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KILL FOR YOUR LOVE.

act two.

(chapter twenty-five, the victor without a last name)

training centre, 75 ADD.

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THE SECOND AND THIRD day of training followed Juniper's makeshift schedule. The former was filled with survival and the latter was riddled with trying to find allies. 

The days differed immensely. The second was quiet and peaceful. Everyone left Juniper to her own devices as she wandered over to the survival stations. She was alone as she sorted through the poisonous plant cards. She was on her own as she successfully made a fire. And she was only accompanied by the District Eight tribute, Woof, at the edible insects, but he kept mumbling to himself as he eyed the bugs like they were food. Overall, the second day was not noteworthy. 

But the third was filled with Juniper moving from tribute to tribute. She already had a vague idea of who she was allying with due to the plan, but she still maintained a good flow as she partnered up with Enobaria at the sword training, though there was little conversation. She joined Cecelia at the knot-tying and when Finnick came over, he dragged her to the fish-hook station where Mags had spent most of her time. And whilst Juniper loved her time with the pair from Four and enjoyed Cecelia's presence, she still felt an ache in her heart as she stood with a certain blonde at the archery range.

"Arrows aren't really my thing..." Cashmere mumbled under her breath as she eyed the bow in her hand. 

"Neither." Juniper shrugged as she loaded an arrow up, testing out the string as she toyed with it. "We're probably going to make a fool of ourselves."

But they didn't, surprisingly, as the two women managed to at least get a few arrows into the dummies. They wouldn't, however, dare to fight with the flying birds like Everdeen did on the first day and stuck with the still targets. And as no-one else was using the range, it allowed the two Victors' to talk quietly amongst themselves.

"I'm assuming you're with Odair for the arena," Cashmere muttered as they both walked towards their targets to retrieve their arrows. 

"And I'm assuming you're with Gloss, Brutus, and Enobaria."

Cashmere looked at the Hale woman sadly as the inevitable crashed over them. They were on different teams. Cashmere was a Career, Juniper was... well, Juniper was part of the rebellion. Juniper's task was to destroy the Hunger Games. Cashmere's was to give them a good show. And so, there was no possible way that both Cashmere and Juniper could team up, could defy all odds because they just couldn't. They were two sides of a coin. Together, but never facing each other. They couldn't face each other.

But would Cashmere's death break her? Cashmere was sure to die, certainly, as she wasn't part of the plan simply because she was a Career. And therefore, it led to the question: would Cashmere's death break her?

No. No, it wouldn't. Juniper realised that then as she stared into the woman's green eyes that were filled with sadness. She would miss Cashmere, sure, but it wouldn't break her. Juniper Hale had been broken before. She knew what that was like to be constantly defeated, to constantly lose and this wouldn't be an example of that. She would be mad at the circumstances, despise whoever would kill the woman, but she would move on. 

She didn't even know Cashmere's last name.

That fact alone was enough to realise that despite all the embraces in the hotel halls, all the kind comments, all the reassurance that everything would be all right one day, it wasn't enough for Juniper to be shattered over Cashmere's death. 

They were just two women in undesirable conditions, in an unlucky situation that neither could get out of. There was no point in crying over inevitable spilled blood.

And so, as the two women wrapped up with the archery range and Cashmere went off to join her brother, Juniper took a deep breath and silently said goodbye to the woman who was Cashmere, Victor from District Two. The Victor without a last name. 

Juniper, with her mind sorted, then started to head to the centre of the gymnasium as she began to scope out her next location. Brent Higgins was staring into flames with the male from Five. Finnick was mumbling something to Mags. Johanna Mason was at her axes. But someone who caught her eye was Katniss Everdeen and it immediately caused the woman to sigh. She had to keep her alive. How was she going to keep her alive?

She knew Finnick was maintaining a friendship with her. He had taught her all about tridents in exchange for archery lessons and Juniper realised that the man from Four was her only way to protect Katniss Everdeen. Finnick would ally with the girl no matter what and since Juniper was with Finnick, that would give her easy access to the girl from Twelve, even if she didn't trust her.

And Katniss Everdeen didn't trust Juniper Hale. The two Victors' had never had a conversation, but there was no trust, no respect, no kindness that enveloped them. The Hale woman scoffed at this as she felt the girl's eyes bore a hole into the back of her head when lunch arrived, even as everyone joked about the private sessions that were rapidly coming. 

"I'm gonna strip," Chaff managed to say as he stuffed a large roll of bread into his mouth, crumbs flying everywhere. "Give them a real good show."

