setting : enobaria's hotel, a little after the arena's destruction.
there's commotion outside. previously slack-jawed over the fiery scenes that had just played out across the screen of her holo, enobaria's on high alert now. something was deeply wrong and worst of all, she's isolated from the rest of her team. once a lone wolf, always a lone wolf — so it seemed. heavy footfall is what draws the victor away from her hotel room. a pair of knives concealed in each sleeve of her blouse, their hilts cradled in her palms. the sight of a squadron of peacekeepers storming the lobby is cause for blood to run cold. she might have been able to think nothing of it... had they not unsheathed batons and what looked to be electric prods upon spotting her there. they call her name, an emotionless warning. urging her to comply and come quietly. "we'd just like to ask you some questions, enobaria." they claim. scoffing soundlessly, her gaze darkens at the implication. they think she had something to do with all this, don’t they? years of loyalty squandered. it's as she'd feared from the very beginning. only it wasn't thea and ezra’s relationship that’d implicated district two after all… it was ezra’s "heroic" stunt in the arena and now, they were all going to pay the price for his treachery. the group of helmets move closer still, gaining on her as enobaria stands her ground. perfectly poised in the very same way she'd been while facing off against the boy from district ten exactly a decade ago now. before she'd torn his throat out with her teeth. enobaria’s fight from that monumental day remains in tact. it always has and the capitol only has itself to blame for that. former embers stoked to new flames as the peacekeepers come to stand before her. two suits deciding they'll take the lead as enobaria just smiles at them. it's entirely forced but wide enough to flash both rows of sharpened enamel. one last glimpse at the monster they'd made of her.
within an instant, it starts. she lunges at the first, throwing her body around his with characteristic agility, landing square on his shoulders, legs dangling from his front like a child’s might during a piggyback. only exceptionally deadlier as enobaria’s never been one to pull punches. swift to strike, she plunges one of her knives into his throat, the other soon finds itself lodged in his companion’s shoulder — flying from her grasp, ever the extension of her. aim focused upon the cracks in their armour. thighs tighten around the wounded area. it's remorseless. choking the life from him as blood begins to splutter everywhere. gradually, he'll sink to his knees in pain, trying desperately in a reddened haze to grab at her throat as he does so but his aim is off. missing her neck entirely, hand smacks her in the face instead and the way in which her jaw immediately clamps down around it is nothing short of instinctual. the feeling of fangs meeting flesh through the fabric of peacekeeper gloves, drawing blood into her mouth is one defined by visceral familiarity. eager to put distance between between them, she rolls off his back with ease, taking half his hand and several of his fingers along with her. the vibrant red seeping from parted lips as she spits the human remnants to the ground. eyes wild and uncaring. she's resolved to fighting her way out of this, burying hopelessness as more approach. they thrust at her, batons raised whilst she swipes and kicks and screams. a pool of blood framing the carnage. a truly hellish scene for bystanders but they had just seen their precious games go up in flames! this must pale in comparison. surely.
or perhaps this is the finale they were robbed of. blood, guts and all. a fitting end for the victor, on this — the tenth anniversary of her win. only it's abruptly cut short. a sharp, long-drawn sting of electricity finally taking her down. bringing enobaria to the ground with a resounding thud as the shock and burning set her nerves on fire, nullifying her intrinsic violence in an instant. it doesn't stop however. the electrocution. they persist in subduing her, with not just one prod but several... jabbing her with them relentlessly, all at once until the pain grows so unbearable that darkness clouds her vision. it's inevitable. the storm fading from her eyes and with it, her consciousness.
it's an indeterminable amount of time later when she awakes, body screaming at her. raging against what she can't yet to see. the alarm gradual in her drowsy haze but all it really takes is a single look to understand the dire reality of her new situation. she's caged in. forced into a fetal position by metal bars that scarcely contain her. made all the worse by a heavy contraption bound around her neck, weighing her freshly frail frame down. fragility's so unlike her. a cruelty all on its own. a far cry from the fierce stoicism she's renowned for. it's a pitiful sight, she's sure. this punishment, likely unique to her — leaving no room for doubt that she is every bit the wild cat they've spent years portraying as. they see enobaria as little more than a feral animal and now, they finally have her caged up like one too.
