Katniss was insurmountably certain that this had to President Snow's doing.

The barren white room, the electric beam rope restraints, the blasted metal chair. All of it screamed Snow.

Katniss gritted her teeth- she had been in this situation a thousand times. The whole waking-up-with-your-memory-wiped thing was not new business. However, the general confusion of her imprisonment was overwhelming. Katniss was not certain whether to scream, or to cry.

Soldier Katniss Everdeen, the Mockingjay, Symbol of the Rebellion, Hunger Games Victor.

Eyes: Grey. Hair: Brown.

Five foot, nine inches. One hunded seventy-five centimetres. One hundred thirty-nine pounds. Sixty-three kilograms...

Wherever she was, Katniss felt it was similar to the capitol. The suited observers who peered mockingly through the glass were no different than her prep team every time they assembled her for an appearance on camera. Every digit of her existence was theirs to consume. While once this prospect filled her with rage and spurred negative emotions, Katniss now felt almost comforted by this familiar examination.

Strangely, Katniss noted that none of the watchers looked at all extraordinary. All wore plain suits and bore no signs of tattoos or dye. Evidently though they behaved like capitol citizens, these people were from somewhere else. Katniss strained to glimpse their features and possibly identify a district, but she was unsuccessful. Their faces were masked in gloom beyond the glass.

...Skilled in Archery, Survival, Propoganda, and Tactics.

Katniss almost laughed. Propoganda? She could remember the struggles of her film crew attempting to spread their vision of the Mockingjay. She did not feel like she had made it easy for them. Propos were certainly not something she would consider herself skilled at.

Katniss paused and attempted to remember who 'them' was...but drew a blank. She could almost see Prim, Gale and her mother, but everyone from after the Hunger Games was almost nonexistent. She recalled a film crew, but they were faceless and generic. She could remember escaping the Games, but was it once, or twice? Why was Peeta so prominent in her memories, yet confusion-inducing when it came to her thoughts about him? Snippets of the rebellion- assaults, training, pods, a wedding, and death...lots of death. They were all jumbled together in a disastrous mixing pot that made Katniss' head ache.

Maybe I'm dead? She thought gravely.

Unlikely. Her body responded, sending jolts of pain through the spots where the electric restraints touched her skin.

Suddenly a door appeared in the wall to Katniss' left, and a tall, gaunt woman with her hair drawn up into a tight blond bun entered the white chamber.

Survival. Katniss thought. Cooperation and survival.

The woman explained a long list of protocol points which could be summed up with We'll take your restraints off if you behave.

Katniss consented obediently, nervously reaching for the brown braid that trailed over her shoulder the instant the bonds were switched off.

"Follow me." The stern woman stated coldly, leading Katniss out of the little white room. How long she had been in there, she had no idea.

After a few steps, the woman turned back and eyed her curiously, as though examining her once again. "I am taking you to the commanders' chamber, where you will be briefed by the commanders themselves, and introduced to your new comrades. Everything will become clear."

"Comrades?" Katniss wondered aloud.

The blond woman said nothing, and proceeded to turn briskly and stalk off down the dark hallways.

"Here I go again." she muttered to herself, jogging to catch up with her captor/scientist's long strides.