Sam felt waves of trepidation wash over her as the hovercraft hummed towards the center of District 10. What was the Capitol doing here in the backwater area of Panem? It made no sense.

"C'mon, let's go see what's up," Clay stepped out the door of her house and into the snow, intent on heading into town.

"No, wait," Sam whimpered. "Clay, I have a really bad feeling about this."

"What's the worry?" he turned back to her, his eyes speaking of mischief. "If they wanted to kill us all, they'd just do it. Better to know now than later. C'mon."

Clay's optimism did nothing to aid Sam's fears. She'd seen the Capitol's worst traits up close and personal, watched them as they'd killed and maimed – their unexpected presence here was not something good. Who had to die today?

A route from the Village to the town square had been dug out fairly well two days before, enough for the two teens to make decent progress beside the knee-high snow drifts. District 10 was eerily quiet, even for winter's standards – rusted metal shutters barely moved; drab curtains narrowly twitched on houses the further in towards the Hall of Justice they went. The hovercraft had taken up a position around the square now, flanked by all four of the drones. Sam and Clay barely reached the gray stone buildings surrounding the Hall of Justice in the modest square before a long pole descended out of the bottom of the aircraft. Two dozen white-armored Peacekeepers had moved into the square, led by their district chief – 10's Head Peacekeeper, a sandy-haired, wiry man named Sidon. He had never made much of an impression on Sam – District 10's relatively lax Peacekeeper security led the force to be overlooked by most residents. They understood the rules, but that was about it.

Clay was prepared for his mission of intrigue.

"I found this abandoned cellar at the old grain shop that got abandoned," he whispered to Sam as they scooted around the perimeter of the town square. "It's dusty, but we can get a view without being seen. Best seats in the house."

Sam followed, but she felt more and more nervous with each passing second. Sidon was talking sternly to his Peacekeepers – what was the occasion? Who had shown up? Was it…Sam gulped at the thought…was it her?

She still got shivers about President Octavian's coal-like beady eyes boring into hers after her victory in the Games…promising her all sorts of misery in whatever way he could find. Was this all about him and her?

"In here!" Clay had opened a wooden door to an old basement leading into a dark underground area. "Before they see. C'mon!"

Sam looked off to the woods near the town square – the only forested patch of District 10 began there, winding off towards the tallest point in the area, Midland Hill. She wanted so much to return to that safety, to run off away from whatever horrible thing was going to happen here…but she relented.

She slipped in before anyone in the nearly-empty square could see the two jumping down into the cellar. Clay had been right about the musk – even with the snowy conditions, dust and spiders still clung to the brick walls of the cellar. Straw lined a shallow floor that sunk underground for a dozen feet, braced by wooden pillars that ran to the ceiling. At the end of the twenty-foot storage area, the basement ran up and opened in a two-foot window that gave a small but clear view of the entire area.

"What's happening?" Sam breathed as she approached the window that Clay had already taken a position at, quieting her voice as much as physically possible. She didn't trust this scheme at all.

"Guy got off the hovercraft," Clay pointed out a black-uniformed man, starkly contrasted against the white snow and blank Peacekeeper uniforms. "I don't think he's happy. Looks like he's from the Capitol."

The black-uniformed man looked like anything except a man of the Capitol – he wore a bed of brown hair and a pair of soft brown eyes that Sam could make out even from this distance. The one thing that placed him as different were the tattoos –his uniform covered his body well, but the snake-like lines that ran down his neck were clearly artificial. There was no denying the authority he carried with his posture, however.

One of Sidon's crew walked with an extended hand towards the Capitol man in an offer of greeting. The man scowled and shoved the Peacekeeper aside, approaching Sidon viciously. Sam spotted fear welling up in District 10's Head Peacekeeper's eyes as he was grabbed by the collar of his shirt. The black-uniformed man roared in welcome, snarling obscenities and orders.

"Is he going to…" Sam whispered as the man threw Sidon to the ground, unholstering a pistol.

"Look away," Clay grabbed her in his arms as Sam buried her head in his chest. Why had they come to watch this?

A gunshot cracked through the air.

Sam lifted her eyes to see Sidon still alive and cowering. The uniformed man drew his face inches from the Head Peacekeeper's, his voice just loud enough to reach the cellar.

"You are to do nothing," he snarled. "Nothing. If you think to so much as try a crackdown, I will ensure this bullet hits next time."

"Commander Trajan, I don't understand, why-"

The black-uniformed man turned around, looked back, raised his weapon, and fired.

Sam didn't turn away fast enough. Scarlet blood spattered to the ground as Sidon slumped to the snow. The other Peacekeepers flinched but held their ground.

