Clove wipes the blood off her hands with an old cloth, it had taken some brutal punishments to get Bullet to talk. It was doubtful Bullet would survive from the blood loss. If they did, they'd most likely be blind in their right eye.

"All that pain could have been easily avoided," Clove sighed, wiping some blood off her cheek. "All you had to do was talk."

"I ain't a… traitor… not… like you." Bullet forced out, along with some blood. She didn't miss the strain on their voice.

"Don't bother trying to fool yourself, you are a traitor." Clove spits, leaning down. "Remember Davidson? The guard you murdered in cold blood? Remember her?" She nearly taunts, waving a knife coated in blood in their face.

On the outside, she smiles at the way Bullet flinches fearfully at the sight of the knife, covered in their own blood, but on the inside, she feels anger towards herself for doing this to Bullet. For causing this pain. This fear.

Bullet stays quiet this time, not able to answer. It's clear that the pain is becoming too much to bear. Even for someone like Bullet. Someone who has felt far too much fear and pain.

Feeling pity and slight mercy, Clove punches Bullet, hard enough to knock them out.

She strides over to her back pack, pulling free a bundle of tactical clothing. Her clothes are covered in more blood than not and are not exactly ideal for storming a warehouse filled with mercenaries.

Clove quickly unzips her knife vest and puts it to one side, knowing that she will put in back on. She doesn't bother unbuttoning the flannel, she simply tears it off. Blood has soaked through it, it was already ruined. The white t-shirt she had been wearing underneath was stained too, she sighed as she pulled it over her head. She kicked off her shoes, already struggling out of her jeans.

Hurriedly, she shook out the tactical clothing. The trousers were the first to go on, Clove hopping around like an idiot to get them on. She threw on a plain t-shirt, forcing herself to slow down as she managed to get her arm tangled. Once the t-shirt was safely on, Clove puts on her combat boots, as she laces them up, she half tucks in the trousers. Carefully, she pulls on the knife vest, zipping it up about three quarters of the way.

She strides over to the mercenary she first killed, hoping to secure some more weapons. She swallows the bile rising in the back of her throat she stands over the body. She carefully removes all of the weapons, laying them out on the ground.

The blast from the grenade caught the mercenary on the left side of his face. His left eye was gone, his eye socket utterly shattered. Flesh and muscle were stripped from the entire left side of his face. The shrapnel from the grenade tore strips into his neck, chest and right side of his face. A medium sized piece of shrapnel was lodged in his right eye. His nose was in small pieces.

Being forcibly thrown into the wall fractured his skull, and Clove would bet that several small fragments entered his brain. It would have killed him instantly if the shrapnel hadn't already. He would have been dead seconds after the grenade went off.

Once all the weapons had been removed from the body, Clove dragged it until it was flat on it's back. After some struggling, she managed to turn the body on its stomach, face pushed into the ground. Her stomach loosened now that she doesn't have to see the damage.

Looking down, she picks up an AK-12. Double checking it's fully loaded she slings the strap over her shoulder and lets it settle against her chest. A gun holster is strapped tight against her thigh, a Colt 45. sitting comfortably in it.

Every spare magazine goes into her many pockets, with a tiny knife clipping onto her belt, hidden underneath the vest and t-shirt.

Fully armed, she runs to the warehouse. Her boots kick up clouds of dust as she zig-zags her way across, skilfully avoiding any vantage points of guards. Keeping low, she skirts along the wall, heading towards the back.

A fire exit lightly guarded. If she can just get to the top, break through a sheltered window, she'll have full advantage in any potential fight. Several guards stand in her way, not enough to truly prove a struggle.

Jumping slightly, she blindly grabs onto the railing of the fire escape. Carefully lifting herself up, she takes in any possible threats, freeing a knife from her vest.

One guard. Back to her. Close enough the she could go for the knee. Has a machine gun, no sidearm, no vest. Fairly easy kill.

Smirking, she throws the knife into the guard's knee, as they fall another knife is burying itself in their neck. No sound, not much blood.

Clambering over the railing doesn't take too long, and she quickly retrieves her knives, returning them to their rightful places.

Leaning over the railing, she spots her next targets. Two guards, standing on either end. Machine guns, sidearms, vests. Will take some planning.

