She doesn't hesitate. Helena slides under the railing, grabs the pipe below her catwalk with one hand, and leaps.

God, how the fuck did I end up here?

Her body feels weightless for a fraction of a second before gravity takes over. The weight of Helena's body is almost enough to pull her hand off of the pipe, but she barely manages to hold on. Helena lets out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding as she grabs the bar with the other hand, securing her grip as best as she can.

Not a moment later, footsteps land on the very spot where Helena was just standing.

"Where'd she go?"

"She couldn't have just disappeared out of thin air."

"Well, she's not here."

"Maybe she jumped?"

"Then she'll be dead by the time we get down there."

"Come on, Kedara. Let's go back to our base. We'll find her from there."

The metal to which Helena clings starts to vibrate violently as her pursuers take off. She holds on as tightly as she can, begging her grip to hold firm. And it does, as the vibrations slowly soften, the sound of footsteps on metal fading out of the way entirely.

Using the last lick of strength she has, Helena pulls herself back up onto the catwalk. She sits, legs dangling above the edge, breathing heavily as she looks down at the floor of the golden basin below. From this distance, she can't see anything clearly, but the sounds of screaming and clashing mixed with the occasional cannon blast tell Helena more than enough.

(Just as she'd hoped - the Careers and Kedara's allies are taking each other out.)

It should feel good, to be on top of everything and everyone. This is where Helena has wanted to be all of her life. But right now, all she can feel is dread, the weight of all of the tributes trying to kill her pressing down so hard that she barely remembers to breathe.

(She's not used to the idea that she could be below others. But right now, for the first time in Helena's life, the thought that someone might be on top of her is the only one that pulses in her mind.)

(It's unacceptable. Nobody fucking tops Helena Nikolina.

And if she has to go down, she's going to take this entire fucking Arena down with her.)

As her breathing calms down, Helena feels her brain kick on again, running through options for what she can do next. Presumably, Miraz and Kedara have already made their way back to the control room underground. As far as Helena can tell, there are two paths back from here: they could either go to another basin, which would take a bit longer, or they could go back to the Cornucopia, which would get them to the control room faster but put them in the way of whatever fight rages on down below.

As far as Helena's concerned, it doesn't really matter what they chose. She just needs to figure out which way they went. If she does, she can go the other way, and maybe even beat them back underground.

She still has her key card, after all.

Wait a minute…

Helena slings her pack around to the front and pulls out not just the key card but the monitor tablet. As quickly as she can, she flips through the feeds until she spots Kedara and Miraz. The two are moving quickly, though Helena can't quite tell which way they're going.

It feels worth it to Helena to watch for a moment, to try to pick up any clues she can of where they might be headed. But as she watches, Helena finds herself more concerned about how naturally they seem to be talking to each other. If they were just chasing after Helena together out of convenience, or out of some sort of mutual anger - why Kedara would be angry, Helena has no idea, but whatever - they shouldn't be this level of comfortable in conversation. But somehow they are.

(Little details begin to connect in Helena's mind. Kedara's dad works with Miraz's dad. Miraz didn't seem surprised when Helena showed her the multi-input pack. One suggested to the other that they go "back to base."

The two of them have been fucking working together this whole time, haven't they.)

A veil of red, a virulent anger Helena has never experienced before, slams into her like a tidal wave. It makes the decision for her, pulling her through the maze of catwalks on the way down to the Cornucopia basin, as question after question pulses through Helena's mind.

How dare those peasants go behind Helena's back, plotting against her all while putting on a pleasant face? Did Miraz push Helena out of the control room so Kedara could swoop in behind her and kill her? Was Chenille in on it, too?

How fucking deep does this conspiracy go?

By the time she reaches the floor of the Cornucopia basin, the anger inside Helena has bubbled over into fury and rage. They cloud her vision, turning the figures in front of her into little more than silhouettes against a blood-red sky. Helena is only vaguely aware of the bodies that litter the floor around her, the exhaustion of the combatants that remain in this golden basin; all she recognizes is a figure with Miraz's hair who's about Miraz's height.

Helena wastes no time drawing her knife and planting it squarely into Miraz's back.

Miraz's body lurches forward, and there's a squelch, and before she knows it, Helena finds herself losing her grip on the knife. She grasps it tighter, pulling it as hard as she can, but it's lodged surprisingly deep in the other girl's body. But with no other weapon, Helena has no choice but to keep pulling, using every last ounce of strength she can to get the knife out.

And she does get it out. But not without pulling so hard that it shifts the other girl's momentum entirely. Before Helena knows it, Miraz falls backwards onto her, sending the two crashing into something else beneath them.

The girl screams. And like a splash of ice-cold water, Helena realizes that she isn't Miraz.

Helena wastes no time in pushing the other girl's body off of her. She feels the blood from the wound soaking into her shirt as she climbs to her feet, but Helena doesn't have time to care about that right now. She needs to keep her eyes out for her target.

Slowly, carefully, Helena starts turning around, knife raised and eyes locked on the perimeter of the Arena. She's no longer sure if anything else is happening around her; all she can hear is the pulsing of her own heartbeat.

