A Game Of Justice ✭ Cato Hadley

Sixteen - Cards On The Table

Days later, after spending all her time training with Luna, and sometimes Reef when she managed to sneak away from the strict schedule and into the fitness suite to join them, Clio is told that she's not allowed to train today, and confusion fills her as the guards pull her down the corridor.

The chains shackling Clio to her four appointed guards clink as she is dragged to the meeting that she was informed of this morning;  no doubt another dull as dishwater meeting considering that she wasn't allowed to officially decline. Her guards, scared of their president, have practically dragged her out of the training facility, forced her to shower and change, and then pulled her along to the large conference room at the end of the bland hallways.

As she gets closer to the doorway she can hear the muffled words of the other victors and District Thirteen officials hypothesising the most effective way to gain entry to District Two, which makes her laugh as she steps closer, following her guards.

"Okay, what if we enter through the mountains?" Finnick suggests right before Guard One pushes the door open quietly with a swipe of his keycard. "They're secluded enough that we won't be seen, and we'll maintain the high ground for the majority of our way in. That means we'd have the upper hand in any possible fights that could occur."

"Way to get yourselves killed." Clio scoffs as she enters the meeting room. She can see several of the rebels sitting around a large, rounded table with plans, blueprints and maps of District Two laid out ahead of them. A badly devised itinerary has been written on a whiteboard in Haymitch's messy scrawl, next to a three-dimensional rendering of District Two's principal city including the Justice Building, Victor's Village and the Nut, hiding in the base of the mountains. The heads in the room all snap towards her at the words as the door slides shut behind her, and the conversation ceases at the noise. Clio's head tilts to one side as she waits for someone to address her; defiance burning through the hazel eyes as she wants someone to ask why she's attending the meeting after trying to decline earlier.

"And why should we trust you, Miss Angel of Death? You're more likely to kill us than they are." Haymitch snarls, eyes narrowing at the newest member of their meeting, who has refused to sit down as of yet. He then looks to Finnick, who moves from the rendering to take his seat again, then to Plutarch and Coin. "Besides, can't we just ask Lyme for the best way in?"

"Lyme? As in the woman who hasn't left the district in twenty years? Yeah, great plan." Clio mutters with a scoff as she moves to sit in the empty seat on Luna's left. Lyme? Clio thinks, keeping her shock to herself. Lyme is alive? And helping the rebellion? And this old grey bitch told me that I was the sole survivor from Two. What else is she lying about? She shuffles in her seat to gain a better view of the projection model of her home district. Everyone watches her, waiting for her proper response. "Then don't come crying to me when half of your force is dead, if you seriously think you're going to gain control of District Two like that."

Clio laughs and she can feel the weight of everyone's eyes on hers. The president of the underground district sizes the small woman up. She desperately needs Clio on their side if they're to crack the issue of Two. The president knows it and she knows that asking for her input on something that requires trust and honesty, something so monumental, is a good place to start. "So, what do you think our best option is?"

"Well certainly not what he suggested." Clio snorts as she points to Finnick to best she can with the chains still restrained her extremities.

Clio notices the look on Finnick's face as he opens his mouth ready to make a rude comment in retaliation to Clio's reaction to his own ideas. He goes to speak and just as the first syllable rolls from his tongue, a pen lid comes flying across the width of the table and hits him square in the face, right in the space between his eyes as if Clio herself had thrown it. His face morphs into an expression of shock and Clio begins to laugh, noticing the pride on Luna's face at the accuracy of the throw. A perfect throw. If that was a knife then that would have embedded itself into his skull amazingly. It takes a few minutes before she's calm enough to give out the information that the rebels require for their take down attempt. "Do you have control of the other districts?"