Hello again, tributes, welcome back.

I guess technically I should say "Welcome to the Finale Part I" but it just doesn't sound right. So, welcome to Finite's Finale :P

I know it's been some time, and to be honest I needed a couple of weeks to just rest. I figured I could take that time since I've been uploading consistently since October. That and work has been stressful! Hopefully, upon my return, that period of madness will be long over :)

Here we are again, back in the Capitol! There are a few things that have been left to simmer while we've been in the arena, and now we get to see the fruits of those efforts. Now that we're in the Capitol though, we can take a breather before our fantastic finale…right? Well, we'll see.

Thank you to Remus98, FireflyLlama, Alexcias, BamItsTyler and contemporarydancer2, who reviewed! We passed 200 reviews, which I appreciate, it really does mean a lot. Also a shoutout to my king symphorophilia as well for his PM brilliance!

"Coffee first. Schemes later." ~Leanna Renee Hieber

Luca Fawkes, Twenty-Five, Head Gamemaker

Disgruntled, I whip open the curtain to the changing booth to reveal my embellished orange suit.

"It's fabulous!" Lexi cheers.

Shopping.

Out of all the things in the world that Lexi could have asked me, she asked me if we could go shopping. I'm not exactly sure why Lexi wants me of all people to peruse mannequin filled shop windows and brightly coloured outfits, but this is better than paying out whatever price might come to mind. I already owe a villain around eighty million, and I don't want a fancy car or an overpriced meal to be added on to that staggering tab.

I guess its okay, but I can't help but to feel uncomfortable.

Well, maybe that's not the word. I feel apprehensive, tense, paranoid. There's a strange sense of foreboding in my stomach, almost like a shadow creeping over me, one that stretches as the sun crosses the sky and dips below metal and glass. There's a sense of danger that lingers in the back of my mind. The mentors are safe, so why do I feel so on edge? I moved them myself, and they were surprisingly compliant, aside from a few confused comments. They're guarded by twenty-four hour security, in a suite similar to the mentor's lounge, but located near the train station. I figured if we needed to send them out quickly then a train would be the fastest route back to their respective districts and away from whoever Finite was.

All of this stress hasn't been good for me. I know that I've done my very best to protect the mentors, but a part of me wonders if taking them out is really Finite's play. It just doesn't make sense. Target me and force me to surrender to some kind of blood debt as an excuse for killing people, both mentors and Capitolites alike? Surely there's more to this than that? Surely there's some kind of reason aside from the senseless slaughter?

I know I needed a break, and Lexi's offer came at the right time.

Both of us have spent the last couple of days going over the details of what's gone on, trying to pick apart possible clues. Lexi said we'll probably have to make a map to evaluate everything and see if something stands out. She still hasn't elaborated about what she said about her life in Six, but judging by how she's taking this, I can bet she's been involved in something shady before.

Usually I'd think that would bother me, but it doesn't.

Whatever reservations I have about Lexi are void at this point; she's the only one I can really trust right now. I mean, she was right next to me at the party when the shooter attacked, and we were both witness to Finite's destruction. Still, instead of finding the culprit, I'm posing awkwardly for Lexi in a suit that my stylist would burn if they had the chance.

"Fabulous?" I scoff. "Lexi, I feel like a traffic cone. Please let me take it off."

"Absolutely not," Lexi answers, sticking her nose up in the air. "While I admit the colour is rather loud, I must say that it doesn't mar your complexion in the slightest."

I was the one who was supposed to be taking Lexi shopping, not the other way around. Sure, Lexi has a few bags at her feet, each of them containing some kind of expensive garment, but it soon turned from Lexi dragging me from store to store into Lexi forcing me to try on various pieces. Why did she want to go shopping? That seemed like the most random of things to do, especially for Lexi, gave off an air of being above activities like picking out glittering garments of every shape, colour and style.

"Remind me why we're here and not doing what we should be doing?" I mutter.

"You need a break, and I figured the only way to do that is to do what Capitolites do best," Lexi answers smartly.

"Which is?" I prompt.

"Buy shit."

