WHO| Eliot Spencer, Effie Trinket,
WHAT| A tribute arrives in Panem.
WHEN| Just a few days before the next Games start.
WHERE| In the District 3 suite at the Training Center.
WARNING/NOTES| None.


Eliot blinked in confusion as he woke up in a room he'd never seen before. He was positive he'd gone to sleep in his bed in his safehouse in Boston. They had just finished dealing with Latimer and Dubenich yesterday. He and Hardison had discussed possible designs for the "Eliot Signal" over a couple beers while Parker and Sophie had had their girl talk. Eventually, they'd all drifted over to the dartboard. He smiled at the memory. The relief over Nate's choice had been palpable over the thrill of success. The night was half over by the time they had gone their separate ways.

None of which explained why he had woken up here. He muttered threats under his breath. If this was one of Hardison's pranks, he'd pour the younger man's orange soda over his laptop. He ran a hand over his face as he sat up.

Eliot had not seen decadence like this since San Lorenzo and this looked nothing like the small, island country. It belonged to a different culture, one more Western. Perhaps Paris? He stood and walked to the window.

The scene outside looked like no city he had ever seen before. His lips parted in awe as he took in the unique architecture. It looked like the best of Russian, Greek, and Middle Eastern architecture blended somehow into a cohesive, widespread splendor. There was no way it could be real. Either he was still dreaming or Hardison had pranked him. He couldn't decide which was more likely.

Finally, he turned away from the window and opened the door to leave the bedroom. He stopped short as he saw a slender woman with pinkish-blond hair and odd make-up. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said with a self-depricating smile. "Is this your room? I didn't mean to intrude. I'm not entirely sure how I got here."