+ Thanks to FoxfaceFan1 and melliemoo for the reviews! Something of a transition chapter here. The big action and revelations are set to come later. Gotta put in the set-up first…

/ / / / /

Early in the morning, first of the month.

I camped out in an empty shed on the edge of the town square at first light, keeping an eye on the entrance to the church from a crack in the shed door. It was dark in here, and I wanted nothing more than to run to the first place with lights on and barricade myself inside. Unfortunately, that wouldn't put me any closer to figuring out just how deep the Church ran.

After what felt like at least an hour of squatting atop a splinter-lined stool in the shed, the first churchgoer walked up to the chapel's doors. She was young, maybe a year or two older than I. More followed, all of them around the same age, late teens, early twenties.

Hmm. Creepy candle-lighting guy was on to something.

I couldn't pick out Blaze from this distance, but that didn't matter. If he showed up, great. If not, I'd step in anyway and see what this youth group thing was all about.

It sounded shady, and my heart pounded as I waited. Separate a bunch of kids – or young adults, whatever – and make them listen to some religious rambling? I guessed said talk wouldn't just limit itself to theological or ontological chats, either. Lucrezia's distrust of the Church made more sense as I contemplated: Get a bunch of kids to buy into the most zealous of the ideals, and they'd be capable of anything years down the line. Violence? Purges? Sure. As long as it was for the cause.

After a handful more people filed into the church, I got up, dusted off my pants, straightened my wig, and stepped out of the shed.

I wasn't alone outside the church, however. The man from the other day, the one lighting the candles, was back – this time standing on a rickety scaffold, smoothing mortar over a crack in the church walls. His grin was all gap-lined teeth as I approached.

"I thought you might be back," he said. "I didn't see the young man you were lookin' for, though. Maybe he's out sick. Or workin' early?"

Dammit. The one time I was counting on Blaze and he ditched. Wonderful. "Well I was…I wanted to hear what this youth group had to preach, anyway," I said, trying not to trip over my words. "Thanks for letting me know."

"Oh, it's no big thing. More ears hearin' the words's only good, right?"

I forced a smile. "Right."

He dropped down from the scaffold. "I was about finishin' up anyway. You have fun this mornin', pretty flower. I got some things to take care of. 'Sides, I'm too old for your kids's groups, anyway."

With no Blaze on hand I – Misty – would have to play things carefully. No speaking up. No ambitious moves. Just pretending to be a young believer wanting to hear more of whatever the Church spewed. Tempering my expectations and swallowing my anxiety, I walked in.

Right off the bat I knew I wouldn't remember any of their names. They were dusty-faced and doe-eyed kids, most only a few years older than me if that, some younger. A few older boys took over, having the few of us new to the group introduce ourselves, and I played up Lucrezia's fake story as well as I could. Pretending amongst these folk was easy: They were all too willing to buy into some forlorn, lost girl looking for solace. And why not? None of them had ever been beyond District 5's security fence. A few had never even been close to it. I could fake blending in with them, pretend to be enthralled as the older boys had us talk about how our lives were more than the dirt and the sand and the dust, but I'd never be a part of these people. Hells, I'd never want to.

Suleiman was on to something, I supposed. This did bore me. An hour in and I wanted anything else but to listen to a girl my age lament how the Shadow had corrupted her father and led him down a path to alcoholism, and might we all pray that he abandon the bottle and see that his wife and children needed his paternal guidance? It made Finch chewing me out seem exciting and novel.

When I struggled to keep my eyes open and my brain felt as if it'd melt away into sludge, however, a visitor stepped in. One of the older boys went quiet amidst a story, and the others all met his gaze. The church's doors shut quietly as Pyre York strolled on, his hands cupped, a sincere smile playing across his lips.

He looked around as we all stared his way and said, "A few new faces in the crowd today. It's heartwarming to see you all here. Don't let me disturb you."

The boy who had been talking changed directions, sensing a need to wrap the group meeting up: "Um – how about we go around? Anyone who needs to ask something? One of our first-timers have a confession?"

