"So what do you do with what you catch?" Quinn asked from her seat next to Coleman on the log that they were waiting at for Isabella. She had taken the bow and arrow to try a bit of hunting herself. Which, to Quinn, she thought it was a good idea. The Quarter Quell was the next games, something new would happen and the odds of someone like Isabella would end up in the arena.

"Sell it to Mr. Jonas at the market, or Jane." he replied simply. "Jonas pays the best, but Jane makes the best with whatever it is." he said smirking a bit.

Mr. Jonas was a man, maybe in his forties. He wasn't much for cooking, but after he got in a fishing accident and had to have three of his fingers; two on one hand and one on the other, amputated, he worked in the market. He sold things, and then bought more to sell. Then Jane, she was maybe ten years younger than Mags was. And in the winter, the orphans would be able to walk through the market and get a mug of hot soup from her.

"Jane is still around?" Quinn asked, "I thought after the market got raided by the peacekeepers and Elijah..."

"The market's still around," he said, not waiting for her to continue. If he had been a part of the market, then he knew Elijah and he knew what happened. "It's just spread out now."

Quinn raised an eyebrow, "How did they spread it out?"

"Old safe houses in Four," he paused, "They store stuff in the bunkers they used in the Dark Days."

Quinn thought back to the bunkers in the other Districts. They weren't all that big, but they were bigger than the small apartments in Thirteen. Quinn sighed heavily and nodded a bit and decided not to continue to the conversation. There wasn't anything more to say about the subject, so the two of them say in silence and waited for Isabella. At least that had been the plan at first. But they weren't sitting far from the fences. It was just thick trees that made it seem farther. And from inside the fences, a single gunshot shattered the silence.

Both of them simply stared in the direction of the fence at first. But then another gunshot echoed through the trees, and then another...by the third gunshot both Quinn and Coleman were running towards the fence.

Isabella knows how to get back in, Quinn thought to herself as she ducked under the fence and back into the District. The two of them ran back into the District and down the steep hill towards the square. As they got to the square they saw people running towards one of the warehouses. Quinn and Coleman caught up with them and blended with the people who had been in the District the entire time and who were going to see what was going on. The two of them weaved past a few onlookers who had gotten close enough.

That's when Quinn saw what President Snow had been talking about all along. What Finnick had told her happened in Seven after her first interview. The outcome of a riot. A riot that started because people thought that they would be able to because she had even though she wasn't intending to.

There were four peacekeepers, all of which had their helmets on-- they had learned to keep them on since the riot in Eleven after Rues' death. All of them had their guns drawn and pointed at a group of three men-- a group that had once been six. There were three dead bodies on the ground outside the warehouse, each of them near a barrel of fish that had been rolled out of storage from the supply that would be sent to the Capitol. Each of them had been toppled over, wasting whatever catch there had been. Then there was a forth man who still had his arms resting on one more. He looked like he was older, maybe five or so years older than Finnick. But he didn't look scared of the peacekeepers, but he didn't look like he was about to do anything either.

Suddenly Quinn remembered Elijah, she hadn't done anything to help him. She had just let them shoot him. She let out a long, heavy sigh. She couldn't let that or anything like it, happen again. She just couldn't.

"Stop!" she ordered pushing past the few people who were in front of her and Coleman. "Please, just...stop." she said again, her voice was much quieter. She wasn't talking to the peacekeepers, she was looking directly at the man who was just daring they peacekeepers to shoot him. Quinn walked directly up to him, as if she was about to ask him to stop and just walk away again.

Make up your mind, Quinn could hear her own voice scowling inside her own head. Every change has to start somewhere...Annie had told that a few weeks before her reaping.of course she hadn't wanted to start anything, but she had. And that was what she kept trying to convince herself she accepted. But how could she just try to stop it? Over and over again, she tried to. But each time she kept undoing it. Each time when the moment came up, she couldn't resist doing something. It was almost like everything she had done wasn't because of a temper-- it was because rebelling, going against something that was wrong was just a part of her. Whenever she tried to stop herself, she felt...wrong.

Quinn could feel the heat beginning to rise up in her entire body. Her palms starting to sweat...she could feel the tension in her body rising as she turned towards the peacekeepers and the onlookers. As she turned she put a hand on the barrel.

"What are you going to do? Shoot me?" she mocked them, raising an eyebrow sharply. A few of the peacekeepers began to lower their guns, but one of them-- the one just to the right of her didn't even falter. "I know you probably don't like me, but there are plenty of people who do...plenty of people who...look up to me, I guess." she shrugged, "Four of you couldn't take on all of them at once."

Still he didn't lower his gun.

"It's fish. There's plenty of it." she stated, still watching him closely. He didn't move. "I threw a spear at a target labeled President Snow. I've been closer to death than this. If you think I'm scared of your little guns, trust me, I've seen bigger."

Quinn frowned, he wasn't wavering at all. So she put another hand on the barrel and gave it one good push. And as the barrel broke open at the top when it hit the ground, the crack was accompanied by a fourth gunshot.