"Seph! Seph, wake up!"

The pounding on the door is enough to wake him up.

Seph groans as he sits up, throwing the covers off his body and grabbing the alarm clock beside his and Tina's bed. The time flashing reads 5:00. He grumbles under his breath as he gets off the bed and grabs a pair of Bermuda shorts, throwing them on as the door slides open. He is surprised as his best friends pile into the room, both of them looking incredibly worried.

Tina sits up, rubbing her eyes with her free hand as she covers her naked body with the blankets and sheets. "Seph? What's going on?" she asks in a sleepy tone.

"I have no idea, Tina," Seph admits as he looks at them. "What's going on?"

Hunter is the first to thrust the tablet at him. "See for yourself, mate! It's not good..."

(The scene shows a small flame before darkness snuffs it out. But a small ember burns...)

Hikari ga tsudzuku... ! (The ember is blown away, becoming one of many as the sun begins to rise beyond a war-torn town.)

Hikari ga tsudzuku... ! (The light from the sun overcomes the camera and it fills the screen before fading to show the skyline of Sydney and the name of the series.)

Yami ga sono tochi o shuchō suru kamo shirenai (The image flares before it shows two people trapped in a ruined structure in what was once Shanghai. They are both shaking and are wounded from shrapnel.)

Shikashi, kibō wa enjo no te o kasu (A pair of explosions rocks the area and they huddle and whimper before someone lifts the debris off the two of them. It is a group of Australian soldiers.)

Sekai ga kawaru to (The soldiers help the two children to their feet before one of them grabs a grenade and throws it at some bandits coming to pillage. The grenade explodes before the debris falls away, exposing the ruins of Europe, Marshal Sergei Kudryavtsev's image over the continent, King Lawrence III opposing him over Europe as well.)

Furui risō wa moe tsudzukeru (The scene is engulfed in a bright flash as it shows Korean soldiers storming through city ruins in what was once Seoul, South Korea, carrying Panemian weaponry as rebels fight back desperately. Above them is Ahn Sun Pok, her face twisted into a sneer as she holds her hands upwards, as if mocking the world's helplessness. Behind her is the Panemian Vice President while President Kane is off to the side, gazing at the sky.)

Kieru hikarinonakade (With a wave of her hand, she commands the forces to open fire on rebel positions. Missiles rain down, the black smoke engulfing the area before it is blown aside by a hoverplane.)

Kurayami ga hirogaru ni tsurete (The hoverplane is painted in Arabian colors, and on top of the imposing palace is Muthasim V, the sultan. He looks back as it fades to a map, showing the Egyptian Union breaking away from them. But then it shows the country turning a bluish green as it fades to show a new figure in the shadows.)

Watashitachi no kibō wa tsudzukudeshou (The figure holds up its right arm before it lunges out, coming into the light to reveal Seph Matthews as he swings his beam saber mounted onto his right arm, cutting through a bandit before spinning and cleaving another's gun in two, following up with a left hook leaving him dazed. He turns, his left optics lens flaring red as it engulfs the screen.)

Watashitachi ga mada ikite iru kagiri (The light fades to show three other members, all of them gathered around in front of the Meldney Complex. To the left is Japanese Empress Yuki Minaguma. To the right is Filipino President Gueo Largina. And in the middle is Taiwanese President Chae Yang Un. Behind them the flag of the Australian Confederation flutters before the camera zooms in on it, only for it to fall away.)

Un, hikari ga tsudzuku! (The image of Sydney is revealed, above it Seph and his fellow leaders side by side with the sun behind them, the Australian Confederation flag above them all as the series name appears below them.)

Chapter 4: Savin' Me

Location: President's Quarters, Meldney Complex - Australia

Time: 0530 hours

Date: Friday, 12 May, 139 AF (2158 AD)

"They what?!" Seph's shout is enough to startle a few starlings out of their nests close by.

Hunter nods. "They caught some of our spies. Not all of them, but enough to give us worry."

Seph growls as he grips the tablet in his left hand. "Dammit... That means that we'll need to be prepared for if they start to create mutts that could be immune to the gas we've developed," he mutters.

The foursome are currently sitting around the table in the living area of the President's Quarters, mostly dressed in their nightclothes. Seph at least has the dignity to don a tank top as well. "This means big trouble for our intelligence ops."

"Not as bad as the next thing," Martha says, handing him a second tablet. "This just in from one of the rigs close by."