I don't know what had brought Pyre here, but I knew an opportunity when I saw it. I raised my hand, trembling as I did, and upon receiving a nod from the boy, stood up and cleared my throat. Good thing I was used to attention by now. Time to play the part. "I have something. I – I never really had a family. My mother…she gets around. I don't even know any father of mine. For eighteen years I didn't believe in anything, and I came here on kind of a whim. I just…I want to ask you all to hope for me, okay? I want a family of my own. I've never really had one. I've tried to connect with my mother, but…maybe I just needed to turn to what was right the whole time. You know? I don't want to fall into that same cycle. Please, just…I don't want to burden you by asking for help, but I want to connect with someone on a meaningful level. I don't want to fall into a cycle of misery like my family's done."

Pyre spoke up: "Do you accept our lords' blessings?"

"Yes. I do."

"Then don't be worried, child. Believe in better days. They'll come."

After everyone was done and the others began to file out, Pyre stopped me and pulled me aside. "Misty, isn't it?" he said. "I had seen you in our pews a few times before, always sitting next to Blaze. I understand you are friends?'

I gulped. Shoot. Lucrezia had pushed me to meet one-on-one with Pyre and here I was, without so much as one important thing to say. "Recent friends. I met him here."

"Fate. Providence," said Pyre. "Or maybe just coincidence. How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Ah. Still old enough for the Games, then? I suppose you're waiting for the Quell announcement next week like everyone else."

Damn it. I'd forgotten all about the Fourth Quarter Quell, or the fact that Calla Snow was set to announce the One Hundredth Hunger Games's twist in just a short week's time. Ugh, too many things to keep track of…

"Some time after that," Pyre continued for me. "I'll find you after a service. It sounds as if you're going through some trouble. I'd like to show you something."

I nodded and bit my lip, my words sticking in my throat. What luck. I'd need to plan, prepare for what to say to get anything meaningful out of him, but Misty Saban had done something of note after all.

When I reported to Lucrezia and Xanthia, however, they were less than impressed.

"Oh, poor Fake Terra, her family a mess, her dreams in tatters. I'm crying my eyes out. Excuse me, but Pyre's willingness to eat up your bull without a proper cross-examination screams 'trap.'"

I folded my arms at Xanthia's snark. Her office was too small for the three of us, particularly with Lucrezia seeming to take up as much room as she possibly could by splaying her legs and draping her arms across a wide folding chair. While I'd expected these two to be happy that I'd secured a potential one-on-one meeting with Pyre, they seemed anything but pleased.

"He was happy enough to ask me to stick around and talk!" I protested as Lucrezia rolled her eyes. "Look. All the other kids there at the group meeting, they really believed in all the church teachings and stuff. So, Pyre has a lot of influence there. Isn't that important to know?"

Xanthia snorted. "Really? He's figured out that brainwashing kids is a smart move? God, you're the nation's best informant, Terra. I'd like to know more. What district are we in?"

"Do you have anything more than just a pleasant chat in mind?" Lucrezia cut her off. "For all we know, Pyre pulls aside every wide-eyed teenage convert. As delightful as it is that you've finally managed to talk to the man one-on-one, it'd be better if you had some idea of just what he wants to show you. Or how you plan to keep him interested in you after your conversation. If your conversations with me are any indication, you have some work to do there."

"No, I want to know things, too!" I protested. "You both tell me this faith is bad news, and I get that it's way too deep for my liking. But why not just squelch it out if you're that peeved about it? Why go to the trouble of digging for information and fake identities and everything?'

"Because it's not just District 5, you goddamn idiot," said Xanthia. "Three faiths in Panem. There's that Storm Lord in District 4, who knows what they're on about. That morbid death shit in District 2. And then the Church of the Triad, the largest faith in Panem. Districts 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, and 11 all have offshoots of it. Goes back way before the Dark Days, back to whatever the old world people believed in. That satisfy you?"

