One Last Bullet

Chapter 2

POV: Saber

I've been betrayed. Someone told them where to find me. I was on a boardwalk in Florida (as a civilian, of course), and the police started coming after me. I panicked and sprinted down the street. I had nothing to defend myself with. They wouldn't have made it past the checking gate at the amusement park.

I as ran down the street, chose a random building, ran into a random room, and closed the door silently. I suddenly realized I was in the government building. Fuck. Running my fingers through my blonde mop of hair, I turn around. Two combat-booted legs stuck out of a vent over a chair. Both were kicking madly, and one knocked the rolling chair over. The person muttered some curses I had never heard before, and tried to flip the chair back over with its feet.

"Need help?" I ask. The pair of legs instantly freeze.

"Who is this?" The voice was feminine, with a light French accent.

"Not the police," I say, rubbing my nose.

"That's good." She flips down and looks at me. "MICHAEL!"

A girl I know all too well runs up and quickly kisses my cheeks. "It's been about four years since I last saw you! How are you? How's your Mother?"

"Oh shit..." I mutter. Wynter.

"God! You never like to talk to me!" She angrily whispers. "I swear. We grew up together and you treat me like I'm a nightmare."

"No I don't! You just overreact a bit," I say in a soothing tone

"Hello. Hello!" Finnick says over an phone. I can almost smell the smoke.

"Hey Finny," I say. I know he hates it.

"Saber, I swear to god, if I wasn't in Seattle, I would strangle you!" Finnick bellowed through the phone.

We both shushed him, but the damage had been done. We could already hear a guard walking towards us. I set the chair back up, and we both climb into the vent, Wynter kicking the chair towards the desk. The grate had just been replaced when the door banged open.

Two security members ran in, holding tasers at chest height. They stopped below the vent, but a bit of movement to my side distracted me. Wynter was pulling a blowgun out of one of her many pockets. She stuck it between the slats of the grate. I put my hand on it, motioning her to not fire.

"They don't need to die," I whisper.

We start to crawl, side by side through the maze of tunnels.

"You take the fun out of everything," Wynter mutters.