There are only two of them left. It's about to be over.

Truly, for the first time, she gets a sense that it will be done. Finally.

"Think about what you want to tell your family," Blight had said. "Say it to the cameras, and I'll make sure they know."

"I don't need to say anything to them." Johanna jerked her shoulder out from under his hand. "I'm coming back."

The boy before her was small. She didn't know how he'd survived so long until she saw the sword in his hand. It was a longsword, and he had somehow found a way to sharpen it, judging by the look of the blade. She recognized him as the career from District 2. He had been in peacekeeper training. He knew how to use a baton to beat someone to death, so a sword shouldn't be much different.

The cornucopia was ablaze in the sunlight. It reflected into his eyes, not hers. He advanced a few paces, limping on his left foot. He held the sword with his left; that must be dominant.

She freed her twin hatchets from under her belt. At first, she only had a few meat cleavers from the cornucopia; they had all received little gifts from the 'feast' – where she had killed the boy from four and both tributes from one – and the cleavers and some water had been in the District Seven pack. However, after the two Careers from Two had hunted down the brute from eleven, it appeared the Capitol decided it would be worth their while to bet on her. She received a parachute with the hatchets, diamond-edged and extraordinarily deadly. They must have cost someone a pretty penny.

Blight had attached a note. Come home.

The girl from Two had decided to split with her district partner earlier in the day – probably to avoid having to kill him at some point – and ran into Johanna's trap. It was originally for food, but she'd take it. That was when she learned that diamond could cut through bone like butter. They collected the girl in pieces.

"Buy a patriotic coffin for your shining fucking Career," she'd snarled to the cameras.

The boy before her wouldn't last long.

She faked right, and he lunged. She parried his blow with the blunt of her ax and went with a strong left. He was forced to brace himself on his bad foot and lead his blow with his right hand. She batted the sword out of his grip with her right ax and seized the opportunity to uppercut with her left.

She hit bone about halfway up his torso; it had to have been pretty thick, because her blade wouldn't shove through it. The breastbone, probably. She withdrew the weapon and he sank to his knees. Clear blue eyes looked up at her, bright as day. His mouth formed an almost disappointed frown, like a petulant child.

In the course of one measly week, she had watched twenty-two children brutally put to death. She might have been sympathetic once. Not today.

She kicked him to the ground and the cannon boomed. The hovercraft collected him.

Silence.

"People of Panem," Julius Octavius' voice roared from above, "I give you the Victor of the Seventy-First Annual Hunger Games, Johanna Mason of District Seven!" The Head Gamemaker had spoken. It was done.

She didn't know it, but somewhere in a crowded room of sponsors, Blight smiled over a glass of sparkling champagne. "I'll be damned."

Retreating to a nearby room, he called for one of the Avoxes to bring him a telephone.

"Mrs. Mason. Is Mrs. Mason back from the mill? Where is she? Go tell her. Where's John? Find him too." He laughed into the phone. "Tell them she won."

The world was flooded with a procession of tubes and machines and florescent lighting. She had refused to drop the axes when the hovercraft came to collect her. They were in a corner near her bed, bloody and disgusting and altogether out of place in this clean white corridor.

A Capitol woman, some pink-haired bitch, pushed something into her arm. "Congratulations, Johanna." She said. Her accent was almost unintelligible. "We're just going to see if we can't fix you right up. Orianus here will let you know when we touch down in the Capitol."

"Home," she rasped. "I need to go home."

"You've only a few minor injuries – gosh, what a beautiful figure you've got. Such a pretty mouth. I just might have my mouth molded after yours one day, though I'm sure everyone will be doing just that come the tour! I can hardly contain myself, can you, Orianus? I'm going to tell them, yes, yes, yes, I was the one to put her back into ship-shape! Did her mentor specify any enhancements, by any chance?"

"No. He was quite forceful, but – look at this scar! This ugly thing on her left forearm. Surely he doesn't want that showing, what with all of those beautiful gowns they've got lined up. Who's her stylist?"

"Lucius, the lucky girl. Have you seen what he's done with dog furs this year? Marvelous."

"Incredible, absolutely. Well, then, all that's left to do is take care of these cuts on her face – the salve should heal those before we even land – and sew up that awful gash on her leg. Laser off that scar. Maybe do something about those fingernails? I counted six broken ones."

"I should say so. Did you see her scale that cliff? My favorite part of the whole games!"

"Did you hear that?" the bitch turned her attention back to Johanna. "You're the Victor of the best games in years. Except maybe that beautiful boy from Four. But he was a career. You were so unexpected! I bet on the big farmer from Eleven – he was twice the size of everyone else – and a ten in training! What did our little victor get? A six?"

"All part of the act, I assume."

She clapped her hands together. "Just brilliant!"

"I hate you," She whispered. "I wish you were dead."

"What was that?" She smiled down at Johanna with horrific neon eyes.

"Blight," she mumbled, clutching the woman's arm. "I... I need to see..."

The boy stuck something metal into neck, and she fell backwards into hot white oblivion.

He was there when she awoke, this time in a different place, a different bed – somewhere glossy and expensive. The Capitol hospital, on some sort of guarded room on one of the higher floors, no doubt. The tubes and machines were gone. Blight had her hand in both of his. He smiled softly when her eyes found his.

"Congratulations, Johanna. You made us all very proud."

She smirked faintly. "Even the whore?"

"Yes, even Lucius."

She emitted a low chuckle. "That superficial asshole skins dogs."

He studied the stitching on her hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Sedated. Other than that, ready to cleave more faces. Help me sit up." He reached underneath her back, one hand on the base of her spine and the other just below her head. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he lifted her into a sitting position. "Thanks for the axes."

"They were courtesy of Dalia Catus, the realtor from the Capitol. Apparently, she has a soft spot for you."

"A real soft spot I'd say, judging from the diamond on those blades."

"She actually had no idea about the diamond." He smiled. "I talked Lucius into parting with a few of his rings and had them fitted onto the blade by a friend."

"And who paid for that?"

"You did, actually. Quid pro quo. The deal was, in exchange for the axes, you had to win." Blight grinned. "That woman's a gift, really. There aren't too many people like that around anymore."

She clutched his hand. "Thank you."

He smoothed her hair. "I'm the mentor, remember?"

She shook her head. "I'm going to see my mother again. I know what I said before I went in, and I meant it, but just to know that. To know it for sure. That's invaluable. I could never repay you."

"A child of District Seven was reaped and is still alive. That's all the repayment I need. That's why I don't go into a drunken stupor like Haymitch Abernathy. Because I need you to survive."

Her jaw clenched. "I can't do this. I can't do what you do, not after all of this."

He squeezed her hand. "We'll talk about it later. Get some rest. This week, you've got a few important dinners. That's all. Then it's back home."

She nodded. "Home."