the deadline. Then this hotel would be emptied, a pitiful shell of its once shining interior.

Even now, the floor, which had been switched to tile, was kept in immaculate condition, perhaps laid for this occasion. "I can smell it," her senses never lied. They arrived at the dining room with ease. This one almost resembled the one in the mutant housing onboard the ship.

There were real tables and chairs, not folding ones. There was silverware, and even a drink dispenser. Most importantly, however, was the selection of goodies just for them.

Ljilja hopped in place at the sight, gripping firmly to Scout's hand with her little palm. "See? I told you there were many things!" she exclaimed, turning her head this way and that.

Scout nodded, licking her lips. Which side should they start on? Her tail had begun to pick up, wagging in a way it rarely ever did. "Let's go this way," Scout decided. She was still holding onto Ljilja's hand. With the other, Scout picked up a tray. Would it be too much to get a little bit of everything? Scout wanted to try it all.

Ljilja had already eaten some while she was waiting for Scout to come to. She picked up a bowl of crunchy sea snacks and added it to her tray along with some cold tea. Eventually she had to let go of Scout's hand for practicality, but stuck close to her side nonetheless.

Scout was determined, she was juggling three plates by the time she was satisfied and found a table for them to sit at. It was in the corner, far away from anyone else who might enter. She picked some sort of brown drink to wash it all down with, the label too complex for her to read. "I think I got everything," Scout nodded with satisfaction. She set the plates down, looking over her bounty with a strange sense of pride.

Six months ago, she never would have believed that she would get to eat all of this.

A mutant moved nervously towards them, not wearing the uniforms of the contestants. He appeared out of place, what with his strange white bib that read VOLUNTEER across the front and his hat. The mutant was not part of the Game, but that meant little to the others, who would strike faster than they could think. His tail hung between his legs and he swallowed a nervous gulp, approaching the table where two contestants had just sat down. "'Scuse me," he tugged on the collar of his shirt. "There's a package for your team at the front desk, says it's time sensitive on the front. It's a sponsor gift," he looked between them, then quickly scurried off.

Scout glanced at Ljilja, figuring it was probably for the fish. She was popular with the humans and it was no wonder, what with her bright face and persistent hope. "Should we go see what it is?"
Ljilja munched on her crunchy seafood snacks, picking up her bowl and shuffling out of her seat. "Maybe it is a present," she surmised, excitedly hopping to her feet. "Let us see!" Her experience with the sponsor drops thus far had been only positive; even now, her endless flask of water was one of her most prized possessions.

Scout rose, too, having waited for the fish to finish. "They've been generous," Scout admitted. There was not a speck of jealousy in her voice, she knew she was unlikable. She wasn't even sure why Ljilja continued to hang around her. Scout raised her arms above her head, feeling a bit better after getting out of the room. The wolf made certain to keep pace with her partner, not wanting Ljilja to fall behind because of her wide stride. It was easy to find their way back to the front desk, since they had passed the lobby on their way to the dining room.

At the desk was a stack of tubes, similar to the ones launched in the middle of the desert. Each had a different name written on them, but they were left unattended. "You think one of these is it?" She asked, unable to read the contestant names written on the front.

Ljilja followed along with a skip to her step. Perhaps Scout had raised her arms because she knew that, if they were closer to Ljilja's level, she would immediately grab hold of one of her hands. The wolf was plenty likable as far as she was concerned, not that her or anyone else's efforts to convince her of that had borne any fruit.

Once they arrived at the desk, Ljilja looked through for anything labeled Scout, Boqin, or Ljilja, and took it. The rest she left behind on principle; Ljilja was no thief, unguarded goods or not!

"This one says it's yours," Ljilja answered, holding out a tube to her.

"For me?" There was genuine surprise written across her face. She took the offered tube, tapping her bracelet against it. The small door on the container popped open, an even smaller box inside, along with a bottle of water that had the same letters as the one on the tube. "There's a note," Scout raised it, squinting at the letters as though she could make sense of them this way. With a slight blush, she held the note out to Ljilja. "... Can you... read it?" She asked, avoiding her gaze in embarrassment.

"Yes!" Ljilja excitedly proclaimed, taking the note and unfurling it, her bright blue eyes skimming over its surface. "It says it is treatment...medicine to help you feel better...and it is signed from 'B'. Who is 'B'?" she asked, tilting her head curiously before handing the note back to Scout.

Scout stuffed the note in her pocket, "Bea," the wolf opened the smaller box inside, revealing a pill packet similar to the one she had taken while still on the ship. "She said she makes experimental medicine for Ori," was that nervousness or excitement in Scout's voice? Could there be a small part of her that still wanted to live?

Ljilja wiggled in place, squinting at the packet Scout revealed. "Good news, then!" she concluded, hopping once, then twice. "Maybe you will feel better!"

Scout nodded, ”I'll take the first one now," her tail swished a bit, her ears perked upright. She popped the pill into her mouth, chasing it down with water. Hope was such a sweet, but cruel thing.

