the devil wears her face . octavia strauss 86th

"It’s a simple plan, Donovan,” she snapped, hand slamming onto the mahogany table as she turned her burning gaze on him. He faltered, whatever bark he held in his throat wilted under her eyes. He had always been more bark than bite and she had finally destroyed his self-esteem enough to get rid of that last bits of strength he had to stand against her.

The unit she had grabbed from the Peacekeepers stationed within district two was under his control. Sure, it would have been simple enough to use the Peacekeepers already under her thumb, but that took out the challenge. She couldn’t play with their minds; she couldn’t break them in and beat in her authority if they were already submissive to her.

So, she had chosen the freshest faced commander and dragged him into her office every day since she had been crowned mayor. He’d stood by her door for three to five hours a day, waiting for her to summon him in whilst she dealt with phone calls, lunch and backstabbing those that had opposed her election.

He’d listened to her call Vasco and call that small, unpleasant man an idiot. And then, after his legs had grown sore and fatigue had settled into his mind like a poisonous fog, she’d called him in. There she would have him stand as she berated him for small mistakes the peacekeepers under his role had produced, unleashing their punishment on his mind and soul, and occasionally on his face.

He took it all, and over the five months he was forced to endure it he slowly began to fall apart. At one point he handed her a shaking piece of paper with his resignation. Octavia Strauss simply laughed at it and ripped it up in front of him and called him a fool. They’d be having none of that, not after she had invested all this time into his career.

“I understand that ma’am,” she threw him a glare, “I- I mean Mayor Strauss.”

“If you understand it, then why are you still standing here looking at me like an idiot,” Octavia sat down on her chair, throwing her legs onto the desk as she reached for her glass of scotch. It had been a congratulations gift from her two brothers, one of the few presents she was happy to accept without worrying it was poisoned. “I just-“ He swallowed, closing his eyes as he rubbed his temples and gathered his courage.

“I want to just confirm- you want us to intercept a drug shipment heading for seven, and then you want us to filter those drugs into the slums of district two.” He looked at her, Octavia took another sip, nodding her head once in confirmation. “And then you want us to watch as those drugs slowly kill off the citizens under your care. Right?”

“That is correct,” Octavia flicked open a file, sliding the paper across the table, “do you know what this information represents?”

Donovan glanced down at the piece of paper, the information unfamiliar to him, “I do not, Mayor Strauss.”

“This represents the shit state of our district. No victor since Cricket in the 63rd. A career district falling on its face, a laughingstock of the Capitol. Lower districts do not fear us anymore, they laugh at us. Seven is trying to call themselves a career district, that bastard of a mayor thinks he can take that position,” Octavia sneered, throwing the file on the floor as she lashed out in anger.

“What happened when this new council sees that they’re worth the time? And we get thrown to the wolves? It’s not good enough. We need to remove the weak and build this district to only be the strong. We do that be killing them or having them locked up where no one can hear them.” She leaned back in her chair, “do you understand?”

Donovan looked at the file on the ground, fists tight at his side. She had a point, Peacekeepers came from district two, and if they were no longer the golden child of the Capitol that might stop. And then what? He’d get thrown to the wolves, tossed aside like him and his men. He nodded at his mayor, giving her a salute before turning from the room.

The shipment would arrive in three days’ time.