Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games, The Avengers, and any related characters or plotlines you see here.

Thanks to all who have put the story on your favorites or follow list, and special thanks to those who've reviewed, including In Pieces, x-shutter-bug-x, Arrows the Wolf, YesterdaysFutureMemories, SheWasFlying, and Steve R.

This chapter is more Hunger Games heavy. The Avengers will return in chapter six, fear not.

A Game of Heroes

Chapter Five

He couldn't help a smile as he watched the feeds of the various tributes. Some were pacing, some hyperventilating. A few were even feigning calm, no doubt for the benefit of their personal stylists—the only ones allowed in the rooms beneath the arena with the tributes. But those few were far from having him fooled. He knew the turmoil that must have been wringing their insides, tying them into knots.

"Two minutes 'til showtime," announced his senior technician, Maria. "Signaling tributes into the tubes in thirty seconds."

He gave a nod, his gaze coming to rest on the feed of Katniss Everdeen. The girl on fire, some had taken to calling her. She had heart, this he had to admit—very few would have volunteered for such a fate. And such a shot with a bow and arrow! She'd nearly sent an arrow right into his head two days ago, instead skillfully shooting an apple out of his raised hand. Having the sponsors rank her an eleven out of twelve had been the only logical response. Why not let the other tributes know that there was a real threat in their midst? Level the playing field, as it were? All eyes would be on her, anyway. Why not give them something to watch?

"They're in the tubes."

He drifted toward the largest screen in the control room, where tributes began to rise out of the ground and into the arena. His smile grew. The fear. The determination. The energy. So many emotions for the cameras to drink in. Twenty-four sets of eyes came to rest on the veritable armory before them. And so it begins, he thought as the countdown dwindled.

The trainers had told them only a few things about the arena. All of the tributes, they'd said, would start out equidistant from a collection of supplies and weapons called "the Cornucopia." If anyone moved off of his or her individual platform prior to the end of the initial countdown, a landmine would be triggered. Other than that and reminding them that survival skills would be key, the trainers had had nothing else to say about the arena or the Games. Finnick wasn't reassured in the slightest. Of course, he doubted there was anything anyone could do or say at the moment that could reassure him. A hug from Annie, maybe. At least when he had her in his arms, all was right with the world.

"You have three minutes."

She rushed at him like they were magnets of opposing poles, clinging to him and sobbing hysterically. He wanted to cry, himself. These were probably the last moments he'd ever spend with his Annie. But he knew better than to shed a single tear: responding with anything less than a positive outlook would only leave Annie in a dark place. Instead, he did his best to be brave. "I don't know what you're all worked up about. I'll be back to you in no time," he said.

She sniffled, looking up at him with those big, beautiful green eyes. "You will?"

"Of course." He smoothed her hair down and kissed the top of her head. "I have this pretty amazing girl I'll be fighting for. You might know her."

Smiling through her tears, Annie gave him a squeeze. "She hopes you're right." He rocked her back and forth. So do I, he thought to himself. So do I.

A dinging sound brought Finnick back to reality. "It's time," said Alandis, nodding to the tube that would take Finnick up into the arena. Finnick looked back at Alandis as his heart began to pound loudly in his ears. Alandis gave him a nudge in the direction of the tube, and he trudged toward it. Better to go willingly than to have the solemn looking guards outside force him into the tube.

Some cool, female voice began to count down from five just as he slipped into the almost too narrow tube. When she reached one, the little circular disc he was standing on began to rise—and him, with it. He kept his eyes locked on Alandis for as long as he could; the stylist was likely the last friendly face he'd see. Then, darkness. He must have been passing through solid ground. Finally, his head met fresh air and blinding light. Finnick raised his arms to shield his eyes.

Once the disc came to a stop and his eyes adjusted to the light, he dropped his arms and looked around him. The other tributes seemed just as disoriented as he was. They were in the middle of a field surrounded by trees. So they'd have a forest to hide in. He nodded. That could work; he and his father took regular hunting trips.

Hunting…people. Finnick found himself shuddering as the voice of the Head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane, started counting backward from sixty. Even though he'd spent a week training for it, Finnick still couldn't wrap his mind around the concept. While many would probably die here at the beginning, it would all essentially come down to hunting.

His eyes met those of the girl he'd become friends with during training, Johanna. Her eyes were wide, and she seemed to be breathing rapidly. He gave her a smile as he might have done if it'd been his little sister whose eyes were locked with his. A flash of a smile answered him.

"Thirty. Twenty-nine."

Finnick turned his attention to the Cornucopia ahead of him, which was literally shaped like a cornucopia. There were backpacks and other supplies laid out closer to the tributes. Farther away, inside the actual Cornucopia, was a shining collection of weapons. Finnick knew he wanted at least one close range and one long range weapon. Beyond that, he wasn't very picky.