Seph takes it, feeling a sense of dread building. As soon as he looks at it though, his eye goes wide and his optic flares red in his shock and anger. "Those damn barbies!" he hisses, slamming the tablet down on the table and getting up. "That is the last straw! I want the ERC down there stat to begin cleanup and restoration efforts at once!"

Hunter's eyes widen. "You're sending the Environmental Restoration Command down there?!"

Martha and Tina both gape in shock. They all know of the Environmental Restoration Command established fifty years ago after Panem stripped a small island completely of its forestation and resources. While considered an environmental group, it is actually a militarized restoration group focused on restoring forestry to stripped regions of the world within their sphere of influence. The command is funded like any other military unit, and it's also equipped like it to prevent any future offenders from attacking the newly restored areas for lumber and timber. The ERC is also the first line of defense when it came to oil spills, using a recently developed solution of nanobuilders to strip the oil down to basic molecules to remove it from the water before using them to reconstruct trees to rebuild the forests.

Seph nods. "I am."

Tina leans in and takes the tablet, studying the satellite image of several oil rigs on fire, a large pool of oil seeping out into the area. But it isn't just that. It shows an image of Papua New Guinea off to the side, and she blinks in shock. The entire nation is stripped bare. Not just of trees, but of houses and anything that could be used. Her eyes widens and she looks back at her husband. "Seph..." He turns as she zooms in on the image of PNG and hands him the tablet.

His eye narrows dangerously as he grits his teeth, clenching his right hand into a fist. He whirls around and slams the tablet down onto the table a second time before he makes his way to the phone. "I'm sick of this!" he snarls. "Sick of it! Panem is not going to keep getting away with this!" He grabs the phone and makes to dial the first number that comes to his mind.

"Seph, you sure?" Hunter asks. "Panem..."

"-is going to regret using the world as their oyster! No one should be this powerful! We have to break up Panem's reach, no matter what!" Seph snarls. "And I will do that, somehow!"

"Yes, but remember. We have to keep level heads," Martha reminds him. "I agree that Panem's influence is way too much. And frankly, that's why we have to do what we can to ensure that we gain the resources of the Wastelands at once: to deny them those resources!"

"That's what we thought too, back when President Brandon Eustis annexed all of the countries surrounding us," Seph grumbles. "But Panem clearly violated our territorial borders there. So we have to show them we mean business."

"And we can, and will. But remaining calm is only one part. We have to think, Seph!" Martha urges. She places a hand on his mechanical one. "Once we gain more power and influence, we can show those bloody bastards what we can really do."

The President pauses, looking down at the floor. "Right. Sorry. I just sometimes let my emotions get the best of me at times," he mutters. "I just don't know what I did to deserve a team like you guys."

"It comes from the years of service, mate," Hunter says, joining the former soldier. "But Martha's right. We all have to remain level headed. Even me."

Seph finally stands up straight and sighs. "Martha, I want you to send the ERC down to the site of the oil spill and down to Papua New Guinea to begin restoration efforts ASAP." He turns to his friends and wife. "Once we get that going, I want a spy sat to angle right for Panem, Hunter. Scope it out, and try and find the damn arena. Also, I want to explore possible uses of the nanobuilders to attack the molecular makeup of the muttations used since our spy operations were compromised. If we don't have the data on the muttations currently in development, we can't use the poison gas."

"Right." Martha salutes and Hunter nods in agreement.

"Tina, I need you to get in contact with the Chief of the Navy and ask her to have the Missouri, Iowa, New Jersey, and Wisconsin on standby. Also get the Enterprise ready to deploy as well," Seph tells his wife. "We may be needing the heavy hitters out there."

Tina salutes crisply. "Got it. And you? What will you be doing?"

"Getting prepared for the next incursion," Seph mutters. "But I'm also going to be heading out later today to see the damage for myself."

His best friends and wife nod.

With that, they split up to do their assigned tasks.

Seph meanwhile decides to get ready for the day and start his own preparations for the coming months. He is soon en route to the base at Coober Pedy, the former mining town-turned-missile silo, the helicopter taking him directly to the commander's office. As soon as the helicopter touches down, he's out and running for the building. A few personnel are surprised to see him out and about in the area.

"What's the President doing here?"

"Think he's gonna tell us nukes have started flying?"

"Maybe, or maybe not... You can't really tell with this man."

Whispers and different rumors start to float about, but Seph pays them no mind as he finally approaches the headquarters for Australia's Missile Command. The guards in front of the door are surprised, but they salute him just the same.

