Our Love Could Be Lethal

Act II: Attack on Tritons

Boom, four chapters in four days. Suck it, writer's block!

The song for this chapter is "Runaway" by Aurora.

I open my eyes to see Finnick beside me, having spent the night with me for the first time since the Games started. All of the memories of the day before come flooding back. Glimmer and Marina both dead. Katniss.

Yesterday was rough, Marvel, Cato, and Clove hallucinated for the majority of the morning and it took nearly three hours for the antidote to start working. It's a good thing that Thresh didn't come looking for them during that time. Meanwhile, Katniss had fallen down a cliff, and while it seems Rue is looking after her, she still hasn't woken up. Later yesterday, around dusk the remaining members of the Career pack made it back to their camp. I'd been up for nearly two days straight, but Finnick came to collect me from the Command Centre and convinced me to finally go to sleep since Cato was safe and back at his camp.

I look at the clock on my bedside table and it reads 9 a.m., which is the longest I think I've slept in nearly a year. But I can hear a faint noise coming from the main room, a male voice that I don't recognize as Augustus or Brutus. Now that I come to think of it, I've hardly seen much of Augustus since the Games have begun.

I throw on the training gear they'd given me since it's some of the most comfortable clothing in my closet here in the Capitol. I decide not to wake Finnick since I figure he could probably use the sleep.

The voice sounds familiar, but that can't be right. Sure enough, Volts--I mean Beetee Latier, the Mentor from District 3. He's speaking with Fallon and Enobaria when I walk in, but he turns to greet me. "Ah, just the person I came to speak with."

Even though I'm a bit confused, I walk into the main area and pull my shirt down a bit more since I hadn't really had the chance to straighten out before leaving my room. "Beetee, to what do I owe the pleasure?" I hold out my hand for him to shake.

It's strange that somehow, this unassuming man held the record for the most Tributes killed before I took the crown. He takes my hand and gives it a firm shake. "It seems that our Tributes have struck an accord with one another, which would mean that you and I are in business together." That's...new. Beetee must sense my confusion because he begins to explain, "My male Tribute went to the stockpile while your Tributes were absent. But when he returned this morning, he found the camp occupied." I sneak a glance at Enobaria, wanting to ask her what on earth happened that he didn't get instantly killed upon entering the vicinity of the camp. "It seems that your male Tribute--your brother," he corrects, "thought that mine might be able to help with securing the stockpile."

"Securing the stockpile?"

"They intend to rig the area surrounding the stockpile with explosives, except for a few spots leading up to the centre is a pattern which only they know the answer to."

I'm impressed. "And he can do that? He can make explosives like that?"

Beetee chuckles. "Of course he can. It's simple. All he has to do is take the components from the podiums and rebury them." Right, of course. Easy, just move a bunch of explosive material and re-bury it.

I nod, trying to wrap my head around it all. "Well, I guess your Tribute had a pretty good idea then."

Beetee pushes his glasses up further on his nose. "Actually, it was Cato's idea. He's the one who suggested to the others that they keep him alive to help protect the stockpile."

That is a surprise. Cato, of all people, is asking questions first and swinging his sword second? That's new. "Oh, that's..."

"Smart?" Beetee finishes for me. "I said the same thing." Beetee begins to make his way towards the door. "I'll let you know if they require any additional components in the off chance some get damaged during transport." Beetee looks to something, rather someone, behind me and waves. "Hello, Finnick."