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Mags swallowed her bile and pretended to be interested as Atli walked with them among his children, speaking names and blessings and introducing them as lost souls who had heard the call of the righteous. Constantine had wrapped a tense arm around her shoulder. Just like her right arm resting around his waist, it was not to advertise any romantic entanglement, but to occupy limbs aching to wield weapons, but Mags did not miss the jealous glares both male and female scavengers shot their way. She shook her left arm slightly, annoyed by the dull pain pulsing up her shoulder. Of all places for her body to start complaining!

"They're so pretty," a little girl whispered.

"Capitol filth keeps donkeys tame by giving them clean air. Buys them with beauty and lies," a one-legged blonde spat, not even bothering to lower her voice.

Constantine offered the crippled woman a dazzling smile, causing pure envy to darken her face. Mags refused to sink to such pettiness, but she could hear her instincts screaming for the grenades. With every step her whole being challenged her staunch loathing of murder, demanding better reasons to let the Scavengers live. Leaving would solve nothing but wiping them out shouldn't be the answer. Could these people be healed?

"What are you waiting for?" Mags said as Atli led them towards an umpteenth shabby shack. She doubted Constantine hadn't attacked just because she had asked not to.

"Explosives are the basest form of combat," the aristocratic boy replied, looking torn.

Ah… He would have killed them with other weapons? Mags sighed at his misplaced sense of honor. She stumbled, barely catching herself. Her headache was growing intolerable. They could not delay further.

A hair-rising shriek cut the air before she could reply to Constantine. He jerked her behind him, shielding her with his body. Fife dashed to her side.

They froze as they recognized the voice. "Caught a fire maker and two raccoons! Caught…"

The black-haired youth's jubilant cries died when he saw them. "Them! I saw them before! They went below with them! Filthy weasels," he snarled.

Shouts erupted all around them.

"I knew it! Just look at them…."

"Filthy weasels!"

"What's the truth, Father?"

"Kill 'em! Eat 'em!"

Despite their agitation, Mags could see none would attack unless the suspiciously silent Atli gave word. Those people were not fighters. Her eyes moved to the three tied up prisoners. Two, a couple, wore black masks over their heads, their angry eyes quite visible behind transparent screens, the other she instantly recognized, District Seven. The stocky tanned boy had a dead look in his eyes. He was shivering, as if prone to waking nightmares. Mags ground her teeth at the sorry sight. What had happened to him?

"Unmask them," Atli's wife said in her whiplash croaking voice, "and bring me the criminal."

"We run now or never," Fife whispered, distracting Mags from the scene.

"We can't leave them here and Chase has a gun," Mags replied, struggling not to grit her teeth.

"His life was forfeit the moment he was reaped. You will hate this anyway, Mags. Let's just get out of here alive."

The tribute was not the only thing holding Mags back. "Chase has a gun and he's watching us as much as them," she repeated tensely.

And they still didn't know if some of Delphin's group were kept prisoner. They couldn't walk out on them. They couldn't leave them to die like that.

"Edge closer to Atli, stay with me," Constantine ordered. He had the dangerous confidence of those with an insane plan. Unfortunately Mags had nothing better to offer. She still made sure he wasn't reaching for the grenades.

A shout of pain made her eyes snap back to the prisoners. The man's mask had been sliced open with no care for the skin underneath.

Mags' eyes widened when she saw the man's bonds come undone and his arms shoot forward.

His teeth set in a grim snarl, he twisted the scavenger's arm with incredible speed. In two swift movements, he disarmed the youth and plunged the knife in his throat before knocking the other nearby scavenger down with a well-placed kick. The woman by his side, now also free from the snare pushed her partner down to avoid a thrown brick, cursing as they both fell to their knees. A half-dozen screaming scavengers with crowbars rushed towards the two.

Seven just sat there, as if awaiting death, horror etched on his face. A blow to the head knocked him out.

Mags ground her teeth in fury, her eyes desperately darting to Chase. She couldn't just watch! The huge man had removed his gun from the holder but held it loosely by his side. He hadn't shot the rebels yet. Did he even have ammo? She couldn't risk it. She had to distract him, somehow.

The two rebels had risen again, adopted a back to back fighting stance. A scavenger was screaming on the floor, cradling his wrist. The woman had managed to get a knife and the two had evidently every intention to fight their way out.

Mags had every intention to help them. Were these Chickaree's scouts?

