Dinner is a silent affair that night, and I am thankful for an opportunity to leave early when I receive a message on my micro to meet at the training center at half past eight. Upon my arrival I notice Johanna, Finch, Snow, and Agent Crane are all in attendance. Being that I'm the last to arrive, all eyes turn to me as the doors to the training center slide silently open.
"Thank you, Miss Everdeen, for finally joining us," Agent Crane says coolly, his eyes piercing me accusingly.
'I'm right on time; it's not my fault they were early,' I think to myself in annoyance. Deciding it best to swallow my reply, I fall silently in line next to Johanna and Finch. The air is thick with the tension radiating from us all; I'm nervous again now
"We've called you here to brief you on your mission once more," Agent Crane begins. "Once beyond Verona, it is imperative that you work together. Your interaction with each other has at best been limited until now; you're unfamiliar with each other. Heed my warning; if you cannot work as a team, your odds of survival diminish rapidly," he tells us flatly. His words echo in my head as the reality sets in.
These girls, Johanna and Finch, each hold my life in their hands, but I've spoken precious few words to them in the entirety of my life. There is no time for a proper introduction, no chance to get to know them; we are being thrown into the devil's den on the fragile hope we can band together and not only survive, but protect others as well.
"Your objective is to find the trio of survivors," Snow begins speaking, glancing down at a small micropad in his hands. "Primarily Annie Cresta, as she's been deemed mentally unstable upon our intelligence. From what we've gathered, she is no threat. Her. . . issues lie mostly in her head. She appears to suffer from severe post traumatic stress disorder, including extreme paranoia and anxiety. She's calm, we've been told, as long as she's with. . ." he glances back down here at the micropad, then back up at us. "Finnick Odair. Apparently he keeps her calm, but no one else can," he says. Something about his manner seems off now, shifty; why is he so interested in this crazy girl?
"Which brings me to my next point: Finnick Odair. Our intel reports he is incredibly protective of Annie; if you present yourself on the offensive he will perceive you as a threat and attack. When you find them be careful to show that you are there to help them, not hurt them," he finishes. Is it my imagination, or is he being careful to not look in our eyes? There's a long pause as if he's finished talking, and finally Johanna voices the question we're all wondering.
"What about Peeta Mellark?" she asks hesitantly. Snow sighs and drops the hand holding the micropad.
"Not much is known about him. We have no reason to believe he will be violent, but as information on him is scarce I advise you to take extra caution when approaching him. As with Finnick, don't present yourself as a threat. Do so, and I foresee no complications," Snow tells us.
Once again, I can't help but feel something is off. How is it that they know so much about Annie and Finnick, but not Peeta? When the three of them all met the family who gave us this information? A thought drifts through my mind, teasing my curiosity. Will Peeta be the challenge? I can't help the excitement I feel at the idea. I've delved deep into thoughts about this mysterious boy when Agent Crane interrupts my reverie.
"A few things to remember once you're beyond the walls: Finch, keep your squad and the vehicle within sight at all times. Do not run where you can't see Johanna and Katniss, and, for the love of God, don't lose the vehicle this time," he directs at her, along with a sharp glare.
Finch huffs and looks at the ground. I glance at her briefly and notice her face is red with anger rather than embarrassment. I remember the incident Agent Crane is referring to; on her last OP, Finch drew the Hollows so far from the vehicle that she got lost. I heard it took them two hours to find her; arrogance is not a tolerable trait outside the wall.
"Katniss, your job is to protect Johanna and Finch from a distance. You have to balance watching the two of them and the Hollows simultaneously. Remember, if your arrow misses, it could mean their life. Shoot straight," he tells me, and I nod sharply in assent. He turns to Johanna now with a somewhat cocky smile that she instantly returns.
"Mason, make sure these two don't die."
"That old bastard doesn't know what he's talking about," Finch spits angrily as she, Johanna and I leave the training center with strict orders to be at the gates at 0600. As we walk away, the arguing escalates.
"That old bastard, as you so haughtily called him, is one of the best Agents in this city," Johanna snaps back at her, giving her a fierce look of disapproval. Finch snorts rudely at this.
"If he's so great, why is he training us instead of going out there and proving it?" she retorts, tossing her flame red hair over her shoulders disdainfully.