Lexi has a point, the Capitol is certainly a hive for consumerism of all kinds. We've been carefully disguised with hoods and sunglasses just to escape any potential paparazzi. A single of photo with the famed Lady Lexi would surely circulate rumours in the press that I just don't need right now.

A phone rings out.

It's mine.

Lexi hands me the phone, but holds on to it for a little too long, eyeing the unknown caller sign on the screen with concern. Her brown eyes rise up to meet my green ones with unease.

"Finite?" I whisper.

She shrugs but eyes the phone warily as I accept the call.

So much for a relaxing shopping trip around the city, then.

"Luca, Luca, Luca," Finite's gravelly voice reaches my ears once more. "You have been busy."

Drawing a deep breath, I take a second before answering. Lexi pats my shoulder, but her expression is tense. She's coiled like a spring, expecting the worst. She should. Every time Finite calls me, something else happens. Somewhere, someone gets hurt.

"Finite," I greet, my words dripping with sarcasm. "It's a pleasure."

I'm nervous. What could they want this time? What do they plan to do?

"I can tell," Finite notes, with a scoff. "While you're sweating your sweet little butt off, I'm here enjoying a nice cup of coffee."

"What do you want, Finite?" I demand, keeping my voice low so that the other customers don't hear me.

Lexi leans forward too, trying to catch more of our conversation.

"Oh, can't I say hello to a good friend of mine?" Finite teases. "I would've thought we'd know each other well enough to have a civil conversation."

"Stop playing games with me," I hiss down the phone. "I don't need this right now."

"You don't get a choice," Finite sings. "Now, how do you take it?"

"Take what?" I snap.

"Your coffee, Luca, goodness, you're slow today," Finite whines. "Black? White? Any milk or sugar?"

"You're time wasting," I realise slowly, jerking my head at Lexi's bag and then at the entrance to the store, a signal for the two of us to leave.

"Actually, believe it or not, there's no time wasting here," they comment. "The job is already done. Your special brew is waiting for you with your precious mentors…"

The line hangs up, and Lexi's watches me worriedly, scanning my face for some kind of order or sense of direction. Then it dawns on me; the metaphors, the teasing, the references to that stupid drink.

Coffee.

It's a common fact that too many of us here drink too much of it. It's a short term boost that's dangerously habitual, and yet here we are again, humanity limited by its own primal desires. Coffee in itself, a warm cup of it after a long day…it's so inconspicuous, so unassuming and inoffensive.

It's the perfect weapon for Finite.

"We…" I mutter, trying to get words out of my mouth.

Lexi follows my every movement and sound, frozen, almost awaiting instruction or order, or perhaps just the confirmation that it's okay for her to move.

"We need to get back to the mentors."

Luke Coloss, Sixteen, District Twelve, Victor of the 80th Hunger Games

I wish I could go back home.

The mentors have been locked away in this spacious apartment for the last day or so.

We haven't really been told why we're here, but we've been waited on and given all the things we could possibly need…just no space for a breath of fresh air. The penthouse we have is impressive, truly Capitol is all its garish and grandeur. Rooms upon rooms wriggle from one corridor to the next, places beyond imagine with various activities and services catered to our every whim. It's an incredible place to be, and I should be more than happy to be here, but my awkwardness chews its way into the inside of my cheek.

I've written so many letters that my hands ache.

There's an unease to unfathomable beauty and riches, especially since my life in Twelve was never a pretty one. Thomas and I lost our parents, and since then, we've lived in a tiny old shack. Winning the Games changed all of that for me. Suddenly, the boy from Twelve with the dirt on his cheeks became this joking, pranking, practical killer, with two kills to his name and a grand house in the Victor's Village. That boy is me, and even though it's a year on, I still can't even begin to wrap my head around that concept.

For some, it's the nightmares. For others it's the visions. For me, it's the letters, the words that were forever left unsaid, the moments I could have spoken up or questioned further. Those moments are fantasy, fleeting and fictional yet so dangerously appealing. It's a cocoon that's wrapped itself around me to protect me from the reality of I survived and these hands killed someone. The words I could have said are the distraction from the past that I pretend isn't there. If I take one step away from that fantasy, I worry that I might lose myself.

Three tributes left.

I'm surprised that my mentorship of Lewis has allowed him to make it this far.

