retrieverchef: worried (Default)
I look around me at the cold, sterile room. "Twenty-four go in, only one comes out." The words ring in my mind. I know I can do it. It's not as if I haven't killed before. The gun fight with Chapman and Moreau's men from last year comes to mind. Even Nate had said I would need to become a killer again, even before that, but he didn't mean for real. This?This just makes me sick. What's the chance that any one of my fellow tributes actually deserves what we'll face in the arena? I laugh bitterly. And I thought Moreau was bad.

If my crew were with me, maybe we could pull off a con in the few days before the Games start. I can't help a smile at the thought. Hardison would give everyone fits. I can see him hacking into the camera feeds, blacking out the worst of it, or just raining digital fire on their heads. Sophie would be in her element, blending in, gaining everyone's trust and turning them against each other. Parker would find the true gems in the midst of all the Capitol bling, those truly understated treasures that can bring this place to its knees. And Nate... He'd tell us how and when to cover each other. I guess I'd be the distraction, creating some kind of chaos in the Arena whenever they needed to slip in somewhere unseen. But they're not here. And, really? I don't want them to be. Because I couldn't get them all out of that Arena together. Perhaps, if I survive the Arena, I'll be able to find a way back to them. In the mean time, I guess I'll just have to see how much I can stick it to the Capitol without getting myself killed.

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retrieverchef: worried (Default)
Eliot Spencer

July 2012

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