Another force to contend with. Another power player who has decided to use me as a piece in her games, although things never seem to go according to plan. First there were the Gamemakers, making me their star and then scrambling to recover from that handful of poisonous berries. Then President Snow, trying to use me to put out the flames of rebellion, only to have my every move become inflammatory. Next, the rebels ensnaring me in the metal claw that lifted me from the arena, designating me to be their Mockingjay, and then having to recover from the shock that I might not want the wings...

Our story takes place in an old house. Lara Croft was intelligent and beautiful. In her looks she took after her father, in her personality she took after her mother. Recently she had taken up archaeology. She was very busy so she had taken on an assistant, Mrs Bluebottle. It was very interesting but there was a lot to learn. It was difficult to take in all the information. And now she was going on her first dig. The day before she had bought some new equipment, but when she opened the box, she saw that some of it was broken, so she had to take it back to the shop...