Chapter 2- The Open Ceremonies

“I volunteer! I volunteer as Tribute!” the girl from District 12 cries out. When she does; suddenly Brutus is spewing the rest of his drink in Lyme’s direction.

“She volunteers?! No one volunteers from Twelve!” Brutus snarls, pointing a finger at the screen he’s outraged at the thought, and I don’t really understand why. Other Districts have had volunteers. District 1 has volunteer Tributes almost every year. What did it matter if District 12 had one?

The confusion must show on my face, because when I turn my attention back to Enobaria, I notice that she’s dropped her gaze towards me. "Remember Clove," she begins lightly. "Being from a poorer District doesn’t mean they’re weak. District 12 may be a poor District, but they at least have a good reason for the things they do,” she tells me. Lyme looks over at her for a moment, but she doesn't say anything more, and looks back to the screen instead. She taps a beat with her finger against the table in thought, before she asks, "What would make someone volunteer for something like the Hunger Games, Clove?”

It had been the same question she had asked me a week ago, during one of her training sessions. I hadn't known what to say then, and I don’t think she really wanted an answer, just for me to think about it. "For fame? Money? All of that depends on if you win the games, and that is never a sure thing. And proving loyalty to the Capitol is a pitiful reason. The Districts who encourage this kind of reasoning are the same," she had told me. I remembered that her voice had held a hint of bitterness to it, and part of me had wanted to hide, because I was a Career Tribute. Proving my loyalty to the Capitol had been a lesson I’d been taught my entire life, and it was a lesson my mentor clearly disgusted. Worst, I didn’t have a answer then, and I certainly didn’t have a clear one now.

"The volunteers from the poorer Districts, they only want the money to make their lives better. Isn't that the same as fame and fortune?" I said. My mentor scoffed at me. She gave me a  look before continuing.

"Those Tributes often offer themselves to protect others, that was something I learned on my victory tour of the poorer Districts. Unlike the Careers, they volunteer to fill the spot if their loved ones have been so unluckily chosen. Loyalty to the Capitol is the last thing on their mind. There are times..." She’d paused, looking past me before continuing. "Times that I believe that living in one of those Districts would make one a better person. Better than living with the luxuries of our District, where people put themselves first, without the care of protecting one another,” she said. I wonder if she might be rooting for this girl now, because she's done such a selfless thing, but when I look at her, she’s void of any emotion. Lyme  though, is watching the screen again, there's no question that she's impressed with the girl from 12, and Brutus is so red in the face I think his head might pop. He doesn’t stop his angry grumbles and shows no sign of running out of breath. I have to get closer to the screen just to hear what they are saying. There's a delay in the ceremony and a commotion as the little girl whose had her life spared this year holds onto her replacement and screams hysterically. Not the sort of thing people usually did when told they wouldn't be in the games.

Everything stops when a taller boy comes out of the crowd, he pulls the little girl off forcibly before carrying her back into the distance. This is a laughingstock as far as ceremonies go, and no doubt District 12 is an embarrassment of all Panem. But I’m interested and so is Enobaria.

The woman in her gaudy colored clothing holds out her hand and the girl Tribute from 12 takes it and is pulled up to the podium.  

“Well bravo! Splendid!” the woman gushes. The sound of her voice is so high pitched it makes my ears hurt, especially with her shrill Capitol accent. “Now that is what I like to call The Hunger Games Spirit!” she says, quickly clapping her hands like an excited child. “What’s your name?” she asks.

“Katniss Everdeen,” the girl answers. She looks likes she’s just volunteered to run to the market, instead of  risking her life.

“I’ll bet my buttons,” the woman begins again. Lyme mumbles something about how dreadful Effie Trinket is, and I assume that that's the Capitol woman on screen. “I’ll bet my buttons that that was your sister, wasn’t it? Don’t want her to steal all the glory do you?” the woman, Effie Trinket, has a jingle in her laugh, it’s like a chime. And when she finished, I don’t hear anything past the introductions because Brutus has somehow gotten louder.

“What game is Haymitch playing at?!” Brutus snarls, he takes a bottle of red liquid and hurls it against the wall, where it shatters and stains the ground with its contents.

“It doesn’t matter, she’s a nobody,” Cato says dismissively. His attempt to calm his mentor is poor at best and Brutus spits on the ground. “She just a poor girl who won't make it past the bloodbath,” he adds. I don't like their tone, but I nod. By the look of her, he’s right; She’s not tall, way too thin for how tall she was, and looks too soft to even consider killing someone. She is in no means a threat.