Moving quickly, she climbs onto the railing and hoists herself up. She skips the level, going to the next. She vaults over the railing, landing softly behind a guard.

She got them in a headlock and slit their throat, holding a hand over their mouth to minimise sound.

"Now for the fun part." She mutters, once again climbing over the railing. Grimacing she swings herself down, hitting one of the guards with a solid double kick to the chest.

The guard goes flying back, slamming into the other guard and forcing them into the railing. The second guard spins around, freeing their handgun.

Clove grabs their wrist and buries a knife into their throat. They weakly grasp at the knife as she rips it free, tearing their throat open in the process. The knife is plunged into the first guard's chest as the second collapses.

Smirking, she climbs up to the last level. There are three guards, all well-armed. She couldn't be bothered to plan this one. Time to wing it.

She vaults over the railing, throwing herself onto two of the guards. They all go down in a tangle of limbs as she goes for the only standing guard.

"Come on, little girl." The guard growls, slipping into a fighting stance. "I'll eat you for dinner. Maybe there will be some meat on your bones.

"I'm not on the menu tonight, sorry to disappoint." Clove mutters, raising her hands as she slips into her own defensive stance.

The guard lunges forward, throwing a punch for her head. She ducks, nailing him in the ribs as she steps up behind him.

Snarling, the man attacks again. He manages to get a hit to her jaw before he knees her in the stomach, knocking her down. A solid kick to the stomach sends her flying.

Clove nearly groans, jumping to her feet. She darts forward, plants one foot on the railing and uses it to push herself to the wall where she's high enough to punch the man in the temple. She lands easily, and quickly spins, kicking him in the stomach.

He stumbles back, the railing pressing into his lower back. Clove picks herself up and sighs, she runs forward and barely manages to jump in time. Her boots connect with his chest in a successful dropkick, the guard going over the railing and falling to his doom.

Clove manages to land on the other two guards, but her landing jerks one back to consciousness. The other still knocked out.

The now conscious guard reacts fast, elbowing Clove in the throat. They go for their machine gun that is lying by the wall but is thwarted by a pissed off Clove driving a knife into the side of their vest and just barely piercing the skin.

Now with the upper hand, Clove grabs the machine gun and throws it away. The guard flips over, ripping the knife free. They lunge for Clove and get socked in the jaw. Clove easily pins them down and calmly places their own handgun under their jaw, a click letting them know that the gun is cocked.

"I won't hesitate." Clove warns, grinning as the guard drops the knife and put their hands in Clove's line of vision. She picks up her knife and presses it to their throat. "Tell me your name kid."

At the guard's silence, she presses the knife further into their flesh. A thin line of blood bubbles up around the blade, the guard now fighting the urge to struggle against her.

"Tell me." She growls, putting more pressure against the blade. She watches as the guard nods minutely, and she pulls the knife away.

"Mason," the guard gasps, clutching their throat. "My name is Mason."

"Wasn't so hard now was it?" Clove laughs, standing up with the gun still trained on Mason. She glances at the boarded window, thinking of a plan. "Right, get up kid." She orders, daring them to try something.

Mason slowly stands, one hand covering their neck wound. "What are you going to do with me?" They ask, glancing at their still unconscious companion.

Clove steps towards them, gun at her side. "This," she grabs the back of their vest and throws them into the window. The boards splinter and the glass breaks, cutting Mason's arms open.

"Whoops," Clove whispers, pulling Mason back and letting them fall. "Didn't know there was glass there."

Using the gun, Clove knocks away any remaining glass before carefully climbing through. She nods approvingly at the sight of stacked crates filling the warehouse, making her job much easier and more fun.

Quietly, she makes her way to the edge of the crates and drops to her stomach. She peers down, smirking at the sight of completely unaware mercenaries just waiting around. This would be easy, but help is always handy.

'Hostages would be fun.' She thinks, moving quietly back to the window. Outside, Mason's partner has regained consciousness and was cursing quietly over the state of Mason's bloodied arms. It is messy.

Clove climbs through the window, training the gun on the two mercenaries. "Ah a, don't try anything." She warns, moving closer. "The two of you are going to help me whether you like it not. Get up Mason."

Mason slowly stands, hands out by their side. They move closer as Clove jerks her head, careful to keep their movements small and slow.

