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Nastasia Caso had, contrary to popular belief, only killed six people in her life. Six was definitely above the average, but given her circumstances she thought it was rather remarkable. She was a victor of the hunger games after all.
Before you start thinking that this was because of some moral compass I'll stop you there. Nastasia had no care for morals. She just preferred her hands clean. It was a lot trickier to track her down for murder when she hadn't pulled the trigger herself. Tonight however, she would have to go old school.
'The Empress', an exclusive cocktail bar in the eastern region of the capitol, glittered like a smashed disco ball in the dark. It's tall spires jabbed dramatically at the sky, poking shards into the city skyline. Unlike miss Caso, it had yet to witness a murder, newly built from the funds of the last hunger games and opened two days ago. But that didn't mean it didn't house assassins.
"Miss Caso! Welcome to the Empress, we are so glad to have you with us tonight!"
The doorman, flanked by a pair of bouncers, beamed instantly at her as she stepped out of her hover-car and dipped an outrageously feathered hat in greeting. It could have been out of fear, but she knew it was admiration. The people of the capital adored how notorious she was, a thrilling movie character in their eyes.
"Thank you, you are too kind."
His grin intensified at her comment and he eagerly typed the code to open the doors for her. Nastasia watched as a neon 'VIP' sign throbbed and a security scanner blinked approvingly without batting an eyelid. What did they take her for, an amateur?
One particularly fluffy feather bobbled on the doorman's head as he wished her a good evening.
She scooped up a handful of her evening gown in a sharply manicured hand and smiled a reply back. "I'm sure I will."
The elevator only took a few moments to reach the top floor so Nastasia didn't waste a moment before pulling two halves of a gun from the heels of her shoes and slotting them together. Another beat and the barrel of bullets entered with a swift motion. She set the sleek metal into its strap around her thigh before sliding her dress to cover it.
After the many mandatory hours of target practice back at 13 she was an excellent mark, but she still preferred knives. Sadly she'd had to leave them back at her apartment as they wouldn't have passed security. The gun, presently cold against her legs, had been designed to collapse to fit her steel shoe heels and thus go undetected.
She smoothed her dress as the elevator opened.
The party inside was not large, it was an exclusive high society event, the specific reason Nastasia had been selected for the mission being the highest profiling agent in the rebel army, but even if it had been all the eyes in the room would have noticed her arrival. She had that effect on people, and she knew it. Nastasia was an assembly of strong bone structure and caramel complexion, ebony hair edging her features and falling down towards her waist. Her beauty seemed to almost be exaggerated by a black evening gown that shimmered as it cloaked her from the neck down, revealing only her hands and a high slit along one of her legs.
With a click of her new hollow heels she sauntered slowly across the room towards the bar. There were many eyes that trailed her, but Nastasia was focused on capturing just one pair.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
The dark-skinned man in his late thirties stopped twirling his empty glass and regarded her with a bat of recognition. "Isn't it usually the man who asks the lady?"
"Gender-norms are a thing of the past haven't you heard?" Her eyes flickered over his drink and she called to one of the bartenders. "Two Sazerac's please."
He settled down his glass as her gold eyes glinted at him. They were enchanting and he had to force himself to tear his own away.
"I'm not going to talk to you Nastasia Caso."
"If that's what you want." She shrugged, catching him off guard before she continued. "You might want to listen first though. I have some information I think you'd die to hear."
He froze. "What?" He said sharply.
But Nastasia's attention was on the bartender returning with her drinks. She thanked him and slid one to her acquaintance without looking in his direction. He didn't touch it.
She smirked and leisurely drained her glass as he watched her. Only when it was empty did she turn and blink her eyelashes. "Are you going to invite me back to your room then?"
He seemed embarrassed to have stared at her for so long but held her gaze. How amusing. A moment passed and then he nodded at a figure stationed a few feet away; his bodyguard. Of course. An arm extended in Nastasia's direction and she obliged, following him to his chambers.
As soon as the three of them entered the suite the man from the bar raised his eyebrows. "What do you have to tell me?"
Nastasia smiled. Then shot his bodyguard straight between the eyes.
The body fell with a thud against a window, leaving a read smear at the bottom where his skull had hit the glass. That would be a pain for someone to clear up. Luckily the party downstairs was loud enough to cover the shot that was still ringing in her ears as she turned her attention back to the other person in the room.
"For being Mayor, Nero you really should do thorough background checks on who you employ."
Nero Kerallo, the Mayor of district 5 was displaying a classic face of horror at the still-warm corpse a few inches from his feet. In fairness she doubted he would've seen someone shot dead that close to him before.
Nastasia, unfazed, continued. "Your new bodyguard you hired this morning? His real name was Gaius Odemma. He was one of president Snow's spies. You can search him up later if that interests you, he's got quite the kill list."
Nero's eyes wandered back to her. "You shot him."
"Yes I did, sweetheart, I can put a bullet in you too if you're into that kind of thing."
He stepped away from the dead body on the floor and narrowed his eyes. "You really are with the rebels?"
Nastasia pointed at the bodyguard with her gun."Evidently."
Nero analysed her, sweeping up and down, his head tilted warily. "They say you are Snow's prize spy," he questioned.
The gun grew hot in her hand for a moment. Scalding. Dark desires, hushed hungers and murders murmured in the cold of night seeped into her vision like a poisonous fog. Roses, the scent of secrets, lingered in the air.
"Not any more," was all she said.
Apparently that answer seemed to satisfy Nero and he dropped his heightened glower into a faint frown.
"Now, the update on 5 you owe me."
It was the dead of night when Nastasia returned home. Ironic given she'd assassinated a man just hours before.
She turned the lock and immediately peeled herself out of her dress, discarding it like a shadowy snake skin across the tiled floor with her shoes. In her fingertips she guarded the plastic chip she'd smuggled out of the bar. Apparently Nero Kerallo had held something worthwhile after all.
Fewer than six months ago, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark had unknowingly started a rebellion when they pulled out nightlock berries in their hunger games and tricked the game makers into crowning them both victors. Since then unrest had followed their coronation and tension in the capitol was apparent as the star-crossed lovers from 12 were broadcasted throughout every household. The tragic love story come to happy ending they spun. The districts saw it as a different tale.
Uprisings in 5, 8, and 10 had already begun. It wasn't common knowledge, only the head authorities were aware. It was the spark the rebels had been waiting for.
Now Nero Kerallo had shared one of his districts closest guarded secrets. The agriculture and farming district's underground network of emergency provisions. According to him, the population had been stocking up for the past 5 years, originally in case of another nuclear war, but now they recognised a better use. They would supply the growing army of district 13 in return for priority military protection when war broke.
She sealed the chip, the blueprints, in an envelope and shut it in her bedside draw next to her knives. A blue prescription bottle was balanced on top of it and she took a pill before dragging herself into her shower. An attempt to drown out her thoughts, water wouldn't be washing away any of her sins.
Her wet hair was still plastered down her neck when Nastasia crawled into bed, favourite knife in her clutches, medicine drugging her to a dreamless sleep.
One tally higher on her body count and one notch closer to becoming president of Panem.