Chapter 28:

Romulus was half the boy he was less than a second later- bitten cleanly in two as soon as the Manticore pounced out onto him from the mouth of the Cornucopia. Trilene released the arrow through a blanket of blood splatter into the white lightning radiating across the beast's chest. The Manticore swatted away the hundred-foot-long table sending shards of wood, the fluttering tablecloth, and the several dozen courses of food into the air. The hail of splintered table, clattering platters, and splatting food came crashing down around Trilene as she broke out into the first step of her flight, but the beast was already on her. It snatched up the screaming girl in its fanged mouth, biting down onto her abdomen with a sickening crunching squish. The Manticore came to a sudden halt and grimaced with another contemplative chew of Trilene's torso. Then, the monster's facial muscles contracted with a sour expression- rearing its glowing maned head and spitting the girl from its mouth.

Trilene was launched through the air and dashed across the tile with a brutal splat- the bow sliding away from her limp grip as she crashed down. The Manticore began a straight-lined trot away, sniffing like a hound at the red trail of fresh blood snaking across the courtyard's tile towards the maze's southern entrance. Creel barely raised his chin at the claws approaching him- clinking against the tile beside where he lay bleeding out. The boy from 8 rested his head back down as the Manticore lowered its snout, picked him up with its front teeth by the collar of his shirt, and tossed his body into the back of its throat, swallowing him whole.

Trilene groaned and sat up just in time to watch the shape of Creel be carried down the beast's throat. The Manticore licked its fangs, sniffed once, and swiveled around before trotting off into the southern entrance to the maze as its fur's color was consumed with budding crimson swirls. A shot on the screen depicted Trilene managing to crawl over to and collect her bow. She stood quicker than she probably should have- clutching the dark, gaping wound in her torso and stumbling aimlessly for a moment before slogging back towards the mouth of the Cornucopia. She grasped at a few of the arrows lying strewn about in the puddle of blood, food, and broken plates between what was left of her fallen competitors. Then, the girl from 4 stumbled off around the Cornucopia, steadying herself with a bloody hand against its cast iron body and limping towards the maze's northern entrance.

The screen cut to Frax. His breaths were heavy as the stomps he slammed against the tile in his flight. His loafers seemed to be crashing against the tile with such force it was somehow knocking petals from the rosebuds blanketing the walls behind him as he went. A camera closeup captured Frax skidding to a stop. He turned back to the corridor behind him to see the curious, fluttering descent of red rose petals drifting off the wall of the maze to the tile floor below. Frax scowled at a petal as it came to a rest at his shoes. Half suspicious, half terrified, he gripped his ax tighter and turned back with a cautious jog.

Almost as soon as he'd turned his back, Frax whipped around again to see the petals coming down once more.

"Hello?" Frax shouted at the bloody blossoms falling to a silent rest in the middle of the corridor.

Frax's gaze followed up the fluttering trail of flower petals raining down until he found the spot on the wall where they were originating from. Tigris followed them too- squinting up at the screen and noting a spot where the blooms appeared to be breathing. Frax's eyes grew wide as the Manticore blinked its own massive, black eyes back at him- the only part of its body not completely camouflaged into the red rose brambles it clung to. The boy from 7 barely had time to yell as the beast pounced down onto him.

Elsewhere in the maze, Judge was pictured licking the last traces of his meal from the surface of a silver platter when a brief, agonized scream echoed across the Arena. Judge sharply looked up to the sky as the cry went silent. Then, he sprang to his feet when he was startled by the cannons that followed:

'BOOM!'

'BOOM!'

'BOOM!'

'BOOM!'

'BOOM!

"What was that?" Silvi shivered.

"The Manticore." Woof muttered bitterly.

"And just like that-" Lucky turned and beamed into the camera: "Our final ten is now a final six. Two girls, three boys, and… one of indeterminate gender and species! Let's all give a round of applause for our newest, most terrifying combatant to enter the fray: the Manticore!" Lucky clapped all by himself for a moment before he realized everyone was too traumatized to contribute.