"Put your wrists together, in front of yourself." Clove orders, pulling zip ties from one of her pockets. She smirks as they do as instructed. "Move and I shoot." She threatens, darting forward and tightening a zip tie around their wrists. "Alright, it's your buddy's turn."

The mercenary allows Clove to repeat the process, unmoving as Clove loops and tightens to zip ties, tugging to make sure their secure.

"You aren't going to like this part." She tells them, seizing Mason by the collar. The gun trained on their partner, she drags them to the window and shoves them through. They land on the broken boards and glass, gaining several new injuries.

"The fuck, man." Mason groans miserably, cursing their luck. "Does your plan need me to be thrown through a window, twice, for it to work?"

"Nah, that was just a warning for your buddy." Clove replies, tossing a charming smile at the glaring mercenary. "Do anything I don't like, Mason gets hurt. Simple." She shrugs, grabbing Mason's machine gun.

Mason's partner easily climbs through the window, dropping into a crouch beside Mason to help them sit up.

She jumps through the window, and crouches down in front of them, ignoring the dirty glare Mason's partner is throwing her way. "You two are my distractions, pretend to be hostages, draw them out and then get the fuck out of here. Whether or not you kill anyone is up to you. Got it?" She asks, not caring for an answer. "Stay low, try not to get hit. If you die, I am not going to save you. Already have one person to save, don't need another."

Clove glances back to where she knows the other mercenaries are milling around. Breathing deeply, she turns back to her hostages, raising an eyebrow in amusement. Mason's partner is hitting them repeatedly over the head, hard.

"Are you quite down yet?" Clove asks sarcastically, wondering if she should pull them apart to save Mason from brain damage. She gets a sharp glare in return, until the mercenary hits Mason one last time.

A low growl is building in the back of Clove's throat as she turns, half jogging back over to the edge of the crates. She drops onto her stomach, bracing the machine gun against her shoulder. Picking out her first targets she lines up the first shot.

"This is for you, Katniss." She mutters, squeezing the trigger. The mercenary goes down with a burst of blood, shocking the others.

They scurry for cover as she picks them off, none of them managing to fire a shot. Some don't stay down, desperately dragging themselves to cover, some being dragged. She enjoys picking those off, but those her best not to draw out their inevitable death, she does have some tattered remains of a heart.

A mercenary appears from behind several crates, clutching a heavy-duty sniper rifle. They blindly fire at her, trying to force her into taking cover so that the mercenaries have a chance to regroup. One shot gets dangerously close to hitting her, she barely manages to roll away in time.

"Son of a bitch." Clove hisses, reloading her gun. She shifts into a crouch, creeping back to the edge of the crates. "I'll teach you all a lesson." She growls, before jumping up, unleashing a hail of bullets down at the mercenaries.

The sniper goes down with a scream of agony, blood gushing from their hand and abdomen. Another bullet rips through their shoulder, and the sniper passes out from the sheer pain alone.

Most of the mercenaries had been smart enough not to leave their covers, but those who did were mowed down, as were the injured mercenaries they'd been attempting to save. Nearly all had been kill-shots, at least a dozen mercenaries lying dead amongst weapons and blood.

"Intruder! You are outnumbered and outgunned! Surrender now and we will spare you!" A mercenary shouts, attempting to use an intimidating tone but failing miserably.

"Sorry to disappoint you but that isn't happening anytime soon!" Clove yells at them, sitting just out of their sights. "You know why? Because I have two hostages and if you want them back alive you guys will surrender instead."

Clove hears them muttering, catching wisps of the conversation. They're looking for their boss, the same man Clove had shot dead.

"If you show us your hostages we may be able to come to a deal." The same mercenary orders, obviously trying to control the situation. Clove already knows it's a lie, as soon as she shows Mason and their friend they will most likely be killed.

Not having much of a choice, Clove stalks over to her hostages. She strikes Mason across the face with the butt of the gun, before hauling the disorientated mercenary upright.

"You better trust me on this." Clove whispers to them, dragging them towards the edge of the crates, where the mercenaries are waiting. Spread out and poised to kill.

"Where's the other one?!" The commanding mercenary yells, upon seeing only one. He turns to his comrades, quickly signalling for them to take aim, not wanting to lose his chance.