I felt queasy as soon as Xanthia finished. Three years ago, the first time I'd met Pyre – Arrian had given me a letter to give to him. What message had I passed on? If the church stretched across, well, half of Panem, how much more dangerous was this belief?

"You let him take the reins the next time you meet," Lucrezia instructed. "Talk too much and you'll foul it up. If Pyre York wants to show you something interesting, you let him. If it's not interesting at all, at least pretend."

"What if it's something dangerous?"

"That's true," Xanthia nodded, looking sullen. "How will you ever react in a dangerous situation? It's not like anyone's seen you do that before, apart from the whole country."

I steamed. "Look, you just push papers or manage or whatever the hell you work here for, you don't know –"

"That is all," Lucrezia finished for all of us. "You establish a rapport. You gather information. You tell us your findings. I have the distinct impression that if you try and rush it you'll throw a wrench in the whole system. The moment after your first meeting with Pyre, we'll all decide on a focused strategy based on what you learn in private. Do you understand?"

Fine. Fine, I could bide my time. But the more I waited, the more I cultivated relationships and learned and listened, the more I felt out of the loop. Lucrezia and Xanthia knew more than they were letting on about all this, I knew it. They wouldn't have bothered with me if they only wanted to hear about religious tenants. I wanted to know just what made them squirm.

/ / / / /

Rain washed down the windows of the Presidential Mansion. Gunmetal stratus clouds growled with thunder and lit up the Capitol with lances of lightning. Cyrus watched from inside the Assembly Hall as wind battered the room's great crystal windows. Even though it was only noon, the darkness outside contrasted so sharply with the interior's bright chandeliers that it seemed like night had fallen across the city at midday.

Next to him, Galan Greene yawned and took a long drink from a gold-plated goblet. "Bad weather for the morning," the Head Gamesmaker drawled. "I hardly woke up. Thought it was nighttime."

"It's not the morning anymore," Cyrus murmured.

"Speak for yourself! I woke up an hour ago. Barely remembered to show up for this little pow-wow."

"What are you drinking? Are you drinking drinking at this hour?"

"Oh come on, Cyrus. Like you've never had wine for breakfast. It's a District 11 white."

Over at the table, Rigel punched in numbers on a hologram projector. "Why're you even here?" he asked Galan without looking up. "Aren't your Games a little higher on your list of priorities?"

"Nah, nothing that can't wait," he said, taking another drink. "Besides, I was out late. I'm still getting my head together. Not a good idea to go planning, you know?"

The fourth man around the table, Julian, smirked. "Not good to go planning an arena, but good enough to plan what's next for the country. Excellent foresight, Galan. Just what I expect from you."

"Don't give me that," the Head Gamesmaker snapped. "Don't you have a street to clean or something?"

Julian shrugged and nodded towards the window as a gust of window blasted it with rain. "Who's even showing up today?" he said, leaning back in his chair and kicking his feet up on the table's shiny, polished surface. "Obviously our illustrious dictator."

"Calla won't come. Count on it," Rigel said.

"Please. The only thing she dictates is this summer's fashion trend. Bright purple in this year, maybe?"

"Taurus is bringing Bera, I heard," Cyrus filled them in, still watching the rain pound away outside. "And Varno's tagging along."

"Bera?" Julian clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. "Bringing the daughter and leaving the son at home? That's a parenting no-no, isn't it? Child favoritism and all that?"

Rigel shook his head. "Marcus is a soft kid. He putters around in gardens and sculpts, I hear. Not exactly fitting for an only son of a prestigious man."

"Poor taste, too," Galan chimed in. "I tried to talk him up into looking into gamesmaking at one point, since all this…statecraft…isn't really up his alley. Boy turned me down. He says he doesn't even watch much of the Games. I can see why Taurus doesn't bring him up."

Julian glanced at Cyrus before saying, "And the world knows we'd be lost without your tips on taste, Galan. Are we going to have an attractive victor this year for you to bed?"