Tigris observed the shot of the Manticore shown on the screen- coughing up a bent, glimmering mucus-covered ax onto the maze's tile like Smax would hack up hairballs. The room watched as the beast raised its head and inhaled the air with hungry, dilating nostrils. Then, the beast began to charge away and disappear into the maze swirling with twinkling blooms of red. Lucky's image went on to replace the shot:

"Parting is such sweet sorrow." Lucky pouted. "But, since our fallen tributes can't say goodbye- let's have their mentors do so on their behalf before they go, themselves. Mr. Hughes?" Lucky looked to November and raised an eyebrow: "Yours went down first."

November rolled himself around the rows of chairs up beside Lucky in the camera shot. He sat there intensely somber, staring into the camera for a long moment before Lucky had to prompt: "Anything you'd like to say?"

November thought about the question for another long, sad beat, taking a timorous inhale:

"Can I sing somethin-uh?"

Lucky exhaled the breath November had taken in with restrained annoyance:

"The studio will get a copyright claim." Lucky warned. "Unless you composed it, maestro."

"I didn't compost it-uh, but I did write it-uh." November gave an innocent gulp.

"Well- 5, 6, 7, 8…" Lucky rolled his eyes.

November maneuvered his chair's wheels back and forth, rearranging himself to not much of a different position under the studio lights. He drew up a deep, quivering breath into his barrel chest and began singing a tune Tigris recognized as a funny old, pre-war ballad that was often played on the radio in her childhood. But the lyrics were changed in November's version. And instead of the lyrics she'd remembered: a story-song about a parent losing sight of their child at the market- it was just a list of roots, fruits, and spices to the same melody. It wasn't until he was halfway done with the song Tigris even realized he was listing names, not a grocery list. And it wasn't until November sang out the last two as a kind of coda: "Olive and Hickory," that Tigris understood the list as a comprehensive record of every single one of his district's fallen tributes from the Games entire quarter-century history.

No one applauded November when he finished. The man balled up his look of intense contemplation trickling with sweat under the bright overhead light and wheeled himself out the lounge.

Lucky stepped back to take control of the uncomfortable tension that remained:

"How about you, Mr. Dare? Here's your last chance for free on-air ad space, chef. Any comments?"

Zagros took the spot in the light beside Lucky and dismissed with red eyes:

"No." Zagros shook his head, knocking loose a tear he wiped away quickly. "That's all." Zagros briskly exited, his jaw tight and eyes wet.

Lucky sneered as Woof stepped up next. "Any comments, Mr. Knott?"

"Too many." Woof replied with buried bitterness. "Where did that horrible… thing come from?"

Lucky smoothed over his toupee.

"I got it downtown at Dedrie's Wiglet Emporium." Lucky replied. "Oh, you meant..."

"Why did it eat my tribute but not hers?" Woof gestured to Margaret.

"Maybe the Manticore's not a fan of seafood." Lucky shrugged. "Miss Gorman, Miss Gorman! Are you jumping for joy like your boy's mommy must be? What a fitting end for such a little monster at the claws of a big monster! It's poetic, in a sense."

"Frax was no better than I was at his age." Silvi replied. "If he and I and… it are monsters." Silvi looked into the camera with her one eye and wiped away at the tear that fell from it with the stump at the end of her wrist: "Maybe we had a hand in making them so."

Once Silvi left, the place felt so empty. Even the vast Arena on the screen seemed desolate now- with the five remaining tributes fairly spread out evenly throughout the maze itself. The only exception were the tributes from 9, positioned far down at the southernmost extent of the maze's. Tigris swiped through the live feeds of cameras within Judge's proximity on her tablet's touch screen, seeing him turn his back to shoulder a cold wind that rushed through the corridor he traversed down. Suddenly, the larger flat screen on the wall before her was displaying the same live feed of Judge turning his back to the icy breeze. Lucky put a finger to his earpiece.

"Oh, alrighty." Lucky chuckled. "We might want to get a cannon ready, folks."

Tigris felt her face go flush- red as the rose petals that fell towards Judge with the biting wind. The boy stopped and clutched his arms as a cold breeze brushed past him and watched the little petals blow by and down the corridor. The flopping bangs of caramel hair beat against Judge's forehead until the wind died enough for him to turn back around and return his push forward, having only taken one step before he was faced with the Manticore.