She makes it about halfway around herself when she locks eyes with a figure standing opposite her.

For the briefest of moments, time freezes. Helena swears she can hear a pin drop.

A cannon fires, breaking the tense silence. And then, like a lion, Miraz pounces, slamming Helena's body into the ground.

"You fucking BASTARD!" she cries, sinking her fingernails into Helena's face. Helena yelps as she feels them break the skin. "How dare you lay your hands on him!"

"Him?"

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about!" She throws a punch directly at Helena's face, with a strength that Helena could not have seen coming. Pain erupts from Helena's nose, sending dark spots through her vision; it takes all of Helena's strength to stay balanced as her heartbeat throbs rapid-fire. "I saw you standing over his body. I see the blood on your knife!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Blitz!" Another punch, this one to Helena's nose. "You promised you would keep him safe! And now he's dead because of you!"

"I didn't touch him!"

Miraz grabs Helena's head with both of her hands and brings it up to her own. "Don't you fucking lie to me," she hisses.

"I didn't!"

"LIAR!"

With a ferocity Helena didn't know she had, Miraz slams Helena's head into the ground below. Helena can't help the scream that escapes her lips as she feels pain reverberating across her body. "It's the fucking Hunger Games!" Helena yells, desperate for Miraz to see sense. "Every promise has a limit!"

"And then we could have fought this out like women!" Miraz grabs Helena by the hair and slams again. Dark spots appear in Helena's vision as another wave of pain wracks her body, as Miraz pulls her head up for one more hit. "Not backstabbed, like little bitches! Not lied and cheated and taken advantage of and-"

All of a sudden, Miraz's eyes go wide, and Helena feels her head slip out of Miraz's grip. Helena blinks once, then twice, trying to figure out whether or not she's hallucinating the silver object that sticks out of Miraz's throat.

She's not. A fact that becomes apparent to Helena when Miraz collapses to the ground beside her.

Another cannon fires.

Despite being dazed as all hell, Helena knows that she needs to stand up, or she's vulnerable to whoever attacked Miraz. But she can't even get her palms flat on the ground to push herself up before a foot plants itself on her chest, pinning her back down.

"You didn't think you were going to get away that easily, did you?"

Helena's eyes shoot up, landing on the figure looming above her. She squints, trying to make out who it might be, but her eyesight is still too blurry and starry to see clearly in this lighting. And she can't identify the voice she hearts, either; it's familiar, but laced with a confidence and a vitriol that she can't quite place.

"I know, I know. I could have let Miraz take you down. She was pretty close, and I didn't even have to push her to do it. But that wouldn't have been nearly as satisfying for me - or for everyone else."

"Wh-what are you t-talking about?" Helena sputters - from fear or exhaustion, she genuinely isn't sure.

"Oh, Helena. So focused on the things you want to see that you block out anything that doesn't fit your narrative. Well, news flash: you're not the hero of the story. Not even close. Not after everyone you ruined back home."

"Kedara?"

"Ahh. There we go. For someone who claims to be so sharp and brilliant and such a good planner, you sure were slow on the uptake."

"What the fuck is your-"

"Nope," Kedara asserts, moving her foot to be right on Helena's windpipe. Helena feels her heartbeat spike as she struggles to get even the smallest of breaths out. "You've had too much time to talk. Now it's time for you to fucking listen.

"See, I know you don't know who I am. You don't know who anyone is other than yourself - and even then you're lying to yourself. Because when I look at you, I don't see what you see. I don't see a brilliant mastermind or a talented leader. I see someone who sees every other person as little more than a flea to be flocked away when you no longer need them, a rug to be unceremoniously stepped on as you get where you want to go. And you were so focused on yourself, on moving forward, that you barely bothered to look back at all of the people you left behind in your wake.

"But I did. I was there, watching your aftermath from the sidelines. I saw it all: the broken hearts the betrayed faces, girl after girl who thought they could trust you, thought they meant something to you! And you took their genuine friendship and used it as capital and collateral for what you needed.

"I didn't want to be Reaped with you. I didn't want to be Reaped at all! But getting the chance to show you what it feels like to be stepped on, the way you stepped on and used so, so many people? That was something I couldn't pass up.

"So how do you feel now, Helena, that your fate hangs in the balance of someone else? Someone stepping on you, someone ready to push you down as far as they want to achieve their own goals? Are you thinking about how you acted, how many people you fucked over along the way?"

Kedara scoffs. "I'm not naive. You probably still don't care. It's only a shame that your life has to end like-"

BOOM!

For the briefest of seconds, Helena wonders if you're supposed to hear your own cannon. Her vision is blurring more and more, and she's sure that the darkness around its edges will consume her if Kedara doesn't act sooner. But then, the pressure on her throat lessens just enough to let air in for real. Helena coughs as her vision clears-

And the sound of trumpets fills the Arena.

Helena pushes herself up to sitting, eyes widening as the announcer's words sink in. She can't tear her eyes away from the horrified expression splashed across Kedara's face - and she can't imagine her own expression is all that different.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the joint Victors of the 115th Hunger Games, Kedara Lumot and Helena Nikolina of District Five!"