"There's a gathering of teams four hundred meters up the road. That's where they'll make their move, no doubt." Mr. Everdeen kept his eyes focused ahead, along the street that stretched so far ahead and so far below their rooftop perch.

"We should start closing in," asserted Dio. "But we'll need to keep our pace slow to avoid getting caught in the battle."

Filia ran her hand through her hair parasite idly, casting a nervous glance at her leader. "But… Lord Dio, isn't that what we want? To fight the other teams while they're occupied with each other, so that we have the advantage?"

"It would be if defeating those teams was our goal, Filia. Unfortunately, our mission's a little tougher than that," Dio explained. "Nightmare, Predator, are you ready? How are the communicators I gave you?"

Nightmare struggled to reach around the side of his helmet to apply the adhesive side of the small wire microphone. The Yautja calmed his fussing and placed it for him, giving Dio a thumbs-up. Dio removed his own microphone from one of his baggy pants' pockets and applied it next to his ear, gingerly tapping the streamlined housing.

"Test, test," he whispered.

"Loud and clear," confirmed Mr. Everdeen, having just put on his own.

"Good. Keeping in touch will be essential for coordinating our attack."

"I still don't understand, Lord Dio. What are we doing?" Filia whimpered.

Dio plucked another microphone out of his pocket and pressed it into her hands. "You'll get filled in on the way. Let's move!"

***

The wizard had grown tired of the bickering amongst the fighters, and was concerned that chaos could break out if the situation deteriorated further. Already the shopping court in which they had gathered was being filled to the brim with loud and irritable warriors, who were shining examples of the second law of thermodynamics. He raised his staff above the ground, checked to make sure that no one had noticed, and slammed its end back down, creating a mighty clap of thunder that silenced all arguments.

"Ahem," grunted Gandalf. "We have two courses of action to follow here. Either we settle things in an orderly fashion, which could not only prove as non-violent as possible, but also serve as a learning experience, or we can tread the path of fools and rip each other apart like starved orcs! Now, which appeals more to you?"

"The first option," sighed Tris begrudgingly from the crowd.

"Good! Then let's organize things so we may proceed like civilized creatures. Could one representative from each team step forward, and introduce yourselves and your team? Here, I shall go first."

Gandalf took another step forward, pausing again to make sure everyone had seen.

"I am Gandalf the Grey. My party, named 'Magica Et Justi' by popular opinion, consists of myself, Harry Potter, the Dovahkiin, Ezio Auditore, and Leonidas of Sparta." As he said their names, each one raised a hand to identify themselves. A small yellow creature hopped onto Gandalf's shoulder and nuzzled him gently.

"Pika-pi," it cooed.

"And how could I forget Pikachu? Do you want some more Lembas bread? I'm all out, you see."

"Pi-ka-chu!" it chirped.

"All right, who is next? Once we get all of our teams here sorted out, we can proceed into organization."

"I'll go," said an intense-looking man clad in a ripped leather vest and bandages. "I am Kenshiro, rightful successor of Hokuto Shinken. Our team has no official name. Everyone just calls us the Martial Arts Guys, so that will suffice for now."

"It really could be a worse name," concurred Mr. Chuck.

"This," continued Kenshiro, "Is Mr. Chuck. He invented the Chun Kuk Do school. Ryu over there has trained in Ansatsuken, the Assassin's Fist. And finally, there is Captain Falcon. None of us are really sure what he does. He just keeps saying-"

"SHOW ME YOU MOVES!" belted the spandex-clad man.

"…that." Concluded Kenshiro.

And so the teams went around introducing themselves. It was, as Gandalf had wanted, an unusually civil event- they might as well have been in the common hall, and not in the middle of a round.

"Ugh, this is taking forever," whined Tris. John-117, her team's leader, turned and knelt to look her in the eye.

"Just be patient, okay, kid? They'll finish up soon."

"I just want another chance, ya know?" she said. "I've spent all of my time here getting' my ass handed to me- I just wanna prove I'm worth something."

"You will get your chance," smiled Shuya Nanahara, her teammate. She didn't really know too much about the boy other than he had also been defeated by Katniss, which at least gave them something to talk about. "But remember that we're all proving something, even now. We're standing here, working out our problems instead of behaving like animals. It means we can challenge the Master of Games' authority."

"You and your speeches," she groaned. "What's it matter if we 'challenge his authority', huh? We're still stuck here, ain't we? We ain't gettin' out any sooner."

The teenagers could sense a glare from behind John's orange visor. "You two. Behave."

"Yeah, whatever," huffed Tris.

The wizard raised his voice above the ever-louder rabble.