The beast stood fifty feet from Judge in the center of the corridor- the arrow protruding from its matte black fur chest rising and falling with its breaths. The Manticore inhaled in the cold air, blowing out hot puffs of condensation like dragon's smoke. Judge stood frozen- observing the massive creature with an unblinking stare as it took the first clinking step towards him.

'Run!' Tigris thought she screamed out, but her throat was so numb and dry her every muscle was just as paralyzed as her tribute seemed to be.

The Manticore stalked towards the shivering little boy like a wolf setting its hungry sights on a motherless lamb. Its bounding steps reached him in seconds, looming over Judge and lowering its snout to indulge in his scent more closely. The trembling boy blinked into the gush of hot air that washed over him from the Manticore's nostrils. Judge closed his eyes- preparing to be devoured. But after a beat, the Manticore simply slid its long black tongue from its jowls across the slash wound on Judge's cheek. And, instead of instantly eating the boy, it just blinked at him.

Lucky stuck a finger to his ear and whispered: "What's happening?"

When Judge's eyes opened, his expression said much of the same- his brow furrowing with confusion as he stared back into the Manticore's black, dinner plate sized glare. The beast itself seemed perplexed by Judge's presence in turn, the arrow in its chest shuddering with its shallow breaths. Judge maintained eye contact with the beast as he reached up and tenderly grabbed hold of the arrow protruding from its chest. A shattered explosion of bright rainbow light shot out across the beast's coat of black fur from the point where the arrow was plucked. Tigris winced, but aside from its presumably involuntary spasm of color, the Manticore had no reaction to the arrow's removal. Judge lowered the hand holding the arrow, the creature's black blood dripping from its razored point. The boy from 1 lifted his other hand, reaching up to place a palm against the Manticore's wound.

The colored patterns of light that radiated out from Judge's touch were the most beautiful thing Tigris had ever seen. The beast was gradually enveloped in a kaleidoscope of color from puffed chest to maned head to clawed foot, coating Judge's white uniform in its dazzling multi-hued glow. The Manticore reared back on its hind legs with its spectacular display of color and roared so loudly, Tigris swore she felt the entire Supra vibrate around her. The beast landed back at Judge's feet- lowering its maned crown of swirling color and light as if to bow to the boy.

After a beat of hesitation on Judge's part, the Manticore leaned toward him and gently nudged at the boy's legs with its snout. Judge stumbled a bit from the push but reached out and steadied himself by grabbing onto the shorter of the Manticore's uneven horns spiraling out from the top of its head. The creature kept its head lowered, and Judge seemed to understand at that point, clutching onto the other horn about an arm's length longer than its twin. Judge hoisted himself up, climbed over the Manticore's face, and perched himself on the nest of its maned neck.

The boy clutched onto the Manticore's uneven horns to keep himself steady as it rose again, smelling the air voraciously. With a bounding gait, the Manticore took off with Judge on its back, charging southward into the maze.

"Well, that was unexpected." Lucky scratched his toupee until he'd inadvertently straightened it. "Is he full? Saving the brat as a little snack for later? Who could say?"

The next shot on the screen showed snowflakes drifting down onto the pair from 9, with an icy crispness beginning to frost the red roses towering up around them.

The picture of the two nestled aside the snowy bank building up against the red rose wall was almost endearing for a moment before Tigris remembered who the pair were. Zizania was asleep with her head in her district partners' lap. Ale sat staring up at the drizzling flurries descending from above with the long spear at his side, his gaze lowering as Zizania appeared to shiver in her sleep, unconsciously pulling at her skirt's hem. Ale's brows raised as he looked down at her, clearly intrigued by the flash of Zizania's pale thigh. He reached down and began to run his wandering fingers up her leg.

"What is he doing?" Lumen asked.

Zizania's half asleep eyes fluttered open and examined Ale's slimy grin as his palm slid up under her skirt. Exhausted or indifferent, the girl simply closed her eyes again.

"What do you think?" Margaret replied dryly.

Suddenly, Ale's arm came to a stop under Zizania's skirt. Her eyes immediately shot open as Ale pulled the platinum knife from beneath her stocking and held it between them. She tried to avoid the blow but was sliced across the forehead by Ale.

