Sam and the alliance had made good time throughout the day, putting space between them and the force field and closing in on the great pillar of light that marked their destination. Whatever lay there – whether just an "off" switch to deactivate the force field or something far worse – would welcome them tomorrow.

Thresh, Firth, and Lily lay asleep about the smoldering remnants of a fire, catching last bits of rest before the final stretch of the Quarter Quell. Sam had tried to sleep, but it wasn't coming. She'd heard the cannon fire once more earlier in the afternoon, telling her what she already knew.

It was her, Vespasian, and the people she called allies left in the arena. She'd have to kill them all to get free – and she didn't want to.

River lay in the dirt nearby, her head down on her arm but unable to sleep just the same. The glow of the fire's embers etched small shadows across the soft curves in her young face. Smudges of mud and streaks of dirt caked her features, transforming her face from the clear, stately visage of youth she'd worn before the arena to a gritty thing lit with a latent fire. For all the ways River reminded Sam of her late sister, she had something Gannet never had – a determination to do whatever had to be done.

Sam pawed at the dirt, letting clumps of the earth slip through her fingers. If River really had that determination, of course, she'd end up killing Sam sometime between now and tomorrow. After all, they couldn't both win.

"What d'you think's waiting out there?" River spoke up, breaking up the constant humming of the rainforest's jungle.

Sam stayed quiet for a moment, her eyes idly floating over the embers of the burnt-out fire. "Probably just Vespasian. They're probably trying to get us all to fight in a big finale."

"I don't think so," River interjected, more to herself than Sam. "I think they're setting us up for something bad."

"I think they already did that," Sam mused grimly. Her thoughts drifted back to Cal – how he'd been alive only thirty-six hours ago, still by her side. She was thankful Storm was back, but she'd tossed aside Cal so easily for his familiar soft words. Now – what would she meet at the end of this long road?

"It's not all bad," River shifted her head on her arm. "You know Firth likes you, right?"

"I had an inkling."

"You don't like him back?"

"It's not that, River," Sam replied. "Just…everyone…I can't get close to somebody like that. Whenever I do, they get taken away. Look at Cal – he was just here with us, and now he's gone. Look at Gannet. It just ends up hurting me more."

"If you keep thinking that way, that's always going to hurt," River pointed out.

"Well," Sam fretted. "I don't think it will for much more."

River looked troubled, her eyebrows darkening at Sam's admission. "You don't think you're going to win?"

"How am I supposed to, River?" Sam snapped at her. "You think I want to kill you, Lily, Firth – just to win? How is that even winning?"

"You're still alive and walking."

"Great, me and the dead. That'd make me so happy. Just try to make it quick if you're the one who kills me."

"There's something bothering you, isn't there?" River concluded, scrunching up her eyes and regarding Sam with a skeptical look. "If you actually had felt that way, you wouldn't have run away from the mutt back when Regal died. You would have let it kill you to let me get away."

Sam let her head sink and closed her eyes momentarily. "Can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"I…" Sam didn't even know where to begin. "Storm came to me this morning."

"Wha - who?" River didn't have the slightest clue what Sam was talking about.

"Back in the Games that Gannet and I were in," Sam answered her bewilderment. "The boy who was with us – his name was Storm Hawthorne."

"Yeah, I saw him die. That kid from 1 killed him," River looked at her strangely. "You and he were…close, right?"

"I thought so," Sam looked away. "We…had something. But today, he came to me…I've been seeing him a lot in the last few days, normally as him already dead. It's been hurting me inside as he keeps coming back, asking why I let him die…what I'm looking for here. Today he does that, and after I reply…the Storm I knew and thought I loved was standing right there. I mean, if the Capitol can make mutts and herd us around this arena, why can't they bring Storm back?"

River's expression revealed all her concerns for her ally. "Sam, it's a trick. A mutt, something – he's dead. You were right there when it happened."

"But what if it's not?" Sam protested, unable to let go of her slim slice of hope. "What if they did bring him back? He told me he was waiting for me, that we'd be back together…and am I supposed to just forget about him? To go run away with somebody, because my eyes told me Storm died?"

"Your eyes are also telling you he's alive again," River tried to reason. "Think, Sam! Are you just trying to die because some…image of Storm says you should die? Vespasian tells you to die; do you listen to him?"

