Hebe Dagnus, District Six
The bar on Hope Street was relatively small, with only a faded sign even marking that it was there. The owner, Giancarlo Remington, never managed to repaint the sign. Whether it was out of lack of resources or one of his eccentricities, no one truly knew. As such, most patrons didn't actually know the name of the tavern. All that was left was the street it was on.
Hebe had been to this bar often. Not as often as some, since she was not overly keen on drinking. But she had made an appearance now and then. Often people could find her there talking with Giancarlo or comforting a Victor who had lost a tribute. These occasional appearances meant that no one was suspicious when she arrived there on the first day of the Games.
"Hello Miss Dagnus." Giancarlo greeted her cheerfully, "I hadn't expected to see you here so early. Is your mentee all right?"
"For the moment. Thank you for asking." She replied, "But I'm here for some friends. I believe they rented the back room?"
He nodded in assent and unlocked a large wooden door near the far corner of the bar. She went through, thanking the man, and he shut the door behind her.
Giancarlo was a rebel, at least Hebe thought he was. He wasn't one of hers, so she was never quite certain. Even if he was, he was ignorant to her identity as the Queen of Diamonds. That was by design, and through no small effort on her part. She had thrown multiple events in this space over the years. Board game nights, celebrations, group mourning sessions. David had done similarly, and she imagined that, like her, he encouraged others to book the back room whenever they wanted a comfortable and private place to gather. In that way, the comings and goings of rebel activity were successfully masked.
Hebe waited for a few moments to ensure that Giancarlo had walked away from the door, then walked to the east wall and dislodged a loose panel.
According to legend, whose lurid details had an inverse relationship to the teller's sobriety, the bar on Hope Street was originally owned by smugglers. There was an intricate series of tunnels that wound through several blocks of town. It was not the only building connected to these passages, which further helped them avoid detection. Additionally it helped them avoid learning one another's identities. The less people knew who the leaders of the rebellion were, the better.
Hebe didn't know if the others would use the bar as an entry point today or use one of the other storefronts. Ultimately, it didn't matter. Part of her job was to not care about the other three people she frequently made decisions with. As a curious soul, that was often difficult. But for the sake of Panem, she could manage.
After a short walk, she came to a fork in the tunnels, and noticed a diamond mark, faintly scratched onto the wall next to the path leading to the right. She followed it, and found another mark, which finally led her to the opening into the Council Room for the day. It was a large, round area with at least six doors leading in and out. Hebe hadn't gotten a completely accurate count yet because she was always coming or going through a different route. The passageways were labrynthine and it helped their anonymity that the Council Room was similarly difficult to map out. If Hebe barely knew where she was going herself, she felt less worried about being tracked.
There was a table in the middle of the room, and dark black cloth strung up between the corners and the low beams of the ceiling, dividing the room into quarters. She sat down in the single chair in her section and brought out her voice changer.
"The Queen of Diamonds has arrived."
It was a melodramatic way to introduce herself. But without meeting face to face, she did have to use her full title.
"Glad to know you managed to get here safely," another voice said. It was a slightly more mechanical tone than Hebe's personal changer, the signature of the Ace of Spades. She could never quite tell if it was purposefully androgynous, or if the person behind the voice just didn't know how to adjust the settings.
"We're waiting for the Jack again." A staticky voice, that would have been at home in a Capitol horror movie, said.
"Have patience," the Ace said, "We don't know what they have to do to avoid detection."
The King of Clubs grumbled. At least Hebe thought it was a grumble. Through the changer, it mostly sounded like feedback
"The Jack of Clubs has arrived." A dramatic but stilted voice with an overexaggerated Capitol accent said.
"Welcome." Ace answered, "Queen of Diamonds, you called this meeting. Would you like to start us off?"
Hebe often suspected the Ace of Spades worked as a preschool teacher the way they talked sometimes. But it was bearable. And she did appreciate that someone worked hard to keep them all together. Rebellion was a tricky thing, and infighting was common. Ace's influence helped calm them and allowed them to remember what truly mattered.
"I suspect that the president is up to something." Hebe said.
"The president is always up to something." The King of Clubs said.
"I mean specifically." she continued, "There's something about this year. The twist. The capitolites. How desperately she tried to create a Mockingjay last year. We know she's been planning something for years. And I believe now is when she's going to make her move."
"That doesn't do us much good if we don't know what that move is, though." the Jack of Hearts said.
"I have some ideas." King said.
Hebe almost snorted through her voice changer, "I hadn't expected you to back me up."
"Of course I will. We're the best of friends."
"Ideas?" Ace prompted.
"Right." King seemed to remember he originally had a point, "The thing we have to remember about President Thorrnewood is that she's terribly unoriginal. Powerful, ambitious, meticulous, but if she doesn't have a framework she's lost. That's probably why she's using the Games lately. There's fixed patterns. A well known history to draw on and recombine to her purposes. Last year she tried to find a mockingjay. And now we're at a quell. Well… a mini quell. But I believe you get my point."
There was promise in the suggestion. The Second Rebellion hadn't been a total loss, despite the failure. Coriolanus Snow had died less than a week after the rebels had surrendered, leaving Panem without one of the strongest leaders they'd had in some time. From then on there were a few unremarkable presidents who attempted to hold the country together in the wake of such a polarizing events, and those who remained of the Rebels had put forth initiatives that had cut the president's power and emboldened the Panemian Ruling Council. Stopgap policies, nothing as dramatic as the rebellion would have liked. But still, there was progress.
Until President Thornewood.
Over the years, she had become a thorn in the side of the rebellion worthy of her namesake. Her first term had been intriguing, attempting to implement nationwide poverty relief initiatives. But it had been soundly blocked by the PRC, and Thornewood pivoted to consolidating her own power. Nowadays, it felt like most of what they did was damage control, finding ways to undercut her attempts to once again steer Panem towards dictatorship. Hebe deeply felt there was a method to the woman's actions, and if they could understand it, they could finally break away from this stalemate and do some actual good for their country.
"Except there is no Mockingjay." The Jack of Hearts said, "She failed. Serena May is a lovely girl I've no doubt, but she has a knack for slipping out of definition. There are no Victors returning to the Arena, no Mockingjay, what else is left?"
What else was left? Because Jack was right. There was no Mockingjay, no Katniss everdeen. The twist was odd, but hardly controversial. Tributes didn't show solidarity, or try to stop the Games. They were reaped, trained, and sent into the arena just like every year.
The arena.
Realization hit Hebe like falling into the ocean, sudden and cold. "The arena break. That's why there were Capitolites watching the tributes during exploratory. She's picking survivors."
There was a sharp silence as all four leaders processed the implications of this.
The Jack of Hearts spoke first, "She's got us in a trap then. What has it come to that we have to choose between stopping a dictator or saving children?"
"Those are her rules, not ours." The Ace of Spades said, "We'll find a different way."
They sat together for hours, pitching ideas and refining plans until they had a solid course of action. Hebe wasn't entirely sure she approved of their plan, she seemed to be the naysayer of the group lately. But there was promise to it. There was some risk to children, which Hebe disliked, but only a risk. And if luck was on their side, they wouldn't just be trailing after Thornewood anymore. They could land a decisive blow for the rebellion.
Hebe just hoped it worked.