You should’ve won the games. You were fast, young, agile, deadly smart, and uncannily skilled with any weapon you were given, but the capitol knew that.

Which is why they made your life hell. They sent tracker jackers, monkeys, storms, traps, the burning mist, and everything inbetween. They wanted you dead.

So when you fall to the ground after being stabbed by a vine, yet another force of nature, you just consider yourself dead.

To make matters worse, you hear rustling in the thickets of the foliage. Someone’s coming… You cant even stand up, yet alone run. Your eyes widen as you see… Finnick?

Suddenly, regretting his alliance while training seems like a missed opportunity, one that costed you your life.

“Isn’t this a perfect opportunity for me,” he aims his trident at your neck.

“Go on… Let them win. Just kill me.”

He continued to study you. there was something about you that struck him as different. You didn’t seem afraid of him, or of the situation- you were resigned, but determined.

“You wouldn’t want them to have the satisfaction, would you?” he inquired seriously. He hadn’t taken the trident away yet, though it had stopped pressing against your neck.

“Either you fight me, or i’ll rip the vine from your stomach and let that nasty wound get infected… And let you die a slow and painful death.”