Clementine leaned against the cold, hard metal of the scaffolding, arms crossed as she stood with a group of her friends in the town square. They were a mix of young men and women, all around her age, all scarred in one way or another by the same unforgiving world. The Justice Building loomed over them like a permanent reminder of the Capitol's power, its imposing walls casting long shadows across the square. Laughter and casual banter filled the air around her as her friends exchanged jabs and jokes, but Clementine's eyes were fixed on the giant screen ahead of them.

The 75th Hunger Games—the Quarter Quell—was playing out on the oversized Capitol screens. The grotesque spectacle had captivated the entire district, though not for the usual reasons. There was something different about this year's Games, something that felt dangerous, like the tension in the air before a storm. Clementine could sense it, a ripple of unease that spread through the crowd as they watched the tributes—especially Katniss Everdeen, their girl on fire—navigate the deadly arena.

Clementine had never been one to hope for anything, but this time, she could feel the collective hope of District 12 simmering beneath the surface. Katniss wasn't just fighting for survival. She was defying the Capitol with every breath she took, and the people were paying attention.

The number of tributes had dwindled down to only a handful or so. Katniss's alliance was the largest group left, and everyone knew what was coming next. This was the point in every Hunger Games when alliances, once born out of necessity, would inevitably crumble. The tributes, once united for survival, would turn on each other as the numbers got smaller, driven by the deadly realisation that there could only be one victor. Clementine's friends whispered about it, their voices hushed with excitement and dread as they watched the screen.

"I bet Finnick goes for her first," one of the boys muttered, his eyes glued to the scene playing out before them. "It's always the big ones who turn on each other."

Another friend shook her head. "No way. Katniss has him wrapped around her finger."

Clementine remained silent, her attention entirely fixed on the giant screen, her chest tight with anticipation. This was the moment everyone waited for, the part of the Games where alliances shifted and cracked, where survival instincts overpowered loyalty. It was a ritual, as predictable as it was horrifying.

The camera zoomed in on Katniss as she nocked an arrow. She moved with precision, her face set in steely focus, her muscles taut with readiness. Every detail seemed heightened, every breath sharper. The tension in the square thickened as the crowd watched her aim the bow directly at Finnick, her supposed ally.

Clementine held her breath, her pulse quickening. Was this the moment? Would Katniss strike first? Would she be the one to break the fragile bond that held them together? The familiar dread of watching someone turn on an ally churned in Clementine's stomach, even though she knew it was only a matter of time. This was how the Games always worked. In the end, trust was just another weapon.

Katniss pulled the bowstring tighter, her entire body a coiled spring ready to unleash its power. The square had gone dead silent, all eyes fixated on the screen. Clementine could feel her heart pounding in her ears. She couldn't blink, couldn't look away. This was it—the moment when the Hunger Games would truly begin.

But then, something unexpected happened.

Instead of releasing the arrow toward Finnick, Katniss paused. Her hands moved quickly as she wrapped something around the arrow—a thin, copper wire glinting in the light. Clementine blinked, confused, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. The wire was from Beetee's trap, but what was she doing with it?

Clementine's friends exchanged confused glances. "What's she doing?" one of them asked, voicing the question on everyone's minds.

Katniss didn't answer. Her expression was calm, focused, as if she knew something no one else did. She adjusted her stance, then aimed her arrow not at Finnick, but toward the sky.

A murmur of disbelief rippled through the square. Clementine felt a surge of adrenaline, her confusion giving way to awe. Whatever Katniss was planning, it was unlike anything they'd seen before.

Her friends fell silent, the square growing eerily still as everyone stared at the screen, breath held in collective anticipation. With a deep breath, Katniss drew the bowstring taut and let the arrow fly.

It soared upward, impossibly fast, and for a split second, the entire square held its breath. Then, in a flash of light and sound, the arrow struck its target—the dome of the arena. Electricity crackled across the sky, and the screen went black.

A murmur rippled through the crowd, the sound of confusion and disbelief. Clementine could hear her own heartbeat thudding in her ears as she stood frozen, rigid with tension, her mind reeling. What had just happened? Had the power gone out? Was it a glitch? But deep down, she knew it wasn't a simple malfunction. Whatever Katniss had just done, it was something far bigger than the Games. Something the Capitol didn't want them to see. She could feel it in the air—the tension, the fear, the uncertainty. It clung to her skin like the dust from the mines.

The square erupted into chaos.

"What the hell just happened?" someone shouted, but no one had an answer. The screen remained black, a dark void where the arena had been. People around Clementine began talking all at once, their voices panicked, laced with tension and fear, questioning, desperate for answers. The air felt thick, suffocating. Clementine's pulse quickened as she exchanged uncertain glances with her friends. Whatever was happening, it wasn't good. The Capitol's power never failed like this—never.

A shrill whistle cut through the rising noise, and suddenly, Peacekeepers flooded the square, rifles held at the ready, their white uniforms stark against the night. Their presence, usually an unwelcome but familiar sight, now sent a jolt of fear down Clementine's spine. They weren't just enforcing order. They were silencing the panic. Silencing the questions.

"Everyone return to your homes!" one of the Peacekeepers barked, his voice amplified by a speaker. "This area is now restricted. Go home!" The crowd's uneasy chatter died out as the Peacekeepers began forcing everyone to return to their homes.