The Capitol have commended my efforts, and between managing sponsors and the probing questions of Dallas Cornwall, I'm all about tired out. All the mentors drink coffee, and I've done it too as of late. I can't waste a minute away from watching over Lewis to monitor any possible changes. Mentoring is hard. You grow so attached to the people you're trying to keep alive that you forget how painful it is to watch them die. Seeing Filla getting torn apart by the Careers was gruesome enough in itself. Now seeing Lewis fight for his life, and maybe die? My nerves are fried, and the breath catches itself in my lungs. My nerves tickle their way up the sides of my neck, alive and electric, always on edge. I don't know if it's the caffeine, the sleeplessness or the worries, or even all of them combined, but I know I'm a mess.

"Look up, Luke."

Royce Fendi, from One, is the only other person in the viewing lounge with me. As the Games progressed over the last day or so, the handful of mentors that occupied this room rose and left as each tribute fell, until only the two of us are left sat here. I mentor Luke, he mentors Austin. Izzy's mentor, Nate, died three days ago at the party. Leila's supposed to be watching over her in his place but she's not exactly the most stable right now.

Judging by the tearstains on Royce's shirt, he's done his best to comfort her, but to no avail.

Grief is a horrible thing.

It never leaves you, always there, whispering in your ear, reminding you of those you've lost and how many more you may yet have to lose.

"…I'm fine," I mutter.

I'm not, but that's okay. I'm just tired. That, and I'm worried for Lewis. A Career and a gutsy District Five girl? He may be allied with One, but arena alliances can be fragile. You just never know.

"Coffee?" Royce asks, getting up from the decadent cream sofa, complete with softly beaded cushions with swirling patterns.

"Please," I cave. "I shouldn't but…"

"I know," Royce answers me, somewhat tightly. "I was in your place last year."

Despite his tone, I can tell Royce isn't directing any malice towards me, instead the Capitol. His long, hard glares from across the room used to follow me, and I'd avoided him out of the fear of his anger. Since the party though, he's been a lot softer, something I'd never expect from a Career. If anything, from what I've seen from the other mentors, is that they're nothing who I thought they'd be. Chive from Eleven, is a total Mom and you can talk to her about almost anything. Mona from Six has your back and she doesn't even need to say it. Leila and Nate were really kind to me too, when I first came into the Mentors lounge. Royce too could be considered a friend.

I guess it's hard to call them friends, but they're the closest I've really been to most people in so long. I never really had friends, and aside from Thomas and Aruma in Twelve, there's nobody else I'm really that close to. People smile at me now, when they never noticed me before. Some wave or thank me for bringing food to last the year in Twelve. Aside from that though, I'm left alone.

Here, it's different. Since there's so few mentors around, I guess it makes sense that we all support each other. Even Helena, Ava and Kian from District Two came up to me the other day to congratulate me about Lewis getting to the finale. It doesn't sound like much, but it's something - an acknowledgement that I made it here, just like they did.

"I can't imagine living like this," I breathe out a chuckle. "How does everyone else do it? I get it, we want people to come back home, but I didn't think it would be this hard."

Royce scoffs as he presses a couple of buttons on the coffee maker, allowing it to whir away. There's a few of them around the apartment, with a few assistants that drop in and out to clean or top things up, but I haven't really seen anyone. That being said, this place is really big.

"Don't expect it to get any better," Royce responds. "Watching people fight for their lives is almost a horrible as fighting for your own."

The coffee machine takes a few more moments to make the coffee before it beeps, a signal that it has done its work. Instant coffee, the Capitol call it. It's not the nicest of drinks, but it keeps me awake I guess. Isaac was able to handle all of this mentoring business for me, but I don't even have him at my side to give me guidance. I guess he's not technically a mentor, but still, he should be here right now.

I suppose all I can do is watch and hope.

"What was your Games like?" I ask, thinking of Royce in his Games. I quickly realise the weight of my question. "I…sorry."

"No, it's okay," Royce sighs. "It's not like the memories of my wonderful experience in the arena would be forgotten in two years, much less twenty. They weren't much different from yours, but if you wanted to ask anything, go for it."

"How do you cope with everything?" I ask.