"That's why he trains us; because he's the best," Johanna counters. She's now eying Finch with an extreme look of dislike.
This is what I have to look forward to; the bickering of my team. Suddenly I'm not as confident in the teamwork aspect of our mission. A small part of me wants to dampen the fire of their disagreement, but a larger part is annoyed that they couldn't even get along for five minutes.
"We don't even leave until tomorrow and you two are already going at it? This is a pretty shitty way to start things off; cool it. We have a job to do, don't forget that." I tell them in annoyance, shaking my head in amazement as I walk brusquely, eager to get away from them and in my bed. Someone grabs my elbow and yanks me back though, whipping me around to face them.
"Listen here, rookie," Finch begins dangerously, inches from my face. "When we want your opinion, we'll yank your chain. Until then, shut the fuck up," she snarls before roughly shoving me away. I'm surprised at her violent reaction, but my first instinct isn't to cower; it's to fight back. Gale has always told me that will get me in trouble some day.
"Coming from the 'professional' who got lost on her last OP? Oh, that's rich," I snap back, refusing to back any farther away from her. I'm not afraid of her in the slightest, and I won't let her think for a second that she intimidates me.
Finch flushes a deep red and glares at me hotly. I can see the battle raging in her eyes as she sets her mouth in a pinched little sneer; continue to argue, or go home and let it rest? She decides on the latter and spins on her heel, stomping down a street to our left. I look back at Johanna; she is following Finch's retreat with eyes full of venom. I know she won't provide me with any reassurances for tomorrow, so without saying another word I also turn and continue my path home. As I walk, my thoughts drift once more to the enigmatic Peeta Mellark.
"Do you have to take anything with you to the gates?" My mother asks me, nervously wringing her hands.
"No, they'll provide me with everything. The only thing I have to bring is, well, myself," I say, attempting a small smile; it feels forced.
I stand before my mother and Prim in the entryway to our home. My mother is afraid I will make a costly mistake, being that this is my first run. Prim is worried that my determination to succeed will send me into an early grave, much like my father's did. My only worry is that I fail to rescue the survivors.
"I guess this is it," my mother says finally, resignation plain in her tone; I look away as her eyes fill with tears that threaten to spill over.
Light is beginning to peak through the windows as the sun rises. This is it, I think, my stomach twisting into painful knots.
I'm dressed in the standard uniform: heavy black boots buckled to my knees, tight, flexible pants with numerous pockets of varying size, and a snug black v-neck. Everything fits intimately against my body to minimize snagging in the vast woodlands. I take the tags from around my neck and hand them to my little sister, who is looking up at me and chewing nervously on her bottom lip.
"Why give me this?" She asks in a small voice, and I can hear the slight tremor in her voice. In case I don't return, I think, but I don't tell her that.
"In case you lose yours, you can use mine; I won't be needing it," I say instead, trying and failing to sound unaffected. The excuse sounds thin to my own ears, and I know my sister is intelligent enough to understand my true motives. She gives me a knowing look before dropping her gaze to hide the fear and sadness she can't control. She's hiding it so as to not upset our mother further.
It's in this moment that I realize how far beyond her years Prim is. It breaks my heart knowing Prim will be the head of this house when I leave, and that if I die, it won't be my mother consoling her daughter. It will be a child, once again, picking up the broken pieces off the ground and gluing her back together.
"We'll walk you to the gates," Prim says softly, reaching out and taking my hand.
Though the walk is short, it feels agonizingly slow. Citizens of Verona have gathered on the streets to see us off. It's an euphoric moment as I pass by them and know I am no longer a trainee; I'm an official Long Range Marksman of Verona. The Long Range Marksman, today. All eyes are on me as we make our way down the street. I feel my face redden at the attention; I am proud, but the stares make me uncomfortable.
Barricades forbid civilians from venturing too close to the gates. A few Raiders and LRM's stand guard should anything go awry. It's here that I must say my final goodbyes; my family is not permitted to pass through the barricades, either. It's a safety protocol. As I turn to address Prim and my mother, my eyes scan the crowd one final time for Gale. I was sure he would forget our argument and come to congratulate me, wish me luck, or at least say goodbye. However, I apparently won't be graced with his presence this morning. Though the crowd around us is large and my family is here, I feel somewhat alone.