"Over there." Clove deadpans, pointing back at her other hostage. "Obviously, where else would they be?"

The mercenary in charge barks out orders to his people, trying to get them to spread out more and attempt to take Clove by surprise. Few listen to him, most rather remain hidden amongst the crates.

Mason is slowly regaining their senses, their shoulders gradually tensing as they take in the weapons aimed at them. They shove backwards, narrowly avoiding being hit by a bullet that lodges into the ceiling as bullets fly towards them.

Clove stumbles back, allowing Mason enough space to land a punch on her jaw and go for one of her knives. They grab a large one, more like a machete then a throwing knife.

Hanging the knife on their belt they sprint away, heading to the left edge. They drop down at the last minute, disappearing over the edge and hitting the wall. The fall is controlled, and they easily stop themselves with a roll, still one large crate from the ground.

Several mercenaries are standing in front of them, moving to a better vantage spot to get the drop on Clove. To bad that if Mason has anything to do with it, it won't be happening.

'Jamie is going to murder me.' Mason thinks, before taking a running jump off the crate. They crash into a mercenary, the knife in their hand slashing her throat open in seconds. She topples to the ground, blood pooling beside her.

A mercenary is turning on them, gun swinging up. Mason ducks to avoid a nasty blow from the weapon, stabbing the mercenary in the stomach and ripping the knife up into their chest. They leave the knife in the body, choosing to concentrate on the two remaining mercenaries.

"Mason, what the hell has gotten into you?" The smaller mercenary asks, shifting on her feet nervously. Her trigger finger twitches anxiously over the trigger, itching for a chance to shoot. To defend herself. "This isn't like you man."

The taller mercenary is hesitantly lowering her gun, one hand drifting to rest on a wicked sharp knife. Her eyes drift to the two fallen mercenaries behind Mason, taking in the pools of blood. The knife is still buried in the slowly dying mercenary's chest, blood lazily bubbling up around the blade.

Her eyes cut to Mason, eyes scanning them. She takes in their dirtied clothes, messy hair, the wounds on their arms that are still bleeding sluggishly, and the bruise already forming across their cheek. A long, deep cut is in the middle of the painful looking bruise. The red of blood vivid against the dark blue of their face.

"You need to leave, right now. It's too dangerous for you here. Leave before you are killed." Mason warns, glaring at the mercenary towering above them.

The two mercenaries don't budge, choosing to instead eye them suspiciously. They don't seem to understand the very real danger they are in.

"Fine, have it your way then." Mason growls lowly, lunging forward like a snake.

The taller mercenary is closer, as she had been standing protectively in front of the short one. Mason gets to her first, landing a solid punch to her abdomen. She doubles over, a pain grunt escaping her. Mason grabs the back of her neck, kneeing her in the face. They shove her back into the crates as they free the knife from her belt.

Shorter mercenary plows into Mason, trying in vain to bring them down. Mason lets the knife fall, choosing to seize her shoulders and kick her legs out from under her. She lands flat on her back, a cry of pain ripping from her throat.

Mason steps away from her, retrieving the knife as they go. "I warned you. I warned you and you didn't listen. And now you're gonna die." The tip of the blade slashes through her right eye, and with a simple thrust, the blade is buried in her brain.

"Clean up on aisle five please, clean up on aisle five." Mason mutters, looking down at their blood splattered clothes. "Oof, that's gonna stain."

The barely conscious mercenary behind Mason, stands up. Blood is leaking from a gash on her temple, and blood drips from her nose. "You traitor," she spits, "how could we trust you?"

"I can't read minds so why don't you tell me." Mason snarks, wiping off some blood from their neck. "Not your smartest move by a long shot, now was it? Wasn't your stupidest, because you let Clove and Hunter live long enough to kill a good half of us."

"Can you just put a bullet in your brain, make the world a better place?"

Before Mason can answer, several gunshots ring out. Three bullets hit the mercenary in her torso, and she drops slowly. Landing on her back.

"Thanks Clove!" Mason yells, yanking their knife out of the first mercenary's chest. Flipping the knife, they hurriedly cut through the zip tie, freeing themselves.

"No problem, crazy dude!" Clove answers, more gunfire ringing out across the warehouse. Some mercenaries are still fighting back, unwilling to give up. Those with a brain have given up, choosing to flee for their lives.

