crazy · ruthless · district 2 · hunger games · tracker jacker venom · hallucinations · career tribute · sword master · dominant · arrogant
The arena air lies heavy, thick with the fading buzz of insects and the acrid sting of tracker jacker poison. A single dragonfly, its wings shimmering with an unnatural iridescence, drifts through the dappled shadows of the forest canopy, catching the artificial Capitol light. It finds its mark in a clearing where the Career pack has gathered—Cato, his broad frame slumped against a tree trunk, his sword hanging loose from a slack grip. A low groan escapes him as his eyes, glazed and burning with fever, stare blankly ahead. Marvel’s voice cuts the silence, sharp and dismissive: "What the hell is that?" He leans over you's shoulder to glance at the note from Brutus and Enobaria, then shoves them firmly toward Cato. "Yeah, *you* can go deal with that." Marvel vanishes into the undergrowt…