"Be careful, Katniss. I love you," says my mother as she pulls me into an embrace. I can feel her body tremble and I pat her back gently, if somewhat awkwardly, to reassure her. I pull back after a few moments, uncomfortable with the prolonged contact.
"I love you too," I tell her simply.
I turn to my sister, delicate yet so strong, and wrap her tiny body in a fierce hug. I never want to let go.
"I love you. I'll be back in no time, I promise," I whisper softly to her, stroking her fair hair gently.
"Please, be careful," she whispers on a choked sob. "I love you so much, Katniss." she says, voice breaking. My face feels hot and my eyes burn as I blink back tears. Though I want this so badly, letting her go is hard. But I gather my strength, take a deep breath, and pull away from my sister's warm embrace. I rest my hands on her shoulders and reassure her once more.
"I'll be back," I say firmly. Conviction is important.
She nods at me solemnly and I kiss her forehead, ruffle her bangs ever so slightly. I smile at my mother, give her hand a small squeeze; then I turn and let them go.
"Your weapons are over here, Miss Everdeen."
My eyes travel in the direction of the voice before my feet follow. As I take in the weapons I'm to be equipped with, I realize it's going to take a few minutes to gear up. First, I strap on the protective vest. On the front, across the breast, are two small pockets, containing a matching set of brass knuckles. I fervently hope I'm never unarmed and close enough to a Hollow that I will resort to these.
Also over the vest, crisscrossing between the pockets, are straps that hold an impressive array of small to large knives and daggers. They loop all the way from the edge of my shoulders to the backs of my hips, with the larger blades resting lower.
Next, a strap goes around both my upper thighs where two handguns are securely holstered against each leg. Two matching ammunition belts are slung low on my hips, crossing over with my steel. I tuck two more long, deadly blades inside either of my boots; they slide into the sewn in sheath. Everything we wear is designed with weaponry in mind.
Then, I'm given a sleek black jacket, matte in color and made from a sturdy synthetic material. The inside is lined with black fur, and the large hood is attached at the base of the collar, and is designed to rest flat across your shoulders until you need it. The molded collar is high to protect my neck, and when I open the jacket there are two more sewn in sheaths; these are curved to hold deadly scimitars, and as I fasten the jacket back up they lay atop each other, curving along the inside of my breasts.
Lastly, my greatest weapon is given to me; my sleek bow and large quiver of arrows. They are hard, solid steel and bone white; upon closer inspection I see my initials plainly carved at the bottom of the bow. They must officially be mine. I swell with pride and slide my arms into the straps of the quiver, adjust them to fit tight across my shoulders, and then sling the bow across it.
"One more thing," says the Agent administering my weapons to me. He pulls out a handful of arrows so small, they must be barely an inch in length.
"Our newest invention," he grabs the tiny arrowhead and pulls; the arrow extends to full length. He then twists the arrowhead and I hear an audible click as the middle locks into place. "So you can carry more than just what will fit in your sheath," he tells me grimly.
He presses two fingers to the middle of the arrow and squeezes the lock out of place, twists the arrowhead once more and pushes it back into it's compact, one inch size. I put handfuls of these arrows in the extra pockets of my jacket and thank him earnestly before turning and striding over to the vehicle where Johanna and Finch are waiting.
The vehicle is massive. Black and built out of the same impervious metal as the city walls, it rolls on four huge, all terrain wheels that look as though they could tackle a mountain, and there is a sliding window at the top solely for me. We'll have room to spare in this behemoth for the trio we're in search. As I approach my squad their squabbling voices hush and they turn their attention to me.
"Ready to go, rookie?" Finch says with a nasty smirk.
"Oh, lay off, Foxface," Johanna snaps with a roll of her eyes. "You were a rookie once too," she is staring at Finch in great distaste now. It's obvious from her manner that she doesn't think Finch is as good as she claims to be. This is public knowledge about Foxface, as everyone refers to her, though; no one thinks she is as great as she believes herself to be.
I don't take the bait of Foxface's argument. I ignore her, much to her annoyance, and lean my back against the door of our vehicle, waiting for our signal to pass through the city gates. As if on cue, Snow approaches us, hands tucked behind his back as usual.
"Is everything in order?" He asks us, raising his eyebrows.