The Scavengers danced just out of slashing distance, throwing projectiles at the two rebels who struggled to protect their bodies as they edged towards the exit.

The ring of steel cut through the chaos.

"Move back, drop your weapons or your beloved leader will bleed on the ground like gutted swine," Constantine shouted, his sword pressed against Atli's throat. Mags could have smiled if the knife-like pain in her head had been less intense. How stupid of Atli to come so close.

His voice dropped to a lethal whisper as he addressed the trembling scavenger leader. "Tell them to let us leave, the six of us, or not even the maddest of them will fail to see how pathetic you can be. I will make you weep, you wretched creature."

He dug his blade deeply enough to draw blood as Atli failed to answer. All color fled the man's face.

"Do as he says," Atli said in a vibrant voice which almost concealed his tremors. "They will come back to us when they will see the truth. We must forgive them for their weakness."

Except for the livid Chase, the Scavengers all backed away. Chase had pushed Atli's wife to safety and was slowly raising his gun. Mags knew that she couldn't count on him not shooting. She squared her shoulders and stepped in front of her exposed friend, shielding him from the gun.

"You shoot, Chase, and Atli will die with a sword through his heart before I hit the ground," she said, her eyes burning with loathing. She valued her life greatly, but better risk death for a noble cause and leave a proud legacy than preserve her existence at all costs. She hoped that she had not underestimated the man's reasoning ability. If he was mad, they were all dead.

A grunt caught her attention. The masked woman had lifted her limp companion in her arms, and no one seemed to dare get close to her anymore. Rivulets of blood ran down his slashed face. Mags' lips twitched in sheer relief when she saw his chest rise.

"Idiot was feeble-minded when we found him," the woman hissed, jerking her head towards Seven, naked anguish plain in her blue eyes. "Got us caught. Leave him, he's too heavy to carry."

Mags' eyes fell on Seven's muscled form. Broader and heavier than Constantine, he was out cold next to two Scavenger corpses. Fife had been right. Mags hated this. Why did the choice have to be hers?

It didn't matter.

"Run," she decided.

Constantine forcefully pushed Atli in Chase's arms, forcing the man to lower the gun to catch his leader.

Fife grabbed Mags' hand as they broke into a sprint.

"I will carry your friend," Constantine urgently said, taking the short wounded man into his arms.

"Husband," the woman corrected, her distress obvious despite the mask, "this way, hurry! You should have slit his throat."

A gunshot ripped the air as they turned into a wider corridor, tearing chips off the moldy wall.

"Catch them," Chase bellowed.

The woman's voice was thick with hate and pity as they hurried deeper into the sewers. "They can't run to save their lives. Atli doesn't feed them as much as he could. Keeps them angry and tame."

"What happened to him?" Mags asked, gesturing at the man Constantine was carrying.

"A brick fell and broke on the back of his head and he took a rock to the temple," his wife said through clenched teeth. "He fainted. We have some good medicine, we have to take him down to the bunker."

Soon, they could hear the angry voices fade in the distance. They slowed their pace, but only fractionately.

"You're of the Citadel?" Mags asked, forcing herself not to slow down further despite the darkness. She felt as if needles were pushed into her eyes with every step. She desperately hoped they had medicine against migraines.

A harsh laugh escaped the woman's lips. "No. We're the ones who wanted the whole of Three to come to the Citadel. The Citadel... We were almost all civilians once, and many don't have it in them to fight after ten years. They're tired and bitter. We're the only ones who still fight. The Capitol must know something is afoot. You here, just days before we finally launch the attack… It stinks."

A major attack? After nine years? And the Capitol knew? Mags' frantic heartbeat drummed against her ears. Were they truly here by coincidence?

"He stopped breathing," Constantine suddenly said, lowering the man to the floor.

The rebel ripped her mask off, revealing short strawberry-blond curls and an open doll-like face. "No! No, don't you dare die on me, Nexus! Don't you dare," she hissed, crouching over the unconscious man. She couldn't have much older than twenty-five.

It was soon apparent there was nothing they could do.

Mags strained her ears in case Scavengers were still on their tracks. She kept her eyes on the dim tunnel, struggling to grant the sobbing woman at least an illusion of privacy. She could feel tears mounting in her own eyes. Mags had steeled herself to kill and instead mourned a man she had never met. She struggled to find meaning to it. At least the atrocities of the Rebellion had been rendered bearable by their fierce belief in victory. What were they accomplishing here? She wholeheartedly hoped Seven was dead, and was horrified by it. How many more would there be?

