𝔸𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕟 ⟢ 𝔽𝕚𝕟𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕆𝕕𝕒𝕚𝕣

- ʄօʊʀȶɛɛռ

Whether Willa Levine liked it or not, The Assassin was going to resurface because of the Quarter Quell. It's not something that she wanted to do but she had a reputation in the Capitol. She was perceived a certain way and that way was as The Assassin. She needed to keep that persona up. But while Willa sat silently on the train, her expression showing no emotion, the eyes of others kept diverting their attention to her trying to see what she was feeling. Brutus' ego was too big to make feel anything but positive emotions. Pride, confidence, maybe even a hint of excitement. But the arena didn't care for ego, it only cared for blood. Enobaria and Asher, they're mentors, feeling a mix of hope and fear, though not expressing their fear. Jett was his usual unenthusiastic self, making the others think that he was unable of expressing emotions.

But Willa... Willa was seen as an emotionless killer by the Capitol. So whenever there was a chance that the Capitol could be watching her, she wouldn't express her emotions. No matter how scared she was, no matter how much she didn't want to do this, she wouldn't express her emotions. It could be used against her in a harmful way and Willa didn't want that. She needed the easiest way out. The easiest way to make it out alive and make it back alive to Katia.

"Where's you get the charm?" Asher asked, the first one to speak up. Willa's eyes flickered to him, her hand going to the golden charm that sat around her neck. She hadn't taken it off since Katia had gotten it for her. Enobaria and Asher were further down the compartment, their voices low as they exchanged a few terse words. Despite his calm demeanor, Willa saw the lines of worry around Asher's eyes, the way his gaze flickered toward her every few moments as if he feared she'd vanish if he looked away. Asher's fears were justified, she knew; after all, he was only nineteen, barely past his own Games, and now he was tasked with mentoring her—a role reversal neither had expected.

"Katia got it for me last month," Willa murmured. She was planning on taking it into the arena. They were allowed one token and if Willa was going to die, she was going to die with a bit of Katia with her. Asher nodded, his gaze not dropping from Willa. What if the following week was the last week he got to see his big sister alive? The thought terrified him.

"We're almost there," Jett said, his voice void of excitement despite the fanfare awaiting them at the Capitol's station. He looked at Willa with something bordering on regret. "They're eager to see you, Willa."

Willa's lips pressed into a thin line. She knew the Capitol would milk her reputation for all it was worth, parading her as a ruthless victor, a symbol of District 2's strength. They saw Willa not as herself but as a relentless killer, a soldier who wouldn't flinch. She'd learned long ago to embrace the name as a shield, a way to keep the Capitol's eyes off her real motives. But deep down, she despised it. She wanted to be herself, not the persona that President Snow and the Capitol gave her. But you don't always get what you want when you're a Victor, you almost never do.

When Jett started talking to the two victors, Enobaria and Asher staying where they sat further in the compartment, Willa didn't listen to a word he was saying. As long as she kept her shield up and presenetd her persona to the Capitol citizens, she would be okay. She just needed to detach herself from The Assassin because that wasn't her. She was Willa Levine.

As the Capitol's skyline loomed into view, she glanced out the window, the city's bright lights and towering architecture stark against the morning sky. This glittering world had shaped her into what she was—a tool of survival, a facade of control. She turned away from the sight, looking instead at Asher's face, etched with a fear that mirrored her own.

"Stay strong, Ash," she said quietly, the softness of her tone reserved for him alone. The 19-year-old was now stood next to her, trying to be close to her as much as possible. "They'll never see the real you if you don't let them."

Asher swallowed, nodding, his expression hardening slightly. He understood the importance of the mask, the armor he needed to wear if he wanted to protect himself—and her—from the Capitol's grasp. But there was something fragile in his gaze, a crack in his resolve that reminded Willa of her own, years ago, before she'd learned how to bury it. The train lurched to a halt, and Willa could hear the growing hum of Capitol voices outside, an eager crowd waiting to see their tributes. Brutus stood first, his confident stance almost theatrical as he prepared to step out, and Willa followed, her face a blank slate, betraying nothing of the turmoil beneath.

As she walked onto the platform, the lights, cameras, and faces blurred into a dizzying racket, her senses overloaded by the Capitol's gleaming facade. She squared her shoulders, her gaze hard and unreadable, the person they expected her to be - not Willa Levine, but The Assasin. But in her mind, she pictured Katia, her golden charm hanging close to her heart, a silent reminder of the life she had beyond the Capitol's reach, beyond their Games. With one final glance over her shoulder, Willa let her mask settle into place, ready to face whatever lay ahead, no matter the cost.