Clove jumps from crate to crate, throwing the useless gun down at a large group of mercenaries. She jumps down after it, landing easily in the middle of the group.

The mercenary closest gets a knife to the gut, and Clove uses him as a human shield as she unleashes a hail of bullets using his gun. Several mercenaries scramble back the way they came, and Clove can only watch in shock as a heavy crate falls, turning them into pancakes. The remaining mercenaries turn tail and run, not wanting to fight.

Mason and their partner –Jamie appear from around the corner, both holding AK-47s. They both smirk at the trapped mercenaries, before opening fire on them. Bullets tear holes through brains, hearts and lungs, killing every mercenary instantly.

Jamie throws her gun down, seizes Mason by the collar and drags the injured mercenary away from the gruesome scene that Clove stands in the middle of.

"Hey! Come on! It was just getting fun!" Mason complains loudly, before falling silent as Jamie shoots a death glare at them. "Shutting up now." They mutter, dropping Jamie's gaze.

"When we get out of here you can kill as many people as you want. Alright? You just going have to stay a live for that. Deal?" Jamie asks, pulling Mason in for a hug. "Now, let's get the hell out of here."

The two mercenaries set off in a dead run, darting past crates and occasionally climbing over them. Any fleeing mercenaries they come across are easily dispatched of. Mason tending to tackle them and snap their necks. Jamie prefers to introduce them face first to the crates.

Escaping the warehouse, they spot rapidly approaching dust clouds. More reinforcements. A grey pick up truck is partially hidden behind a crumbling wall. All windows still intact. The perfect getaway vehicle.

Somehow, the keys to the truck are still in the ignition. It does make it easier to get the vehicle started. Some rubble had fallen in the path of the truck, but after some shoving and cursing curtesy of Mason, it was quickly dealt with.

"Mason, check if Bullet is still alive." Jamie orders, sorting through some bags that had been thrown in the back. "Maybe we can save one person."

"Kay." Mason mutters, jogging lightly to an unmoving Bullet. They carefully kneel beside the body, cold eyes taking in the damage that Clove had caused. Deep cuts scatter their torso, bruises forming around them. Long, thin cuts decorate Bullet's arms, still bleeding sluggishly. Their right eye is a mangled mess, a jagged cut ripping down the centre of it.

Somehow, Bullet is still breathing. If just barely. A weak pulse beats underneath Mason's careful fingers, it increases just a bit as the tortured mercenary regains consciousness. They are drowsy from pain, and their face and neck are decorated with dark bruises.

Clove had been brutal in her interrogation.

"Bullet, buddy. We're gonna get you to a hospital okay? Just stay awake for us. That's all you have to do. Just stay awake, please." Mason nearly begs, keeping their voice low. "You're gonna be okay." They promise, fighting to keep their voice from cracking.

"Let's get out of here Mason! C'mon!" Jamie yells, jogging over to Mason and Bullet. She glances over Bullet, knowing they have to act fast, or it will be too late. "Right, let's get you into the truck."

Between both of them, they manage to carry Bullet over to the pick-up. After some brainstorming, they manage to get Bullet safely into the bed of the truck, Jamie climbing in with them to keep them awake.

Mason glances around, looking at the few bodies that still litter the ground. Blood and dirt are mixed on the ground, shrapnel and soot decorating the ground where the grenade had detonated.

They grimace, before climbing into the pick-up truck. They direct the truck down a worn trail that goes through the woods and will bring them to a makeshift hospital. Mason can only hope they'll make it in time.

Five armoured trucks roll to a stop in the middle of the street, headlights just missing the retreating pick-up truck's tail light. A tall man gets out of the middle truck, his black clothes blending in well with the darkness. He clicks on a flashlight, the bright beam illuminating the carnage.

More mercenaries spill out of the trucks, the flashlights mounted on their weapons lighting up the warehouse. They take up defensive stances, searching for any threats.

"Spread out, they said Fenton was shot. Find her. Make sure she's dead." The man orders, bracing his hands on his hips. "Vasquez, Danvers. Sweep the warehouse. Find Fuhrman. Put a bullet through her brain. Make it quick."

Five mercenaries break off to begin searching the buildings, flashlights creating looming shadows. They move silently, methodically checking every possible hiding place.