I write letters. Barli from Nine drinks himself under the table. I'm pretty sure Mallia from Ten's long lost her sanity. So how does Royce manage?

Royce offers me my cup with a grim smile.

"I don't," he answers. "I'll drink to that."

I scoff.

"What, to not coping?" I ask him. "You're a Career. Don't you all love the Games?"

"Some of us do, some of us don't," Royce chuckles. "I'm one of the better ones."

I'm about to ask who he thinks the "better" ones are, but then I choose to say nothing, falling silent. The quiet stretches out for a few moments before Royce awkwardly breaks it.

"I don't blame you for what happened to Tiffany," he says.

I don't respond. How could I? What should I even say to that kind of remark? The topic changes so quickly that I almost feel like the room has grown colder. I tighten my grip on the coffee cup.

I was just a kid trying to survive. I wonder if Royce has come around to the notion of that.

"I was angry at you, at first," he admits, strolling around the chairs, clasping his untouched cup of coffee, the hot liquid steaming away. "I was. I wanted to hurt you. There were times I couldn't even see your face without feeling like I was burning from the inside out."

"Ouch, I didn't realise I was that ugly," I grin, and he shakes his head, smirking.

"I get why you did it," he continues. "Like all of us, you just wanted to live. It was wrong of me to blame you. So, I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologise," I answer. "I guess it's just like that sometimes. It's time we try and move on, right?"

"Yeah," Royce agrees, his tone holding a sense of finality. "I'll drink to that."

I bring the cup of coffee to my lips, ready to take a sip in the memories of those I've lost. They're all gone now, but I can settle for this life. Sure, it hurts, and it'll be hard, but in this moment, it just feels like it'll all be okay.

As I'm about to take a sip, the door opens and a shout echoes throughout the viewing hall.

"NO!"

Lady Lexi Escala, Twenty-Three, Capitol Citizen

Luca yells out as he barges his way into the room.

Two of the mentors are sat there, each with a cup of coffee in their hands; Royce Fendi, winner of the 79th and Luke Coloss, winner of the 80th. Royce looks flat out stunned at the announcement and Luke jumps up, knocking his drink over the pristine white carpet. I wince at that. I know I shouldn't, but there's something that bothers me about ruining nice things, and it's something that sets me on edge. It's almost wasteful, but it was an accident, and he did just avoid certain death, so I'd say the destruction of this beautiful carpet was better than the death of one of our mentors.

As the liquid lands on to the carpet, it steams wildly, the tendrils of vapour reaching up into the air before disappearing completely. Luca rushes over and opens a window to ventilate the place in case the vapour itself is toxic.

I can't believe that Finite had the gall to tell him that the coffee was poisoned. While I wasn't sure if this was a ruse, it appears that they really were out for more death, and by any means possible.

"W-What is going on?" Luke mutters, his eyes darting from our faces to his smoking cup on the floor.

"Poison," Luca remarks. "It appears that our assassin from the party has tried to make their move. My apologies for the shock, but I must find the other mentors. I don't want anyone drinking that coffee."

"You can say that again," Royce agrees, eyeing his own cup in concern.

Luca doesn't answer and instead darts out of the room. I'm about to follow him before I'm blocked by Royce, a sharp look on his face.

"Lady Escala, please," he says. "Please let us know what's happening. I'm lost here."

I sigh, and shrug my shoulders hopelessly. There's no room for me to lie, but Luca told me explicitly not to tell anyone about what's going on. Even so, the mentors should know what they're dealing with, right? They're the ones being targeted as it is. They have every right to be aware that someone intends to take their lives as a part of some pointless feud. Speaking of, we don't even know Finite's intentions yet! Why are they dedicated to carrying out this villainy when they don't seem to have any direct goal? Why do they feel that it's down to them to bring about their own twisted justice?

"The sniper at the party has it out for the mentors," I explain vaguely. "I've been asked not to discuss it, but we're investigating the situation. If we can catch who's responsible for this, then maybe we can put a stop to it before we lose anyone else."