Some laughed, some rolled their eyes, but Finnick followed it up as he stated, "Really, Chaff? Well, I'm gonna tap-dance. Nothing can beat my tap-dancing."

Others joked about singing, some telling jokes. Mags even managed to mumble that all she would do was nap. And as everyone spoke during lunch, crumbs everywhere and cutlery scraping against plates, Juniper still felt Katniss's glare. Turning to her right, she saw the girl narrowing her eyes at her with confusion and somewhat anger. 

But Katniss Everdeen's venomous stare was hidden amongst the loudness of the dining room as the private sessions began. Gloss went first as the male tribute from One and it was only fifteen-minutes later when Cashmere was called up. No-one seemed nervous, not even as all the Careers' had been called up an hour later. Why would they be?

But once Beetee and Wiress had exited and Finnick disappeared beyond the door, anxiety filled them all. It was easier to hide the irreverent, invincible manner everyone had adopted over the three days when there were more people in the room. But Juniper wasn't anxious. She found it somewhat funny as she stared at everyone's bouncing legs, as she watched the skin from fingers fall onto the floor as everyone picked at their thumbs. She couldn't help but shake her head and laugh slightly. 

There was no reason to be nervous, not in Juniper's case anyway. She had scored a five three-years-ago. Anything above that would be much better. And really, the scores did not matter. They weren't important. Not for those in the plan. The Careers', maybe, considering they were going to put on a show for the people of the Capitol, but not for those delved deep into the rebellion. That was probably why Seeder and Chaff didn't seem bothered. Or Finnick and Mags before they left separately. Or even Cecelia and Woof. 

But the people who were the most nervous were Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. They weren't together, sitting in different chairs, but their paranoia radiated off each other symmetrically. Their personas, whatever they may be, Juniper didn't know, were slightly dropping as every tribute was called out. 

"Johanna Mason, District Seven."

Juniper looked up slightly to see that Johanna was already up from her seat, swaggering over to the door. She had an aura of rage and annoyance, especially with the way she shrugged the hand of a burly Peacekeeper off her shoulder. It was enough to have Juniper narrowing her own eyes.

And she kept her eyes narrowed, even fifteen-minutes later as Johanna didn't come back and Woof from Eight was called. And then Cecelia. And then the male from Nine whose name Juniper didn't care to remember. 

Whilst he was gone and his district partner was readying herself, Juniper wondered what to do. She barely did anything three-years-ago, just tying rope and sorting through the poisonous plant cards, and she knew, without a doubt, she could do better than that this year. She could get much higher than a goddamn five because Juniper Hale was Juniper Hale. She was a burning fire, a ticking bomb, a weapon. She wasn't seventeen anymore. She wasn't innocent nor an angel. She was a sinner and damn straight.

"Brent Higgins, District Ten."

After the female from Nine had been called and with fifteen-minutes passing, it was Brent's turn, who had been sitting by himself. Juniper barely looked over her shoulder to see him slowly walking to the door, escorted by Peacekeepers'. 

She had barely seen Brent throughout the three days. He had been ignoring her and distancing himself from the woman and she didn't blame him. With his bent nose and the faint bruising,his ego had been hurt enormously.

The old Brent Higgins would have strutted into the gymnasium with pride and confidence. He would get the highest score. He wouldn't let anyone push him around. But he had been embarrassed. Humiliated. Juniper Hale had punched and damaged Brent Higgins's ego so much it didn't exist. He had been beaten into submission. And Juniper did that... and she smirked at the thought that she had done that. 

"Juniper Hale, District Ten."

She stood up as the female, robotic voice echoed around the dining room and without a single glance to the last four Victors' in the cafeteria, Juniper set straight towards the door, keeping the memory of Brent Higgins clear in her mind as Peacekeepers' immediately flanked her. But a deep voice caused Juniper to stop. 

"Get more than a five, aye, Hale?" Chaff had called out. 

Juniper looked over her shoulder to find Everdeen, Mellark, Seeder, and Chaff all staring at her. And she knew that the man didn't mean it as an insult. Nothing that came out of Chaff's mouth was an insult. So, with that knowledge, Juniper merely eyed him before going through the open door. 

The gymnasium was different from what it was during training. Half of the exercises and equipment had been taken out and the survival and weapon stations were moved to the centre where a big spotlight shined down on them. Juniper looked at this as she walked across the padded-floor, hearing her own footsteps and breathing before she stopped into the middle, looking up at the Gamemakers. 

Plutarch Heavensbee was at the front of the balcony, his eyes narrowed and demanding as he stared down at Juniper. "You have fifteen-minutes to perform your chosen skill, Miss Hale."