"Mr. President!"

"At ease, soldiers," Seph says. "I've got to talk with the commander."

"Yes, sir. She's in the office right now," the female closest to the door says.

Seph nods. "Thanks, mate."

As he heads in, he can only wonder how the others are doing.

Martha sits behind her desk as she studies the man before her. He stands at five foot eleven, with a shock of deep red hair and purple eyes. His body is lean, but strong, and he currently is dressed in a military uniform. But right underneath the Australian Confederation flag is a circle with a tree in the center, the circle encased within two rings crossing in an X pattern. His battle rifle is currently resting against his back and he stands at attention as she looks him over.

General Jong-Su "Zero" Ngô may have been a military soldier, but he is far from the trigger happy types that dominated at these ranks. At forty-two, he is the pinnacle of career soldiering, having experience in China and near Korea's borders, as well as knowledge of the political machine at this rank. His only regret is having had to deal with the fallout of the battles, which is why he changed branches to the Environmental Restoration Command in 0132 AF. With seven years of environmental clearance and repair under his belt, he's the ideal person to head the restoration and cleanup efforts around Papua New Guinea.

His eyes narrow as she finishes speaking. "So they're trying to mess things up for us..." he muses. He lowers his attention stance and folds his arms. "Damn barbies..."

"I know. President Matthews wants you and the 1st Restoration Division to head on down to Papua New Guinea and to send the 2nd Damage Control Group down to the site of the spill," Martha explains. "It's not a pretty sight, seeing as how most of the rigs there were of Panemian origin."

"Hmm..." Zero purses his lips as he hears that. "So they destroyed them and left a big mess for us to clean up, knowing it would keep us busy for years."

The Vice President nods seriously. "Yes. And that further complicates matters. If we're busy, then we can't send a good portion of our fleet out to be ready should they try anything again."

"So that's why you want us to get to work on it ASAP," Zero says. He looks up at her. "I can't guarantee anything, but we'll do our damned best to clean up the spill. It will probably be about two years, maybe more, if we put most of our resources on it."

Martha is silent as she ponders that. She finally shakes her head. "No, General. Don't do that. If we do, then we'll be stretched thin with the ERC. And we can't afford to have that happen. Not when we have other issues to worry about."

Zero sees she is serious and nods. "I understand, ma'am. But should the need come to it, I request that some of the resources that are not in use be sent if it's bad enough."

That's a compromise Martha sees sense in. She nods. "I can deal with that."

The general salutes.

"Now get going. Any more delays and we'll be busy for even longer."

Zero turns on his heel and marches out of the room, his focus coming into play. He grits his teeth as he clenches his fists. "Damn them! They know we care about the environment and are using it against us!" he mutters. "Well, we'll show them!"

While he is in charge of environmental cleanup and restoration, he isn't about to let some advantages go unnoticed. And leaving the rigs is a key one. While Panem may have destroyed their equipment, if the rigs are mostly intact, they can be used against them since Australia will command them. It means that the AC will be able to gain more influence and start to make an impact on the world stage moreso. It all depends on the overall condition of the rigs though.

His eyes flick down to the emblem on his uniform and he rubs it. The ERC is a very interesting unit, he muses, with its fair share of controversies. But thankfully it's not in a conspiratorial sense. The crazies know better than that, aside from the few diehards that linger in the aftermath.

He looks up from the emblem and continues on his path, heading right for the roof. As he passes by several government workers, he gives salutes and acknowledges them, but his mind is focused solely on trying to salvage the rigs. At least making sure they are in a condition to be salvaged, anyway. That is the one factor; either they are able to be salvaged... or not. He just isn't sure.

He purses his lips as he scans over the list of materials he requested be sent for the cleanup.

At least the important stuff, anyway.

He only wonders what President Matthews is doing at this moment.

Flashback

Location: President's Quarters, Meldney Complex - Australia

Time: 1900 hours

Date: Thursday, 11 May, 139 AF (2158 AD)

President Matthews frowns as he sits at his desk, his arms resting on it and his fingers clasped in front of his mouth. His green eye roves over the entire tribute line, and his optic flashes briefly before he starts analyzing their features and behaviors. Some are proud, and others are not so happy. His eye narrows in anger and hatred for the way they are being paraded like so many animals ready for a slaughterfest. He feels his right hand clenching on instinct and he directs his fury into his thoughts.

It helps him to remain somewhat calm and composed, and it gives him an edge, something that he discovered in combat. When he focuses his anger towards a goal, he is able to think clearly and remain calm.