"That concludes our introductions, so it is time that we arrange how this tournament will play out. My team has worked out a plan- are any of you opposed to hearing it?"

Silence followed.

"Very well, I shall explain. As you may have realized, each team receives a clue for the location of the next VIW once they successfully kill a member of another team. Our goal is to minimize conflict while still providing a method for teams to obtain all of the clues. Teams will be paired off by the number of clues they have received. Each will provide one fighter, and the two will fight to the death. The winner's team rightfully receives the clue, and challenges the winner from a different set. Is that clear? Does it need work?"

Ryu raised his hand. "It seems a little undeveloped."

"I came up with it in about five minutes while you were all introducing yourselves," shrugged Gandalf.

"Fair enough," replied the martial artist.

"We've got one clue," shouted John over the crowd.

"Good, good!" called back Gandalf. "We have one as well. Our teams will square off, then."

"Then let's get to it," grunted the Spartan. The crowds shaped themselves around little open spaces for their chosen fighters to do battle, the volume of discussion picking up again as deliberation began.

"I'm calling dibs," snapped Tris.

"If it makes you happy, kid," the SPARTAN grumbled. "Just don't let us down, okay?"

"I'm more worried about lettin' myself down," Tris replied as she walked into the clearing made for her and her opponent to fight in. Gandalf nodded, acknowledging Tris as her team's challenger.

"In response to your use of a junior member, we shall bring forth our own."

The old wizard stepped aside, and the boy Tris recognized as Harry stepped into the clearing across from her.

"Good morning, Tris," he said politely.

"Uh… good mornin' to you, too?"

"It's been quite a while, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess. I saw your ass get kicked by Katniss in that round with the ring."

Harry smiled. "And I saw her rout you soundly as well."

"Well, I was- I was off my game! Yeah, that's it. I totally didn't expect her to punch me."

"If I could have defended myself, I would have. However, you practically let her kill you. If you're going to whine and complain about losing, don't make excuses as to why."

Tris took a step back, offended.

"Hey! What gives you the right to criticize what I'm doing, acting like an adult, huh?"

"The first thing is that it's annoying and immature, and benefits no one. The second thing is that I am an adult," said the teenaged boy frankly.

"Oh… so you lived long enough… and were brought here like that…"

He drew his wand from one of his cloak's oversized sleeves, spinning it in his fingers deftly.

"And judging by that reaction, you didn't. Which is probably also to account for your immaturity. Or did that cause your early demise? But in the end, I suppose it doesn't matter."

"You suppo- what?! My God, do you just talk to hear yourself speak?!"

Gandalf's booming voice cut short any further conversation with a cry of "Let the tournament begin!"

Tris hopped backwards, keeping her eyes focused on her opponent. She had to figure out Harry's strategy, then devise a counter to it. That was all she needed- if she could just do that, then she could pull off a win for once. The boy was drawing slow circles in the air with his wand.

Oh, yeah. He was the one going on and on about magic, right? Please. As if that's really going to-

"Flippendo!"

Tris was knocked from her feet with enough force to fly back into the crowd that had bunched around the pair's battle. They roughly pushed her back into the clear, and took a few more steps back.

"The…hell?"

"Flippendo. The knockback jinx. This is the easy stuff, Tris. I'm going to work my way up until you're dead."

"No, you won't," growled the girl, drawing her pistol. She lined up the boy in her sights and placed her finger on the trigger, but at that moment Harry completed another movement with his wand.

"Expelliarmus!"

The gun leapt up, out of Tris' hand, and clattered to the ground. More intricate movements of the wand followed, and the weapon snapped into Harry's open hand. He briefly aimed the weapon at the girl, then tilted it up and discharged its entire magazine, tossing it away.

"Did you really think that the wizarding world wouldn't have figured out a counter to firearms? You underestimate the power of magic, Tris."

Tris popped her knuckles, advancing toward Harry with clenched fists. "I ain't giving up until I've exhausted all my options," she hissed.

"Then I'll just have to exhaust them!" declared the wizard, bracing himself for the girl's attack. Tris led with her right arm, twisting her upper body into a brutal hammerfist. To her surprise, the blow connected, knocking a few teeth astray and crushing the boy's glasses. It was going well, or so it seemed. Then, as she began to follow through with a left uppercut, she noticed Harry's cunning smile.

That can't be good.

