She watched the artist calmly. He was scared, really, to present to her the new seal of the rebellion. She was getting sick of seeing the same mockingjay in the same position everywhere.

"Miss President, ma'am," he said, almost stuttering, tripping over his own words slightly. "If there's something wrong with it, just tell me. I'll change it right away."

"Certainly," Coin said coolly. The artist, seemingly reassured, lifted the cover off his giant digital screen.

Coin strode up to the beautifully rendered black-and-white mockingjay soaring out over a dilapidated city in flames. She ran perfectly French-manicured fingers – she would never waste resources on colored nail polish – over the tongues of fire. They reached toward the mockingjay like pleading arms, drawn in a hundred shades of yellow and orange and blue and red.

Coin noted that the mockingjay itself was spitting out the flames that were consuming the city.

"And it symbolizes?"

"Oppression burning down," the artist stammered. "The city's supposed to be the Capitol." He added a quick "ma'am."

"What is the mockingjay for?"

The artist blinked at her. "It's for the Mockingjay," he said uncertainly, like he was starting to worry about Coin's brain capacity.

"Naturally, naturally," Coin murmured. "It is obvious now. My apologies, Mr. Mervin."

"Melvin," the artist corrected automatically. "Lyle Melvin." Then he realized that he'd admonished the president. His already ruddy face turned the color of a cherry and he mumbled something incoherently. Coin pretended not to hear it.

"Maybe you would want to add something about a new authority," Coin suggested lightly. "We are not, after all, trying to burn this country to the ground. We are refreshing it. Renewing it. Making it whole and good again."

Her spiel gave her comfort. She'd already recited it three times that day.

Lyle Melvin nodded uneasily. "Of course, Miss President."

"Just President." She wanted to make him feel more comfortable. It seemed to have the opposite effect. He visibly tightened, like he didn't want any familiarity.

"Of course, President."

"Do you have any ideas right now?" she asked for the sake of politeness. She already had her own idea and she was going to guarantee it was implemented.

"Well…no," Lyle Melvin admitted. "The thing is, Miss – I mean, President, the thing is that everyone knows the Mockingjay and…" He shifted from foot to foot.

"Just say it."

"Not as many know you."

The words hit her like a blow. She was careful to disguise her internal reaction. The Mockingjay is more in control of this country than I am. This was serious. She was President, the one with the power.

Another thought struck her. What if she doesn't support me when I do take power? What if she supports someone else? That upstart Elle Paylor? Orion Sicca from District One? Or Marlia Josun, or Clifford Belfrie…she realized that just because she was ordering the Mockingjay around now didn't mean that she would always be. She's too spirited, she will do whatever she wants!

"I see," she said. Something must have been colder about her voice, much colder, because Melvin took a step back.

"Ma'am?"

"That will have to be remedied," she continued, more to herself than him.

"Ma'am…"

"Find something symbolizing Thirteen," she said. "Place it above the mockingjay for this."

"Yes, Miss President." Melvin had rightly guessed to revert to calling her Miss. "I will do it."

Coin walked away from him, leaving the artist staring at his seal wondering what he had done wrong.

I need to get rid of her.

Her icy internal voice was no stranger to Alma Coin. She listened to it gratefully; it was because of its ruthless and devious advice that she was president in the first place.

But how? she asked silently. She answered herself.

You can't just give orders to have her killed. Those could be found, or people would blab. But if you find a foolproof, subtle way to kill her…

She ground her teeth. How do you subtly kill the single most famous face in the country?

Her squad…she might've gained their trust by now, maybe they won't take orders from me. She couldn't risk it. It was deceitful and underhanded; although those had long transformed into empty words for her, she understood that other people didn't see their necessity. No, she couldn't give orders to Boggs or Jackson to kill Everdeen. And most definitely not her camera crew or Hawthorne.

A rebel group could "accidently" fire on them as the enemy, she thought idly. They'd be taken out by the Star Squad right afterwards. No tattletales.

She was seriously considering putting this plan into action until she remembered.

The boy. Peeta Mellark. Of course!

It was natural. She saw the plan in her mind's eye. Peeta Mellark arrived with the Star Squad; there was a little confusion, maybe, and a few would see through the ruse – Boggs, probably. But eventually, Mellark would find an opportunity to kill Everdeen, and all of Coin's problems with the Mockingjay would be solved.

She was beyond her usefulness anyway.

Get ready to die, Katniss Everdeen, Girl on Fire, Mockingjay.