At this point, it's directed at analyzing each of the tributes for any possible aspects that could spark a possible rebellion. While it's not advisable, he needs to consider the fact that if Panem squashes a third one, there won't be any hope left.

He can hear the Capitolite speaker beginning to make comments on the outfits and he snorts audibly.

"Oop here they are, the tributes!"

"Snow Island leads the pack of course with Rafaela Novia and Nicolao Lucritus. Of course, they bring the Caribbean glitz and glam with a peacock bikini for Rafaela and the trunks for Nicolao!"

Rafaela blows kisses towards the audience as Nicolao tosses beads and leis toward the spectators.

The President rolls his eye. Such attention hogs. At least not as bad as the Careers of District 2. That is the one he wants to deprogram from this barbaric pride of theirs. To force them to face their humanity full force like a ship ramming into an iceberg. He shifts his attention back to the other tributes.

"Could you explain those outfits to us Francisco or Joyceta?"

"Oh um, those outfits are commonly used for festivals and night shows in Snow Island."

"I ought to visit Snow Island again! District 1 of course has a steamy gold and gem encrusted one piece and cape with accessories for Luana Evison and a tunic, cape and matching accessories for the Vincent Barlow."

Both District 1 tributes grip each other's shoulders, waving as the crowd cheers their names.

"Wow wow wow, Luana is looking like a hot tamale! Not to mention Mister Barlow and all his handsomeness."

"You know what they say Chad- District 1- the District that keeps us bedazzled and bejeweled all year round!"

At that Seph has to actually laugh out loud. It's just so pathetic, wasting all that manpower on resources that only glamorize the Capitol and its shallow inhabitants. Such manpower can be directed elsewhere, such as towards green energy, or medically sewing the Avox's tongues back into their mouths to restore their voice and sense of taste. He narrows his eye at the medical implications that the savage practice left on the victims: having to be forced to eat food in a paste-like form for the rest of their lives is just downright cruel. And even then they can't taste it.

"District 2 of course with the nod to ancient times- Aliyah with her silk gown, belt and scarf adorned with bits of rock- while Merlyn has his body armor and olive branch crown with red skirt."

Both tributes of District 2 remain stoic, hands raised in the air as a motion of unity.

The Australian mutters a low series of Chinese, Japanese, and German cuss words at the sight. Such deranged and unstable individuals... and worst of all they force children no older than five into such a harsh training program! Molding them into future serial killers, and then drafting those that didn't make the cut. It makes his stomach churn and he hisses through his teeth before he looks away from them at the others.

"District 3- Evara and Herrick, dressed as scientists with "data vines" coursing through their lab coats of course. I didn't notice till now, but Herrick looks like a lower District dweller for sure!"

At least they were not like the Careers, he muses. But it's only temporarily that he is intrigued by their outfits, much against his will. He shifts his gaze to the other pair coming down the line.

"District 4 is coming in with their water god and goddess outfits- bikini for Skylar and trunks for Kite of course."

"Yes Marceline, their outfits looking as if they were individually welded with fish scales or seashells of some sort. Kite looks devilishly handsome tonight, not to mention Skylar looking much different without her edgy reaping attire!"

Again Seph has to laugh. Focusing more on appearance and looks than overall abilities. Just like them. And he has to admit, it is very pathetic. At least in the Confederation people are more about the person beneath the appearance, rather than just the appearance.

"Here's District 5 following with their wire gowns and suit. Without District 5, Panem will forever be in darkness of course! Look at Occo and Valentina waving and holding hands! They go together like a dog and a flea! Both look awfully nervous, but at least they're good sports about it all, and I like that!"

Seph frowns at that. But he has to admit, the Cappie does have a point. And that makes it such a target for the Australians to blow out using an EMP bomb should the need arise. Nothing can survive that. His musings are interrupted by the next pair.

"-Oop, oop, here comes District 6 with their porter uniforms of course! Our sleek hovercrafts and fancy automobiles hail from Detroit!"

"They don't call it the motor city for nothing Marceline. Orville seems to be a good sport, but Cveta seems out of it? She looks a little loopy."

"I dunno Chad. Word on the street is Cveta was behaving badly behind the scenes!"

"Ah! I understand, ehehehe."

Seph growls under his breath as District Six moves on by. "Dammit... At least America had its industry spread out, not just isolated!"