Like an affectionate cat, Ljilja moved beside Scout and nestled in close against her. The occupation of her hands may have kept Scout from having one of them taken, but it did not shield her from the limitless clinginess of the small aquatic.

Seven days. Has it only been seven days? The week felt as if it would never end. The first game, in the middle of The Wastes, exhaustingly hot and dangerous. The entirety of it had been solo travel on his own. Others had found potential alliances, people they could lean on or split work up with. A little more security in some ways he supposes - there's always safety in numbers - but how could you be sure anyone would actually have your back here? What would stop them from turning around and stabbing you in the back once they decided an alliance wasn't worth it anymore? Bloodshed is essentially the entire point of these game, isn't it?

Tap. Tap. Tap. His leg bounces restlessly, a distraction from pain, hardly able to relax in his spot on the ship transporting him and a handful of others back up to Father. After running high on spiked adrenaline for the entirety of a week, his body doesn't seem keen on letting him rest yet, still surrounded by others who very well may have been his killers if he had been unlucky and they deemed him an easy target. At least none of them have weapons, but he doesn't have his either; the double hooked chain has been left far below with the human attendant. It leaves him feeling vulnerable, the same way it had when he'd first been picked up after his number being called, leaving behind home and family.

Home. Family. Are they still okay? Katia, her Ori, hasn't progressed any further, has it? What about Raven's? Have they been watching from the battered old building the six of them call home? What have they said? What have they thought? Do they think he'll make it, or do they think letting him go was a mistake after all, and are bracing themselves for his death?

His leg bounces a little faster, fingers moving to pick at the sleeve of the jacket he'd been provided, just a few names printed over the back - sponsors. Not many at all, though he supposes he should be grateful for the few he does have. Others are less lucky than him, even if he feels he's close to the bottom of the barrel regardless. Who knows if they'll even stick around now, though. Sahara had insisted on him trying to make more of a show for himself this game, anything to catch more attention and draw eyes on him to try and make up for the failure of a start to connections he'd had when first arriving. Yet, it seems he'd done the exact opposite. He hadn't killed a single person, and the only "fights" he'd gotten into had been more akin to him just trying to run for his life. Years of living as "prey" in the forests had gotten him to a point of recognizing when an opponent was someone out of his league, bigger or stronger than he, or more in numbers than Cassius could manage on his own. If he tried to face any of them head-on, wouldn't that be nothing more than an idiotic deathwish? So, he ran. Or tried his best, suffering a myriad of cuts and bruises, the worst of it a gash down his left arm, the very arm that rests tenderly at his side, the pain faded to something dull and uncomfortable, but manageable now.

Still, shouldn't he just be grateful he made it out of this game with his life? Anyone in their right mind would be, but "sponsors don't care for competitors who can't provide entertainment. What's the point of putting an advertisement on something that won't even get a second glance?"

His right hand shift down to grip the edge of his seat, knuckles turning white. Sahara, it seems, is all for violence and bloodshed. She certainly protrays herself as someone with etiquette and professionalism, but all her advice and pressure had shown otherwise to him. And soon he'll have to face her again, right after failing to follow any of the "advice" she'd provided him. With how displeased she'd been upon seeing him the first time - it seems a rabbit can't excite her nearly as much as...well, maybe that shark girl he'd dodged a few times - he doubts his performance here has helped her feel much better over the predicaments of her job this year.

It seems he hardly has time to prepare himself for facing her again, though. Soon enough they're docking back on Father once more, each of them being herded back onto the space colony to meet back with their managers, a check in with the med bay required soon after. His arm could certainly use a bit of treatment; silently he wishes he could just go straight there and skip past Sahara altogether. Unfortunately for him, she's waiting close by, arms crossed and one finger tapping slow and rhythmically against her arm.

He doesn't even have a chance to speak before she jumps into her own words, a sense of contempt within them for the competitor she's been stuck with who seems to simply refuse heeding even a word of her instruction.

"Not a single kill. Just running and hiding, Cassius. You couldn't even try to make some sort of show for the sponsors? At this rate, we'll lose the already measly number I've barely managed to scrape in for you." Sahara clicks her tongue, head slightly upturned with a disdainful look down at him, voice quieting. "Such a waste."

"I'm sorry." Comes the awkward response, gaze averting down as fingers pick at the cropped top he's worn for the last seven days. He misses his old clothes, eager to ditch the ruined jacket with names of companies that may eventually use his corpse as a form of advertisement - or just their morbid entertainment.

"You aren't." She says, and he shifts awkwardly, a glance in the direction of the med bay as if that will even give him an escape at this point; it seems Sahara will be following him there anyway, a sigh leaving her as she unfolds her arms, right hand pressing to his back to get him moving forward. "It doesn't matter. We'll just have to hope the next game can help show you off in some other worthwhile light that this one couldn't."

He highly doubts it, but Cassius keeps his mouth shut as they walk, the exhaustion from the week finally seeming to settle in now that he isn't running for his life through the desert. The sooner he receives the treatment deemed necessary at the med bay, the sooner he can make way back to the housing they've been provided and rest.