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Summary
To say that they had their work cut out for them was an understatement. But they were from Zaun. Nothing had ever been given to them. They were scrappers. Fighters. It wasn’t in their DNA to roll over and quit. What they didn’t know was how the Piltovian half of the crew—the half that’d been born with silver spoons in their mouths and matriculated through world-class training centers like this to prepare them for competition—would respond to that pressure.
Would they roll over? Or would they be willing to dig deep and get bloody doing whatever it took to win?
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The Rowing AU