"Next up, we have District 7! Landry and Tamir seem to be sporting lumberjack outfits this time around! They certainly look ready to rumble, as do most District 7 tributes. Here's hoping some of Celosia's mentoring rubs off on them."

"It looks like it certainly has so far Marceline! I mean, just look at how eager Tamir looks. Landry seems to be less eager than her male counterpart, but still partaking in the evening none the less!"

His eye drifts back to the screen as he snorts. "Always trying to gloat about their stupid waste of natural resources; and they don't even replant the trees! That is just greedy and gluttonous."

"So following the lumberjacks is District 8, showcasing the latest fashion trends of the mid century atomic age- a conservative suit, pocket square and all with a trilby hat for the gentlemen represented by James and a gingham halter dress for the ladies represented by Adele!"

"Their costumes seem to be patchwork, welded together by different fabrics, hmmm interesting!"

Again Seph snorts at the mentions of the appearances. But at least there's something that hints back to America's past...

Wait.

He jolts upright. District Eight has always been a rebellious one. So maybe... they are hinting as to perhaps that America isn't as dead as he had feared. Maybe... there's still a chance after all!

But it will take the right person, and right circumstances, for America to be reborn. He purses his lips as he watches.

"And then we have District 9 with an interesting native Indian design going on. Rianne with a skirt made out of wheat stalks and a brown bandeau with matching moccasin boots, Mentan with the same sort of getup and face painting to boot! Oh look, Chad, they're waving right at us! Hey guys! I feel so special!"

"A very nice and new design cue for District 9, I applaud the stylist for their originality!"

"Another hinting..." he mutters softly. "Or maybe not..."

"And now we move on to District te-yun! They look ready to gather up a posse and rustle up a cow or two! Cowboy and Cowgirl outfits for Joelle and Tybalt. Chad, don't you own a ranch out there!? Hey, and your daughter Harriet is the escort for ten!"

"Mhm, District 10 will always have a place in my heart. The people are extremely down to earth."

Seph rolls his eye, but from what he's seen and heard of during the Days of Remembrance of his youth, that does hold some truth.

"District 10s cousin, District 11 is looking absolutely amazing with their farmer outfits, you know, overalls with the sickle for Cian and the basket backpack for Marcia . . . they appear to be all white for some reason, I wonder why."

Chad shrugged. "Maybe the special effects will remedy this! Regardless, Cian is exactly what I expected him to be, like most young men hailing from the agricultural District, he's stoic, bulky and composed! Boys like him are always a sight to behold. Marcia seems to be having a little fun, waving to the younger spectators in the audience."

The Australian notes the white outfits and frowns. What's up with that? It's just so odd... and yet at the same time... is it hinting at defiance? He doesn't know. There's just so much that Panem does that throws the Australian Secret Intelligence Service's best minds for a loop. He brushes it aside and resumes watching.

"And last but not least, District 12. The crowd seems gentle this year! They seem to have gone with the traditional route. Lumina wears a halter dress and checkered apron with a woven basket, while Jai appears to be a . . . baker? Woah, hold on there Jai! Lucky Lumina seems to have a hold on him, as Jai seems to be spooked out about something! I think he's babbling about "not wanting to go back!" again. That boy is something else. What's your opinion Chad?"

Now that catches Seph's attention. He briefly pauses the image and zooms in on the boy's face with his optic. He ccan clearly see panic and fear on his features, and he doesn't want to be there. He is in the middle of trying to flee, and his eyes are wide in terror. He rewinds the video feed and listens to the announcer again. "'Not wanting to go back!' again." He pauses it, his eye narrowing in thoughtfulness.

Something about that boy... it seems... off... Is it possible... he is, as Nina claims she has been, touched by someone? Like... the Lord? Or has he seen a vision? Or what is it? That he doesn't know, but something tells him that this boy has something going on with him. But what is it?

This is a situation that can not be counted out. He will have to keep an eye on this boy. And perhaps even sponsor him. He does have a connection to the Capitol still in place... He resumes playing the video in real time.

"Their outfits are an interesting pick! Although it has nothing to do with mining production, District 12 has a very distinct small town feeling to it if you have the . . . pleasure to visit! It's a very traditional place, where everyone knows their neighbor. I wouldn't imagine anything else for a District of 130,000 people."

"You got that right Chad! I believe that wraps up the outfits for now. What are your overall thoughts Chad?"

"I really enjoy the differences between each District and Territory. I love how each of them have their own cultures and perceptions, it's what makes our nation truly unique!"