"Ossio Dispersimus," he grunted as her left arm travelled past the tip of his wand. Tris felt a brief crackling sensation, as if her arm had been charged with static electricity, and then felt something that could only be described as an unsettling squishing feeling. Her left arm stopped in its tracks, immediately falling limp. Harry began to move the wand towards her other arm, but Tris rolled left and away from him- only to find that her unresponsive arm was not there to catch her, forcing her to smack into the ground. She desperately tried to right herself, but doing so with only one arm was more difficult than she had expected. Harry began to advance toward her, but she managed to find enough balance to perform a leg sweep, knocking the wizard to the ground. She used her momentum to force her legs beneath her and hop to her feet. Tris cradled her limp arm, only to find that nothing supported it past the shoulder- it bent in the middle like a piece of spaghetti.

"What did you do to me?!" she cried, kicking Harry in the gut.

"Gah! I- oh! Removed the bones," he whimpered between strikes.

"PUT THEM BACK!"

"Rictusempra," Harry replied. Tris fell over again, this time in a fit of violent laughter.

"Hey- stop- that- hahahaha!- No! Ha! Oh!"

Harry pushed himself to his feet, wiping blood away from his mouth with his long sleeves.

"A tickling spell. See, we have one for everything. And unfortunately for you, we have ones to kill as well."

"But-ha-ha! That wouldn't be any fun," chuckled Tris, easing herself off of the ground.

"It would not," said Harry sternly. "In fact, I normally have quite the issue with using them. But knowing that we all come back, I can justify one of the Forbidden Curses. Your death will be short and exceedingly painful."

"Not as painful as yours," grunted the girl, flicking a handful of throwing knives forward with her good arm. All of them found their marks, with two plunging into his stomach and the third cleaving his jugular vein. The impact knocked the boy backwards, but he managed to retain his footing.

"Ugh," he coughed, just before falling forwards onto the knives in his stomach. Tris threw her good arm into the air, shouting with triumph.

"Yes! I did it! I finally won! Suck it, Everdeen!"

She felt something touch her ankle, and looked down to find Harry's wand cradled in the hand of his outstretched arm, its tip aglow with green energy.

"Avada… Kedavara," breathed Harry. Tris collapsed instantly, and the boy regretted his decision before he died.

John-117 barged out of the crowd. "A double knockout? What the hell are we supposed to do with this?"

"I am working on it," muttered Gandalf, scratching his beard.

John-117 looked up, waiting for the clues to fall from above. They did- two white flecks materialized against the grey morning sky and proceeded to fall rapidly to the ground. John carefully stepped forward- making sure not to tread on the bodies of either of the teenagers- and snatched the clues out of the air, carrying them to the wizard.

"Here you go," he grunted, dropping them into Gandalf's outstretched hand. "Now how are we going to work this out?" The SPARTAN pointed to the paper-wrapped objects, indicating their shapes. "See? They're different."

"Well, I suppose you can take one and we can take the other, provided that it doesn't match the one you already have."

"That sounds reasonable. Let me double-check mine." The supersoldier fumbled through his armor's various storage compartments, finally finding what he was looking for. He held it behind huge, cupped hands to avoid anyone else seeing, looked down at it, then back up at the other two, then down again, then back up, only to find the other two clues missing. Gandalf looked down at his suddenly empty hand, gaping.

"What manner of sorcery is this?"

"Did you just swipe them?" growled the huge man in the armor.

"No! Goodness, no! I believe they were swiped from me!"

John felt something like a strong breeze whip by his hand, and felt his fingers snap shut over where the clue he had held before used to be.

"You're right!" he yelped, spinning in place in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the true thief. Despite his efforts, he saw nothing. Similar shouts of confusion began to rise up from several of the teams that had gathered. Someone or something had stolen their clues from them, too.

"Tell them to calm down," ordered the SPARTAN of the wizard. "If we don't, all hell's gonna break loose."

"Yes, of course," agreed Gandalf, who drove his staff into the ground once again with a commanding roar of "SILENCE!"

The warriors obeyed the command, quieting themselves instantly. John-117 unclipped his sidearm, a rather bulky pistol, from the armor over his left thigh.

"There's something on the motion tracker," he said. "It's hopping all over the place, like crazy. Is it teleporting, or is it just that fast?"

Suddenly, there was a violent screech of rubber against pavement. A streak of smoke flared up in between the gathered fighters, zigging and zagging back and forth until it tapered to a mere wisp rising off of a pair of audacious-looking red shoes worn by a similarly audacious-looking creature, who skidded to a halt in front of John-117 and Gandalf. Its gloved hands were full of paper wads that no doubt contained the clues of countless teams, confirming it to be the thief. The sly grin across its short snout only further proved the point.

"Believe me, I am just that fast."

John aimed his pistol at the creature's disproportionally large head. "Listen, buddy. We've got enough guys here to catch you no matter how fast you are. And they won't have to if I put a bullet through you. Why don't you hand those over and give up?"

