But, You're Dead? [Clovniss]

It Has Begun [Part One]

Loud footsteps. Heading directly towards her. The sound of a body being dragged over hard ground. A familiar voice, distant but there. Nearly like a voice echoing down a tunnel. The voice grows more distant as the footsteps stop. A gun cocks and all is silent for five seconds, before someone fires off a shot. Someone starts running, moving away from her body. The oddly comforting sound of knuckles striking flesh. A sound she grew up hearing.

Her hearing is clearer now. Maybe soon she will be able to move, or at least open her eyes.

Shouting. She can hear shouting, nearly like an argument. The voices are growing in louder volume at a steady pace, and she can begin to pick out some words. 'Surprise attack. Diggs didn't make it. Never stood a chance. I took her down. The other one; she tried to kill but I finished the job for her. Still alive.

Everything comes rushing back. Katniss. Hunter. The mercenaries. Bullet. The fight. Bullet knocking her out, clearly winning the fight but leaving her alive for some reason. Why? Bullet would never let her live if they had beaten her in fight, and had been handed the chance to end their rivalry once and for all. Is she missing something?

The footsteps are coming towards her again. Only two sets compared to the previous three, and without the sound of a body being dragged. The second set of footsteps must belong to someone injured; a wheeze noticeable to every second step. Perhaps someone had been injured by the gunshot?

She'll find out soon enough. Opening her eyes is a struggle, but it is a fight she's winning. She can see flickering shadows, the shadows of two bodies falling over her as the footsteps begin to slow.

Just a tiny bit more.

A tiny bit-

There.

She can see the figures standing above her, the near blinding beam of a flashlight pointed to the ground. They mutter amongst themselves, paying her still body no regard. Perfect really. She can use that to her advantage.

Allowing her head to loll, just slightly, she can see Hunter's body, lying about an arm's length away. Her knife still sitting in the holster strapped to the small of her back. Clove's fingers are just millimetres away from the handle. If she just moves her hand-

No.

Patience is key; move too fast and it can all go wrong. She has to bid her time and wait for the perfect moment to strike. She can do it, she's done it before.

Last time she was messy, it cost her everything. She can't afford to let that disaster happen again. Too much is at stake. Too many lives of the innocent are at stake.

She flicks her eyes up observe the figures, tuning into the conversation at hand.

"-Now, finish the job, so we can all go home." The older of the two figures says, voice nearly cracking on the word home. She recognizes him as Joe Stirling, an alias used by the man in command of the current mercenaries trying to murder Katniss. "Pull the trigger and finish it, once and for all." He pushes a pistol into Bullet's hand, closing their fingers around the weapon, before he glances away to where the dead mercenary lies. "Do it for Diggs, son. Avenge the boy."

Bullet takes a small, nearly nervous step forward, holding the pistol in a light grip. "It'll all be over?" They ask, and she remembers a cold, dark night, a broken window, a raging storm, and the glint of artificial lighting hitting off a jagged blade.

"Yes, it will all be over, Bullet. You can do it, I believe in you." Stirling encourages his mercenary, squeezing their shoulder before taking a step backwards. "Squeeze the trigger and we can all go home."

"Home. I haven't had a home in a long time." And her mind is flooded with memories of laughter, sparring, late night adventures, and haunting screams.

"You'll have a home soon, son." Stirling whispers, staring down at Clove with his face set in an unreadable mask.

Clove waits until she hears the hammer of the pistol being pulled back before she springs into action. She rolls to the side and pushes herself up with one hand, grabbing Hunter's knife with her other hand. She slashes the back of Bullet's knee open, forcing them down to her level. The knife thrower wrenches Bullet's arm away before they can fire off a shot and she snaps their arm with a quick blow and a grimace pulling at her lips.

Bullet screams, only to be cut short abruptly when Clove sinks the knife into their chest. They touch a hand to the wound, furrowing their eyebrows at Clove before they crumple to the ground, the pistol falling too before Clove dives to grab it.

She squeezes the trigger until it clicks empty, ever bullet finding a home in Stirling's torso.

His body drops heavily into the dust, riddled with holes that blood flows freely from. The man gasps for breath, his lungs fighting to draw in oxygen that he does not have. His fingers twitch twice before stilling, the light fading from his eyes.

"That was easier than expected." Clove chuckles, tossing the gun aside and picking herself up off the ground. "I overestimated how dangerous the mercenaries are clearly, I would have gotten away without shooting Hunter, to be fair." She grabs Stirling's radio from his belt, clipping it onto her own as she heads back to her hideout to retrieve her bag. She takes note of another mercenary's body, one that had not been there when she was conscious, suffering from a gunshot wound to the head.

Clove changes quickly, replacing her flannel with a knife vest holding more knives then what should be possible. She redoes the laces of her boots, making sure the ends of her black cargo trousers are completely tucked in and not about to come loose anytime soon.

She kneels beside Hunter and checks for a pulse, spying several fresh wounds adorning her companion's face and torso. Finding a strong, steady pulse, she uses her flannel as padding to keep Hunter from bleeding out, patting her on the face gently before moving on to Bullet's still moving body.

There is a task that must be completed before she can continue, a task that contains some minor torture and disfigurement. Clove's speciality.

"I'm going to ask the questions," Clove starts, unsheathing a small knife and twirling it around her finger. "You will answer them. Answer in a way that I like and I might just let you live. Or don't and you'll wish you died in that accident."

Bullet glares up at Clove, even as her left hand fists in the collar of their protective jacket, whilst the knife is pressed to the exposed flesh of her throat. The muscles in their jaw tighten as Clove presses down harder on the blade, anger still churning in the depths of their eyes.

"How many mercenaries are in that warehouse? What are the patrol routes, typical positions, what not?" She questions, arching a brow at their continued silence. "You just have to want to do things the hard way, right Bullet? But don't worry, I'll enjoy carving up that handsome face of yours."

A sadistic smirk twists at her lips, her eyes darkening as she fantasies about the horrors that she is about to commit. She tosses the knife into her left hand and lashes out with her right fist, hitting Bullet square on the jaw and snapping their head to the side with a spray of blood.

"I ain't telling you shit." Bullet snarls, baring blood stained teeth at their old friend.

"Oh, you will. Sooner or later, you will break. They all do." Clove feels a rush at the faintest hint of fear in Bullet's eyes, relishing in the power it brings to her.