Everything seemed to go so fast after the first round of bombs that were dropped on the mountain. It was all one seamless blur. And not just that night. Everything that lead up to it, all the way back to her own games. How did Quinn not see it coming? Now looking back on it, she should have seen this coming. Ever since she mad a scene at her first interview ever for the games. She should have know that this was the only possible outcome for her. Not for the revelation itself. But for her, just her.

    Nothing she had done since she won her own games helped her. Running, lying, and even surviving everything. It all was just leading up to this, a pivotal moment not just for her but for the rebels--

"Maverick! Maverick you keep your eyes open! Do you hear me!?"

    Of course she did, but she couldn't get herself to say anything.  She could feel it beginning to go numb. Hopefully this would mean the rebels would redesign the armor they put Katniss in, but now she really was the only one that could end this. She was the only one left that Snow hated, some would say he was even scared of her while he simply hated Quinn and wanted her dead. Katniss had been right though when she said that he corrupted everyone, and everything. That was one thing that Quinn never could have done for the rebels, come up with those motivational speeches, or maybe she just didn't ever try. But now she couldn't care any less than she already did.

    That bullet had been her fate all along. There was no way around it. She knew it was her fate because that armor hadn't failed her once, but for a split second when she turned to see who had been shot first-- another bullet found its way right under her arm, the weakest spot in the armor, the spot where there was no metal.

"Quinn!" Micah's face was still in focus in front of her. But what was she supposed to do? She couldn't move, or maybe she wasn't trying hard enough. But she hurt less at that moment than she had in years. She thought back to the years before the games. Not with her family, but with the orphans in the warehouse. Those kids made her this, those kids gave her the passion to hate Snow more than she did already. Everything she had ever done was for them, at least when she was thinking straight. Which at this point, she could barely tell if she was ever thinking straight.

    But thinking off Jenson and Rosa, she could have sworn she felt a small smile creep onto her face. The endless hours on the beach, the late nights talking with Jenson about what they thought the Capitol was like. Even the hours before her reaping, being on the beach, talking to Jenson-- not knowing it was the last time. She hadn't put much thought into Jenson or Rosa specifically for awhile.

    She was done. She had nothing else to give the rebels. She hadn't had anything to give them since she first made it to Thirteen. She had become the rebels tribute and Victor; she had given them everything. There was nothing else she had besides this exact moment. But maybe that was just her trying to justify how much she wanted this to end. The game, this twisted, and horrible game.

    The game of Cat and Mouse between her and the Capitol. The game of playing a part for the rebels that was draining her every moment she was awake. It put a wedge between her and everyone else, it was like playing these games put a unbreakable wall around her. And she was ready for it to end.