The Runaway Victor | Book II

Chapter Twelve | Explosive

[AUTHORS NOTES]

This chapter is a filler. This story does focus on Quinn, since she is the main character. The chapters in which she is in the game room will be shorter. There's a lot more of the plot I have to get through in X amount of chapters.

Stay classy :)

____

The next day came slowly, and the day in the game make room was just as slow. Quinn sat at her station completely still and quiet, only doing her job with making sure the day light changed as she had to. There hadn't been any cannons, not all day. The tributes weren't doing much, nothing that the Capitol would consider entertainment at least. In a way, Quinn hated the fact there was nothing going on-- because the longer it took for the tributes to die, the longer it took to get Katniss to the final two. The longer it took to get her out of the arena.

You sound like one of them, Quinn thought to herself. She stared at the holographic map of the arena, she would have been lying if she said she wasn't disgusted with herself. She had hated these people. The people she was working with. But so far, it was doing just what Snow had been hoping for. She had over heard Seneca talking with Snow about District Seven and Four...

Her own District hated her. Apparently, there had been a few citizens who tried to get into Victors Village, they had wanted to get her name off the monument and trash her house. Well, it had been her house. If they wanted to get rid of her, if they practically disowned her as a Victor from their District-- how could she ever help them again?

If what you were doing was helping, she told herself. How was making people riot against the Capitol simple because it was something to do-- something to get their point across helping? They had next to nothing behind the, nothing to fight about together. They all knew the games were barbaric and had to be stopped, but there was nothing that Quinn could do to make the Districts see that they could do something if they'd only work together. At least not now, not after she became this. Not after she became one of the people they were fighting against.

"Let's give them a bit less clouds," Quinn looked over her shoulder and up at Seneca Crane who stood on a balcony of sorts to watch everyone and every screen he could. "A bit more sun."

Quinn sighed heavily and turned back around in her seat. Her hands felt heavy, so heavy she didn't want to move them. She didn't want to do anything to the arena. But she could feel the game makers around her watching her, waiting for her to follow orders. So she slowly brought her fingers up to the screen in front of her, and with a simple swipe the sky in the arena cleared and the arena brightened. With the lighter sky, something became more visible on the map of the diagram. Two different locations around the cornucopia had something billowing above the trees-- camp fires. That close to the careers? Some of the tributes were that stupid? Quinn had done some stupid things in the arena too, but she hadn't made herself a target like that out of stupidity...

Quinn then focused on the different numbers near the Cornucopia. The careers were still there, however nearing the edge of the clearing, facing the giant stock pile that the careers had managed to build up was a red number twelve. Quinn had to admit, their strategy was smart. They had unburied the explosives from around the small podiums and scattered them around the supplies. So if twelve thought they had a chance to get supplies, they were wrong. They had just seen Peeta, far from the cornucopia-- that was Katniss. Quinn could feel her stomach twisting and churning. How long would she be trapped in the Capitol if Katniss didn't make it? How much longer would she be this? A game maker?

Quinn knew she was being selfish. She wanted Katniss to win so she could go back to Thirteen, so the rebellion could start. So the games could end. Not so she could get back home to her family. To her sister who she volunteered for. Quinn knew there were people out there who loved Katniss because she was a volunteer from Twelve, because she got a high score, because of her sister, or because of her apparent relationship with Peeta. But Quinn didn't care much for any of that, it all helped her live longer-- but none of it could make sure she lived. And if she was going to be stupid like that, trying to steal from the careers on her own-- that wouldn't save her either.

Quinn stared at the number twelve, so engulfed in her own thoughts that she didn't notice that the careers were going towards one of the fires until they were already out of the clearing. Her eyes went back to twelve, her stomach was still doing sickening flips. Her hands had returned to their place on her lap and had turned into tight fists out of frustration because of the thought that she would be stuck in the Capitol, that the person Thirteen needed would never show up.

Even though Quinn sat there, going over things in her head letting her frustration build up more and more-- the sudden cloud of smoke and flames bursting from around the stock pile. All of the supplies falling and crashing into even more of the explosives.

Quinn stared at it, and then watched Katniss' number turn back into the trees.

"That's all the supplies that was left in the cornucopia." a woman said from a few chairs down, as a few people snickered or clapped.

Quinn had to fight back a small smile. That gave everyone an advantage, everyone but the careers. They were on the same level when it came to supplies.