Vasquez and Danvers share a brief look, communicating some kind of plan in seconds. Moments later they are leading the mercenaries towards the warehouse, flashlights off for the time being. They stop in front of the rolling door, motioning for two burly mercenaries to lift it up. Weapons hot, they enter, splitting in two and moving quickly through the crates.

The lights are off, making it difficult to see their target. Bodies litter the ground, some still bleeding warm blood. They search the warehouse thoroughly, but there is no sign of the target.

Suddenly, the lights all turn on. Temporarily blinding the mercenaries. As their eyes attempt to adapt to the stark difference, the rolling door slams shut, shaking the ground.

Four grenades are thrown into the midst of Vasquez's group, and detonate seconds later. Two thirds of the group are thrown into the crates, the other third scrambling for cover. More grenades follow, disorientating the survivors long enough for Clove to slip up behind them undetected.

"You should have stayed home tonight." She snarls, throwing two knives in quick succession. Darting forward, she wraps a length of rope around a startled mercenary's throat, flipping the mercenary over her back is an easy feat.

A quickly recovered mercenary rushes her, managing only one punch to the face before a throat jab floors them. Clove quickly wraps the other end of the rope around the mercenary's throat.

One mercenary shoots at Clove, the shot goes wide and the bullet embeds itself harmless into a crate. They fire off another shot before a throwing knife sinks into their eye. They drop their gun, and Clove grabs it and fires a round into the remaining mercenaries knee cap, swiftly punching a hole in their face.

Jumping to her feet, she double taps both tied together mercenaries in the heart. She quickly retrieves her knives, reloads her newly acquired gun, and sets off to trigger the traps she had rigged.

She sneaks up behind the remaining group, who are methodically checking around each crate. She presses her back to a crate as she pulls a small detonator out of her pocket. Taking a deep breath and screwing her eyes shut, she flicks the switch.

Immediately the warehouse is plunged back into darkness as two controlled explosions take out the lights from the other side of the warehouse. Several more explosions rock the warehouse, the crates filled with explosives going up in balls of fire.

The team successfully distracted, Clove runs towards a crate directly behind them. She jumps at it, using her arms to clear the edge and propel herself into a roll. She's already leaping onto a higher up crate by the time the team regather themselves.

"Into pairs, now. Get her." Danvers orders, already moving away from the group. A shorter, muscular mercenary chases after her, eyes continuously sweeping the area.

Clove nearly laughs as she clears a jump over the heads of Danvers and her partner. They're making this far too easy. Most of the pairs are heading directly into the traps. It's nearly too easy in fact.

She decides to follow two pairs who are heading towards a practically brutal trap. With an incredibly large jump that no one sane would attempt to clear, Clove mentally thanks Bullet for teaching her some parkour. Barely managing to clear it, she falls in a controlled manner into a forward shoulder roll. She rolls off the edge, dropping into a crouch on a lower crate.

"Stay sharp, the target could be anywhere." One of the mercenaries warns, taking the lead. He doesn't notice the tripwire two feet in front of him, the dark making it invisible.

Clove jumps off the crate, sneaking towards the mercenaries. She wants to see her work in action. A crate a few feet behind them provides the perfect cover to observe them without being spotted or caught in the trap herself.

The leading mercenary unknowingly hits the tripwire, triggering the countdown for what is to come. He continues to move before pausing in the midst of the trap, two of his comrades directly behind him.

"Do any of you hear that?" He asks, twisting his torso to glance at the others. "Like a ticking or something?"

"I don't hear anything, dude. You're just paranoid." The mercenary who is clear of the trap speaks up, making his way closer.

"No, no, he's right. I can hear some'hing." One of the other mercenaries pipes up, looking around. She tries to locate the noise, keeping her gun pointed at the ground. "It's getting faster, can you hear it?"

'See you in hell.' Clove thinks, smirking as the ticking turns into a nonstop noise until it suddenly stops.

Just as the leading mercenary opens his mouth, a tiny boom fills the air. Makeshift darts fly out from every direction. Two tag the leading man in the throat, five more buried into his torso. One tags the mercenary who had remained silent in the temple, several more shredding through their stomach. The remaining mercenary caught in the fray gets several handfuls of darts tearing through her lungs and heart, while the last mercenary gets hit in the knee, knocking him down.

