A/N: so, before you start reading, this is friendly reminder that the Hunger Games is about teens being forced to kill teens. It's dark. Trigger Warning: the next chapters might be dark as well, so read at your own discretion and risk. I won't take any responsibility for your decision to read on or not.

She glared at the Capitol scientist with utter loathing, spitting blood on his white clothes. He grabbed her chin, exposing her neck to the needle he then jabbed in her vein. Reyna bit his hand, hard, but he wouldn't stop until all of the dark blue liquid was in her blood.

Johanna stood up abruptly, looking murderous. "I'll f*cking kill you! You're dead, Snow! Do you hear me!? You're DEAD!!!" She shouted at the camera in the corner of her cell.

Reyna felt sick. Her vision swam, the manic grin of the scientist morphing to Finnick's.

And suddenly it was the love of her life hurting her. She gritted her teeth, bringing her head back and smashing it against his. He staggered back, uncoordinated in a way Finnick wasn't.

She smirked weakly, her throat dry when she spoke. "Go to hell, you–" her voice was abruptly cut off.

And the screams started again.

Finnick would worry at the necklace around his neck, then take it off and stare at it for a good hour. Then he put it back on and wandered around while practicing knots.

The 9-year-old girl was sitting with her back to her friend, letting him braid her wavy hair. "–and then he got so red in the face I thought he was going to explode!" She exclaimed, miming an explosion with her arms.

He laughed, finishing a fishtail braid and taking a moment to admire his handiwork. "You shouldn't make fun of him, he's too dumb to realize how good your comebacks are." Then he undid it all and started on a new kind. He was still practicing the different techniques his father taught him a few days ago.

"Yeah, but his parents got the message just fine." They were laying on the beach, he with his back to a palm tree and her with her back to him. A gentle breeze tugged at their hair and cooled their skin. The waves rolled gently over the shore, slowly lulling the girl to sleep.

She sagged back against her friend, fighting to keep her eyes open. He smiled, knowing that she could use the sleep. She hadn't said anything, but he knew her parents were working her hard. They always did.

The memory vanished, leaving him to find a nice, isolated closet to fall apart in. His hands came up to his face. He had never felt so alone. His chest physically ached, right where his heart should've been. But it had been ripped out and taken to the Capitol with Reyna.

He tried to calm down. Really, he did. After staring at the wall with heavy breathing for at least an hour, he deduced that that particular method of relaxation was pointless.

So he went to the training room. It was completely out of sync with the schedule printed on his arm, but he needed to vent.

He hung up a punching bag, one of the old-school pieces of training equipment  his grandfather told him the family used to have. His hands he wrapped tightly to protect them from harm.

His lips curled into a snarl as he punched, sweat rolling off his skin. For Reyna, Jules, Abigail, Sebastian, Delilah, Oliver, Elizabeth, all of them.

He took out at of his anger on the thing, until all that was left of him was a worn husk. He sagged against the bag, taking a deep breath.

I will get you back, Reyna. Even if it means bringing the Capitol to its knees myself, I'll do it. I'll burn the world down and build it back up if I have to.

When Reyna woke up, every part of her ached. She remembered being dragged back to her cell and tossed on her cot, but nothing much after that. Her mouth had a sharp metallic taste. By the color of her fingertips after gingerly touching her corner of her lips, it was blood.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand on her shoulder. A second later, the person was on their stomach on the floor, their arm twisted behind their back. She pinned them down by planting a foot on their back, hard.

Reyna now identified the person as female, with gray–almost white–hair.
It was–"Mags?? Oh my God, I am so sorry!"

The brown-haired woman helped her old friend up, still apologizing profusely. Mags cut her off with a warm hug, which she quickly reciprocated. "I missed you."

Mags nodded, kissing her forehead. She licked her thumb and swiped it across the cut on her cheek, like a mother worrying over her child.

Reyna's comfort and relief were erased by the wave of horror that literally sent chills down her spine. "You're here. You're here, with me, as a prisoner. Oh, God, what have I done?"

The older woman touched her shoulder and shook her head softly. She started tapping in Morse Code. It is not your fault. There was a riot in our home District. They wanted a reason to take all of the Victors into custody.

The brunette cursed softly. Of course. The Victors were leverage against the Rebellion. They were basically saying, 'Try to do anything, and they get executed.'

Johanna sat up groggily, a bit stiff from sleeping on the uncomfortable cots. "How are you holding up, Reyna?"

"Could be better, could be worse."

"I'm not so sure about that last part."

"Yeah, well, we just have to wait until something happens."

Peeta and Johanna and Mags certainly hadn't been treated well that week, but it was Reyna who sustained most of the damage. Now, I know what you're thinking. 'But isn't Peeta a target because he's the Mockingjay's lover?'

Yes, but every time any of the other three were about to get dragged off, she would cause trouble. She would scream or bite or scratch or kick or insult their livelihood. The guards would haul her away instead, and the others would remain relatively unharmed.

It was thus that she ended up once again strapped to that lab table. The man made sure to strap every part of her down, after his comrade's neck got snapped last time, and then the one before that got stabbed in the eye with the needle.

He approached her with a golden-amber liquid this time–tracker-jacket venom. The syringe was quickly stuck in her neck, and the effects were immediate. She arched her back, a strangled sound coming from the back of her throat. Pain engulfed her entire body, like she was literally being burned at the stake.

The man leaned over and leered at her, looking at her wildly dilated eyes. "it was meant for the Mellark boy, but this is far more enjoyable."

She had protected Peeta from this terrible thing. And that made the agony worth it.