"Why don't you make me?" he chuckled smugly.

"Your funeral," barked the SPARTAN, pulling the trigger. The instant he did, the creature disappeared from where it was, reappearing balanced on its tip-toes on the barrel of John's pistol.

"Now's the part where I ask you if you wanna give up," it said with a defiant stare.

"You… dodged a bullet… at point blank…" stammered John.

Gandalf nodded a slow, ominous nod. "Powerful sorcery."

The supersoldier shook his weapon, causing the creature to cartwheel off and land with astounding grace for such odd proportions.

"I'll empty a whole clip into you, if I have to!" John threatened. The creature didn't waver.

"And you think that's gonna work any better than one bullet? I'll give ya a clue, it won't."

John's hands trembled for the first time in a long time, and he lowered his pistol.

"He's right," sighed the gigantic power-armored man. "There's no point in shooting you if you can dodge it."

"That's right, big guy. You catch on fast."

"But… we cannot simply let him take the clues!" protested Gandalf.

"You think I want him to take them? I just don't need to waste bullets on a target I can't hit."

Gandalf clenched his eyebrows together even further. "But… those clues are essential to the success of this tournament!"

"Then you get them back. I'm out," replied the SPARTAN, clipping his pistol back on his thigh. He reached into the crowd, pulled out Shuya, flung the teenager over his shoulders, and sprinted away. Both Gandalf and the sly creature watched him depart, the former with shock and the latter with smug satisfaction.

"Well, if that's all there is, I'll be heading out too," scoffed the blue, spiky animal.

"Hold, you fiendish rogue!" chuffed Gandalf, drawing his longsword, and lowering the point toward the thief. "This is not over!"

"Nah," it replied, dropping a clue from between its fingers and catching in its palm in order to wag a finger toward the wizard. "It's over. Look behind you."

Gandalf turned, and barely dodged a stray blast of ki energy. The warriors he had spent so much time gathering had broken into a chaotic brawl.

"They… they did not listen…" he breathed in disappointment and fear, turning back to the thief. The reply he received did not come from the blue creature, as he had expected. It came instead from somewhere above him and to his left.

"You seem surprised, Gandalf," it said. It was a very strange voice. In his ear, it was female, small, and light. In his heart, it screamed and bellowed with some unholy, primal force that he should be very afraid. He looked up, locating this newcomer, and was startled. Descending to the ground was the thin, short frame of the odd, small elf he had encountered earlier, though this did not seem to be the same person in the slightest. For starters, that elf certainly could not fly on her own. Yet here this one was, alighting between the wizard and the blue creature slowly and gracefully.

"Look at them. You remove order and control and certainty for the briefest of moments and their nature is exposed," it continued, folding its arms across its chest and blinking its incomprehensibly-colored eyes. "Even animals have the civility to run from a situation they do not comprehend. But they believe that with their own strength they can set things right- that somehow they will be powerful enough to control that which they cannot. Only insects would sting that which is so vast they could not understand."

"By my beard… you… you're…"

The elfish-looking thing smiled.

"That is not dead which can eternal lie," it hummed, almost sing-song. "And with strange aeons even death may die."

"No, no. It cannot be," whispered the wizard, his voice wavering. "Why would he bring you here? What logic-"

"Logic?" smirked the being. "Of course it is logical. It is merely a logic you cannot comprehend. And like an insect, you find it offensive."

"You… why are you in… that form?"

"Oh, this?" It waved an arm to its slim, feminine figure. "A little present from an unwilling vessel. I think it looks rather nice. A mortal with just a hint of our ancient power… magical creatures are like a glimpse into the true supremacy of beings such as me."

"Hey, boss," the blue creature cut in. "If you're done monologue-ing, can I get these clues back to the safe point?"

The elf-looking thing sighed, placed three fingers of its left hand on its forehead, and gave the thief a sideways glare that could cause grown men to faint at forty meters.

"Did it sound like I was done monologue-ing?"

"Um, no, ma'am- er, sir-er- miss- I'll just go take care of it."

"You had better."

With that command, the spiny animal sped away in a blue blur. When the grey elf turned its head back to Gandalf, he had narrowly dodged an unconscious body that had been hurled his way by the rioting crowd.

"What is it that you want?" he cried, his terror evident.

"Nothing with you, if that's what you're concerned about. My goal is to play by the Master of Games' rules and utterly humiliate him. With one of the finest, most coordinated teams at my disposal, we will rise to any challenge he creates, we will emerge victorious, and when he is utterly broken, I shall destroy him again. Thanks to the clues we've received from your little tournament, we have all we need to win this round."

