The world is silent as their District 8 female chases the usually undaunted killer from District 4. His face is screwed up in terror and pain, hers in glee.
"Who's afraid of the big bad wolf, the big bad wolf, the big bad wolf?" she cackles as he scampers across the rubble of a once thriving civilization.
"What's wrong with you?!" he roars as he clutches his gushing forearm.
"You can't spell slaughter without laughter!" she yells in reply as if it were the most obvious thing in Panem. He screams in agony, and she howls in entertainment.
He twists and chucks a knife at her heart, but she swats it aside as if it were a fly.
"Now, now," she reprimands like a mother and a child who wants cookies for breakfast. "That's not very polite. You should be punished." With a surge of energy, she tackles him to the gravel. She straddles him.
"You don't have to do this," he screams. "I didn't do it! I didn't kill him!"
She produces a dagger from her jacket, holding it to his throat. "Bullshit!" she roars in his face. "Bullshit, that is!"
The universe gasps. It was extremely strange to see the once proper and innocent girl who couldn't bear even grazing somebody curse and thirst for blood. In all the 67 years of the Hunger Games, she sticks out. Going insane after watching the brute from District 2 slaughter her lover, she sees every living being as his murderer.
She cuts and stabs until the mutilated corpse is rendered mere shreds of flesh. She stomps and punches the remains, willing the deceased boy's spirit to feel the same agony her precious love felt through her screeches. His family sobs at his fate.
And the Capitol cheers.