Finally, the blonde spoke up in a brittle voice. "I must go outside, to bury him."

Bury? Mags turned shimmering eyes to her, unable to conceal her frown. Had even that been a lie?

Constantine crouched next to the woman. "Do you need some help, or an escort?"

She violently shook her head, her fingers brushing her husband's hair out of his face.

"I hate to be so insensitive, but we need to know what happened to the other tribute," Fife said.

Now that there was no more Atli to charm, the brunette hid neither her tremors nor her horror.

"It can wait," Constantine shot back, a fierce cast to his face.

Fife dropped her gaze, a tear escaping her black eyes. "Not necessarily…."

Mags yearned to disappear. Using the woman for information in such a moment made her feel dirty, and dirtier with each second she kept silent. When did the goal stop justifying the means? How low could she accept to sink?

The rebel cradled her face with her shaking hands. "We found him a few hours ago. He wasn't very coherent. We understood that they were six when they got lost in the sewers. They found a 'token' in the corridors and found the Scavengers. They saw they'd eaten someone they knew and lost their tempers. They doubled back to get chemicals and burn whatever they found." She stood up, murder written on her anguished features. "Something we should have done long ago! Then some of the tributes started butchering every Scavenger they could find, including the children. But Will, the boy, he was horrified by it, so they fought and turned on each other. Will killed a girl who tried to kill someone called Styx. He lost it and ran away from the group of survivors. He kept wailing, saying he was sorry. The din attracted Scavengers." A broken laugh escaped her lips. "Bold ones for a change. I should give you directions…"

"We have a map," Mags said, wishing her voice could convey an apology she didn't know how to formulate.

The woman's lips twitched weakly. "Auntie gets around... Chickaree's the reason the Citadel didn't break into a civil war after the proclamation of the first Games. We separated with almost no bloodshed," she said in choked bitter tones. "She should've come with us, but she's been hopelessly in love with that asshole Hunter for years. He keeps her loyal. I suppose he's still stringing her along?"

"We didn't stay long enough to see... Is there a fourth faction?" Mags said as the woman scribbled on their map.

Constantine sent her a withering glance. Mags swallowed painfully. He was right, they shouldn't be pestering the poor woman, not now, but Mags knew she didn't have the strength to head back blindly through the sewers again. Faint relief loosened her painful limbs as the blonde shook her head. They had seen the worst of this underground hell.

"Say Teal sent you," the woman added. Fury and guilt flashed on her face as she lifted the man's body. "If you find them before they find you, insult them."

Teal broke into a lumbering run, one of her hands tightly linked with her husband's. Mags brought her fist to her mouth, swallowing back tears. Teal's gaunt expression awakened her deepest fears. Nexus' hair had been as dark as Esperanza's. Mags averted her eyes before Teal had turned the corner. She just couldn't look. Mags admired the woman for her strength, a strength that reminded her of another time when death was common place and had to be accepted.

She found herself missing her dad more than she had in years.

Fife spoke up when Teal's steps had vanished. The petite girl was hugging herself on the floor, looking much younger than her years. "Do we really want to go there? They're probably decent but…."

"Yes!"

Fife turned to Constantine in shock.

"How can you know it's safe?" She muttered, looking exhausted as she forced herself upright.

Instead of elaborating on his passionate response, he stared down at the much shorter girl with his I am Constantine Aquila, how dare you doubt me, you peasant expression. A sad smile flitted over Mags' lips. Constantine was the type of man she doubtless would have found unbearably full of himself back in Four, but, with their lives in danger, his arrogance was insignificant compared to his strengths. Fife seemed to share that opinion since she simply lifted her eyes skywards.

"Tomorrow then, it must be past eight pm. We need to find somewhere to sleep. I'm drained and my head is killing me," Mags said.

Mags suddenly noticed that she wasn't the only one grimacing in pain. Both Fife and Constantine wolfed down some of the tablets. She suspected there had been something in the air beyond the smell. Slowly, the pain behind her eyes decreased to more comfortable levels. They headed back towards the depths, hoping the maps would not fail them. Hoping they would find more than mysteries and death.

AN: While calling the next chapters cheerful might be a stretch, they won't meet poor widowed rebels on a regular basis. Oh and every event, no matter how sad or seemingly pointless has an actual plot point.

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