A cry comes from down the corridor, a shout that belongs to Luca. I lock eyes with Royce and push past him, hurrying swiftly down the corridor, checking in each room as quickly as I can. When I finally find him, I see Luca bent down over the body of Mallia Napion from District Ten, sprawled out on the floor, unconscious, a cup of steaming coffee spilt across her bedsheets and bedside table.

"Holy shit…" I mutter, moving in to the room.

If Luca acknowledges I'm here he doesn't say it, but with shaking hands, he searches for a pulse. After a few seconds, he glances up at me and shakes his head.

She's dead. The sole mentor for District Ten is dead.

At this point, Royce and Luke come up behind me to see Luca checking over Mallia.

"What the-" Royce mutters, while Luke's eyes widen and he covers his mouth.

Of course, it makes sense. They've killed before but they thought they were safe. Seeing Mallia's body is more or less a confirmation that their assumptions are wrong.

"Spiking the coffee," I mutter. "Really? Why did they feel like that was the way to get your attention?"

Luca's eyes dart from one spot in the carpet to the other, as if trying to figure out a puzzle. His face is tense, his eyes holding shadows of his past that he hasn't yet shared with me. Something's hiding there, something that makes this all the more sinister. I don't know what it is, and as much as Luca and I are cool, I don't really know if I want to find out. Even so, this is a disturbing revelation, and clear confirmation that Finite's actions are not a single occurrence; they're real, vicious acts of murder that won't stop until they get what they want.

"I need to go and check on Leila," Royce announces. "I don't know what this is all about, but if there's something with the coffee, we have to make sure everyone else is okay."

"Good idea," I agree. "Check on your other mentors. Luke, do me a favour and empty all of the coffee machines, all of them, beans and all."

"No," Luca answers. "Keep the coffee, it can be used as evidence so we know what poison Finite's using. Both of you, warn your fellow mentors. Tell them not to touch any of those machines."

Luke and Royce both nod and dart in opposite directions, obviously heading off to go and deliver the news to prevent any more deaths. I walk over, brushing a strand of ginger hair from Mallia's face. Poor girl. She was never all there, but she didn't deserve to die, to poison no less. Luca watches her solemnly, rubbing his temples.

"There's no way Finite's gone," he tells me. "I think they're still here."

"Wait, you think Finite is one of the mentors?" I gasp. "Are you sure?"

Luca shrugs.

"One of the mentors, one of the assistants, one of the security guards, anyone," he sighs. "We don't know for sure, but what we need to do is figure out what their tools are. Once we know how they work, we can figure out who they are."

I nod at this. Luca's decision is smart, tactical.

"I'll do a search," I decide. "Maybe there might be more evidence we can find or something."

I don't really get the chance to make my move.

A yell, followed by the sound of breaking glass reaches my ears, and I'm up on my feet in an instant, heels digging in to the padded carpet beneath me as I speed down the corridor, racing towards the sound. I break back into the viewing hall, seeing Luke cradling his nose, blood covering his hands as he cowers from a masked figure. They're of an average build and a medium height, a kind of odd black armour covering some kind of suit, clearly a method of espionage or infiltration. Their face is covered by a black and white mask, once that rises and falls, bubbling and popping, reminiscent of static on the TV's from the olden days. In their hand is a curved dagger, gleaming silver, a blade drooling for the feeling of blood across its surface. As I burst in, the figure spots me and bolts, heading for the exit.

I'm about to dash after them when Luke calls after me.

"Don't go after them!" he cries. "They'll try to kill you. They're dangerous!"

I smile sweetly at him.

"Darling, I'm the definition of dangerous," I grin. "If anyone's taking them down, I am."

It's true. Who else is more qualified than good ol' Lexi? Hell, take anyone from Six and they'd be more than qualified. Drug cartels, gang violence, shady dealings, I've seen it all. Murderers are just another token in Six, another role to play, another card in the vicious game of life. On the surface, Six may seem typical and somewhat forgettable, but let me tell you, I've never believed that for a second. I myself am a success story, a woman moved from rags to riches. While I haven't been in the Capitol long, I'm smart enough to know a criminal when I see one.

So when I run after Finite, I don't look back.

I'll catch them, sooner or later.

I'm the only one who can.

Finite

I don't think she can catch me.

