"Not where I come from either, really." Whips, magic lassoes, batarangs, heat vision, these were the things that Helena's world was made of. Despite some of the looming death, it was a world that felt decidedly safer than the one she'd been pulled into, that much she was sure of. "The rules are different here," she says. "I'm starting to understand that." Dying and coming back. Trying to be the last tribute standing. These were all foreign concepts to her. Where she was from, dead actually meant dead, and peopled worked together in teams.

"The knife could be used to disable the gunmen and then take them down without killing them," Helena ventures. "Granted, I'm sensing that's not going to win me any points here. But it's how I was raised."