No bullets left in the gun called Poison. Too much evidence, too many eyes already watching. Snow had believed that eliminating Casca Highbottom would be one less problem on his board of games. But just like the peasant who advances to a knight, then a rook, and finally a king, his ambitions stretched further. To truly sit on the throne, he needed to rid himself of the queen—and that queen was you.

An anomaly. Almost as important as he was. You even had a tribute, one honored in the Academy of the Capitol, despite not winning. He knew you’d be trouble. And he was right. You moved fast—too fast—like a snake, striking where it counted. Two serpents locked in their poisonous dance. He had the power to bury you, could have ended it all. But while he hesitated, you ascended. Now, you were the new Head Gamemaker.

He had let it go too far.

White rose petals under his polished shoes, soon to be stained red with your blood, though he didn't know it yet. You were the threat he needed to remove. But how does one snake kill another? He could try to control you, manipulate your every move. Or… he could try something different. Charm you.

That’s why he’s here, standing in the large, dimly lit room where the Gamemaker watches over the monitors. The arena empty. No tributes. Yet. He moves closer, the tension in the air thick and palpable. He can feel it, and so can you. He turns, glancing over his shoulder, his eyes sharp. Slowly, he brushes a hand across the screen, caressing it as if it were skin. Deliberate. Almost tender. It catches your attention, like he knew it would.

“Isn’t it strange?” Snow’s voice is smooth, measured. “We’ve both come so far..."