The room's great doors banged open before Galan had a chance to retort. Taurus strolled into the room, his frown gloomy, his eyes dark. His eldest child and only daughter followed in his footsteps, her head down and her lips parsed. Finally, Varno stepped in, surveying the room, grinning, closing the doors, and taking a seat in the closest chair to the exit.

"No Ms. Snow? I'm shocked," Julian said.

Taurus smacked the back of his chair as he headed for a seat at the head of the table. "Take your feet off the table and sit up like a proper human being. And no, the President won't be joining us. Nor do we need her to."

Galan was quick to chime in: "I have a meeting with her this afternoon, in fact. Finishing up preparations for the Quell announcement. She's probably busy. She'll need my expertise later, anyway."

"I assume she's busy tending to her presidential wardrobe," Taurus scoffed. "Which leaves us time to tend to affairs of state. Cyrus, Galan. Sit."

Cyrus pulled out a chair between Julian and Bera, putting some distance between him and Taurus. The council's newcomer in particular interested him: Bera seemed to be putting her own space between her and her father, as if she was afraid to so much as breathe wrong in his presence.

"About your arena, Head Gamesmaker," Taurus said to lead off. 'Tell me you're finished with the major preparations. I don't want to have to spend any more time than necessary discussing that spectacle."

Galan swelled in the spotlight, puffing out his chest and sitting up like a statue. "Oh, yes. I had the president herself make sure everything about it was up to par. Even had Varno open up his labs so she could get a good look on what we're planning on releasing for the cameras this year."

Cyrus glanced to his right. The Head Scientist looked less than pleased with the Head Gamesmaker, eying him with a particularly hateful disdain.

"About your little celebration plans," Julian spoke up. "How much of the city are you shutting down this year before the Games start? All of it? More than all of it?"

"It's not shutting down, it's repurposing. You should be grateful. I'm actually bringing in –"

"Answer his question," Taurus interrupted.

Galan paused and with a much quieter voice said, "Two weeks for all the usual districts. City Center, the Forum, all that."

"Two weeks?" Julian barked. "Are we going to watch your lucky chosen tributes flail around on chariots and smile for Cicero and Caesar for two weeks? One week is bad enough every year before you get them away to the arena."

"You might keep in mind that it's not just Hunger Games: X edition. It's the one hundredth running. That means we have to make it bigger, add in –"

"I think you've made your point," said Varno. "I'm sure two weeks of usurping the city is enough time for your show."

"Quite," Taurus agreed. "You have your answer, Julian. Enough about that. Rigel. Cyrus. I want your reports on the districts."

Cyrus sucked in a breath to begin, but Rigel glanced at him and held up a finger. I got it. "Cyrus and I caught some disturbances out of District 13 some time ago, and they haven't gone away. Security fence breaches, funny energy spikes in their power plants, a couple patrols that just fell off our map, things like that. They've been having resource problems with their population thinning out, but this cropped up all of the sudden."

"Which makes them desperate," Varno said. "This is a perfect time to strike them. If we don't, they could do it first. Reach out to District 12 perhaps, since they're still reeling from their latest pox outbreak. The longer we wait on 13, the more we waste an opportunity."

"We don't need to charge into a storm if it's thinning out," Cyrus countered. "We haven't had a major incident since District 4 four years ago. Let's enjoy a little quiet while we have it."

"And about District 4?" Taurus said. "Any news?"

Rigel sighed, glanced Cyrus's way, and said. "Yes. And there's going to be more news if we don't do anything about that, either."

"Beg pardon – "

"Silence," Taurus cut off Cyrus's protest. "Rigel, speak."

The Peacekeeper Captain-General opened up the hologram projector, sending up a three-dimensional map of District 4 across the meeting table. Blue dots concentrated around a small peninsula jutting out into the district's bay at its north end – the Presidio, the Peacekeeper fortress. "We had a supply ship coming in from District 3 not too long ago. It was carrying some hardware and other packages for our two hovercraft in the district, some munitions, and the like. Except when it got into the harbor, a small crew of partisans attacked it. One of our hovercrafts mounted a quick counterattacked and killed several of the terrorists, but from the reports, it looks like they got away with some weapons. Explosives, mostly."