I was so close to taking out another mentor, but when that woman burst in, I had to flee. The mentor from Twelve, Luke Coloss, raised the alarm before I could get to him.

A shame, really.

I was so close – too close – but that woman came after me. She seems familiar but I didn't catch her face. My mask is a work of art, but it's not the best for seeing the enemy, and my attention had been solely on Luke when she burst in. If only I could have found out who she was…I would have added more about her in my report. Still, the idea of Luca having an ally surprises me. The idea of Luca being able to think surprises me. Sure, I knew he was smart, but I figured he'd be too busy worrying to focus on where I could next strike.

Perhaps I've been too kind to him, spoiled him a little by dropping hints. I guess I figured that I'd let the chips fall where they may, but in this case, as fate would have it, I'm close to getting caught.

I tear around the corner, my leather glove scratching against the brickwork as I pass the steamhouse near the train station. Amongst the old engines and worn wires, I slip quickly into an alleyway to the side of it, diving into the shadows as the train station leers before me.

"Don't you ever think about getting away!"

She's still behind me, but I don't respond, as my dodging and weaving is enough to put some distance in between us. Skidding around another corner, I leap over some old boxes and throw down a wooden palette. It'll slow the woman down, but not for long.

I was arrogant in my approach to this attack. It was a difficult operation in itself, spiking the coffee and disguising myself as one of the assistants. Apparently, I misjudged how far away Luca was. I figured I'd have some time to watch my victims fall to poison and kill those who weren't drinking anything. I guess that night, sniping Capitolites from afar had gotten my blood flowing, almost as if I was ready to strike again to wreck more havoc on the Capitol. I was so eager to settle my crosshairs onto a random face that I forgot about killing innocent Capitolites.

It was never about the Capitol or its city though. It never about Snow's Boulevard with its grand statues, or Dreamer's Peak, where the gardens bloomed with everlasting flowers. It was never about Midas' walk, and the shops that nestled themselves in every nook and cranny. I love the Capitol. Maybe I don't love all of its people, but this is where I belong. This was never about hurting the Capitol, it was about hurting Luca.

Maybe Luca himself is a good fellow. He certainly seems a little more spineless than his Father, although I never tortured him in the same way. That was the pact though; blood for blood, life for life. Clearly Corben Jay had forgotten the value of honour when I came to find him. Ah, sweet memories…when I get my revenge, I'm sure the Fawkes family will have a resounding reunion in their cosy little afterlife.

I leap over the fence to the train station and back up into a storage crate, shielded by bushes. I'm breathing hard, and while I want to take off my mask, I know I can't risk exposing myself in case my hiding spot is compromised. Before I can properly collect myself, I see the shadow of the woman running past my hiding spot, sprinting down the street in hot pursuit of wherever I was headed. I crouch down and hold my breath, a painful fire in my lungs as it pleads with me to draw oxygen, but I hold on for a few more seconds before I'm sure she's gone.

Is she gone?

I take a peek. No-one's around. Good.

I was foolish this time, and I didn't think my steps through. I was reckless. Perhaps it would be wise of me to report back to the Mort and reconsider my approach. I don't have long before the Games are over, so that would mean waiting another year before I can try anything again, but I can tarnish Luca's reputation in the meantime. Yes, that might just work.

Ideas, possibilities, plans…they're all swirling around in my head, but for once I can't take action. This time I have to think through every little detail.

I'll head back and gather my thoughts. I'll submit my report to the group and we'll devise a true strategy. I'd better update our patron as well.

Luca Fawkes, we're not done yet. I think, pulling out a burner phone.

Oh no, we're just getting started.

Luca Fawkes, Twenty-Five, Head Gamemaker

My eyes are starting to feel heavy.

Maybe it's the lack of coffee (or maybe even a slight fear of it) that denies my body of its caffeine craving. Perhaps instead, it's the relentless questioning I've received from all of the remaining mentors, as Mallia's body is carried out on a stretcher to be delivered back to District Ten. Like District Five, Ten now has no living mentors. I don't know how much heat President Snow will give me for this, but I don't even want to think about that right now.

"So, let me get this straight," Chive Hart, from Eleven, speaks up. "An assassin is trying to kill mentors, and you have no idea why? There's no reason behind it?"