Clementine moved with the crowd, her heart pounding. The panic in the air was contagious, the feeling that something terrible was on the horizon. She exchanged quick goodbyes with her friends as they scattered, her mind still reeling from what they had just seen. What had Katniss done? And why had the Capitol cut the broadcast so abruptly?

She walked slowly, her feet hesitantly carrying her away from the square, but her thoughts lingered on the darkness of the screen. The world felt wrong, as though something had shifted in the very fabric of their reality. The Capitol's grip, always so suffocatingly tight, felt like it had just loosened—if only for a moment. But what came next? Clementine's instincts screamed that something bad was coming, something much worse than the Games.

She made it halfway home before her feet faltered. She stopped, standing still in the middle of the street. The night was too quiet. The usual hum of life in District 12 had faded into eerie silence, as if the entire district was holding its breath. Her gut twisted with unease.

Something wasn't could feel it in her gut, a deep, instinctual sense that she couldn't ignore.

With a quick glance over her shoulder her feet turned her around before her mind even made the decision. She needed to know what was happening. Without a second thought, Clementine slipped back toward the centre of town, her footsteps light and cautious as she crept through the empty town, her senses alert. The silence of the district gnawed at her, and her heart raced faster with every step she took.

For what felt like an hour, she crept through the deserted streets, sticking to the shadows, her breath shallow in her chest, heart beating loudly in the silence. The town felt eerie, like a ghost town, and the absence of the usual noises—the clinking of tools, the murmur of voices—made her skin prickle. The screens were still dark, and the Peacekeepers who had filled the area earlier were nowhere to be seen. It was as if the entire district had been abandoned, swallowed by an unnatural quiet.

The sudden roar of engines broke the stillness. Clementine ducked into an alleyway, her body pressed against the cold brick as she watched trucks pull out of the square and rumble down the road, their headlights cutting through the gloom. The Peacekeeper vehicles, every single one of them, rolled out of the district. The Peacekeepers were leaving. Not just a few—allof them. Her stomach lurched, blood turning to ice. Why were they leaving? What was happening?

Dread filled her chest like had to warn someone. Without waiting for her mind to catch up, she sprinted toward the nearest house she knew, banging on the door with frantic urgency. When a man from the mines answered, the fear in her eyes must have been enough to make him take her seriously.

"They've left," she gasped, her chest heaving. "All of them. The Peacekeepers—they're gone."

His eyes widened. "What do you mean they're gone?"

"All of them. They've left the district," she repeated, her voice trembling, barely able to get the words out.

The man's face went pale as the gravity of her words sank in. "We need to move. Get out of here now."

They didn't have time to question or hesitate. The danger was too real, too bolted into action, barking orders to his family. "Go! Knock on doors, get everyone up. We need to get out of here." His urgency struck a chord of fear in Clementine's already racing heart, making her bolt out of there, faster than she had ever run before.

For the next hour, Clementine continued to bruise and bloody her hands as she pounded on doors, pleading with people to leave. The urgency in her voice convinced many, and soon fear spread like wildfire, the streets filled with families hastily packing what little they could carry. Some of the miners organized groups, pulling people from their homes and directing them toward the forest. Clementine worked with them, trying to lead people to the safety of the woods, away from whatever catastrophe was looming.

But not everyone listened. Fear gripped many of the families, and they opted to flee along the main road instead of into the forest. Clementine tried to warn them, to tell them it was too exposed, too dangerous, but her voice fell on deaf ears. She felt helpless as she watched them make their way toward the road, children clinging to their parents, their faces pale with terror.

As she helped guide a family toward the woods, away from the main road, she heard it—the droning engines of Capitol airships echoing through the night sky in the distance. She froze, her blood turning cold as the sound grew louder, closer. Her eyes wide with horror as the airships descended toward the road. Without warning, flames erupted as they unleashed a barrage of firebombs. The bright orange flames lighting up the darkness as they rained down on the fleeing families. The road was engulfed in fire, the flames consuming everyone and everything in their path.

Clementine collapsed to her knees, her body trembling as the reality of what she was witnessing crashed over her. The screams echoed in her ears as she stared at the devastation in disbelief, the inferno consuming the district. The sight of the fire devouring homes and people alike, made her stomach turn. She retched violently, her body rejecting the horror. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. She had seen children among the fleeing families, and now... there was no way any of them could have survived.

Guilt gnawed at her insides. She should have done more. She should have tried harder to convince them. Why didn't they listen? Why couldn't she save them?

Tears blurred her vision as someone grabbed her roughly by the arm, pulling her to her feet. "Run!" the voice urged, but the words barely registered in her foggy mind.

The world around her was a blur of colour. All she could see was the fire, all she could hear were the screams. She was vaguely aware of her legs moving, of the forest closing in around them as they ran. But the horror of what she had just witnessed burned itself into her mind, the images seared there forever.

Clementine ran, her legs moving on autopilot. She didn't know where they were going, didn't know if anywhere would be safe. All she knew was that her home and her people were gone. The devastation around her was almost too much to bear. Out of ten thousand people, only a fraction had made it this far into the forest. The rest... Clementine didn't want to think about the rest.

District 12 was gone. It's people reduced to ashes.