"You're… just going to play along?"

"You figured it out! Oh, how wonderful. I'm glad I don't have to repeat myself for you, Gandalf, but I suppose I should expect a shred of competence out of a Maiar like yourself."

"You told… me… everything. Are you not afraid that others will learn your secrets?"

The thing laughed- it was an innocent, joking laugh, the sort that bubbles up when you see an inebriated friend stumble into the doorframe before exiting the room, yet the circumstances surrounding the laugh removed any sense of gaiety.

"Ha-ha-hoo! Oh, no. You see, why do I care what anyone else knows? That knowledge cannot stop me. It's like I told you. You are insects."

And with those parting words, it vanished. Gandalf blinked, reassuring himself that what he had seen had been no hallucination due to his prolonged removal from hobbit pipe-weed. No, it certainly had not been- but that would not stop him from acquiring some of that smooth-smoking stuff later. He turned back to check the progress of the crowd's senseless brawl, finding only a few fighters left standing, already grappling with each other.

"Perhaps… it was right," he groaned. He resolved to make a low-key escape before anyone could blame him for the chaos, and began to move toward the court exit, which emptied onto a major thoroughfare. However, the wizard's streak of bad luck was only further prolonged by the team he found waiting on the street.

"You!" yelped Dio, motioning for his underlings to seize the wizard. The Yautja and Nightmare obliged, each taking an arm of the protesting Gandalf.

"You saw them, didn't you?" the vampire asked.

"Regrettably, I know exactly to whom you refer," trembled Gandalf. "It was working with a blue creature that departed in that direction-" he pointed further down the road, "and that is all I know."

"Your assistance was appreciated, wizard," oozed Dio. "But I'm afraid your usefulness has come to an end."

"Of course it has," Gandalf muttered.

Filia tapped her master's muscular shoulder. "Lord Dio… m-may I?"

"Fine. Go ahead. But make sure you get all of his blood. I've known a few-"

The girl already had slipped her fingers under the wizard's beard, siphoning his blood out along her arm.

"Oh… ah… this… feels awesome," she giggled.

"Gughhhhh," gurgled Gandalf.

"Just… uh… tell us when you're done," Dio mumbled. He turned to his resident sniper and tracker, Mr. Everdeen.

"Do you think you can still get a fix on them?"

"I should be able to," replied the hunter.

Nightmare let go of Gandalf's arm, and the Predator followed suit. He couldn't struggle anymore, anyway. "Wonderful," growled the demonic knight. "Another setback."

Dio shook his head. "Not a setback. An opportunity. They have to regroup and plan. That gives us time to strike."

Filia removed her hand from under the wizard's neck, breathing heavily.

"Whew," she gasped. "What a rush! I feel unstoppable!"

"You had better be," muttered Dio.

***

A girl's voice. "And they made you live under the stairs? Harsh."

Then, a boy's. "In retrospect, it could have been worse. But it could have been a lot better. I would call the experience formative."

Gandalf blinked the darkness out of his eyes to find himself back in the common hall, as expected. The table in front of him was occupied by the two young warriors who had been participating in the tournament when everything went awry.

"Excuse me," he interrupted. "Would you mind if I sat down?"

"Not at all, Mr. Gandalf," said Harry, gesturing to an open chair. "Really was a botched job, eh?"

"I assume you saw everything?" the wizard asked.

Tris nodded. "Yep. Including all the weird stuff. Like, what the hell was up with that girl's hair? Always twitching. Messed up, I tell ya."

Harry followed with another question. "So, who was that one that looked like Holly?"

"Oh, that? That was one of the things I warned you about, Harry," said the wizard with a sigh.

The younger wizard's eyes widened. "Here? In the arenas with us? What should we do?"

"If what it said was true… and I have no way to tell, mind you- nothing."

"Nothing?" Harry seemed dissatisfied.

"What are you guys even talking about?" questioned Tris.

"It is very complicated," said Gandalf. "To explain it to you would be a great risk. If you misunderstood, or took the wrong course of action, many lives would be at stake. Therefore, I am keeping that information within my own team."

"Psh, whatever! Keep it 'within your own team'. See if I care. I'll figure it out on my own, anyway."

"What makes you think that you'll be able to pull that off?" asked Harry.

"I beat you. That means I'm on the way up!" Tris declared with a raised index finger. "If I just keep at it, I'll get strong enough so that nobody can beat me! And then I can do whatever the hell I want!"

The girl punctuated her statement with a slam of her fist, followed by her rising from the table and walking to the exit.

"I'm pretty sure I won, though," mused Harry. "I got the last shot in, so to speak."

"Indeed," concurred Gandalf.