Zizania rolled away from Ale stabbing at her again. The girl's expression was painted red but remained eerily neutral as she began to fight back. Diving down at Ale's ankles, Zizania swept his legs out from beneath him. Ale stumbled forward and tumbled over, having to release the knife in his grip to throw his hands out and prevent himself from face planting into the tile. Zizania scrambled towards the spear, only able to grab the top half of its length before Ale wrapped his hands around the bottom.

They grappled over the weapon. Ale was the physically stronger of the two- hurling Zizania around like she was a ragdoll. But the girl clearly demonstrated a proficiency in giving and receiving a beating. She maintained her grip on the spear however violently Ale thrashed her about, though he eventually succeeded in swinging her off her feet to the ground after delivering a particularly nasty headbutt to the girl's forehead. Zizania's eyes glazed over upon impact- her brain rattling in her skull as Ale motioned to bring down his end of the spear onto her. Zizania released one hand's grip on the weapon and snatched away the necklace hanging at Ale's throat and hurled it over his shoulder with all her might. Ale's eyes snapped off her and followed the silver chain's arc through the falling flurries where it disappeared into the powdery plumes of snow building up against the walls of the maze. The spearhead still pointed down at her, Zizania gripped the pole and redirected Ale's impaling strike through the top of his shoe and into his foot.

Ale cried out as the spearhead entered through his foot's arch with such force, it broke off from the pole and embedded itself there. Zizania tumbled away with the headless spear pole in her grip, spitting the blood draining over her lips. Ale fell back clutching at his bleeding shoe, narrowly avoiding Zizania striking him across the cranium with the spear pole. Ale watched Zizania scoop up the platinum knife from off the ground as she fled. He chose not to chase her, crawling back towards the snowbank and desperately sifting through the powder with a furious vigor. His facial expression communicated every obscenity imaginable, though rather than curse, Ale began to release a gnawed-on cover of the country's anthem- half singing, half screaming 'Gem of Panem' with an enraged timbre. The shot of Zizania disappearing around a frosting rose-covered wall was scored by his song, and captured the red bow swinging from her long, fiery hair as she dashed away into the maze.

The rest of the day went by with no further interactions between tributes. Trilene was in a bad way- the girl's ailing slog through the maze's corridors was such a pitiful sight that Margaret couldn't bear to stomach it. The Victress from 4 ignored Lucky's orders to stay put and exiting the penthouse lounge just as the setting sun's evening rays began to enter it. Tigris and Lumen waited in vain for further activity within the Arena until twilight began to settle over the city. Lucky finally dismissed the two when the sounds of pounding drums and the buzz of citizens gathering down on the streets began to grow and filter up into the penthouse. Tigris held the elevator for Lumen as he crossed out of the lounge after her, and he thanked her as he stepped inside.

"Thank you, Tigris." Lumen nodded.

"Anytime." She pressed the button to close the lift's doors again.

"No, I mean… Zagros apologized to me." Lumen explained. "What did you say to him?"

"I haven't." Tigris replied. "What did he say to you?"

"That you inspired him to." Lumen revealed. "The only thing was- I'm surprised to say it; I've never seen him so… sad."

"I might have inspired that, too." Tigris shook her head. "I don't deserve him in my life."

"Everyone deserves to be loved." Lumen commented, then reconsidered: "Well, mostly everyone. And I've seen enough Capitol Letters to know love when I see it. Zagros talked about you… the way the mailman talked about Dionne."

"I'm not mostly everyone. I'm a Snow." Tigris sighed as the elevator reached the ground floor and opened. "And Capitol Letters is fiction, Lumen. It's not real."

Coriolanus was standing in the elevator bay as the doors opened, having overheard this final comment from Tigris.

"Can I have a word with you about that, actually?" Coriolanus asked, looking askance towards Lumen: "In private."

Tigris felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Lumen half-smiled nervously and gave a quiet nod to Coriolanus before crossing out of the elevator. The Victor sped from their presence into the lobby, disappearing out into the crowd of colorfully dressed mourners collected themselves along the Corso.

