ME: The story of the mass murderers who slaughtered District Twelve.
The Praetorian Enforcers were the elite of the Panem Peacekeeping Force. However, that did not mean they were publicly known. In fact, as far as the common citizens and average Peacekeepers knew, officially they did not exist.
Unofficially, the Enforcers were the sword and shield of every President of Panem since before the Dark Days. Named after the Praetorian Guard of the Roman Empire (as was the successor to the United States Secret Service, the creatively named Praetorian Guard), the Enforcers were Panem's covert operations force. They did not hesitate to carry out assassinations, torture and kidnappings, for they were loyal to whoever occupied the Office of the Presidency. If any Enforcer once possessed morality, he or she had long since discarded it.
The current Chief Enforcer had been born to weapons factory workers in District Two, but they may have been characters in a movie he had watched or a book he had read, for he and all his subordinates had long since cut their familial ties. He did not even use his own name anymore, and went solely by "Chief." The Chief Enforcer was once a new Covert Operations Officer, eager to prove himself; now he answered only to President Coriolanus Snow. Drinking a glass of mineral water (alcohol and other such narcotics were strictly prohibited, though fraternization regulations were nonexistent as all Enforcers were required to be sterilized to avoid pregnancies), he simply enjoyed the slow day.
Suddenly his computer monitor started beeping; a call from the President himself, doubtlessly. The Chief Enforcer smiled before answering it.
"What is thy bidding, my master?"
Snow got straight to the point via videocall. "My Chief Enforcer, Panem is on the verge of rebellion, ableit not through any fault on your part. Protocol Thirteen is now in effect for District Twelve, but spare the Victors Village; everything and everyone else is to be annihilated."
"Your wish is my command, sir," Chief replied eagerly and without any hesitation. District Twelve was the perfect place to subject to Protocol Thirteen; the small population, lack of essential industry and the coal dust saturating every single building. Protocol Thirteen, named after the obliterated surface of District Thirteen, meant that a District was to be exterminated for whatever reason.
"Good, that is what I like to hear. Chief, the common people of the Districts do not know it but they are fortunate to have men like us making the decisions. President Snow out."
The videocall ended, and with that Chief grabbed the nearest phone. He had a direct fiber-optic line to his Air Group Commander, with no clerks or aides to bar the way.
"Commander, this is Chief," he said.
"What is it, sir?"
"By order of the President, Protocol Thirteen is now in effect for District Twelve. Have your crews ready the necessary hovercrafts with fuel and thermobaric bombs while the bomber pilots report to the briefing room, I want this all done five minutes ago."
"You got it, Chief," was the reply.
In the briefing room, he gave his orders. "Protocol Thirteen is now in effect for District Twelve, although by order of the President the Victors Village is to remain undamaged. Make sure to destroy the Peacekeeper Garrison first or any survivors could potentially turn the rest of the Force against our great and benevolent leader. Squadron Leader, you and your subordinates are to maintain radio silence for OPSEC reasons until Twelve is destroyed, then report in the success of your mission. Am I understood?"
"SIR, YES, SIR!"
"Good. Remember: One People, One Panem, One President."
The Chief Enforcer smiled as he walked into his office (having told the Commander to handle giving the report when Twelve was finally destroyed) before asking for his aide. He was attracted to her for her youth, while she was attracted to his power. If he had been only the Head Peacekeeper of a District their relationship would be viewed as dishonorable; well, what they did was the very antonym of honor, wasn't it?
"What is it, Chief?" The younger woman asked.
"You've done your job very well, my dear. Perhaps a night in my quarters as a reward?"
She replied with an impish grin. "If you're up to it, Chief."
The Bomber Squadron could have all the fun they wanted wiping a largely useless District off the face of the Earth; he was about to have his own fun.
ME: I'll give y'all three guesses what the One-Everything comment referenced.