Thank you for all of the support and for hanging in there. Special thanks to Norbertsmom for putting up with my shenanigans and being an extraordinary beta!

Here is the next chapter it's not long but oh boy...as they say in Sherlock the Game is Afoot...Mrs. Everdeen is never wrong

There was an emergency weather alert for all residents to report home in District Twelve as another snow storm would be intensifying to blinding blizzard conditions with temperatures low enough to kill anyone exposed to the elements for long periods of time. Even the mines were shutting down as they could not afford to have men trapped on their way home. Right before the holidays, they had a similar climate, the miners were forced to keep working. It the middle of the blizzard there was a scare in the mines and it was thought the miners wouldn't be able to be rescued because the entrance of the mines was blocked by the snowfall and too dangerous outside to shovel. Many were afraid the minors died of gas poisoning.

Luckily no one was hurt. The canary died of old age. Today the officials were not taking a chance after what happened, plus this storm was forecasted to be worse than the storm that fell the night the scare happened. The entire district was shutting down and the Peacekeepers were given orders to arrest anyone caught out in the streets.

As the snow fell over the District, a lone figure sat at a desk hunched over an old machine that very few across Panem knew how to use, unless of course they grew up in District Twelve or were a trained spy. They did not have much time as it looked like the snow was about to intensify and they had to slip out and not get caught by the public at large or in this case the impending weather.

The weather was a main concern for the Capitol. At the beginning of the mission, the weather was the first thing the government wanted to know about. The loyalty of the Mayor was in question. The Mayor was a feeble man given to episodes like his drunken wife. That was reported upon, and the Mayor's house was inspected and soon after that, the Mayor got in line with the Capitol's edict.

The machine was good and ready to be used, its power source was secured. Getting the translator book, a pencil and a piece of paper was the next priority.

Trying to come up with the best message possible wasn't easy. Sitting back with the pencil twirling between their fingers, they acknowledged the job of a spy was only over when death came knocking at their door. It was a lifelong commitment. It took a true patriot to do this job.

Being a spy demanded a true patriotic nature. The Capitol chose carefully when deciding who to transplant into the districts. They searched for steadfast, hardworking people who could blend in and work and live like the common residents, but who would remain loyal to the Capitol.

The code name for the spies who were sent to each District was the Good Citizen. In Twelve, the spy preferred to be called simply the Citizen. They took their job seriously and believed being good was the responsibility for all who resided in Panem. The job was the more important than family.

It was the Citizen's main purpose to help uphold the laws of Panem while maintaining a life away from public outbursts. Warning the Capitol of potentially dangerous activities or individuals was a big part of their job. If necessary, the Citizen would pick up arms for the President.

In District Twelve things had gotten lax. The Peacekeepers were laughable, taking bribes, buying from poachers, exhibiting drunkenness while on duty, and fraternizing with the women.

Members of Panem's great military force stooped so low as to purchased unsanctioned merchandise in the black market and ate from the many vendors. This district lacked focus and respect for the laws governing the land. The Citizen was incensed upon learning of the important job their family was meant to do. It had been dropped by the wayside because of the negligent climate of this outlying district. The Citizen's own family had become bloated, and obsessed with a lifestyle.

The family had all but forgotten the very reason there were sent to this backwater District Twelve where nearly everyone was related, from the Seam to Merchants. Only a handful of residents had diverse bloodlines, like that of the Citizen. The family was complacent, turning a blind eye to the frequent infractions.

The Citizen once more emerged, making allies with those who were loyal to Snow, and reported on the state of the Peacekeepers. Slowly, the Capitol began switching out the Peacekeepers. Next, the Citizen focused in on the frequent violators, making careful notes.

Meticulously reporting them to the contact was a task not for the faint-hearted. The old communication method was tiring, but it was the only way to correspond with the superiors.

The communication room itself was not impressive, a dugout space with wooden beams for support. It held one electric bulb hanging from the ceiling and an old desk with a chair. The wiring for the telegraph machine was carefully hidden.

The machine itself didn't require much energy or space. It was made during the dark days, as a method of long-range radio communication. No one would know to listen to it unless they knew that it was being transmitted.

It was amusing that with all of the fancy hi-tech ways of communication, the surest way was older than dirt.

The scratching sound of a series of beeps filled the room. The superiors were waiting for the Citizen's transmission. The weather added a certain sense of urgency, as the longer the message the chances of peril increased. The Citizen needed to leave and seek shelter before the storm grew any worse.

The Citizen diligently wrote down the message on a notepad, then used the translator to write out the code to be transmitted. It was imperative that the contact knew that this had to be handled. District Twelve had shut down, but it was a hotbed of agitators.

With the message translated, the Citizen began sending out a greeting, tapping their signal. They waited until the contact replied back with the password. Once the line was secure, the valuable information could be sent. The small clicking noise would sound different on the opposite side. To the contact, it sounded like a series of beeps. The longer the beep sounds were dashes, the shorter ones were dots.

It was transmitted over the telegraph lines. The contact would write down the message and pass it on to their superior officer.

Once the message was sent several times for accuracy, a short acknowledgment was given.

Pushing back the chair, the Citizen sighed. Things in the district were never going to be the same. Opening up the hidden door, the Citizen slipped out into the cold, the snow was getting worse and home beckoned. In the rush to leave, the proper steps were not taken to destroy evidence. The forgotten paper with the message slipped to the floor. It read:

..- .-. -. . -. - -. - - .. ..-. .. -.-. .- - .. - -. ·-·-·- - ... . ... - -... ... .- ... - .-. . -. . -.. .- -. .- .. -. ·-·-·- .. .-. . .-. . .- - -.. .. ... - .-. .. -.-. - - .- . .-.. ...- . ... -... .-.. .- -.-. -.- - .- .-. -.- . - .-. . - .-. . -. . -.. ·-·-·- .. .-.. .-.. . -. .- .-.. -.-. - - - . .-. -.-. . .. ... -... . .. -. -. -.-. - - - .. - - . -.. .. -. - ... . -.. .. ... - .-. .. -.-. - ·-·-·- .- .-.. .-.. .- -. .. - .- - - .-. ... - ..- ... - -... . ... - - .-. .-. . -.. ·-·-·- .- .-.. .-.. .. .-.. .-.. . -. .- .-.. .- -.-. - .. ...- .. - .. . ... - ..- ... - -... . ... - - .-. .-. . -.. ·-·-·- ... . -. -.. .-. . .. -. ..-. - .-. -.-. . - . -. - ... ·-·-·- - ... . -.-. .. - .. -.. . -. ·-·-·-

URGENT NOTIFICATION. THE HOB HAS OPENED AGAIN. I REPEAT DISTRICT TWELVES BLACK MARKET REOPENED. ILLEGAL COMMERCE IS BEING COMMITTED IN THE DISTRICT. ALL AGITATORS MUST BE STOPPED. ALL ILLEGAL ACTIVITIES MUST BE STOPPED. SEND REINFORCEMENTS. THE CITIZEN.