Author's Note: Second reworked chapter! The next will have new content, though there are some little changes here and there throughout this one! It's nearly eight thousand words, so happy reading!

Trigger Warning!: Slight physical assault/rough handling near the end of this chapter. Please keep that in mind as you read!

Story feedback is always coveted and encouraged, and definitely welcomed. Please keep any story hate or flaming/bullying to yourself, however. There are plenty of stories out there, if this one isn't for you, I encourage you to find one that is!

Disclaimer: Please see beginning!

-Two-

74th Annual Hunger Games Opening Ceremonies
Tribute Parade Day-
Panem; The Capitol

"They are rather upset with you."

Vibrant blue eyes rolled in the mirror's reflection, plump lips quirking in a smirk that wasn't entirely genuine after his mention of the two males who paced somewhere within the penthouse suite, their agitation nearly palpable, even through the heavy oaken doors that separated her room from the rest of the Snow Heir's suite.

"Everyone is talking now."

She exhaled softly through her nose, her tone dry. "Yes, I'm quite aware."

For a single moment, as Electra met eyes with the dark green ones that peered back at her worriedly through the reflecting glass from over her shoulder, she allowed him to see what lay hidden beneath the mask she had painstakingly created. There was a sense of anticipation for the day's events lurking in their depths, a certain percentage of her own concerns over the newest predicament she had managed to find herself in, but above all else, there was fatigue.

She is tired, Cinna realized.

Her confrontation with both Orion and Slade in the early morning hours of the day before had left her restless, unable to gain any significant amount of sleep throughout the darkness. She had rolled from side to side, squirmed in place as she searched for comfort despite the softness of the sheets; she even made multiple trips to their kitchen where she waved off the sleepy, green-eyed and permanently silent girl who tried to tend to her mistress, practically shooing the younger girl back to her sleep.

Hour by hour, in the silence of night, her mind had revisited her plans and ideas.

Really, should anyone take notice of the fact that a handful of coincidences seemed to sprout from thin air, Electra had covered their tracks well. And despite the fallout of her brother's and friend's anger, the gossip over her meeting with Crane could more than likely work in her favor.

Those smart enough to see that the mere idea of the Snow Heiress and Head Gamemaker courting was simply laughable, would look at their time spent together and the sudden appearance of someone new within the District Caretaker ranks as an act of friendship. A favor, perhaps. If they were truly honest with themselves, they would admit that really, it was about time for a change. Her close connections and friendship with Cinna might possibly call his abilities into question at first, but the Stylist would easily prove his worth throughout the appearances made by his Tributes.

There was only one member of the Capitolian People whose level of suspicion she allowed herself to fear; all other hints of skepticism could be explained, bought, and blackmailed away, should the need arise.

Coriolanus Snow.

Her uncle.

Thankfully, if she broke down the multiple strategic aspects, he would only arch an eyebrow if the girl somehow managed to actually win the Games. It all hinged on the outcome. Should, by some miracle, any of Electra's aid manage to push the Everdeen girl into the grand finale, her ability to lie and camouflage with her uncle would then be put to the test. If the girl died her bloody death though, Electra's efforts would simply be brushed aside, winning her a patronizing smile and a 'Perhaps next year, the odds shall be in your favor, dearest'.

She broke eye contact in the mirror as bile rose in her throat, a mask of indifferent nonchalance fitting itself to her features, neither acknowledging just how much she had allowed Cinna to see in her lengthy silence.

"I cannot believe you won't even give me a tiny hint!" Electra pouted, seamlessly diverting topics of discussion. "Even after I floated suggestions!"

Immediately upon his entrance to the penthouse, weighed down with garment bags, boxes, and his weapons of choice -because a curling iron most certainly can be such a thing- she had begun her quest to discover his outfit choices and designs for the soon to be arriving tributes. All through breakfast she had tried to sway the smirking man; resorting to blackmail (which she had none of), threatening (which had no heat behind the words), physical snooping (she was then informed that his assistant, Portia, was guarding the creations down in their workroom at the Tribute Center), and finally –much to the begrudged amusement of both Orion and Slade– actual begging.

Nothing cracked the man. He was solid in his secrets, like marble.

So Electra pouted.

Cinna chuckled under his breath, fingers twisting expertly as he finished off the braided crown of her snowy locks that would sit upon her head, acting almost like a headband. Beneath it, long strands tumbled down her back in gentle waves and loose curls, her bangs swept to the side of her forehead. She held perfectly still, relaxing into his embrace in a way that was reserved for only those she held closest to her, her eyes slipping shut with the soothing motions of his hands as they worked with the silky locks. Once Cinna finished, his fingers danced down over her shoulders, sweeping the loose locks to arrange them perfectly so that the one-shouldered, ruched fabric of her dress could be displayed upon her left shoulder.

