The sky hadn't changed in hours.
No deaths. No anthems. No faces.
It was unnatural.
Like the Capitol was holding its breath.
Goo moved deeper into the Arena's northern quadrant, where the jungle thinned and the stone veins beneath the surface pulsed faintly with light.
Capitol tech.
Buried infrastructure.
Hidden cameras, concealed vents—he noticed them all.
They were watching more now.
He could feel it in the air. Pressure. Like they were waiting for him to snap.
He wouldn't.
He'd wait.
Let the Capitol make the next mistake.
And they did.
At noon, the trees buzzed—microdrones.
A noise like static filled the Arena, followed by a crisp, clear voice:
"Goo Kim. District Eleven.We have her."
His eyes narrowed.
Rue's voice followed.
But it wasn't her. Not quite.
Too clean. Too steady.
"I'm safe. I'm being treated. The Capitol wants to help. Come to the Spire. Please. Don't fight anymore."
A pause.
Then, a whisper—so low most wouldn't hear:
"They're watching me."
The feed cut.
So.
That was their play.
Rue had been taken. Not killed.
Coerced.
Turned into bait.
They wanted him angry. Desperate. Unfocused.
Instead, Goo closed his eyes.
And smiled.
He didn't go to the Spire immediately.
That's what they expected.
Instead, he turned south.
Backtracked through three zones. Collected two traps he'd planted days ago. One had caught a rabbit. The other… something mechanical.
A Capitol drone. Damaged. Still warm.
He took it apart in silence, hands moving with clinical precision.
Plasma battery. Shortwave transmitter. Reinforced casing.
He tucked the transmitter into his belt, then crushed the drone underfoot.
Let them watch that.
By nightfall, he was close to the Spire—a steel tower that jutted from the earth like a blade. It wasn't meant for tributes. It was meant for observation. For power.
Goo counted six hovercams circling the area.
Two Peacekeepers, armed and masked, standing by the entrance.
That broke the rules.
Tributes weren't supposed to see Peacekeepers in the Arena.
But the Capitol was past pretending now.
He crouched in the underbrush, watching.
There was movement near the top of the tower. A flash of yellow cloth—Rue's cape.
She was alive.
Visible.
Positioned for maximum emotional leverage.
Goo stood slowly.
He didn't reach for his knife.
He reached for the Capitol's transmitter.
And turned it on.
His voice filled the Arena.
"You're losing."
No introduction. No preamble.
Just truth.
"You took the girl. You broke your own rules. You used her to bait me."
"And you failed."
Cameras spun wildly.
Back in the Capitol, producers were shouting. Cut the feed. Scramble the audio.
Too late.
"This isn't your Game anymore."
"It's mine."
Goo dropped the transmitter.
Walked into the open.
Toward the tower.
Toward Rue.
The Peacekeepers raised their weapons.
Goo didn't stop.
And just before they fired—
the sky cracked.
A real explosion, high above the Spire.
Sparks. Shrapnel. Screams.
A hovercraft spun out of formation and fell, crashing through trees in the distance.
Chaos.
Not scripted.
Not controlled.
Capitol tech had failed.
Or someone had helped it fail.
Either way…
The door had opened.