As the injured mercenary opens his mouth to let out a spew of curses, Clove steps out from her hiding spot. With a simple flick of her wrist, a small knife is buried in the back of his neck. He keels over slowly, landing flat on his face.

"I think it's time for some more fun now." Clove mutters, taking off in a sprint. She vaults over several crates, skilfully avoiding any unnecessary altercations. If any of the mercenaries see her they would only foolishly think it was a trick of the shadows.

Several minutes later, she was at her next destination. One mercenary had spotted her, and instead of calling out for the others, he had given chase. A throwing star to the eye dispatched of him easily.

Two mercenaries are standing in front of the few crates Clove resides behind, as one struggles with his gun, the other radios in with the others.

"Does anyone have any eyes on Fuhrman?" The mercenary asks, one hand resting on her knife. Her question is met by a short burst of static, that slowly turns into the sound of uneven breathing.

"No, but she ambushed us." A mercenary pants, voice barely audible through the radio. "Vasquez and the group are all dead. Grenades, and Fuhrman killed anyone who survived."

Clove quietly picks up a discarded crowbar, gripping the weapon lightly. She slips through the crates, her footsteps light. The mercenary leaning against some crates and struggling with his gun is closet, and she silently moves into a better position to attack.

"Taylor is dead, he must have seen her." Another mercenary tells them, over the radio. "Throwing star to the eye, didn't stand a chance."

"Where did you find him?" The mercenary asks, unholstering her handgun.

"About five crates from you, I'm heading your way now. Keep your eyes high, she likes killing from a height."

"Copy that." The mercenary replies, reholstering her handgun and instead bringing up her machine gun. She aims her gun upwards, her partner slowly following her lead.

"Too easy." Clove whispers, lunging forward and swiping the crowbar to the left. It slams into the mercenary's ribs, a shocked scream falling from his lips as he lands heavily on his knees. She brings it back up and slams her full weight down onto his shoulders.

His partner spins around, shooting wildly at Clove. The side of the crowbar slams into her temple, knocking her down and sending her skidding. She falls onto her back, one arm outstretched, eyes unfocused.

Clove closes the short distance in a few strides, coming to a stop by the mercenary's torso. She looks down at the slowly dying girl, a small part of her wondering if this was what it was like for Katniss and Thresh.

She drops into a crouch, letting the crowbar rest against her shoulder. "Hurts, doesn't it?" Clove asks, looking at the dented temple caused by her own hand. "There's this immense pain, but you can't do a single thing about it. Can't move, can't talk. Can't beg them to stop as they rebuild your brain and you can feel every excruciating second of it. You can only hope that you die." Clove mutters, shifting the crowbar so it rests across her thighs.

It was worth it, of course. My plan worked. Draw out Thresh, have him kill me. It would have sent Cato into a rampage and he would go after Thresh, and they'd fight to the death. I had hoped that Thresh would have killed Cato, but the mutts came at the wrong time. Five more seconds, five more seconds and Cato would have died. If it came to it, I knew Lover Boy would foolishly try to sacrifice himself for Katniss. Try to save her. As if she needed saving." Clove laughs, broken pieces of memories filtering through her eyes.

A distressed whimper fell from the mercenary's lips, and the weak flex of her fingers on Clove's arm told her all she needed to know. This woman was begging for mercy, to be killed. Clove can't even attempt to blame her.

"Do you deserve mercy? Who knows how many people you killed. Maybe you tortured them, drew out their deaths as long as you could. Maybe you do deserve a painful, drawn out death." Clove muses, freeing the handgun from the mercenary's holster. "Who am I to judge though?" She asks, cocking the gun.

"Hands on your head, Fuhrman. It's over." A voice brimming with anger spits, as a mercenary with long blonde hair steps out from the shadows. Gun trained at Clove's head. "Give up now, and you might live long enough to say goodbye to your girlfriend."

Clove doesn't move from her crouched position, keeping the loaded handgun hidden from view. "You see, blondie. That's where you're wrong. It isn't over." Clove turns her head, shooting a smirk at the blonde. "It's just beginning."

Blondie doesn't see it coming as Clove twists round, firing two rounds into her kneecaps. She yells as she falls, gun dropping in shock. She struggles with her belt, dragging a knife free. Aiming quickly, she flings it at Clove, the blade slicing across her bicep.