The material was a mixture of chiffon and silk, resting just a few inches above her knee, the hemline an inverted sweetheart-cut that rippled and radiated a royal blue. He had adorned it with diamond and sapphire drops to decorate her ears, a cuff of platinum encircled her right bicep, and whimsical snowflake rings rested on the three fingers of her left hand, thumb and pinkie excluded. Reaching out, he held her hand for balance as she slipped her feet into the open-toed heels he provided, their color a bright metallic silver that was displayed in the straps and almost wing-like design that sat atop her foot.

With a touch of white shimmery shadow and royal blue liner to highlight her eyes, she looked every bit the part her name required without falling into the category of the 'Capitol Crazed'.

Blinking her eyes open upon his murmured request, Electra stilled as she gazed into the flawless glass of the three-paneled mirror. The image there made her breath hitch appreciatively; she never stopped being amazed at the artful creations he bestowed her with.

"You're a fashion god, Cinn." She breathed, smoothing her fingers down over the silky softness that was the front of her dress.

The Stylist stood behind her quietly, intensely focused eyes critiquing his work as it lay on display and then crinkling at the edges with fondness as she complimented him. Reaching forward, he gave a soft squeeze to her right hip, staring into her startlingly blue eyes through the reflective pane, sharing a conspiratorial smirk that slowly grew upon the younger girl's lips.

"And thanks to you, today all of Panem will know."

They walked three astride, and the crowd parted for them. It was silent among the triad however, something that irritated Electra to no end.

Given their status, it was obvious they never became obnoxiously loud as they made appearances, but they would at least be seen speaking to one another. If anything, the stony silence of the boys would only provide both kindling and fuel to the rumors that were already circling amongst the Capitol's people; for what twin brother and best friend (whom the public was positively convinced just had to be more) would be pleased with the discovery of her evening rendezvous with Crane?

They were practically playing right into Kozmo Steel's hands.

Still, despite their silence, she was poised delicately by their sides, offering smiles and waves to the younger children that called her name excitedly, or the women and teenagers who gushed over her outfit. All the while she remained firmly positioned between the two taller figures who strode at either side of her as Orion and Slade led the way toward the Tribute Center, steadily masking and pushing away the revulsion that threatened her stomach and senses.

They were about to meet twenty-four children.

And twenty-three would be dead before the Games were over.

Electra shuddered slightly, a small tremor that traced the length of her spine as she swallowed and tipped her chin upward, her mask that said -I'm-oh-so-happy-to-be-here-and-could-you-not-just-die-with-excitement!- foxed firmly on her face.

When the warm hand of Orion slipped sneakily into her own and the steady strength of Slade's palm made contact with the dip of her back to guide her forward, she was nearly startled into stumbling. Glancing up at the two of them quickly, she was met with slight smiles that twitched across lips, even as both men remained looking straight ahead, expressions of boredom and indifference on their faces. Her own lips curled further upward, flashing a beaming smile as the heavy weight that had settled upon her chest from the moment they had fought was eased, disappearing into nothingness.

It wasn't long before their path broke cleanly from the crowd of Capitolians, all of the colorfully constructed people chattering amongst themselves as they loitered in groups around the covered auditorium or rushed to take their seats.

Approaching a spiral staircase that was hidden behind a raised platform, each of the three held out their arms palm-side up to the peacekeeper guard posted there, remaining perfectly still as the microchip scanner registered and approved their identities for access to the President's Platform, despite the protocol being unnecessary.

Everyone knew who the Snow Twins and the late Chief Advisor's son were.

Crafted in silvers, deep reds, and brilliant golds; the dais appeared to be made of six columns from the front view and stood around two floors in height. It was oversized to fit multiple seats, while a single podium stood at the very front to face the crowd, the seal of Panem engraved in marble and granite upon it. The backdrop was made up of stone that crisscrossed in an 'X'-like pattern, the spaces between lit up behind clouded glass.

The platform was reserved for the higher end of society; your Capitolian Elite, those with government or top-level employment with the Games, and a handful of starry-eyed contest winners who entered and won the few earmarked seats. Gamemakers and their guests, the Elite's children and family, and right in the center of it all- a white-haired man with a stern expression, his lips pressed into a thin line and a snowy rose pinned to his dark suit's lapel as he looked out upon the view of the people.

Ruler of his kingdom, President Snow.

Electra sucked in a sharp breath the moment her uncle's reptilian eyes pinned her in place, a smile that was more for their onlookers than true familial love curling on his lips.