"I have something for you." Coriolanus cryptically stated to Tigris, leading her out a rear exit of the Supra onto a far less packed street where his parked car was waiting. Coriolanus tapped on the boot of the car, prompting his driver sitting inside to pop the trunk and reveal the three cardboard boxes filled to the brim with VHS tapes.

She didn't want to get into the car but knew she couldn't allow herself to appear any more guilty than she was. The ride to Tigris' studio was tense at first, though as Coriolanus opened up to her- she began to feel more at ease. Or, at least, she began to feel that he wouldn't reach out and snap her neck at any moment.

"Everything is all such a mess, cuz." Coriolanus grumbled. "I wasted so much time searching through your tapes. I was certain you had it."

"I don't, Coriolanus. I never did." Tigris lied.

"Appius told me I'm focused on the wrong Games." Coriolanus explained. "He is furious with how the Quell has been managed. Part of me hopes Livia never wakes up so she doesn't have to see the aftermath."

"Coriolanus, that's horrible to say." Tigris winced. "Livia is still asleep?"

"Yes." Coriolanus confirmed. "And Vicky's not much more responsive. I can't get anyone to watch her- she's acting… strange."

Tigris let Coriolanus vent and offered her own baby-sitting services as the driver neared her neighborhood. It'd be the perfect opportunity to actually steal back the tape from wherever it was in Vicky's possession, but her cousin didn't have to know that, obviously. Coriolanus seemed hesitant at first to allow it, but Tigris managed to convince him by the time they were pulling up to her studio. Tigris kept the lies flowing as Coriolanus helped her carry the boxes of tapes down into her unit- explaining away the toppled armoire as a run of the mill burglary.

"You have to get out of this neighborhood." Coriolanus shook his head as he helped Tigris carry down the last box of tapes they deposited beside the empty wall of shelves.

"I will soon." Tigris crossed to her room of clothes, pulling the door open and flipping on the light to present Coriolanus with the rack of her chromatifur fashion line designs: "When the world sees these looks at Appius' inauguration…" Tigris considered her audience before she considered her words: "…I'll be back on top again."

"Well, I hope one of us has a good time at the charity event." Coriolanus huffed. "Volpe is appointing his Cabinet there, you know. At this rate, I'd be lucky if he makes me his shoe shiner after these Games."

"Look, Corio- making pretty dresses on his orders is one thing..." Tigris hesitated before adding: "But are you sure you want to be under President Volpe's direct control, anyway?"

"If it means a seat on his cabinet, of course."

"…Even with… a young daughter?"

"Oh." Coriolanus understood, though Tigris could tell he was playing dumb: "I've heard those rumors. I'm sure they're not true."

"They are." Tigris muttered without looking at Coriolanus.

"Prove it." Coriolanus challenged.

Tigris sighed. She knew her word alone was never enough. Appius Volpe had everything: city-wide respect, a five-story mansion, a loyal constituency, the highest office in the country, her own cousin's benefit of the doubt. Tigris had this pit in the ground. She had an empty cat bed in the corner, a busted armoire lying face down against the grimy carpet, a shattered mirror reflecting back her broken reflection.

"Nevermind, Corio." Tigris shook her head.

"No, if you have proof of that- it could be…" Coriolanus trailed off. "Tigris, can you prove that?"

"I don't think my mother got receipts from him." Tigris replied, then shivered. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"Tigris…" Coriolanus seemed torn in different directions. "We, uh- we should get back downtown, the funeral parade has probably left the Ostium by this point." Coriolanus motioned to the armoire lying across the floor. "Can I help you with this?"

"Oh, no." Tigris denied the offer to lift the large, wooden wardrobe, seeing how it effectively barred off the trap door entrance to the Transfer. She winced at the poor excuse she gave him as soon as it passed her lips: "That's alright… I like it better that way."

"Nonsense." Coriolanus rejected, stooping down to grip the top of the wooden antique dresser in his hand. "Come help me here."

Tigris unwillingly stepped forward and helped Coriolanus lift the wardrobe up, its drawers falling from their recesses and spilling their contents out onto the carpet. Coriolanus finished pushing the armoire onto its undamaged hind legs and propped it up against the back of the coat closet as Tigris began gathering the fallen items from the drawer. Coriolanus knelt down to help, sorting the scarves, accessories, sewing bags, and half-filled bottles of alcohol until his fingers found the instant film photograph.

