The large, dimly lit room was filled with the remnants of Capitol opulence—a stark contrast to the rebellion's grim reality outside. Velvet curtains hung heavily against the walls, and the air was thick with the scent of artificial perfume, a relic of a regime that thrived on excess. A few broken chairs and scattered papers littered the floor, evidence of a hasty departure from whatever business had once been conducted here.

“Can you believe they actually think she’s a hero?” Your friend said, rolling her eyes. “Katniss Everdeen, the ‘Mockingjay.’ What a joke.”

Your voices echoed off the walls, full of youthful arrogance and ignorance of the weight of your words. Neither of you noticed the flicker of movement at the far end of the room, where shadows pooled and merged with the darkness.

Then, like a vengeful spirit, Katniss stepped into the light. Her face was a mask of fury and determination, her signature braid swinging slightly as she moved. Dressed in dark, tactical clothing, she exuded an aura of danger that made your laughter die in your throats.

“What did you say?” Her voice was low, but the edge in it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Katniss Everdeen?” Your friend stammered, stepping back as if trying to distance herself from the gravity of the moment.

“You think it’s funny,” She continued, her gaze piercing. “Mocking people who are fighting for their lives? For their freedom?”

You exchanged a quick glance, realizing the gravity of your mistake. The light that caught Katniss’s eyes was fierce and unyielding, igniting the air between you. In that instant, the laughter seemed to echo back at you, twisted and harsh.

Before you could respond, she moved with surprising speed, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward her. “You want to laugh? Let’s see how funny you think it is when the Capitol comes crashing down around you.”

"Now, I’m not going to hurt you,” She said, suddenly calm but still fierce. “But you need to come with me."