The Black Widow- A Hunger Games Fanfic

The last few days

Everdeen had of course said no to our offer of an alliance. Finnick said she seemed to want Mags, Beetee and Wiress. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised- she allied with a twelve year old in her first games.
During my first games, I had been glad that I was first for my private session with the gamemakers: less time to work and less time for them to get bored. But this time, I wished I wasn't. I still didn't know what to do.
I knew what I should do (throw some knives like any career would) but it almost felt like I had nothing else to lose so I wanted to go out with a bang.
As I stepped into the room, the heads of each gamemaker turned towards me in interest. I was suddenly overcome with a swell of anger: I had been sold to over half of these men. I bet even now they were remembering what I looked like under my training uniform.
I was furious. And I knew exactly what to do.
I stormed over to the centre of the training room. I cold feel their eyes on me. And before they even said anything, I ripped off my shirt.
There was an even split between shock and hunger as I displayed my bare torso to all of them. Their gazes disgusted me but then they noticed the bruises. And the scratches.
"Look what you've done to me!" I screamed furiously. Some tried to turn away. "Look at me!" I screamed again.
"You may go, Miss Gold," said Plutarch, the new head gamemaker, clearly unimpressed, "please take all your clothing with you."
I kicked my shirt away and stalked away. I passed a rack of knives on my way out.
I grabbed one. It was sailing towards the gamemakers before most of them had even moved. It hit a forcefield before they could flinch. I had been 75% sure that was there. I guess I knew now.

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Cashmere wasn't too impressed when I returned without a shirt. At least she didn't know about the knife.
I ignored her.
It was then that the envelope arrived once again there was only one date.
Plutarch Heavensbee.
I wanted to vomit. I had never imagined that this would be the reaction to my demonstration.
"I have to go," I told Cashmere stiffly. She looked at me with some pity,
"So do I."

I changed into a short, tight dress before I left.
It didn't take long to walk to the hotel. I met Finnick in the elevator,
"I thought you had no one left," he said. I didn't dignify that with an answer.
I followed the corridor to the chosen room.
"Let's get this over with," I said, beginning to strip off my dress before the door was even fully shut.
"Please keep your clothes on Miss Gold," Plutarch said from the armchair in the corner, "I don't want to see you naked again."
"I think you're missing the point of this appointment," I told him.
"No," Plutarch replied, "I think you are. I have a proposition for you. A way to survive the Hunger Games."
"I don't want to survive the Games," I told him flatly. He gave me a sad smile,
"Fine, then a chance for your death to mean something." I fixed my dress and took a seat on the bed opposite him.
"I'm listening."
During the next three hours, Plutarch explained to me all about District 13 and the plan to get Katniss Everdeen out of the arena so that she could be the mockingjay for their revolution. All I had to do, was play the part of the perfect career and keep the rest of the pack away from Everdeen.

I returned just in time for the scoring. True to his word, Plutarch gave me a nine- a typical score for a career. If it hadn't been for what Plutarch had said, I would've left. But I needed to be the perfect career. And that meant acting like one.

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I spent the next day with Victoria. She dressed me in a long pink dress with gold accents and instead of my usual rubies, she placed pink contact lenses in my eyes.
"You're a tribute again," she explained, "I think they should remember that." I didn't understand that. Until I did. The pink wasn't for the sake of the Capitol, it was for the sake of my allies. So that they would trust me. So that I could betray them. Just like the perfect career.
But of course I wouldn't. Not until the time was right. I just had to hope they didn't betray me first

My interview was first. I once again played the flirtatious angle.
"So I'm noticing a definite shift in your attire today," Caesar opened,
"Are you," I smiled, "I'm so glad you've been looking." Caesar fanned himself with his hand. I was grateful for him, really: he made playing an angle so much easier.
"Do you have a particular strategy for the games?" He asked. I revoked my previous statement, this wasn't helpful. I couldn't exactly say that I was aiding the rebellion and I planned to die trying,
"Oh you know," I laughed shallowly, playing it off as a casual answer, "throw some knives, hopefully get sponsored some better looking clothes, double my monthly winnings at the end," I looked out to the gamemakers box, "I get double the money per month for winning, right?" The entire audience laughed at my confidence. Caesar let them, then moved on,
"What do you mean better looking clothes?" He asked,
"Just like something a bit more fitting for a vacation, you know?" I replied, "if we're on a beach, I'd like a bikini, if we're at a ski lodge I'd like a fur coat, if we're camping... Actually, we better not be camping."
The audience laughed again,
"I doubt the Hunger Games are going to be a vacation," Caesar intervened. I pouted childishly,
"That's a shame, I would've liked to bring a plus one." There were squeals of excitement and shouts of people trying to be picked.
I don't think they understood that the only thing that that plus one would be getting in was a premature grave.

Finally, the buzzer went off and I was sent to sit at the back of the stage. Brutus and Enobaria were confident. Nuts and Volts were logical. Then Finnick read the poem. To the one he truly loved.
I didn't know why I felt such a twinge of jealousy at that. I squashed the feeling immediately.
Nothing very interesting happened until the final interview: Peeta Mellark's.
His reveal of Everdeen's supposed pregnancy shocked the crowd. Suddenly,  I felt Gloss's hand reaching for mine. And then all the victors were standing. United. And the lights went out.
"Who was the poem for?" I asked Finnick as we left the stage,
"Not telling. Who was your plus one?"
"Any unsuspecting Capitol citizen I could stick my knife up the throat of." Finnick smirked, but I swore I saw a bit of sadness in his eyes,
"Are you sure I can't convince you to change your mind about the alliance." I shook my head,
"We all have our parts to play." He sighed and pulled something from his pocket,
"Then at least take this as your token. So I can be with you in the end." He held out my old locket. The gold touched up and shining,
"How did you get this?" I asked, remembering the night I had thrown it away after a particularly bad appointment,
"I picked it up. I thought you might regret getting rid of it later."
"You had no right-" I started angrily. But he cut me off,
"But will you wear it?" I nodded,
"Thank you Finnick." By now the elevator had arrived at the District 1 floor, "and I guess this is goodbye. The next time we'll meet we'll be enemies." Because that was what we had to be. He looked at me sadly,
"I guess it is." He pulled me into a hug and whispered in my ear,
"You don't have to die. We can all live. I don't want to lose you." I pushed away from him with a sudden coldness. I couldn't let my emotions get in the way of what I had to do,
"But you already have."