No, no, not death again…I don't want that! I don't want to see that again…

"Congratulations on your promotion," the black-uniformed man turned to the nearest Peacekeeper, a man Sam didn't recognize. "I assume you know better?"

"Of course, sir."

"Then alright. Make sure my investment isn't wasted."

Sam gasped involuntarily, immediately realizing her mistake.

The black-uniformed man's eyes flicked towards the sound. It hadn't been much, but with the square absolutely silent apart from the low thrum of the hovercraft and the voices of the Peacekeepers, it had been enough to carry. His finger pointed towards the now-noticed cellar window: "Go find what's in there. Do as you want. After that, your orders stand."

Clay grabbed Sam's shoulder roughly, spinning her about and snatching her hand as a solitary Peacekeeper started for the shed. The black-uniformed man ascended up the hovercraft pole as quickly as he had arrived and done his work.

"Go, go," Clay shoved Sam towards the door, throwing it open. "I'll lead back towards the ranches. You head for the woods; we can lose them. Go!"

Sam knew he was right. The black-uniformed man's words had been clear – do what you want with whoever you find. No matter what the law was, Peacekeeper jurisdiction held authority. Spying on a Head Peacekeeper's execution – no matter how public it had been – would undoubtedly carry a hefty toll. She wondered if the surrounding houses and shops of the square had been cleared ahead of time.

Worse was wondering what would happen if a Peacekeeper caught them.

Sam made a beeline for the trees, running as best as she could through the snow. Her racing mind sped as Clay bolted in the opposite direction, leaving her to put distance between her and the Peacekeepers as best as she could. Running again…she couldn't stop running. Not since the Games.

Back at the Cornucopia once more. Royal's arrow whined through the air, thumping into the metal shield. Sam grabbed Storm, covering him with the shield as Royal snarled and moved in. The girl from District 5 twitched in death as she and Storm sprinted for the tree grove. Anything to get away from the killer from District 1…keep running, keep running.

She couldn't think such things now. Running in the Hunger Games and running from a Peacekeeper were two very different events.

Sam had made it nearly two hundred yards into the woods when the Peacekeeper's baton struck her from behind. She hadn't even heard him gaining ground in the damp snow that muffled noise like a pillow of cotton. Sam yelped and fell to the ground, a throbbing pain rising immediately from her head.

The Peacekeeper quickly shoved a knee into the small of her back, grabbing her wrists and securing them together with a plastic tie. He flipped her over, his face ugly in the gray sky shrouded by dead wooded canopy – a scarred face, curved and fat yet powerful with brimming muscles. Two dead gray eyes stared at her without empathy or emotion.

"Running from an officer of the law is a capital offense," he sneered into her face. "I don't care if you are a victor, girl."

Why do I ever let Clay make plans? Sam thought as fear slithered through her. She didn't know if the Peacekeeper was lying or not – she doubted if they could very well kill a victor, especially the previous Games's winner, but the Peacekeepers had all sorts of nasty alternatives to hanging they could inflict. What would they do? Lock her in a stockade? Publically whip her in the square before the entire district?

"Please," Sam tried appealing to his better nature, if he had one. "I didn't mean anything, I was just trying to go to the square to get-"

"I don't care," the Peacekeeper spat in her face. "You're the last person we get to make an example of before we can't do shit, and I'm damn well going to make sure I enjoy it."

"Look, the Victory Tour is in a week," Sam pleaded. "If you-"

Sam didn't get the chance to finish. A behemoth of a man simply appeared from behind the Peacekeeper, hurling away his firearm and grabbing him by the neck like a toy. The Peacekeeper croaked out a gurgle of a response before he was driven into the trunk of a tree.

"Human, male, Peacekeeper," the man said in a scratched, low voice. He was titanic – at least six and a half feet tall, with a broad chest and massive pectorals. His dirty blonde hair wasn't far from the same look Dallas and Clara both sported – his, however, ran out loosely and long, an unkempt mess. A loose pair of overalls that Sam had often seen the butchers wear covered a simple white shirt that shrouded him from against the snowy cold. He had to be freezing – yet he showed not even the slightest sign of discomfort.

"Who are-" the Peacekeeper stammered.

The man cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, as if seeing something distant. "You are from District 2, the man named Agrius. Your father, Avala, was killed in a rockslide. You left in the hopes of a better life at age sixteen. This is your twelfth year as a Peacekeeper. You served ten in District 11, hanged two innocents. You have been here for two years. District Head Peacekeeper Sidon noted in reports that you have expressed a desire for violence."

The Peacekeeper – Agrius – said nothing, his eyes bulging.