"Eighteen. Seventeen."

He took a couple of deep breaths, his eyes focusing on the huge assortment of knives as he tried to think about who else might be going for them. That girl from Texas, maybe. Clove. The first thing she'd done at training was pick up a set of throwing knives and toss them at a target as easily as if they were darts. How any parent would allow their child to take up such a hobby was beyond Finnick. At any rate, he'd just have to arm himself before she even touched the knives.

"Seven. Six."

Finnick braced himself, getting ready to run as soon as the clock above the Cornucopia ran out and Crane said the words "Let The Hunger Games begin!" He couldn't hold back; he had to make this the run of his life. His life actually depended upon it.

"Three. Two."

One more deep breath. He envisioned Annie's smiling face, his reward for surviving this madness. He couldn't imagine the pain she'd endure if he was killed on television right before her eyes.

"Let The Hunger Games…begin!"

Leaping from his platform, Finnick zigged and zagged through the supplies and backpacks, promising himself he'd try to grab a backpack and maybe the coil of rope he'd spotted on his way into the forest.

He wasn't the first to reach the wall of knives; Clove was there, strategically slipping a myriad of knives into her jacket's pockets. She looked up at him as he reached for a long-bladed dagger. Both of them froze, and he looked into her eyes for a moment. He could almost see something change as she tilted her head to the side, and he didn't need to see more. He snatched the dagger off the wall, readying himself to use it. In the next moment, Clove turned and ran.

He stared after Clove for only a handful of seconds. Perhaps she'd seen in his eyes that he was willing to use the dagger. Perhaps she'd simply been uncomfortable being too close to throw a knife and put the proper momentum behind it. Whatever her reason, Finnick was still alive. Letting out a breath of relief, Finnick heard someone behind him and whirled around to find Clove's fellow tribute from Texas, Cato, with his hand extended. A spray of blood streaked his face. Finnick shivered. The two of them were comparable in size, both bulky but obviously in shape. "Friends?" Cato asked, a smile on his face.

Finnick just stared at the boy's hand, knowing that such a truce would only end with Finnick getting killed in his sleep. He knew Cato's type; guys like Cato only made friends when there was something to be gained from the friendship. Saying no, however, promised a fight to the death would ensue. "Uh…" Before Finnick could respond, however, something behind him caught Cato's attention. Cato pressed forward and shoved Finnick out of his way.

When Finnick turned around, he found Cato was standing over Johanna, whom he'd knocked to the ground. Johanna was looking at Finnick in horror. Finnick quickly analyzed the situation. Johanna had genuinely wanted to be his friend; Cato just wanted him in a position where he could kill him when he'd outlived his usefulness as a "friend." As Cato raised his sword, Finnick did the only thing he could: he threw his weight into Cato, ramming him into the wall of weaponry. Johanna let out a scream as Finnick grabbed Cato by his hair and slammed his head into the wall. Cato crumpled to the ground.

It was pure luck, Finnick knew, that he'd caught Cato by surprise like that. He watched as Johanna picked up the ax she'd dropped and scrambled to her feet. She held the ax in a defensive position.

"It's alright," he said, holding up his hands in a friendly manner. "But we should go."

Johanna started to say something but then paused. She took a moment before she nodded and, ax gripped in her right hand, ran out from under the Cornucopia. Finnick followed, shouting after her, "Pick up a backpack!" As she followed his orders, Finnick stopped and yanked the coil of rope he'd seen earlier out from under a girl's still body. He was about to move on when he noticed the girl's now lifeless eyes. Deep green.

Katie. His fellow Louisiana tribute.

The pause almost cost him. Something whipped past his ear. He looked around quickly to find the source. A blonde girl was lowering a bow with a disappointed look upon her face. He laughed briefly; she was close enough that she should have made that shot. Not sticking around to allow her a chance to reload, Finnick turned and dashed for the nearest remaining backpack. He didn't even stop running as he scooped it up and threw it onto his shoulder.

Johanna was fast, but he somehow managed to keep her in his sights. They went deep into the forest before they finally stopped. Finnick doubled over from the effort of running the uneven terrain. They both panted for a few moments before she asked, "Why'd you save me?"

He glanced sidelong at her. "Seemed right."

She gazed at him. "One of us has to die."

Still breathing heavily, Finnick met her eyes with his. "Not right now, we don't."

She gave him a smile to show she wasn't serious. "I didn't say when."

"Tell you what, Johanna," he said, bringing himself to his full height. "If it comes down to it, will you give me a ten second head start?"

"Sure," she laughed. He laughed, too. "I can throw this thing pretty far, though." Johanna hefted the ax in her hand with another laugh. That, Finnick didn't find so funny.

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