Tigris saw the image of herself as a child on Appius' bedspread flash across the glistening reflection in Coriolanus' icy eyes. Before she could say anything, he lunged at her. Tigris opened her mouth to cry out as his arms wrapped around her- but was shocked to find it was Coriolanus who was the one crying as he embraced her. Tigris allowed the man to weep, though she was incredibly confused by the reaction until Coriolanus pulled back and revealed his gleeful tears:

"This is amazing."

Her lips went limp.

"Tigris- this is that proof." Coriolanus explained.

Tigris snatched back the photo with ice in her veins.

"Tigris, I need this." Coriolanus begged, reaching out to take the picture back. "This is a golden ticket to the cabinet…" He saw even further: "To the presidency!"

Tigris croaked: "It's a ticket to the grave for me."

"I'll rig it for Judge." Coriolanus said.

"Excuse me?" Tigris choked.

"You heard me." Coriolanus nodded. "I will rig the Games for Judge to win."

"How?" Tigris asked.

"I'm the big hand in the sky, Tigris." Coriolanus shrugged. "I can make anything happen in there. Give me that photo- and your boy will go down in history as the Victor of the first Quarter Quell."

Tigris' hand shook- the innocent, little girl's image appearing to tremble as well within her grip. She thought of the child she used to be, and the man Judge could become- the man he should become. Tigris felt the last shred of her innocence be stripped from her as she handed herself over to Coriolanus, and he slid her into his back pocket with a beaming grin.

Coriolanus patiently waited for Tigris to change into her funeral outfit. She'd wanted to finish her look with a chromatifur head wrap she swore she'd transported back to her studio- but had to accept it must have been dragged away into the sky the day previously. The ride back downtown was longer than the ride out of it as the parade route curved through the city center and blocked off several main avenues. The driver took back streets and parked at the rear entrance of 74 Cominia as its front facade facing the Corso was cordoned off and the sidewalk packed with Capitolites. Coriolanus helped Tigris carry the two dozen chromatifur outfits she'd designed and constructed from the car into the ground floor managerial office of the building.

They hung the outfits on the empty clothes racks Tigris kept in the office from when she'd lived there. She felt like a completely different person than that woman who owned this building with her husband just a year ago. But something about the hollow, unfulfilled sensation that still sat in her core was far too familiar for her to believe she'd become someone different. Tigris crossed to the shelf of boxes that contained all the paperwork she'd stored over the years of owning the building. She'd not laid hands on the documents she was looking for since she purchased 74 Cominia- and when she did locate them in a jaundice yellow folder, her heart sank a bit reaching her signature scrawled across the page:

'Mrs. Tigris Verity.'

"Here it is." She exhaled, passing the folder over to Coriolanus. He set the documents down on the office desk before plopping down in the chair with his own sigh, though Tigris could tell it was one of satisfaction.

"I'll take this to Fedelia in the morning and have the transfer finalized." Coriolanus sat back and pulled open the drawer of the desk, finding a mostly empty box of cigars there. "Well, what do we have here, Miss black-lung?"

Tigris could almost taste the smoke on Virgil's lips again- the scent of tobacco wafted out from the drawer.

"Those were Virgil's." Tigris explained somberly as Coriolanus pulled one from the box and held it in front of his face. A small box of matches sat among the office supplies at the corner of the desk. Tigris' eyes switched their gaze from the rack of chromatifur designs at Coriolanus' back to his fingers reaching for the matches. She cried out in a panic: "Don't- around those clothes!"

Coriolanus looked at Tigris with a puzzled expression as he released his grip on the matchbox. She added, thinking fast: "...You'll make my designs smell like smoke."

"You sure that's your problem?" Coriolanus wondered, then sat back and asked: "Are you still hung up on Virgil?"

"I used to think that all felt so long ago but all of a sudden…" Tigris considered. "It feels like only yesterday."

"How often do you think about Virgil?" Coriolanus asked.