"You know what else makes them unique . . .?" piped up Joyceta.

"What's that kiddo?"

Joyceta pointed towards the main camera that follows the procession. As the anthem reaches its crescendo and the chariots near the city circle, each half of each Districts' partner clicks a button given to them.

The anthem intensifies as each chariot burst with special effects relating to their Districts profession.

For example, District 11's chariot and their outfits constantly shifted in colour and effect. Such as white and snow for winter and green and rain for spring- the four seasons. District 4 had bubbles, District 7 had leaves blowing, and District 6, 2 and Snow Island had sparks, District 9 had wheat blowing in the air so on and so forth.

The crowd roars with excitement, as spectators snap photos, wave flags and toss roses while chanting the names of their favourites.

"Now THIS is what I enjoy, this is what separates each District from one another. The special effects further empathize each profession distinctly while showcasing the important role that each citizen has to play in the running of our nation and I LOVE IT!" cheered Marceline as Chad chuckled and hollered along with the crowd.

The Australian growls to himself. "If only they weren't such a bunch of fools... America was way better than them in many areas! Especially with spreading out industry to protect it!" he hisses. He clenches his fists together, but not too hard to prevent his left hand from being crushed under his own strength.

The anthem's final stanza blares as the tributes continue to wave as the horses trot into the circle. The crowd continued to cheer themselves ragged as the chariots form a semi circle in front of the podium in which the President will speak.

"What an evening! Please stand by for an address by His Excellency- President Kane, as he's due to speak in a couple of seconds."

"One Horn of Plenty for us all!" the anthem comes to a close as the President settled into the podium. Dressed in a navy blue overcoat with black accents, he waves a gentle hand over the presiding crowd. As he waves, the cheers are muted in anticipation.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 95th Annual Hunger Games." The crowd let out a cheer.

"Who could forget our guests to the Capitol this year!?" the crowd let out another roar as the President gestured to the tributes below.

Marceline pretended to listen as President Kane spoke about the history of the Hunger Games and what it took for a tribute to overcome among other things. As soon as he mentioned "We're coming upon one hundred years of Hunger Games " the crowd booed, remembering Kane's vow to end them. The audio was quickly shut off.

Seph frowns at that. "Censoring..." he mutters. "Trying to keep people in the dark. Makes me sick."

"Tributes," President Kane bellows, to the roar of the audience. He proceeds to name off each and every tribute reaped this year. The screen would flicker to the face of each tribute as Kane would nod curtly to them, while the tributes who aren't totally perplexed would return the gesture.

"- Lumina Reiss and Jai Matisse, we thank you for your courage and sacrifice. We wish you a happy Hunger Games- and may the odds be ever on your favuh!"

The camera reverts back to Marceline, Chad and the 94th Co-Victors.

"Well, I believe that concludes our coverage of the opening ceremonies! As you know, I'm Marceline Devereaux!"

"And I'm Chad Blakely alongside Joyceta Rodriguez and Franciso Noriega!"

"And we wish you a good evening! You may now resume your regular scheduled programming."

Seph shuts down the TV and gazes at its blank screen, his mind already racing with implications. He knows which boy he wants to win, but will the risks be worth the reward? He isn't sure. And the thought of even sponsoring a future serial killer makes him sick to his stomach. He grimaces and shakes his head. No. There is no way he's going to have that scandal be on his political and military career. He's an honest man, and he will do as he sees fit to make sure the boy can win. Without resorting to a dirty and dark trick like that.

At least directly.

He gets on the line shortly after.

"Authorization in progress.

"Identity confirmation required."

The computerized male voice always gives Seph the willies, but at least it's better than that monotone voice used in the past. He clears his throat. "Identification code: Alpha-Zero-Five-Beta-Unicorn."

"Code confirmed. Repeat to connect to source."

"Alpha-Zero-Five-Beta-Unicorn."

"Connected. Awaiting response code."

The beeping on the other end is not just for show, either. The beeping is in reality a highly advanced cryptographic system that scrambles all signals from outside the country and disguises it as normal background noise when connecting to Panem's internet services. The encryption is almost impossible to break due to the use of the quantum supercomputers to generate it. And that makes it difficult for Panem to breach, if they even know it exists.

He waits and taps his finger on the desk.

Five minutes turn into twenty, and then he hears it.

"Confirmation response: Omega-Nine-Four-Gamma-Banshee."

A smile crosses Seph's face as the ID pops up on the monitor of his phone. "Vernon. It's been ages."