("Juniper Hale, District Ten," she announced as she stopped in the middle of the gymnasium, hands behind her back as she tried to control her breathing)

("You have ten minutes to demonstrate your chosen skill, Miss Hale," Seneca told her, merely looking down at his watch, his other hand holding a flute of alcohol)

(Justice went visibly pale as he slowly got up, Juniper quickly grabbing his hand and squeezing it before letting him go)

("June!" Justice's face immediately brightened up when he noticed her, causing Nadine, Brent, and Lucy to look up. "How did you go?")

("Ha! I got higher than you!" Justice immediately said, cackling whilst Juniper shook her head)

Justice. Justice. Justice. 

Three-years-ago, he stood in the very spot Juniper was standing now. Seneca Crane stood up on that balcony where Plutarch was. Justice would have done whatever he had done to get a six. And then in a matter of a few days, he would be dead. Killed by Juniper. 

Justice. Justice. Justice. 

Justice. 

Juniper clenched her jaw as Plutarch Heavensbee suddenly turned into Seneca Crane, as she felt the rage course throughout her. She stalked towards the swords and immediately snatched one off of the rack, swinging the heavy weapon around before she set off towards the dummies. And then she started to swing. 

In. Out. 

In. Out. 

In. Out. 

Every swing that happened, every limb that fell from the targets was followed by a deep breath and a grunt as sweat began to soak into Juniper's flesh. She heaved the sword up and brought it down onto anything she could see within her sight. But it wasn't messy and clumsy like her strikes were three-years-ago. 

(But the boy was much better at fighting than Cedar and was skilled in the way of sword-fighting because whilst Juniper's fit of rage made her swings clumsy and inaccurate...)

 They were cold, calculated, and cruel. 

Dummy limbs flew everywhere, littering on the padded-floor as sweat now began to fly off. Grunts echoed around. Pure rage was in the air as all Juniper could think about was Justice Hale and the Victor without a last name. Cashmere. 

Their conversation at the archery range earlier popped back into her head. She wouldn't be crushed at her death. She wouldn't die of a broken heart. But the mere thought that Cashmere, the woman who would hold her in random hotel halls and brush her hand slightly for comfort at functions, would be dead in a few days. Cashmere, the woman who Juniper didn't even know her last name. 

She didn't know Cashmere. She could have been the most cruel, most conniving woman there was in Panem, but Juniper didn't care because the Cashmere she knew was understanding. She was understanding of Juniper and Juniper had never had that before. 

So, when she finally threw the sword onto the floor, hearing it clang, she looked at the destruction she had caused. The targets looked as though they had been disintegrated. There were large chunks of material on the floor, but multiple tiny bits were everywhere. There were no targets and Juniper had to get her breath straight as she clenched her fists. 

Silence enveloped the gymnasium as Juniper looked up, panting heavily, to see the Gamemakers shocked. Some had wide eyes, some had their jaws dropped. But Plutarch Heavensbee, who was no longer Seneca Crane, was smirking to himself. Nodding. Pleased.

So, with enough vigour she could muster, Juniper turned to face them fully and only muttered three words:

"Thank fucking you."

And with that, she turned around with ease and simply strutted away, massaging her red palms as she did. And there was no regret as Juniper entered the elevator and punched the button to go up to the tenth level. 

But with the solitude she was given on the ride up, she used it wisely as she tried to calm herself down. She knew the moment she arrived, she would be bombarded by Nadine, who would want to know everything about the personal evaluation. So, with that in mind, she leaned against the wall and pinched the bridge of her nose before running a hand through her hair. But she immediately groaned when she drew her fingers back to find them coated in sweat. In fact, everything that was Juniper and on Juniper was soaked in sweat. 

So, when she realised no-one was waiting by the elevator door for her, she hurried off to her room and hopped into the shower. It wasn't a long, boiling hot experience like she would have wished, but it was enough to cool her off and let the sweat and grime wash away.

"Ah, look who's arrived." Lucy Stevens raised a glass high the moment Juniper entered the dining room. There was a sharp scent of oranges and garlic. "And how did you go in your assessment?"

"It went fucking amazing," Juniper mumbled as she sat down across from the woman, beside Yara, whose tan seem to have gone multiple shades darker, contrasting against her orange attire. 

"Oh, she swore. She's in a mood..." Yara teased as she tried to pour more wine into her flute, but the clothes she was wearing stopped her from doing so, making it so she could only reach halfway. 

"Do you want me to pour that for you?" Juniper smiled sickeningly at her. "Considering your outfit is restricting you from doing so."

"You're lucky I'm not in that arena with you—"

"Just pour the goddamn drink for her, Juniper."