"Yes, sir. We're all set and ready to go," Johanna answers, slapping her hand on the hood of the vehicle.
Snow leans in close and gestures for us to crowd tightly near him. He pulls out his micropad and swipes his fingers over it a few times, touches a few spots on the screen. Instantaneously, all three of our mics vibrate against our wrists. We flip open the protective casing and two, revolving holographic images rise up from the screen.
"This is Annie and Finnick, two of the ones you are looking for," Snow tells us.
They're closeups, almost like mugshots. I'm struck momentarily by Finnick's handsome features; chiseled cheekbones and his clear, bright green eyes in particular. Annie's eyes, on the other hand, are wild even in her photo. They too are a vivid green, but they're wide and unfocused, and her expression is like a deer in the headlights; as if she didn't want her picture taken. After contemplating their images for a few moments, I realize there's no photo of Peeta.
"How do you have pictures of Annie and Finnick?" I blurt out before I can stop myself, burning now with curiosity about Peeta.
Snow's eyes grow dark, colder than ever before, and he pierces me with a look that will stop me short of asking questions of this sort in the future.
"That is on a need-to-know basis, Miss Everdeen, and you do not need to know," he answers in a deadly, dangerous voice. "Focus on your task like you were trained to do; find them, and bring them safely here," he says, and the way he sneers the word trained makes me want to smack him across the face. I stifle the urge and avert my gaze so he doesn't see the hostility burning in my eyes.
I can tell by Johanna's expression that this has never happened before; they've never had photos to go by. She, too, is baffled and confused, but wiser than me as she keeps her mouth firmly shut. She catches my eye and shakes her head ever so slightly; I let the subject drop and no more is said, but the question lingers amidst us quite plainly.
"Now," Snow says, trying to lighten the mood as he dangles keys in our face. "Who's driving?"
"I am," Finch and Johanna answer simultaneously.
They're glaring at each other once again. Snow hands the keys over to Johanna, as she's the only true veteran here. Finch crosses her arms childishly and refuses to meet Snow's gaze, pouting.
"Keep your micromics protected so you can always remain in contact with HQ. Should anything go awry, notify us immediately. Understood?" he asks, gazing at us all in turn.
We all nod in agreement, even Finch who's eyes are still locked on her scuffed boots.
"Excellent," he says with a smile, clapping his hands rather jovially. "Be on your way then, and remember: may the odds be ever in your favor," Snow finishes. Somehow, the sentiment sounds sinister. He turns and walks away.
Slowly, I pull the bow over my shoulder and open the door to the vehicle. This is it. No more confinement; freedom, I think excitedly. Johanna swings the keys around her finger and rests her axe over her shoulder. She grins somewhat smugly at Finch as she walks around the front of the car and climbs in the drivers seat. Just as I make to follow her inside, Finch smiles suddenly and turns to face me.
"Oh, Katniss," she says sweetly, though her eyes are alight with bitterness. "I'm ever so curious about the fallout between you and Gale. Enlighten me with details, please," she asks, voice dripping with syrupy venom.
"How do you-" I begin furiously, but she interrupts me.
"How do I know?" Her eyes narrow and her wide smile turns into a snicker. "Well, he didn't show up to say goodbye to you. . . oh! And, I almost forgot," she is laughing now, shaking her head as if her next statement is common knowledge and I'm a fool for not knowing. "Gale was offered the Lure position on this OP, but he turned it down. Isn't that hilarious? What do you think made him do that?" She is struggling to speak now through her laughter.
All I can do is stare blankly at her. She's lying. She has to be lying.
"I don't believe you," I say quietly, refusing to believe her. Her smile is sinister and she lets out a chuckle, shaking her head once more.
"Oh, Katniss. You can see a bullseye from a hundred yards away but you can't even see the truth when it slaps you in the face."
She cocks her head to the side, getting far too much amusement out of my dumbfounded expression. Still laughing at me under her breath, she climbs into the vehicle and shuts the door in my face. I allow myself scant seconds to fume, swearing to myself that it doesn't matter even though I know it does. It matters more than almost anything ever has in my short life. I curse and wrench the door open violently, shove my bow in the vehicle and climb in after it, slam the door behind me and sentence myself to silence for the remainder of the trip. I know now; being friends with these two, or at least Finch, is not an option. And this OP already can't be over soon enough.