"Yes, but more like months. I have had to lay low for a while. I'm sure you are aware of the situation?" Vitus "Vernon" Nordstrom asks.

Seph nods. "Yeah. Our spies got compromised. I know about that. The report just came in. How are you faring?"

"My loyalty is being tested by this even as we speak. I do not wish to remain here any longer than I have to," Vitus says worriedly. His eyes take on a worried glint. "I don't want to become an Avox..."

"Right. Well, we'll do everything we can to extract you before they catch on," Seph assures the man. "Anyway, I have a situation that I need taken care of, and I don't want this to be on my record. At least publicly, given how my honesty is what got me elected to this position to begin with." He proceeded to lay out his plan to Vitus and the Panemian spy frowned.

"You wish for me to sponsor the youth from Twelve? That boy?" he asks.

Seph nods. "Yes. You are in a position that allows you to, and as such, it will possibly draw in their attention. But what I want to know is why he kept saying that he won't go back again. Since you work in the Games department there, you no doubt have access to the tributes' files. I need that information so I know who I'm dealing with," he explains. "Also, if possible, get him the best equipment to stay alive with, even if it means giving him a damn bloody grenade. But do not send it unless called for. I don't want our other spy ops compromised."

"I can't guarantee that," Vitus says softly. He huddles over his phone as a "Peacekeeper" (Soldier, not Peacekeeper, he reminds himself) walks by, rifle held at the ready across his chest. "It is a big risk to even give the tributes those kinds of weapons! It's practically illegal! I could get in trouble!"

"True, but isn't that why you wanted to become a spy for us anyway?" Seph asks as he leans forward. "So you could allow people to follow their own lifestyles?"

"Yes, but..." Vitus cuts off briefly as he ducks into a nearby Capitol shopping mall, and he sighs before walking and seeming to be a normal shopper. "But not like this. Every day I get fearful someone may spill the beans like they did in the muttation design and intelligence departments. I... I hate to say it, but from what people are saying in the higher echelons, and from what the Post said, it's like you haven't been paying much attention to current events."

Seph frowns at that. "So things are different than they appear to be..." he muses. "I wonder if the whistleblower did that on purpose..."

"We don't know yet, but... We may be able to get some up-to-date information out," Vitus whispers. "And then you may be able to work more effectively to get Panem to back off from your country's territory."

"Get it, and we'll try to get you and your family out of that hellhole," Seph says. "I'll contact you as soon as we have a plan in place. Just do not screw this one up, Vernon. It's your only chance, and perhaps ours as well."

"Yes. But we also can sponsor another tribute as well, if you'll allow it." Vitus is a good man, Seph knows, but he is also still a Capitolite. So he has to be careful with what he says and does. At least until he gets the man's wife and two sons and daughter out. Vitus is also scared, not just for himself, but also for his family in the Districts. That's why he volunteered his services as a spy to the Confederation once the Second Revolution failed.

"All right. But probably go with one of the tributes from Eight. That District always has some rebellion going on somehow."

Vitus nods and then he salutes, not in Panemian style, but in good ol' American military style, rather quickly. He then cuts the line and the screen goes blank.

End Flashback

Seph lifts his gaze from the report he's currently perusing while waiting for the base commander and his eye hardens into an emerald as the door slides open.

An aide steps out and waves him in. "She's expecting you."

The President puts the report away in his briefcase before standing and heading in.

The woman in charge of Coober Pedy Missile Base is a formidable person, he knows, having worked with her in the past as a soldier. While she is the same age as he is, she's in no way a relation or a lover. In fact, she's his former superior; only now he is her superior.

General Reshmi Jain is in her fifties, and she stands at an imposing six foot one, a tall height for a woman. Her hair is a bright red, with a streak of grey down the middle. Her eyes are a sharp, and rather startling, yellow color while her skin is a deep brown. She wears her uniform crisp and clean, pressed each time, and she walks with a poise and purpose that only a Capitolite has, but it's far from it; that kind of poise and purpose comes from a drive she wishes to see through to the end. Whereas Seph is more honest and straightforward, Jain is rather cunning and manipulative, a trait that earned her several enemies, but at the same time propelled her to the height of her career. Seph just worked hard to get to where he is.

She turns to face him from behind her desk. "Mr. President." Her tone is clipped and very official, just as he remembers it.

"General." Out of sheer instinct he salutes her, and a wry smirk creeps over her features.