She honestly couldn't remember the last time she had witnessed a genuine smile from the man directed toward her or her companions. Perhaps while she was young, around her cousin's age, when her parents still joined them in walking the earth and leading their people. No matter, the truth was, no smile from her uncle's lips was a sincere thing. Electra and Orion both posed serious threats to his reign that he would rather eliminate than acknowledge, she knew.

Still, the man stood to his feet upon their arrival, ignoring the hush that fell over those seated and nibbling on their hors d'oeuvres around them as he opened his arms wide in what the entire Capitol would believe was a warm greeting, she was sure.

"Electra, sweetheart-" He drawled, his voice slow and sticky, like sleeping syrup. "Orion, Slade, my boys! Come, come! Join me, won't you?"

It was anything but.

They flashed their prettiest smiles both for him and the cameras that were no doubt trained upon them, displaying straight teeth that gleamed white in the lights, and stepped forward with what would appear, to anyone else, to be eagerness as they embraced his presence.

No one would notice the way Orion's hand squeezed her own in reassurance before he let her go, or the way Slade's grip on the small of her back would flex with barely leashed restraint before he released her into the arms of her uncle, directly after her brother had exchanged handshakes and shoulder pats with the elder Snow. No one would pick up on the way both boys tensed like coiled springs as the man wrapped his slippery arms around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest while he bent his head to whisper in her ear.

"Seneca Crane, Electra?" He hissed through his teeth, his words masked by his smile.

She swallowed harshly, squeezing her eyes shut against the lump in her throat that grew when the scent of his hot breath wafted over her. She had her guesses about its origins but the overly sweet smell of the Snow Rose always disguised the scent; the tang of copper, however, could never be completely overridden.

"They are lies, Uncle-" She vowed, tightening her grip as she had once done so many years ago, to assure him. "Steel only looks for ways to spurn us. I happened upon him dining alone and shared a bit of strategy talk over the Games, that is all."

Believe me…please, believe me…

Their President retreated from the embrace, his hands falling to capture her elbows in a tight grip as he turned cloudy gray eyes upon her. They pierced her own sparkling blues, calculating and watchful; giving off the impression that they could dig into her mind unbidden and unearth all her secrets. They remained silent, each observing the other, until her uncle breathed in deeply and squeezed the crooks of her elbows a bit more gently as he spoke.

"Well, you have always enjoyed picking a Tribute and devising a strategy for the win."

Electra's stomach turned with his words and she swallowed her impending grimace with a beaming smile.

If only he knew.

Orion stepped forward to take her back then, curling his hand around the cup of her elbow as he nodded to his uncle. Slade briefly clasped hands with the man as he passed him by, the trio retiring to the table that had been reserved for them. It sat against the railing of the stage and to the right-hand side of the podium, the spot one of the best for optimal viewing of the Tributes who would be making their debuts below. Electra relaxed slightly as she took her seat, though her back remained perfectly straight, her legs crossed at the ankle and tucked to the side. They arranged themselves around the semi-circle that was their table, Slade to her right and Orion next to him, leaving one chair available.

Who joined them in a flurry of movements and a cloud of perfume the smelt surprisingly like cotton candy.

"Bumbling bimbos, all of them!" A feminine voice grumbled as a body plopped down to Electra's left, making the snow-haired girl smirk. "When will they realize I couldn't give a shit? Or a giggle!"

Lyrical Heavensbee.

A year younger than each of the twins and their ever-present companion, the daughter of a Gamemaker was neither a mere acquaintance, nor was she yet an entirely trusted friend. With only two years of interaction after being introduced to the triad, Electra was still feeling the younger teenager out, contemplating how much trust could be instilled in the girl. Where her loyalties lied.

While Lyrical's style sometimes bordered along the lines of a few Capitolian over-dramatics, she never quite stepped over it, and more than once her words had led the Snow Heiress to believe she didn't agree with many of the Capitol laws and traditions. Bold and brash at times, Lyrical kept an edgy look about her. She stood a little shorter than Electra herself, wide grayish-blue eyes were the prominent feature upon her face, a tiny diamond stud pierced her nose and the most eye-catching of her attributes, her long locks had been dyed an array of colors; pastel pinks, greens, purples, blues, and a few yellows.

It took some time, but Electra grew to believe the girl did it for herself and because she enjoyed it more than to keep up with some outrageous Capitol trend.

"Considering they're a few cells short of a full hand, I wouldn't allow myself to count on it." Orion snarked, flashing a wolfish grin.

Both girls stared at the snow-haired boy, obviously proud of himself if the arrogant smirk was anything to go off of, before bursting into raucous laughter that had many both endeared or secretly annoyed as they watched on.

"Electra, darling!" Lyrical drawled, her waspish accent overly ridiculous and clearly mocking of those around them.