Tigris felt something digging into her soul that burned like ice, and so she answered with the same question before she could stop herself:

"How often do you think about Lucy?"

Coriolanus blinked at Tigris. His expression didn't change for a beat, then he cocked his head to the side:

"Everyday." Coriolanus revealed: "But I also think of January 4th everyday. I think of those monsters, the chaos, the screams, the blood, the death, the Manticore. And yes, I think of Lucy Gray, too."

"Is that what she was to you?" Tigris asked.

"Maybe that is unfair." Coriolanus considered. "The Manticore isn't nearly as deadly."

"Coriolanus…" Tigris shook her head. "I don't understand."

"You will." Coriolanus assured. "Your hard times are coming to an end any day now. But you don't just need to let the things holding you back go- you need to eliminate them from your life completely."

"Virgil is dead. He isn't holding me back." Tigris argued.

"I wasn't talking about him." Coriolanus responded. "I know you think Zagros Dare loves you. And maybe he did, in his own way. But the district people- they're not like us Tigris. They don't think like us. They don't love like us."

"Zagros is a good man."

"Zagros lopped a boy's head off." Coriolanus said. "And squeezed a little girl's throat until her neck snapped. Victors are not made of sugar. He's not nearly as sweet as his food would have you believe. And he knows it. That's why he's leaving town and going back home where he belongs."

"He's what?" Tigris asked with despair. "He just opened his restaurant. It was his life's dream. Why would he leave now?"

"I guess sometimes you have to destroy the people, places, and things you love." Coriolanus explained. "Before they destroy you."

Tigris pushed out the revolving doors of 74 Cominia into the throngs of Capitolites standing shoulder to shoulder and watching the parade pass by. Fireworks began exploding above in the sky- letting off loud bangs with the rainbow of embers. Tigris took in the people's warm smiles at her the same as she took in their multi-colored clothing. One woman wore a kelly-green polka dot jumper, another wore the cream-colored brocade vest, another stunned in her floral magenta halter top, but a fourth woman really stood out against the patterned crowd in a solid black dress. Tigris paused and gave a second glance to this woman in black. At first, Tigris assumed the headwrap she wore was just made up of a glossy material that reflected off the dazzling fireworks exploding overhead. But it suddenly dawned on her how the fabric displayed a familiar anxious yellow lightning- and Tigris realized she'd found her missing chromatifur headwrap.

She began to follow after the woman in the black dress, excusing herself as she pushed through the crowd. Tigris tried to maintain her view of the woman's sleek curves- but keep losing it as Caracalla's horse-drawn casket swarmed with hundreds of multi-colored roses rolled past. The crowd began to buzz with cheers for the dead despot, churning up the sea of people so much that Tigris struggled to push through their ranks. Tigris eventually lost the woman in black and forced her way through the crowd and onto the shuddered stoop of Dare2Dine. Tigris began beating on the front glass door where the 'CLOSED' sign still hung. She pressed her hands to the glass and peered inside, calling Zagros' name over the deafening beats of drums, the clattering boots of dancers tromping past, and the exploding booms of the fireworks overhead. When she pulled her face back away from the glass, Tigris saw his reflection standing behind her on the sidewalk.

"Zagros- are you going back to District 2!?" Tigris asked as loudly as she could over the fanfare and fireworks.

"I have to." Zagros probably said, though Tigris could only read his lips.

"This place was your dream! You can't just give it up!" Tigris urged.

"I've given up much more important things than this, honey." Zagros gave a sad shrug.

"I love you!" Tigris said before she could stop herself, tears gushing like a river. "I love you, Zagros!"

Zagros looked at Tigris, the flashing explosions of colored light shattering in the reflection of his wet eyes. She could see that same statement there as clearly as she could feel it looking into his soul. But just when Tigris expected him to respond in kind, he replied:

"That's the problem." Zagros let a tear fall down his cheek. "I'm going to kill you, Tigris."

The crashing of fireworks overhead reached a crescendo as Tigris watched the woman in black emerge from the crowd and point her bronze revolver at Zagros' back. Tigris lunged forwards, knocking the man out of the way and pressing her palm onto the bronze barrel of the gun just as Ada Jane pulled the trigger.