"Interesting," the man bit his lower lip. "You think your life has purpose. You have expressed as much. I come to correct that flaw."

"Who-"

"I am Trajan's investment. My life supersedes your own. You die without the purpose you believed in."

The man lunged at Agrius, snapping his neck between two huge mitts of hands. Crack! Agrius fell to the snow, instantly dead.

Sam struggled with her restraints, her wrists pulling with all she had. The man before her scared her with the most innate of fears – an animal desire to get away as fast as she could. Sweat popped out over her forehead despite the cold air, freezing and seeping along her skin. The man turned his head towards her, his eyes black and cold.

Black like Octavian's…

"Did that…frighten you?" he asked calmly. "It should not. Killing is frowned upon only because human society says it is bad, guided by a history full of overlooked bloodshed. But you would know…wouldn't you?"

Sam whimpered in terror as he knelt to the ground beside her, his eyes never leaving hers. "He spoke of you; my father, that is. I know who you are. Samantha Parker, District 10, winner of the 98th Hunger Games, killer of tributes Troop, Laredo, Fresco, and Royal, in that order. Your primary weapon was a Gurkha kukri, originally designed in a nation that no longer exists. No longer exists…just like those tributes. Interesting, wouldn't you say?"

He scanned his face like a methodical machine, inching his eyes over every square centimeter of flesh and skin.

"I swear, I didn't mean anything," Sam hoarsely gasped. "I don't know anything."

"I think he is infatuated with you to a degree," the man ignored Sam's words. "My father spoke of you while I took my first steps of awareness. I can see your history, your past. No mother. Shunned by a district swamped in a decisive wealth gap. Rejected by your father who only wanted sons. Befriended by only two, relying on your brother as your emotional stability. Interesting…I don't know why he found you so interesting, yet I find myself wanting to know more, too. You won a game of death without any reason to win."

"Who…who are you?" Sam asked.

"I? I am here, that is all," the man said. "My father named me Nihlus. It is a name without meaning or purpose to you…and to me. What purpose is a name? What purpose is your name, Miss Parker?"

"I, uh…" Sam stumbled over words. "I don't think it has one."

Nihlus laughed, an alien thing. "You are enjoyable! My father sent me here to District 10 with no reason nor meaning, yet you intrigue me."

"Who is your father?" Sam asked, trying to keep the strange man talking. If it worked, maybe he wouldn't kill her.

"Simply another man from the Capitol. I believe you know who he is," Nihlus cocked his head. "It is interesting how much a Head Gamesmaker can come to respect such a small girl from a snow-covered prairie."

Rex.

Sam felt her heart quicken as she worked her restraints again. She knew seeing those electric-blue eyes during the post-Games crowning ceremony spelled trouble. What did he want with her? After his Games had nearly killed her, after his mutts had ravaged both her and other tributes – now had he sent this…man to watch her? To stalk her?

What was his interest in her?

As if reading her mind, Nihlus addressed her question. "You wish to know why you are so interesting," he spoke. "You and I are two people with meaningless names, so I will share you a secret my father told me. You will not speak of it to any other. You will similarly not speak of me."

He bent in close to Sam, his breath hot and acrid. "There is a storm coming in the Capitol, Miss Parker. My father is in the eye of it, commanding gale-force winds rushing towards an immovable force that sits in the President's throne. You, a child of a forgotten district ignored by the forces of the Capitol, won Panem's premier show of survival prowess. You are an interesting commodity, now a jewel in my father's eye for navigating his labyrinth of a Games successfully. You have brought attention from all the places you did not want it. You are popular in the Capitol, well-known, proven. You have value in the eyes of simple men."

Nihlus pulled away, sizing her up. "I simply see a small girl lying bound by her wrists in snow, all too easily beaten by a simple Peacekeeper. But my father…and Octavian…see a prize."

He grabbed her hands, snatching the plastic tie that kept her restrained and snapping it with his powerful muscles. Nihlus turned to leave, casting his head around once more.

"I don't know what future those men in their ivory towers see for you. But I will watch, because it is there. You are no longer a forgotten puzzle piece."

With that, he vanished back into the snowy wood, leaving Sam feeling all the more vulnerable in light of a future fraught with doubt. If the strange man sent here by Phaeston Rex – Nihlus, if that really was his name – was right, she'd drawn far more attention onto her than she ever wanted. And if the Capitol really was in the midst of brewing turmoil, having that spotlight would put her in far more danger than she'd faced before.

Clouds stormed over Sam's future, with thunder crackling on the horizon.

A/N: Dunno how happy I am with that chapter. It just took a really long time to develop...necessary, but little lengthy. Lemme know your thoughts through two chapters!