"Still the same as always, Matthews," she says, leaning forward. "And I take that this visit is anything but formal, nor is it for a review of the missiles, is it?"

"Hardly," Seph says as he drops the salute. "I'm here to brief you on an operation I've got planned to showcase our power should the need arise."

Jain frowns. "So you say. What operation?" she asks, tenting her fingers.

"It's simple: should Panem start to flex their power, I'm giving you permission to chuck one their way." Seph's eye is hard as his optic flashes. "But... the warheads have to be inert. In other words, training dummies. We are not to engage in direct nuclear warfare unless they launch one our way and deliver damage to us."

That gets the general. Her lips curl upward. "So, a show of strength, right, sir?"

The President nods. "Yes. To show we have the ability to deliver a nuclear warhead rather than just bluffing. They did say they didn't think we had such warheads or ICBMs last time we met in person."

Jain is silent for a moment. "I see. And you feel it will give them something to think about, right?"

Seph nods, his eye flicking to the monitor showing one of the ICBMs undergoing maintenance. "Yes. But we can't risk war. Not until we have a better advantage."

And until we have more Gundams and Mobile Suits... he mentally adds.

"So, what's this operation called?" Jain asks. Her eyes study him critically and Seph smirks.

"Operation: Might. That's it. Simple, straight to the point, and it also indicates what we mean this time. No more hiding behind obscure names for this one," he tells her.

The female officer's lips curl into a grin. "That's something I've been expecting to hear for years now. A show that we do have bloody missiles." Then she frowns. "But I don't like the use of inert warheads."

"Better than using a live one," Seph retorts. "And remember, I'm in charge now. So if you dare to go against that order..."

Jain snorts. "Fine. I'll do it."

Seph nods. "Good. Stand by for when the order is needed."

Location: Disaster Site

Time: 0900 hours

The entire area is a complete mess.

Zero purses his lips as he takes in the sight with military precision.

In front of him is a massive oil spill. It's originating from five different rigs, two of which are on fire, and three others are halfway destroyed, leaking more oil out further away. He guesses that maybe the wells haven't been fully tapped or someone struggled to stop the destructive leaks. The second option seems more plausible than the first though; he just isn't sure why.

The general pulls his head into the helicopter as it circles the area, the 1st Restoration Division and 2nd Damage Control Group using two commandeered supply ships as their bases. With them is a single ship with a set of containers on its deck and sides. These containers hold the nanobuilder solution that is used to disassemble the oil slick down to the basic molecules. And two of them are even used as reassembly units for reconstructing the trees that are cut down.

While normally something that exists in science fiction, the nanobuilders not only can create synthetic wood, but can also reconstruct the real deal. It's literally like a micro-sized factory in one container. And with the advances in technology made in the last one hundred thirty nine years, the nanobuilders can be programmed to create just about anything from raw minerals, save for complex organisms like birds, apes, and crocodiles. The nanobuilders are a lot like the replicator technology from the old TV series Star Trek, but more efficient.

"You blokes getting this?" he asks seriously.

"We sure are, sir," one of the members with him replies as she holds up her camera. "It's a bad situation all right. Spill extends out about five miles and is still growing. It's gonna take a long time to disassemble that thing."

"And the rigs?" Zero's eyes are hard as he examines them.

"From what we can see, the rigs are in good shape. Well, six are, anyway. Two are total losses and will have to be broken down. The nanobuilders will be able to handle that as well." Her eyes dart over to the three partially destroyed rigs. "The three that are partially destroyed we can salvage. The other three are intact except for the piping used for transporting the sludge."

"Hmm... Can we fix that?" the general asks.

One of the technicians glances up from his work, his green eyes weary. "Well, the nanobuilders could use some of the iron in the oil to repair the pipes, and the carbon can be used to reinforce it." He types a few commands on the keyboard of his laptop, which in turn beams the signals back to the nanobuilders in the containers. "But it's very risky."

"Then do it. And also make sure that the carbon we extract is put to use in the reassembly units for reconstructing the trees. Also, have the guys in the Restoration Division to do some chemical analysis of the soil in PNG. We may need to figure out how to redress the balance to allow the trees to grow," Zero orders.

"Will do, sir!" the techie replies.

He shifts before he got on the line and Zero turns his gaze back to the rigs. "Well... here comes the tough part..." he mutters under his breath.

Okay, peeps! Here's chapter four! :) It looks like things are starting to heat up for the Hunger Games. What is Seph planning? Be sure to stay tuned everyone! Till next time! :)

Ja ne! :)