"That isn't going to help you, sweetheart. It's over." Clove mocks, stalking towards the blonde. "You should close your eyes for this next part. I'm afraid it won't be pretty, or painless." She grins, raising an eyebrow as the mercenary chooses to stare down. "Your choice, princess."

She pulls her arm back and strikes the blonde across the face with the crowbar. The woman's face whips to the side, spitting out blood.

"If you have any family left alive. I will find them, hunt them down, and beat their faces in with this crowbar. And I'll let them know how you died." Clove promises, bring her arm back again. "Every hit will be for anyone you ever hurt. They get their revenge, today."

A hit to the stomach. "For Katniss."

A bone shattering blow to the elbow. "For Hunter."

A quick succession of blows to the torso. "For everyone you've ever killed, for fun."

One final hit aimed for the spine. "For your family, hurt because you went after someone I care about."

Clove walks back to the barely breathing mercenary, blood pooling around her head. "Now, where were we?" She asks, lightly tapping the crowbar against her jaw. "Oh yes, who am I judge?"

The girl's breathing stutters slightly, as Clove raises the crowbar. She struggles to close her eyes but is unable. Clove takes pity on her and closes them for her.

"Happy thoughts." Clove deadpans, bringing the crowbar down on the girl's face. She hits the girl over and over again, bludgeoning her to death. She hits her until she can't lift the crowbar and swaps it for her fists.

She hits the girl until the mercenaries find her, and they grab her arms, wrenching her up. They force her to face Danvers, who has tears in her eyes. Her partner is checking blondie for a pulse.

"No point, she's dead." Clove croaks out, hanging limp in the mercenaries grasps. "Might as well kill me, I don't have anything to live for. Not anymore."

Danvers lunges forward, grabbing her vest. She shoves Clove against a crate, stepping right into her personal space. "What about Katniss Everdeen, the girl that destroyed us and didn't care less? She not something you want to live for?" Danvers asks, her voice cold and full of anger. "Guess it doesn't even matter, she'll be dead soon."

"Just leave her alone!" Clove yells, catching Danvers with a right hook. "She never wanted any of this! She had no choice! Katniss was only a kid, trying to save her sister! She is traumatised! She watched kids die right in front of her! Her friend died in her arms! And I brought it up to hurt Thresh! Make him kill me! But it affected her! She felt responsible for that little girl! And she ended up starting a stupid rebellion! A rebellion that ended up killing her sister! How could you think she wanted any of this! All she wanted was to save her sister, but in the end, she lost her! You leave her alone! Don't kill her! Let her live!"

"Why would you care? You'll be dead soon. There won't be anyone left to protect her." Danvers smirks, unbothered by her newly split lip and bruising jaw.

"I won't be going quietly, and she still has me." Clove spits, bits of a plan forming. "You forget, I'm insane and I don't die easy." Clove lets a smirk curl her lips, the plan solidifying. "The blonde girl, she was family to you. I told her I'd kill her family. I'm not a fan of breaking promises."

Danvers clenches her jaw, her grip on Clove's vest tightening. "You can kill me, but you'll be dead in seconds. Stab me, shoot, they'll start shooting. You'll never make it out of here."

"You'll be surprised what I can do. They can't exactly shoot if they're already dead, now can they?" Clove asks, subtly pulling the pin of a grenade on Danvers's belt. "And who said I'd kill you first?"

Clove yanks the grenade free, throwing it into the group while simultaneously elbowing Danvers in the face. She stifles a laugh as no one notices the grenade, all focused on their leader.

"Wrong move, bitch." Danvers snarls, using one hand to slowly choke Clove. "I'm going to kill you slowly for that. Whatever plan you have won't work."

"Oh no, wrong again." Clove laughs, closing her eyes and bracing herself for the explosion.

The grenade explodes spectacularly, sending everyone flying and knocking crates. The crate Clove was pinned against gets shoved back, Clove thrown somewhere over it. A crate falls over her, wedged between two others.

Explosions wreck the warehouse, a chain reaction caused by the nearby crates filled with all kinds of explosives. What doesn't explode, burns, as the weakened warehouse mostly collapses, trapping any survivors in the rubble.