Taurus stroked his chin. "A shame Lucrezia's in District 5. How many of the perpetrators have you rounded up?"

"So far, none."

"None?"

"All due respect," Cyrus said, holding up a hand. "But these people are on edge already. The moment we hang someone in the square, violence breaks out again."

"I'd say it already has," Galan snorted.

Cyrus shot him a nasty glance. "I'm talking full-scale rioting and revolt of the like we haven't seen since District 8 had its outbreak more than fifteen years ago. Burned down more than a hundred buildings and killed too many people on top of that. We don't want that again."

"And I don't want my soldiers unequipped to fight back when they're under attack," Rigel countered. "Taurus, our current response isn't enough. Let me reinforce the most vulnerable districts. Beef up the garrisons. Send out more hovercraft to ramp up security patrols. We're just rolling over for any idiot who feels uppity if we don't do anything."

"And if we do too much, we're falling right into their plans," said Cyrus. "This is exactly what happened with the Dark Days. A few incidents happen, too much force is sent in to keep the places quiet, and it's all too easy for someone charismatic to rally fighters to his cause. District 4's already got one such man in Rio West."

"Why is he still alive?" Taurus asked.

Cyrus narrowed his eyes. "We don't need to kill everyone who disagrees with us. Making a populist leader like that a martyr is an even bigger rallying point."

"Why don't you just have a public trial for people who break the law?" Bera said, speaking up at last with a tiny voice.

She shrank away as soon as Taurus scowled at her and said, "You're here to listen, not to chime in on what you don't understand."

Yeah, but she has a point, Cyrus thought. Maybe public trials were too ambitious – as Julian immediately chimed in, they could be seen as sham trials easily by a public who wanted any excuse to attack Peacekeepers – but something other than either rolling over for District 4's resistance or crushing everyone who blinked at the wrong time had to be a better option.

"Divert some forces away from District 1," Taurus said. "Send them to 4 to increase our presence, Rigel. At the same time, increase security around 11 and 12 in case 13 does have any ideas. Both districts are fertile grounds for insurgents."

"That's stretching us thin," Rigel said, fretting. "The thing is, we'd have to take men and hovercraft from 2 to do that, and they've been less enthusiastic about things lately, too."

Varno tapped the table. "If you don't, we're vulnerable to being closed in on by enemies on both coasts."

"Or we try a non-military solution first to keep order," Cyrus protested. "We're going to have a fight if we provoke one."

"Then let's pick our fight," Varno said. "I have a better idea. Reinforce District 4 as much as you want. Ignore 13. Leave me to keep an eye on them. In the labs, we're coming up with all sorts of new technologies every day. If 13 tries anything, it'd be an honor to test out our developments on them. You won't have to spend any Peacekeepers to contain them, and I'll have something to do besides feeding beasts to Galan's Hunger Games."

What are you up to? Cyrus thought. He always felt the Head Scientist was holding something back whenever he spoke, as if Varno had cut out the real meat of his arguments right before he got to them. Strange stuff out of 13, sure, but the district hadn't so much as peeped since the Dark Days. Why the interest?

Taurus looked around the table and said, "Agreed. But I want hovercraft in 12 anyway. Rensler, 13 is yours to watch – but the moment anything major happens out of the ordinary, any sign of mobilization from their military, I want to know. Rigel, take half the Peacekeepers from the Capitol and District 1 garrisons to reinforce the riskier districts. 4, 5, 7, 8, 11. Make sure they start cracking down on crime harder. We've tolerated these little shows like in District 4 for long enough. If the districts can't behave themselves, then we'll remind them how to do so. The moment these people are confident they can get away with little crimes is the moment we find a real revolt on our hands."

Cyrus shook his head. This is going to backfire.