The two exchanged dramatic air kisses as they hugged before settling into their seats, ignoring the awed whispers and gossip of those that sat behind and below them. It was rare the infamous trio embraced a stranger in their midst, after all. By the same time the next day, all would be talking about their interaction, no doubt fueled by yet another edition of ISpy.

Small talk was exchanged between the four, bubbling champagne sipped sparingly, and soon enough the theatrical music of the Tribute's entrance was blasted from hidden speakers, cueing the start of the Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games, Tribute Parade.

Electra smothered her disgust with her bubbles.

Katniss Everdeen, was not afraid.

The outlandish features of the Capitol citizens, with their hair piled up to the sky and dyed all sorts of colors, their skin etched and stenciled with even more color, some features enlarged and some reduced; it did not put her ill at ease. The thunderous applause and cheers that echoed around them as they were carted before the Capitol, like prime cuts fresh for the picking, it didn't make her stomach turn. The sheer size of the building they rode through didn't make her feel tiny, completely insignificant as she took in her surroundings and the people who were excited to see basically every single one of them die.

She didn't find it strange when she had stared up above them, eyes dancing over the people important enough to find themselves watching from the raised stage each horse-drawn chariot came to a stop in front of, and found a pair of blindingly bright blue eyes already fixed upon her, immobile and refusing to blink. It wasn't disconcerting, didn't send a thrill of ominous anticipation through her when those same eyes, so blue they seemed to send a zap of electricity between them through the air, flashed with something along the lines of approval before the snowy-haired girl's lips twitched upward with a faint hint of a grin as she winked.

Winked!

So no, Katniss Everdeen was not afraid of the damnable situation she had found herself in. Really…she wasn't.

She was however, immensely curious about the girl.

The girl who had watched her for every single moment they had been positioned before the podium, listening to President Snow as he droned on during his morbid speech about appreciating their sacrifice and wishing them odds in their favor. Katniss wasn't stupid; she had seen the girl with the snowy hair and a boy that looked quite like her, always standing behind or to the side of the country's leader as he spoke during Panem's televised addresses.

But she didn't really know her.

So when a sudden hush fell over the small crowd of Tributes and their teams of Mentors, Stylists, and Escorts after they had returned to the Tribute Tower's lobby- only to have the murmurs and whispers increase in volume compared to the general mutterings before, some Mentor's with fond expressions (or envious ones, cautious ones, ones tinged with muted anger; as if they weren't sure they really wanted to be angry or not) and Tribute's with awed looks on their faces –and Katniss recognized the reason to be the white-blonde girl with two boys by her side that bordered on unfairly attractive…she asked.

"Who is she?"

Her voice cut over both the excited gushing of Effie as she complimented Cinna's work, the dry humor of Haymitch as he teased Peeta about their flaming suits. It was near monotone, deadpanned.

It drew the attention of the young stylist that had been assigned to them and Katniss watched as his green eyes flicked over toward where she had been staring, the edges softening and a hint of a smile peeking at his lips as he took the girl in. Effie looked poised and ready to pounce, no doubt a round of juicy, juicy, juicy gossip just wait-wait-waiting to spill from her overly pink lips. Haymitch had stiffened ever-so-slightly, though it appeared to be more from uncertainty than revulsion, and he brought his flask to his lips, taking a large pull.

"That's Electra Snow-"

An ominous chill ran down her spine almost instantly, that wink seeming more threatening than she had originally thought, now that she knew who had bestowed it. Katniss jumped when Cinna's warm hand curled over her shoulder, giving a supportive squeeze as he spoke low enough for only their group to hear.

"Don't let her surname fool you," He advised, a note of fondness obvious in his tone. "That girl is nothing like what you might expect."

Katniss swallowed at the warning, a thread of guilt thrumming through her for immediately assuming the girl was vile when the one person she felt closest to since she had screamed out her declaration so far, held the blonde in such high regard.

"If there's one gal you want to win over to your side, sweetheart…" Haymitch spoke gruffly, dark eyes watching over their shoulders. "That's the one."

Great. No pressure.

Electra was almost jittery as she waited for the elevator doors to open.

When the soft chime of the bell notifies them of their arrival at the ground floor, it took both Slade and Orion placing a warm hand on either of her shoulders, offering gentle squeezes and pushing her back down fully onto her feet before she can take a deep breath, fixing her face into a mask for the public once more just as the doors slide open.

She lifted her head and placed a soft smile upon her lips, walking unhurriedly between the boys as they breached the bustling lobby, her eyes already darting over each of the District Teams, searching out the dark hair and green eyes of the man she had helped secure a spot among the Games Stylists. She blatantly ignored the increased volume of voices, the quick approach of both Cashmere and Gloss from District One as they pulled their new tributes behind them to conduct their greetings. Finally, in the far left-hand corner, she found what she was looking for. Her eyes crinkled at the edges, a genuine smile lifting her lips as she bounced once on her toes in her excitement, unconsciously lifting an arm to call out before Orion was there to stop her.