I told the mentors about Finite, but not about their personal connection to me. There's always been a distance between Capitolites and those from the Districts, and I don't want to make that greater just by telling them that I'm the reason all of this is happening. I still don't get it, not even now. I don't why I of all people, has to be the one targeted and toyed with. Maybe it's due to my status as a Head Gamemaker? It just doesn't make sense.

"The assassin wants the state to pay out a large sum of money," I explain. "We're trying to collect it to keep them at bay. Hopefully that will buy us time to look into any possible leads and find the culprit for this crime."

"Really, is that it?" Helena from Two scoffs. "You'll pay off the assassin who'll maybe spare our lives? Forgive me, but that's not a concrete way to ensure our safety. That, and I don't expect to be cooped up in this apartment next year. The least you can do is pay us some respect as the precious gems of the Capitol."

I bite my tongue, desperate to come back at her, to remind her how the Capitol wouldn't care if she was dead because they wouldn't. Mentors are just there to fill the slots and look after the tributes. There's no other purpose for them other than acting as beacons of hope. I guess President Snow puts more value on the few mentors he has left, but that still doesn't really put them in any position to make demands.

A hand lands on my shoulder, and I turn around to see Lexi, who's clearly worn out and breathing hard from running.

"I lost them," she mutters, an apologetic look in her eyes. "I almost had them but they got away."

"Its fine," I answer, even though it's not. "We'll catch them."

"I swear on it," Lexi nods.

The phone in my pocket buzzes and I take it out.

"Excuse me, just a moment," I tell the mentors, and I move into the hallway, closing the door behind me.

A text message, from an unknown sender.

I sigh. It's probably Finite.

I open the message with shaking hands.

Luca,

It seems that I've spoiled you a little too much. I'm not yet ready for us to meet in person, but I am excited for when that day finally comes. I trust you got my gift? I wonder how many of your mentors fell?

I have to admit, I've been arrogant. I have to admire the speed in which you arrived tonight. I didn't expect for you to arrive so swiftly, and with a female ally as well. I'd love to learn her name, you know, just so we're on the same page. It's a shame you involved others in this little thing we have, but no matter, once I find out who she is, I'll kill her just for fun.

I hear the mentors will leave in a few days, so I suppose I'll be leaving them alone for a little while. It doesn't matter. You're the one I want. I still want that money, as well. Thanks to your sacrifices, I'll take ten million off the lot. Seventy-one million doesn't seem so bad now, does it?

Remember, I'm not done with you yet.

I let out the breath I've been holding. Really, ten million for all of that bloodshed? The people who died will never see the light of day again, and Finite's still putting prices on lives they shouldn't take.

The message though - it's odd for Finite. It's almost as if they're backpedalling, shaken by their near capture. I've got not doubts that Lexi would have pinned them down if she'd caught them but…

I tuck the phone back into my pocket.

So many worries, but I can't face them right now.

I'll wait until tomorrow comes.

Mallia Napion, Twenty-Nine, District Ten, Victor of the 69th Hunger Games. Poisoned by Finite.

There's Finite's Finale for you! Nothing quite as dramatic as what I have planned for the arena finale, let me just say. Regardless, I figured we'd check up on the Capitol one last time before we crown our victor for good. Just four chapters of PUTP left, and just two until we crown our victor. We're really this close to the end huh?

Luca's out shopping, and Finite has the perfect moment to strike. What did you think about their conversation?
Royce has made amends with Luke, finally. Fortunately they didn't take a sip of their beverages…are you glad this duo know where they stand?
The first ever Lexi POV! You'll learn more about her in beginnings of the next Fawkes Verse story, but for now, Mallia's gone, and Finite's here! What did you think about this POV?
A short insight into our villain themselves. With everything they've done, they cut it a little too close this time…will there ever come a time when they'll bite off more than they can chew?
Finally a little more about Luca again. The text and the plan, it's all set in motion. The question is, who else will fall before Luca catches this villain?

Time for two little finale chapters, then one more check in with Luca, and our victor's homecoming. I see you've all been making your predictions, so I hope you're ready to see if they're correct.

Until then, have a good one :)

Over and out!
~Mental