The Rebel Victor | I [THG]

Chapter Twenty-Two | Hijacked

That night, Quinn laid on the ground with her head resting on the hoodie that she had gotten. Fiona soaked it in water, she said that soaking it in cool water and having Quinns head resting on it would hopefully bring her fever down. So all she got to do was watch and count down to the sunset. Watching it begin to disappear behind the mountains that were on the other side of the lake. And also watch the same beautiful shades of pinks, purples, and dark blues creep across the sky slowly making it's way across and towards the setting sun.

Slowly the stars began to appear, and there was a faint glimmer of the force shield. A reminder that none of it was real, being in such a beautiful place was a cruel reminder that she was in the Hunger Games and not District Four where the sunsets weren't nearly as colorful or enjoyable.

But he head still ached, and her body was still trying to sweat out whatever had been absorbed into her body-- whatever she probably breathed into her lungs was slowly working it's way out. A few feet away from her sat Fiona, she sat with her back against a tree and her knife in hand. Quinn made sure to occasionally glance over at her, there was something about Fiona that she had begun to realize...

She, a Career, was helping her, an orphan who got a lousy five as a score.

Quinn couldn't help but imagine the plotting and planning that was buzzing around in her head. Quinn was weak, she was no help to her anymore. She had helped her get to water, hadn't she? That was probably about as much help as she could give. And now she was practically on her death bed, at least it felt like it. What would be stopping her from taking her out as soon as she had the chance? Absolutely nothing, that's what. Quinn wouldn't even know what hit her, Fiona probably knew tons of ways to kill her without even waking her up...

~  ~  ~  ~ IN THE CAPITOL ~  ~  ~  ~

The screens before him all had different tributes on them, while a diagram of the long oval arena was in the center of all the Game Makers.The boy from One, and the girl from Two were on the ridge between the valley and the cornucopia. But there hadn't been much action with them since the early afternoon when the boy from Three died because of the tracker jacker mist. His own idea that he had given Seneca Crane, and now it was finally getting put to good use.

President Snow looked towards Seneca Crane who stood beside him overlooking the work of the other Game Makers. He had to admit, Seneca was the best Head Game Maker that they had in awhile, his young mind was swimming with ideas that were put to good use in the arena.

"Is it working?" Snow asked as the faces of the remaining tributes appeared along the walls with their vital signs below them. "The tracker jacker mist?"

Seneca looked across the tributes faces, and looked closely on the face of the only tribute that Snow had ever dispised. He would have to deal with Finnick Odair, he hadn't given Ms. Maverick good advice-- he had only given her advice to get her into a great deal of trouble. Or perhaps she had done it all herself, in a attempt to bring light to the pointless cause that was know being shut down called the Drifters.

"Zoom in on Maverick, District Four." Seneca ordered to his Game Makers. A younger man nodded and tapped a few buttons and the a holographic screen appeared above the arena diagram and a green triangle grew larger near a body of water. On the screen, Quinn Maverick was laying on the ground listening to the anthem play and watch the single face of the boy from Three appear. Beads of sweat were rolling down her forehead, her skin looked flush besides the red splotchy burns that the mist had left. "It seems to be," Seneca replied. "Her heart-rate is much faster, and she doesn't look well either."

"I can see that, Seneca." Snow replied, "I mean is the hijacking happening?"

"Only time will tell, sir. But by the looks of it, she could snap at any minute."

"Will it be a lasting effect?" he asked.

Seneca thought, "It will leave it's mark, but it won't last forever. She'll sweat it all out before it can do fatal damage."

Snow sighed, and gave a curt nod. "Let it play out, don't throw anything at her tonight." he stated, "If this works, as soon as she kills District One, anyone allied with the Drifters will see that she's no different than any other tribute." he explained, "If she wins, I don't want rebel's flocking to her doorstep, nor do I want her trying to help them. I want her to be so damaged that not even Finnick Odair can help her. Don't fail me, Seneca. If she makes a fool out of me one more time," he paused and looked down at the young man. "She must be eliminated. I won't have an orphan from District Four making a mockery out of the games."

"But sir, everyone loves her." Seneca reminded him.

And that was true, the Capitol people loved her spunk and outrageous personality. The Districts adored her outspoken and rebellious attitude towards the games. And District Seven had taken it's chance to start riots after her little speech during her interview

"Well, make them forget about the Feisty Pearl from District Four." he stated, "Make them only see the broken, and defeated rebel tribute."

"You want me to make an example out of her?" he asked as he casually crossed his arms across his chest.

Snow felt a small smile spread across his face, "Exactly." he replied, "I want to make sure we never have another problem tribute like her."

"Then why not just eliminate her? Send in a flood, or mutts, or a wildfire?"

Snow shook his head, "I don't necessarily want her dead, Seneca. I just want her damaged enough that if she were to win, she would no longer be a threat."