Snow sat stood in front of the large window overlooking the Capitol and well into the mountains surrounding his Capitol. It was if he were in a nest, heavily guarded by nature itself, and as he pondered what this year's Quell would consist of he felt not a care in the world. He absently flexed stiff fingers as he tucked his hands neatly behind his lower back with a satisfied sigh. His office was one of the largest rooms in his mansion as he spent many hours in the dark red and gold room, lined with not only monitors but with long forgotten books. Maps of his Districts and his country were laid out carelessly on a hand-carved desk of the richest wood polished to the point of having its own light source. The richest area rug of the finest material added a regal atmosphere giving Snow more of royal atmosphere than that of a mere President. But of course, as in all places but especially the Capitol, image was everything.
Snow glanced to his left ever so slightly so he could see the reflection of his office in the crystalline glass. He could see his right-hand and personal guard Ricochet sitting lazily in a much homier arm chair, the only ugly thing in the office but also the only thing she would sit comfortably in. The stuffing was protruding from the loose stitching and the wood was worn and splitting along the back and legs, but the young woman lounged with her knees over an arm and a well-polished knife twirling between skilled fingers. She was a Victor at one time and now, at the tender age of twenty-two, she was the highest ranking soldier in Snow's personal guard. He knew there were at least a very few people he could trust with his life, what with the Districts beginning to consider rebellion as a hobby choice, and he was very selective in the men, and woman, he chose to place in life in the hands of. Ricochet had all but proved a very valuable choice with her strategic expertise and complete connectedness to everything around her had made her a very deadly opponent in the Games and has only strengthened in her training for the Capitol Guard. She was the most obedient of Snow's soldiers and never once seemed even remotely concerned with perceived right and wrong as so many others were falling into. She did as she was told, quickly, efficiently and with deadly precision. Snow couldn't have picked a better person to protect him and his endeavors.
"What do you think of these 'uprisings,' my dear Ricochet?" Snow asked slowly pivoting on his heel to study the dark haired woman in his office. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a tight knot that fit under her garrison cap causing her unusually moss colored eyes to shine when she glanced up at Snow with a fine arched eyebrow. She was just as beautiful in the Games as well; far too fine a beauty for Snow to have let waste away in the Districts. She stilled her twirling fingers to run a finger loosely along the blades edge in contemplation.
"We seem to be handling them well, you spoke with Everdeen and I think put the scare of a lifetime in her," she replied simply, "Without a face for this so-called rebellion their fire will be out soon, either on their own accord or by ours," she finished with a hapless shrug. Either option worked for her. She didn't care what happened in the Districts, her job was in the Capitol, in that very office with that very man. As long as the Districts kept their unrest in their boarders she didn't care, it was only if that unrest flowed into the Capitol that she would worry.
Snow, on the other hand, was not as easily convinced the uprisings would be so easy to diffuse. The problematic Katniss Everdeen was still breathing and even if she feared for the lives of people she loved there was still the chance she had done too much already. He would not allow a civil war or a coup to occur under his reign. Panem was his country and its people under his rule, there would be no coup if he did not allow it and he would not allow it.
"If you were in my position, what would you do?" Snow asked out of mere curiosity. He took long and prideful steps across the carpet to his desk, spreading a map of the new Arena out under his hands to admire the ingenuity of his newest Game Master. Plutarch had outdone himself with the new layout for an Arena, it would certainly do very well for the awaited Quell and Snow only had to think of a unique and genius plan for Tributes. He had already demanded twice the Tributes and this Quell had to be more spectacular, more heartbreakingly brilliant than even that.
"if I were you, President Snow," she started while sliding her knife back into the holder at her right thigh, "there probably wouldn't be a Panem."
Snow glanced at her with an eyebrow quirked, but when he saw that usual half smile on his Guard's lips he knew what she meant and he spared her a laugh. Ricochet had a very simple way of dealing with people. If someone did something she did not approve of, she made damn sure they couldn't do it again. He had at least five soldiers in the Infirmary because they had said or done something not to Ricochet's liking. Yes, if she were in President Snow's shoes there was a very likely possibility that there would be no Panem but merely Ricochet on a throne sitting amongst nothing but rubble. She had a low tolerance for people, which was why Snow trusted her solely with his life.
Only a person with no regard for human life would protect him. He knew this and hired accordingly.
"I suppose I see your point," Snow said as he turned back to the map and straightened. He had to think of a topic for this year's Quell. He had to announce it shortly and had yet to think of anything that would draw in more viewers than the last. He glanced at Ricochet once more, she was fiddling with one of her rankings absently bouncing a foot. She was so much a child in so many ways, distracted by shiny objects and annoyed by simple ticks, but beneath that lay dormant a monster of unspeakable cruelty and precision. She had brought in a great many viewers and he had heard talk of her as recently as the previous day. "Ricochet, have you given thought to being in the Games once more?" he asked with an air of disinterest. He feigned distraction by reading over the various trials and tricks the Tributes this year would have to face as Ricochet looked up at him. He could hear the smile in her voice as she dared to tease,
"I don't think I fit the age restrictions any longer, Mr. President."
"No, no you don't any longer do you?" he mumbled to himself. An idea began to form and he suddenly turned on his heel to face Ricochet completely, she immediately sat up straighter and dropped the button she had been fiddling with as he tilted his head at her, "Tell me Ricochet, what Games do you recall most? The Tributes you recall?" Ricochet furrowed her eyebrows confusedly for a moment before she offered a heavy shrug.
"Uh well, Beetee comes to mind, but that may be because he's from my District. Katniss and Peeta of course, Finnick Odair-,"
"Ah, have a fondness for Odair do we, Ricochet?" Snow asked with a knowing smile. Ricochet lifted her gaze to Snow's with that half smile on her lips as she simply replied,
"You asked who struck to my mind. I am merely answered what Victors come to mind."
"Victors? You don't recall any others, just the Victors?" Snow asked mildly intrigued. Ricochet shrugged again only adding a slight nod of her head.
"I don't recall the losers, they were weak and therefore not worth remembering. The Capitol and its viewers want Victors not losers," she replied going back to her button. Snow felt a smile creep into his lips as he turned back and hurried to scribble down the new rules for the Quell.
"I hope your answer to my previous question would have been a resounding 'yes,' Ricochet," he told her while picking the order up and turning to her. She slowly pulled her feet off the arm of her chair to study Snow curiously as he waved the order at her teasingly. His eyes seemed to darken and she felt as though the smell of blood strengthened while he spoke, "This year's Quell is for the Victors and you, my dear girl, are going to be in them."