He fixed stern, disapproving blue eyes down upon her own.

Slade leveled her with the beginnings of a scowl.

And Electra wanted to kick herself for almost making such a mistake; she couldn't show such obvious favor, especially right in front of the Career District Tributes and their Mentors. She might as well sign a bloody order for the girl's death.

"Orion, Electra, Slade!"

An indulgent smile on her face as they corralled into District One's huddle, Electra exchanged air kisses with Cashmere, complimenting her on the shimmering gold dress she wore and giggling conspiratorially when the elder girl's cheeks were dusted pink as both her brother and best friend brushed kisses upon the top of her hand, greeting her jointly with all the suave smoothness they possessed. She held back a flinch however when Gloss bestowed her with the same, his clear blue orbs heated with something she would rather not decipher while he peered down at her. Stiffening as he tugged her into his chest and laid a kiss upon the top of her head, she tore herself from his arms as quickly as she could, smoothing her dress and calling the attention to something other than the glares upon Orion and Slade's faces and the smirk twisting at Gloss' lips.

"Cashmere, are these your tributes?" She tittered, both the tone and action fake. "They look absolutely radiant!"

And they did.

Jewels and stones, shimmering and shining in the lights.

But they were no enchanting flame.

Electra was introduced to both Glimmer and Marvel, doing her best not to snort at their names that corresponded so noticeably with their District's main export, before she excused herself, set on making her way toward Cinna and the girl she believed might just have what it took to force a change. From the corner of her eye, she pinned Orion exchanging animated words with Beetee, Slade being cornered by Brutus, and a grin worked its way to her lips.

There was only one form she had yet to lay eyes on, and that was the moment he made his presence known.

His chest pressed against her back solidly, heat transferring from his body to hers through the thin material that clothed their skin. Warm, large hands cupped her underneath her elbow and around her hip, fingers splaying wide to cover the most area and squeezing teasingly, provoking a shiver to slip down her spine.

His head dipped lower; soft lips brushed her ear, heated breath caressed the sensitive skin of her neck left bare by the style of her hair, causing goosebumps that prickled sharply over her shoulders and down her arms.

And words, dripping with honey and delivered in a seductive purr made her knees weak and her stomach flip wildly.

"Tell me, how is my fair ice princess getting along today?"

She trembled against him as she breathed in sharply, damning the low chuckle that poured from his lips as he nuzzled his nose against her hair. His voice was the same one that comforted her four years previously, before shattering her world with his whispered secrets a week later. That purring quality was the same one that awoke the fluttering of butterflies in her stomach, before making it turn in disgust when he shared her family's dirty deeds. It was the one Electra dreamed of at night, the one she craved to hear, the one that always told her the truth, damning the consequences.

Finnick Odair.

With sun-kissed skin and bronzed hair that was touched by spun gold, he stood tall and strong behind her. Broad shoulders and chest led down to solid abdominals and trim hips before flaring into sturdy thighs and calves. He was athletically built, made for the sea and all its whims.

Blue-green eyes peered down at her, glinting with amusement and something a bit more, like shimmering sea stones that had been polished to shine. His features were cut and chiseled, all angles and edges. Physically unaltered by the Capitol's ways, he was still easily the most beautiful being in the room.

Really, it was almost unfair.

He gave her a winning smile as she spun on her heel to face him, a single eyebrow arching in challenge.

Electra let her eyes wander over him appreciatively, taking in the snug fit of the crisp suit that had been tailored just for him, cream button-down layered beneath the navy jacket and pressed pants. It only made him more attractive, like suits were prone to do. She returned his smile with one of her own, this one a bit cheeky as she caught his eyes roaming her figure much like she too had done, while her fingers dared to venture up, tugging playfully on his lapels.

"Swimmingly."

Pulling herself away from his dominating presence had taken every bit of her strength, and willpower.

Like so many other things that were consistently monitored, neither had any doubt that an extended conversation in public would draw plenty of unwanted attention. It had happened before, after all. The Capitol's Golden Girl and Boy, seen speaking to each other with soft smiles and laughter? Kozmo Steel would have the story of the century.

She left him to his tributes after a kiss to their elder Mentor's cheek, Mags giving a warm pat to her own in response. From there she finally worked her way to the group she had been watching since her arrival to the lobby, unable to hold back from the quiet squeal that left her lips and startled the District Twelve Team.

"Cinna!"

