I had thought killing Snow was a wild dream suited only for being shouted in the woods. Snow would be shot by the surviving members of our squad, so now I would be amongst the eight men and women making that dream a reality, along with my dear Catnip.
The deaths in the arenas weren't illegal, nor were executing traitors or killing enemies on the battlefield, not to mention all those who died indirectly as a result of the Capitol's policies. It was all so avoidable, which is why we wanted to see Snow join the corpses. Yet the lawyers insisted we couldn't officially blame him for enforcing his own laws. However, he could still be held to account for repeatedly and indiscriminately ordering Peacekeepers to open fire on civilians in the districts. That was murder even to the legal nitpickers.
Yet we knew that all the corpses, whatever the attorneys said about them, were the terrible price of this war freshly won.
Cato knew something of Clove's mother Ivy. She had lived a life very typical of District Two women. She had, in her mid-twenties, married an ex-Peacekeeper and seen their son grow up to join the next generation of Peacekeepers. Their family had been the very archetype of District Two's Capitol loyalists until it all came crashing down on them August 11th.
We had come to the Capitol on a deadly serious military mission with the appropriate secrecy. With that mission completed, in came a District Thirteen media team. It was right out of Snow's playbook, and that of many leaders before him, to make justice so public. We were resolved to not repeat the mistakes of the past, especially after having caught Coin doing so. I wondered how soon that sentiment would dissipate. Certainly not this soon. I felt what we were demonstrating justice for made plenty of difference.
It was a bit of a misnomer to say the camera crew was from District Thirteen. All four had the Capitol look about them. I didn't recognize them from my work on rebel propaganda. The director introduced herself as Cressida, her shiny shaved head and green tattoos providing a vivid contrast with our gray field uniforms. She pointed to one of the others and said he was her assistant, a man named Messalla. I'm not sure if he was particularly flamboyant or if his earrings and tongue piercing were just par for the course for the Capitol. The cameramen were encased in suits with their equipment attached; I supposed that was to keep their hands free and help them move around to cover the news. They had taken off some of their gear and opened some visors, this being a relatively stationary new story. They must be big men to move with that stuff, and they were. With similar wild red hair and blue eyes, they were likely brothers. One gave his name as Castor.
Yet the other one did not speak at all. I knew without being told that he was an Avox, tongue cut out and enslaved for some 'crime' against the Capitol. That could very well have been mine or Katniss' fate, or our fathers', not to mention any of our Hob friends. No wonder the cameramen were rebels, but what about the directors? "The Capitol School Of Technical Arts taught us to use the media for the greater good," Cressida began to explain. "However, as certain people stood ready to sacrifice themselves to the arena to save their siblings or lovers," she said while looking at me, Catnip and Cato, "I developed a different definition of what that 'greater good' was," she finished.
"Thank you. It's going around," I answered.
Alexander, the current Peacekeeper Hawkins, had remained with the District Two mayor after evacuating him to the Capitol, all the while scheming how to turn him over to rebel custody. He did so as soon as news of Snow's capture spread. "Him too?" he asked of Lyme while manhandling Mayor Patrick Lazare I. Like Snow, he had been sentenced to death in absentia. Miranda McGraw, the captured District Ten mayor, had testified against them, repentance calculated to keep her own corpulent body away from a firing squad. Our own Miles Undersee had been cooperative to begin with and for the right reasons, but being mayor of a small outlying district, he hadn't been exposed to as much evidence.
"No, take him back home and carry out his sentence there," Lyme ordered, and Alexander dragged Patrick away, probably towards a transport of some sort.
Patrick's family had still been with him at the time. His wife Emma was resigned to this being his fate as part of a successful rebellion. Patrick Lazare II turned towards Cato. "I guess you're not going into the arena next year after all," Cato told him. Evidently he had dreamed of being a Victor too, and they knew each other from the District Two training academy.
"Or my sister three years from now. Maybe our lives were two of those you saved," the younger Patrick admitted.
Relatives of a murderer's victims often watched the execution together. I don't think any particular group of them had been brought together for this occasion, but we knew many pairs of eyes that would be watching particularly closely. Ivy Hawkins and Willow Clayton, with children so different, were now in the same situation, and they knew it. Somewhere there would an empty seat for Electra McLeod – she had committed suicide at the death of her daughter Marissa who we had known as Foxface.
I relished the opportunity to berate Snow to his face. "I'm already living one of my dreams as the husband of this wonderful creature," I said gesturing towards Katniss. "You nearly took her from me, and I already hated you. I've dreamed about this for a long time; I'd like to savor the moment and kill you twice. You know why there are no little Gales or Katnisses running around? Because she couldn't bear to see them face the reaping, and she's hardly alone in that sentiment. You've thrown the worst fear that can ever be hurled, fear to bring children into the world. Now we'll hurl something at you."
We tied him to a post in his garden. Once we were lined up, our camera crew went live. For this, we'd each load one cartridge directly into the chamber rather than using magazines. This was done in sequence rather than in unison so we'd each have time to make a short comment.
I happened to be on the left of the line, so I went first. "I have a feeling that the December 69 mine explosion was a setup. For Thomas Hawthorne." The chamber closed with a very satisfying click. Katniss likewise dedicated her bullet to Jacob Everdeen, and also Rue Clayton of course.
Cashmere named her brother, father and their other fellow District One victors butchered. Sapphire also paid special attention to her district's fallen. Cashmere and Brutus both spoke for the mentorees they had watched die.
Finnick spat, "For Hook, Lotus and even threatening Annie."
Johanna piled on, meeting Snow with a rejoinder of "For actually carrying out that threat against the other Masons, you whoremonger."
Cato said, "This is the last time I'll enjoy killing someone. For Julius Adams and Clove Hawkins."
Lyme hadn't mentored much, so she was relatively shielded from that burden of being a victor. However, she still knew many of the victims all too well. She closed out simply with, "Any last words, tyrant?"
"You won't like Coin any better," Snow spat back.
"Whatever you say, Mr. President. We've already figured that out anyway. Fire."
A/N
Foxface being named Marissa McLeod, with her mother Electra committing suicide after her death, comes from Beauty From The Ashes, an amazing fic by Don't Call Me Sparkles.