"It's not the same!" Sam argued. "River, I can't just let him go! I've let everyone go! I don't have anybody else."

"Or maybe you just don't want to see anyone else," River retorted, disgruntled. "Fine. If you want to kill yourself, Sam, I'm not going to try to stop you. Just know that some of us still believe in you."

River turned over on her other arm with a sigh, showing her back to Sam and curling up in a prone ball. Sam leaned back against a tree, trying to decipher River's reply. Perhaps the girl was right – she had burned plenty of bridges on her own, whether that was running from Clay to pushing Firth away. She'd built the bed she had to sleep in plenty well without help. Much of the hopelessness she felt could be easily tracked back to her own actions.

Still, she couldn't let this one chance to feel love again fly away now, could she?


The Capitol

Trajan dashed along the tunnels beneath the Capitol, stopping only to take shots at incoming Peacekeepers. Rex, Nero, and the rest of his squad kept pace perfectly, moving along as fast as they could go. It was tough going – despite the Peacekeepers having largely been dispatched to the districts to fight the Vox, they still swarmed the area. Trajan had been at this all day since they'd breached the Sprawl, and still they hadn't made their way even remotely close to the Presidential Mansion yet.

Fortunately, they didn't have to be too careful about their whereabouts.

"Nero, squad coming in right and ahead!" Trajan pulled behind a cinder pillar as Peacekeeper bullets flew in from in front of him, blasting into the ground and sending up shrapnel bursts of concrete and asphalt.

A hail of bullets exchanged each way, downing the Peacekeeper squad quickly. The Centurious masterfully executed their attacks, pacing down the dark, brown corridors with the discipline of professional soldiers. The underground tunnels weren't hospitable by any means, but they worked in shunting large formations of Peacekeepers into tight areas – perfect for targeting and eliminating with a minimum of casualties.

"Hold!" Nero shouted after turning another corner, tapping a button on his wrist comm. "Trajan! It's Quintus – the topside forces are getting decimated. No air cover when we emerge."

Trajan swore. He hadn't had much faith in the two engaging regiments above to achieve much, but he'd hoped they would have lasted longer. Less than a day was nothing to get excited about – he'd have to accelerate their pace down here.

"Playing on human fear," Rex mused. The former Head Gamesmaker had held himself quite well with the troops – wielding a rifle with precision and excellence, incapable of any of the nerves that plagued the Peacekeeper foes. He'd surpassed even Trajan's expectations in combat. "Octavian wishes to box us in, force us to think irrationally – as humans do. It is paramount that we maintain a logical head. Adhere to strategy, Commander."

Trajan nodded, indicating ahead down to the maintenance tunnels with his rifle butt. "We need to push ahead to the Transfer, get out of-"

He didn't have time to finish. An Inquisitor burst around a nearby corner, leveling his rifle with ease and taking the head off one of the Centurions. Nero swung around, lowering his own gun and smashing his trigger finger down. A burst of blue lightning ripped out of his energy rifle, tearing at the Inquisitor with thousands of watts as electricity overloaded his body. The red-armored soldier quivered with a low, inhuman moan, his body shaking and writhing about the ground as he collapsed into a heap. Trajan stood over him, careful not to make contact with the man as he discharged a bullet into his brain.

"Good catch," he thanked Nero. He'd come to trust the man more – perhaps he wasn't just a stooge to his superiors.

"Just my job," Nero replied.

Rex held them up before they went any further: "You may think the Transfer would be the place to go, Commander, but it would certainly be wrong."

"What d'you mean?" Trajan demanded. "There's virtually no Pods in the area, and we've handled the Peacekeepers and Sentries fine."

"Only if you think so simply," Rex countered. "Octavian will know the topside force is a delaying action. He will understand that there are many ways into the Presidential Mansion, which is most easily struck from beneath. Should you want to continue to the President with minimal damage, you'll need to think creatively."

Fair enough, Trajan thought as he tapped into his comm, keying back to the Nexus. Creatively he could do: "Marius, it's Trajan."

"What do you need, sir?"

"We've hit a sticky situation," Trajan replied. "I don't know how the fight into the Capitol is going aboveground, but we need to break out up there. Can you give us an air strike on targets from my position to the Capitol?"

"I have better if you need a diversion. Nihlus is in position – he's launching his attack now. No Peacekeepers can afford to ignore a strike right into the heart of the City Center. You'll have your clear."