The man in question spun around at the sound of her excited call, catching her in his arms as she sprang toward him and spinning with her in a hug once before settling her back on her feet. Electra curled one hand around his neck, the other squeezing his hand as she gazed up at him, her smile brilliant and captivating to those who looked on.

"It was amazing, just as I knew it would be!" She breathed, almost reverently, and then kissed his cheek.

Cinna grinned down at her, expert fingers tucking away a wayward strand of hair that threatened to fall from her braided crown as his expression morphed from weary to affectionate. He tapped her nose, eyes gleaming knowingly. "Yes well, the hand holding was pure genius."

Blush tinting her cheeks, she nodded once.

A throat cleared, gruff and gravelly, and her bright eyes darted up to find Haymitch Abernathy glancing between the two friends, his expression interested yet cautious. Electra didn't know how it was that people missed the intelligence that lingered behind the mask of drunkardness, his eyes were always alert, even as he took generous swigs from the flask perpetually hidden in his jacket pocket. Of course, a master at her own disguises, the experience might lend a hand to seeing what he worked so hard to hide.

Or bury.

"Our apologies," Cinna hummed, flattening a hand across her shoulder blades as he turned them toward those that stood behind them. "Electra Snow, I would like to introduce you to the Tributes of District Twelve; Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen."

Bright eyes fell on the younger duo, meeting a pair of sky blues that held just a touch of warmness amongst the wariness.

Peeta Mellark was a soothing character, his easy smile and eagerness to please clearly displayed as he held out his hand to grasp her own almost immediately. He was an inch or so shorter than Electra, but he made up for the lack of height with quite a stocky frame. Strength rippled in the muscles along his forearms and shoulders, though she wondered how long he would have to hone the advantage.

Then cursed her thoughts for immediately sinking into such a mindset.

It wasn't any less than the truth, though. From the moment they set foot upon the bullet train that led them to the Capitol, they were living on borrowed time.

"It's great to meet you, Miss. Snow-" Peeta greeted her, speaking so quickly his words almost jumbled together.

"Likewise," She flashed him another smile, genuine and warm. "But please, leave my last name out of this. Call me Electra."

Effie gasped, dramatically, her hand fluttering in front of her face before settling over her heaving chest, and Electra worried she might just faint at their feet. Haymitch choked on his drink with wide eyes, sputtering loudly. Cinna and Portia both dipped their heads, knowing smirks twitching across their lips. Peeta grinned, almost dumbly as he laughed in astonishment.

And Electra turned her eyes to the person stood stiffly next to him, brilliant blues meeting slate grays, just as guarded, intuitive, and shrewd as her own.

Katniss Everdeen was anything but weak, and if she felt even the slightest inclination of intimidation, she didn't express it. Her eyes flicked from head to toe of the other girl, taking note of everything that she could from the body language Electra displayed. They watched each other for a moment, each glancing over the other, cataloging and assessing. Electra was patient and gave the younger girl her time, a small but warm smile curling at her lips, until Katniss seemed to settle and slowly offered her hand.

She opened her mouth, ready to officially meet the girl who was already being proclaimed, The Girl On Fire-

But it wasn't meant to be.

There was a sudden slamming of doors behind them, the booming thud as they hit the walls reverberating throughout the lobby like thunder, and a bit of a scuffle before a voice rang out above the noise, echoing off the thick walls and high ceilings.

"Electra Snow!"

The feral scream of her name and the manic eyes of the person who screamed it was the only warning she had before her back connected solidly with the concrete and marble of the wall behind her, the painful sound of impact audible for all those to hear who stood throughout the lobby of the Tribute Tower.

She blinked, dazed from the smack of her skull upon the hard surface, a high-pitched groan escaping her lips before her gaze focused, blue eyes meeting the wildly crazed and artificially colored purples in front of her. Her throat spasmed under the weight of his hand where he gripped, her back arching as she tried to put space between them. There was a slow, creeping warmth that tickled at the nape of her neck, and she choked through a swallow at the instinctual knowledge that she was no doubt bleeding from the back of her head.

"Florian," She croaked out, sucking in as deep a breath she could manage.

Pure chaos erupted all around them after a brief moment of utterly bewildered silence.

From the corner of her eye, Electra could just see both Orion and Slade shoving tributes and mentors alike to the side, bulldozing through the groups of bodies between her and them, faces pinched and set in expressions of pure fury and rage. She gasped as the ex-tribute stylist shook her roughly by the throat, lifting her with the same grip until her toes held all of her weight, and she clawed at his arm to ease the pressure on her throat.

The new vantage point gave way to the scenery behind them, and she almost cringed as she took note of the mass panic and confusion.

