A/n: Oh, wow. I wrote some more for this... anyways this isn't anything special, but enjoy!

To say he wasn't sure how much time had passed would be a lie; he knew. Dave always knew, but he never liked admitting it. Right now, his strong sense of the flow of time around him felt like a curse. He wasn't god tier nor did he have any other means left for time travel. All he had was some flash stepping and a built in clock.

So, Dave;s powers were about as useful as an old phone with no minutes left.

He briefly wondered if this place had daylight savings or not, before finding a place to stay for another rest. His chest flared up with pain from an injury, and from all his running. For now, taking some time down seemed like a good plan to help with surivival.

Dave sighed to himself, running an aggravated hand through his muddied hair. What was the point of survival? All things pointed to him being nothing but a measly doomed Dave, ready to die yet again.

Why couldn't he just let himself die?

Of course, Dave figured he knew the answer to that anyways. For starters, he had something called pride. Because of that, a part of him was sure as hell not going to get him killed in a hellhole like the arena he was forced into.

Another thing the Hunger Games and the SBURB had awakened in him were his survival instincts. never minding how many a mess up kid like himself had, and a new will to live; to push on even in dark times, because dammit! He didn't want to die!

Dave managed to slow his quickening heart beat to a better pace, before settling down in an attempt to sleep, as the sun sank into the horizon.

It was the sound of growling that awoke Dave from a less than peaceful sleep. He ran off, taking his stuff with him as he tried to navigate the darkened arena grounds. It was hard, but it soon seemed as though whatever the Gamemakers had tried to set out to kill him - or perhaps to just to scare him - had gotten distracted.

His breathing was still erratic, but Dave didn't bother to slow it down, as he gripped his knees.

There was the sound of a branch snapping, which cut through the silence and the sound of Dave's own heart. He whipped around hard enough to hurt his neck, scanning the nest of trees that now stood before him. They loomed over, but at first he couldn't spot anything living.

Dave moved forward into the tiny forest, eyes slowly moving upwards. Then, he spotted her. Her eyes reflected the moonlight easily, and soon he could make out her outline.

They stared at each other; frozen at the sight of another tribute.

Of course she was in the trees; people didn't look up very much. He wasn't sure how she got there or how good she was at climbing, but he waged it was better than his own climbing.

Dave didn't tear her eyes off of her, taking in the girl. He remembered her vaguely from training. She had been the only person he remembered being younger than himself.

What was her name? It started with an R… Roxy? Ruth? Raine? No… he was sure it was a plant, but the only thing that came to mind was Rose. Dave swallowed at the thought hos his sister-slash-best friend, which itself brought a tsunami of other related thoughts involving her, Jade, John, Bro…

After two minutes five-point-three seconds of staring at each other, they could hear other tributes coming. The young girl looked afraid, unsure if she should move in fear of attracting attention to her from the other tributes, or in fear of provoking Dave to attack her.

Dave took in a deep breath. "Go," he whispered, loud enough for her to hear it. The girl looked confused, so Dave motioned for her to leave again. "I'll distract them." Ha! Now he was just being a hero, even if he knew he wasn't one. He never had been, so why did he try so hard?

It was sickening sometimes.

She nodded, and went off, going through the trees with a grace that made it seem like she was born to do just that.

Dave headed towards the voices, ready to fight. And that was the night he killed his second victim.

Dried blood was harder to wash off than Dave had wished. He washed, scrubbing at his face and body. It wasn't all his, but that only made him feel a bit ill when he thought of it.

He had been close to death; or so he assumed anyways, but then of course someone had to save him by sending him the things he needed for his wounds. It was the only thing he had receivedd. One of those sponsors or whatever, but really he was surprised Snow even let people sponsor him.

"The old man must be laughing his ass off right now at my misfortune," Dave muttered, doing his best to keep what little food was in his stomach down.