Rolling her eyes at Lucy, the Hale woman did follow through with the task and topped Yara's glass before settling her gaze onto Brent Higgins, who was eyeing the food in-front of him. 

"And how did you go, Brent?"

But he did not answer, not that Juniper blamed him anyway, and the entire dinner's atmosphere was filled with tension and awkwardness. The only sounds heard was the scraping of forks and knives on porcelain and the quips that Nadine and Yara were mumbling at each other. Other than that, they were all drowning in the tensity. 

"The scores should be announced soon," Lucy mumbled as she dabbed the corner of her mouth with a handkerchief, getting up from her chair. Everyone happily followed as it gave them something to focus on. 

Nadine was the one to switch the television on when they were in the sitting room and the large, obnoxious smiles of Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith's grins filled the screen. Juniper sat down on the couch and played with the loose stitching of the armrest, ignoring the escort's disapproving stare. 

"This is, I think anyway, Claudius, the most important event within this week," Caesar said, starting the broadcast. "That is, of course, after the interviews."

"Ah, of course, Caesar!" Claudius said as he wiggled a finger to the camera. "This year, it is all Victors'. These tributes are all experienced fighters and killers. They know what they are doing!"

"And so we can all expect high scores this year!" Caesar hollered before getting serious. "So why don't we delve right into it?"

The broadcast started off with Caesar reading the names off the list and when he did, a picture of the tribute would appear on the screen along with their district number and the score they achieved. Like every year, it went in order of districts and so, Gloss and Cashmere were first, followed by Brutus and Enobaria. And there was no surprise as the four of them got a ten-to-eleven range. They were trained and they were experienced so no-one was shocked. 

Beetee had managed to get an eight whilst Wiress scraped up a five. But it wasn't because of their strength. No, Beetee and Wiress were not the fittest pair, but Juniper figured it was because of their intelligence and skills with wiring and technology. 

Finnick scored an eleven, which was not surprising due to his speed, agility, and his undeniable talent with a trident. And then Mags scored a two, which seemed high, even for her. With that score it made Juniper wonder if the old woman really did take a nap during the evaluations after creating some fish hooks. 

District Five and Six blew past as Juniper began to make a terrible mess of the stitching on the couch. It was beginning to fray everywhere and Nadine was bursting at the seams, but she kept it under wraps as Caesar announced that Johanna Mason and Blight had both scored an eleven and eight respectively. 

And then Eight and Nine flew past without any worthy noting and soon enough, it was time for District Ten. Everyone except Brent and Juniper leaned forward. The former was in a tense, tight position on the couch as if someone would hurt him any moment whilst the latter continued her relaxed position, toying with the stitching still. She had to have gotten higher than five—

"Brent Higgins, the male tribute from Ten and the Victor of the Sixty-Eighth Hunger Games..." Caesar read from the list as a picture of the man appeared. "He has scored... a six."

Everyone except Juniper nodded at Brent, who didn't seem to care about his score. When his picture disappeared, the escort, the stylist, and the mentor all turned their attention back to the screen as Juniper's face had flew up. 

"Ah, Juniper Hale, the female tribute from Ten and the Victor of the Seventy-Second Hunger Games..." Caesar continued. He looked down at his paper and seemed slightly shocked, but looked back up at the camera with a wide smile and large eyes. "Well... we are witnessing Hunger Games history because Juniper Hale has scored a twelve!"

Nadine Groves jumped up and squealed. Yara Give swore harshly out of shock. Lucy Stevens blinked slightly before joining in the celebrations. Brent Higgins didn't move. Juniper Hale twirled her finger around a piece of stitching until her skin started to turn bright red. 

Hunger Games history. A twelve. 

("Now, Juniper Hale, the other twin duo from District Ten." Caesar chuckled at his own statement. "She has scored a... five.")

("Get more than a five, aye, Hale?" Chaff had called out)

No-one had ever scored a twelve. No-one. And Juniper probably should have bursted out with a laugh, cheered with the other women, but she didn't. Instead, all she could think about was damn Chaff's reaction. She couldn't care less about making history in the Hunger Games. It was going to topple soon anyway. 

But Juniper wasn't the only one who had made history. Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen both had scored twelve and that made Juniper itch. She wasn't jealous, she couldn't care less. She knew there was a reason behind the star-crossed lovers' scores. They were good, but not that good. If anything, them scoring twelve was an invitation for other tributes who weren't in on the plan.

And Juniper realised Plutarch Heavensbee was making it increasingly hard for her to do her job and it made her boil wondering what he planned for her in the arena.