Peacekeepers had appeared from the edges of the room, creating two separate walkways with their shields that outlined an exit for those who had bought their way onto the lobby floor back out of the Center and away from the commotion, while another set pushed tributes hurriedly toward the bay of elevators that would whisk them above into their apartments. Through it all, an automated voice calmly directed those within the lobby, urging those within to leave the area immediately.

"Tributes, proceed to your designated apartments. Please disperse. Tributes, proceed to your designated apartments. Please disperse. Tributes, proceed-"

"Elle!"

The voice cried out over the disembodied drone of commands, laced with worry and even a bit of fear. She couldn't see Cinna any longer from where she stood, Florian's bruising shove sent her into the wall that had been a few paces from where they had congregated with the team of Twelve and left her unable to make eye contact any longer. But she knew they could see her, and the last thing she wanted with either Peeta or Katniss to witness whatever might be coming next.

Sucking in as much breath as she could manage, her lips parted, calling out to her friend.

"Get them out of here Cinn!" Electra choked out, raising her voice until her attacker squeezed hard enough she could no longer continue. "They don't need to se-"

Florian Wheedlesnap was a man past his prime and desperate to hold on to what he was losing.

He stood at just under six-feet in height, his skin a leathery orange, his hair and eyes always changing colors and shapes. He had a lean build that she really should have been able to overcome or at least fight, but with one look into his pupils that were blown wide, nearly swallowing the enhanced purple of his irises, Electra understood why her attempts were thwarted.

The aid of muscular steroids and proteins were readily available to Capitolians, especially during the celebration of the Games. Those who wanted to resemble their favorite Tributes and Mentors simply gobbled the fast-acting and temporary serums like the best of the Capitol's treats there were to offer. Now, staring into the feral insanity that reflected back at her, she had to wonder just how many sips of spirit and shots of enhancement serums Florian had taken before barging his way onto the scene.

"Shut up, you little snow bitch!" Florian screeched, the sound making those nearby wince. "Or perhaps I'll tear that vile tongue from your very mouth!"

With the faint ripple of caution that raced down her spine, she wasn't so sure she could doubt him.

"Tributes, disperse! Vacate at once! Tributes-"

"Cut the feed, fuck!"

Orion's deep voice rose above the general noise, demanding the cameras be dismantled. Electra felt a wave of gratitude, relief in his order. The last thing they needed was this confrontation aired out to the Capitol and its inhabitants.

"Vacate at once! All remaining civilians please disperse at-"

"That means you, Odair."

Eyes flying open wide at Slade's snarl of a demand, Electra arched just enough to see over the now sweating man's shoulder, sucking in a sharp breath when her electric blues connected with a pair of sea greens.

There he stood; chest rising and falling at an accelerated rate beneath the form-fitting suit she had nearly salivated over what couldn't have been more than thirty minutes before. His fists were clenched violently at his sides, body tense and ready to spring into action, the sun-tanned skin pulled tight over his knuckles and jawline. The blue-green color of his eyes had darkened to the deepest of navy and hunter green, betraying the fire of his emotions, the intensity of his ferocity.

"Blow me Wolfhart, I'm not going anywhere." Finnick snarked back, only the tremor in his voice giving note to his aggression.

Manic laughter echoed through the dome-like room, sending a chill along her spine. "Well, would you look at that-"

She gasped as she was whirled around suddenly, coughing aloud when her back thumped against a heaving chest before freezing when the cool sensation of steel along the vulnerable skin of her neck registered in her mind. Electra gazed ahead, her chin tipped up just slightly to put more space between her and the blade threatening her throat, eyes dancing across the overly tense forms of the three men before her, a row of white in the form of peacekeepers standing at attention behind them.

"Another defender!" Florian cackled lewdly against her ear, making her flinch. "I have to wonder, what is it about you, hmm? Is it the filth that flees your mouth or just this ice cold pussy that gets them all riled up?"

Electra shrieked when the fifty-something stylist groped for her thighs, a zap of pain rippling along her spine as the blade sliced a thin line along the column of her throat when she jerked away from his hands.

Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed convulsively, both from the sensation of being violated and the sickly familiar scent that doused her nose as Florian rasped against her ear. Alcohol, the disgustingly sweet scent of serums and something else, mixed with the copper tang of blood. It was all too recognizable, and there was only one other person in the Capitol that she had ever smelt it upon. A wave of fury roiled in her stomach then, flowed through her veins.

"What the fuck?!" Slade hissed, taking a single step toward them.

"Stay back!"

Finnick practically growled out his words, teeth bared and lip curling back. "Get your fucking hands off of her!"

Orion remained deadly silent, the kind of quiet that made others uneasy as he gazed over their positions, the blue of his eyes nearly pulsing in time with her heartbeat.

