The Arena was big and scary. Lots of people made lots of noise and I clung tightly to Zach as we were led to get 'kitted out'. On being presented with the rifle, I burst into tears. I hugged Zach tightly, crying "I can't do this! Take me home." What was I saying? Home was an evil place, a place of Pain.
The nasty men laughed at me, but Zach punched them. Still I cried, knowing my fate was probably inevitable.
I was right. We were hurried out into the open circle, rifles in arms. From the other side of the arena walked out two strong-looking men who reminded me a bit of my dad, which in turn reminded me of Pain.
"Let the games commence!" called a voice out of nowhere.