The ex-stylist breathed against her ear, nearly panting through the motions, a rattling sound echoing through each inhale. Sweat poured down his brow, slipping down his spine, wetting the back of her dress as his own shirt became damp. Her nose wrinkled in revulsion once more, a shudder coursing along her spine when the stomach-turning scent of his breath filled her nose and the sensation of clammy skin grasped at her own.

"You cost me…everything!" Florian wheezed, his grip beginning to turn shaky.

He was crashing, Electra realized.

The potent drugs in his system were either depleting more quickly than expected, or the mixture he had concocted backfired with each other, working against instead of with his body. The pauses and slurs in his sentences gave a hint to malfunctioning cognitive thinking, the tremors in his limbs gave way to muscle degeneration, his strength was literally being sapped from his body by the products poisoning his blood.

"My position…my prestige!" He ranted, stumbling forward with her.

She grimaced as her ankle turned, the sign of pain on her face provoking low noises of anger from the men in front of her, each of them inching forward when the lunatic of a fashion designer wasn't paying attention.

"Florian Wheedlesnap!" An authoritative voice called out, making the unhinged man fumble his speech. "You will unhand the Mistress Snow immediately, and proceed to kneel with your hands flat against the floor!"

Electra gasped as Florian stumbled backward, knocking over a thick column that supported a decorative vase, sending it crashing and shattering against the granite flooring. He backed them into a corner, one arm banded firmly over her collarbone, the other still poised with the blade against her skin. Each jerky movement caused the sharp edge of the blade to snag or slide against her neck, painting the ivory complexion of her skin an alarming crimson that had Finnick, Orion, and Slade clenching their jaws and whispering heatedly between themselves.

Florian coughed and sputtered on his quickened breath, his lips tinting red as blood bubbled up his throat and stained his mouth. His eyes flew wildly around them, the formation of peacekeepers boxing them in, eliminating all possible exits. It made him paranoid, his concentration broken as his thoughts raced for a solution for what he had started.

"Get me Crane!" He demanded, spitting blood to the floor as he cackled madly. "Or I'll slit her fucking throat! I'm already dying, might as well make it interesting, eh?"

Silence met his request, before the Head Peacekeeper muttered something into his radio, and a small team slipped through the heavy double doors at the front of the room.

Florian's words were trailing off, unable to both speak and keep a watchful eye on those waiting to take him down at a moment's notice. Electra blinked heavily, black spots dotting her vision. Worried blue-greens stared back at her once she managed to pry them open again, begging silently for her to stay awake. The multiple cuts and slices along her neck were proving to be more of an issue than she originally thought; the blood loss was greater than any of them realized as it steadily trailed down her neck and along the valley of her breasts.

"Crane won't do anything for you, Florian." Electra spit out, her voice disgustingly weak.

She wrinkled her nose.

"Shut up!" He snarled, physically shaking her as she hissed.

She could see the boys shaking their heads, lifting their hands in a placating motion, muttering for her to stop talking to the deranged man that was holding her at knife-point. But Electra Snow was not one to go down without a fight, and though the additives he took made it harder for her to physically fight him off, she still had her tongue, as he said.

"He won't do anything, because you're a lost cause Florian. Have you not noticed? You're a has-been, old fucking news." Electra snapped, fire behind her words. "It doesn't matter how much you cry, Seneca is not going to reinstate you. Especially after that performance!"

The knife cut deeper into her neck, making her gasp.

"Elle, dammit, be quiet!" Finnick shouted, his command reiterated by both Orion and Slade.

She sucked in a breath, stuttering slightly as her vision blurred. "Hurting me won't get you a damn thing, except killed."

There was a loud shout and then she felt herself falling through the air, though it seemed like it took twice as long for her body to make contact with the ground than it should have.

Electra squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the impact, when she was suddenly flying upward. Warm, strong arms wrapped around her body, lifting her into a solid chest with the heart hammering away inside, right beneath where her ear now laid. The scent of salty air and warm sunshine filled her nose, making her curl into the embrace, recognizing it as safe.

"Open your eyes Electra, please!"

She wanted to answer that voice, to do as he asked. More than anything. She didn't like the fear that tainted his tone, it wasn't something she had ever heard in him before. But the darkness had settled in around her eyes, blurring out all colors and shapes. It wrapped around her wrists and ankles, the silky tendrils weighing her down, tugging and pulling her into the blackened abyss.

"Fuck, Elle c'mon!"

She tried, really she did.

Her last thought was of a honeyed voice and the scent of ocean air, the feel of heated sunlight bathing her skin. And how she really hated to leave him, before they even really had the chance to begin.

No Beta here, all mistakes are my own. Please let me know if something stands out!

-Sugar And Snow, Information-

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