It takes a minute, but Effie Trinket gets the ceremony going again and calls the male Tribute. I miss his name, but as he steps up to the platform I don't miss him, you almost couldn't. At his appearance, Cato is suddenly interested too. The boy is bigger than you would expect of someone living in the poorest area of the Seam. Broad shoulders and a solid form. He looks like a career, or to at least have had some training. He must have been carrying the coal or dug the deeper mines, I tell myself. 12 didn't have the resources to train anyone.

The second time their names are called, I still don’t catch his over the noise Brutus is making. At some point, he and Lyme have started arguing about the girl Tribute from 12.  And as the recap ends, Enobaria has to force them out, even Cato, while I clean up some of the mess Brutus made. She sighs and mumbles under her breath as she calls up the Reaping in 12 again.

“Curious…” she says, watching the girl named Katniss volunteer for the third time.

“What’s curious?” I ask hesitantly, before I move towards her. “You don’t think she’s a Career do you?” Just hearing it out loud makes even me want to laugh at the thought. Enobaria does though, and she shakes her head.

“Of course not. She’s thin, too thin to even be a coal miner no less. It's curious that she would volunteer though. Brutus is right, rarely anyone from Twelve volunteers, because they never win. At least… it's uncommon. That being the case… It would have to be for the little girl." she mumbles as she pauses the screen on the little girl.

“It’s her sister,” I say. “The one who volunteered.”

“You caught that? Good.” she remarks, she then turns to face me. “What do you think of the Tributes this year Clove?” she asks and I'm startled by her question. I pause as I think about the Tributes who stood out to me. The pair from 1, who are no doubt Careers, the fox faced girl, the giant from 11, and of course the girl from 12 who'd volunteered for her sister. They’ve all caught my interest, and I have no idea what to think of them.

I shrug. I don’t want her to know how I feel. “They’re all laughable…” I say. She frowns and I have to rethink my words carefully.“I-I mean District 1 might be difficult, I bet Cato will want to make an alliance with them.”

“I don’t want you to put you’re full trust in Cato,” she says.

“Why not?” I ask. I’m confused. Wasn’t that the point of training with him? To gain his trust? Cato and I were trained to be a team, and now she’s telling me not to trust him?  

“Sit,” she tells me, she points at a chair, and I do so. I sit silently, waiting as she considers what words to say next. “As… your mentor, this is my advice in keeping you alive.”

I inwardly frown. I almost want to say, ‘liar, you’re expecting me to die in the arena…’ but instead I say; "I don't understand what you mean."

“You see Clove, after the opening ceremonies all 24 of you will be training together for two weeks. During that time, I don’t want you to show your talents to anyone but the Game Makers. I want you to seek out possible allies, not Cato and not the two from 1,” she says, motioning to her empty glass. Taking her cue, I open the bottle she'd been eyeing and fill a glass with the orange liquid inside.  

“Cato and I are supposed to be a team though.” I protest, I can’t believe that I was actually defending the idea of working with Cato.

“Brutus will have Cato thinking you’re a liability that must be severed. If not during the bloodbath, it would only be a matter of time until he tries to kill you. His obvious strength will have District 1 eating out of his hands,” she says simply and I slowly nod. She then smiles at me, and for a moment it's like she's back to caring for me, but her smile soon fades and she has that distant look on her face again. I look down at the table, and wait until she’s ready to speak when I notice a steak knife from the corner of my eyes; It’s beautiful, large blade, carvings on the handle and extremely sharp. Carefully, I take and slide it off of the table and into my lap, folding it under my shirt so that I don’t mistakenly cut myself. It’s lucky she doesn’t notice, or if she did, she doesn’t care.  

“May I be excused…” I ask. She gives me a brief yet distant nod, and I take it as her permission to go back to my room with the knife concealed.

When I pass through the dining room, Lyme and Brutus are still arguing, so neither of them notice when I silently slip past them and down the corridor towards my room. When I reach my door, I see Cato's unmistakable form standing outside of it. He has an amused smirk on his face as I approach, that’s when I notice that he’s been in side my room and he’s reading the letters I’d left inside.

The anger bubbles up inside me as he keeps reading, ignoring my presence. So without warning, I pull out the knife and throw it, where it wedges between the door panels an inch from his head. I purposely missed. He’s un-phased by it and finally smirks at me. I’m about to charge at him, when suddenly I feel a sharp pull on my arm and I'm forcibly turned to face Brutus, who has a cruel snarl on his face.

“That's a sharp object you have there girly,” he slurs, behind him I see Lyme coming down the corridor. “You might hurt someone,” he says, breathing a bitter smell into my face. I sneer, holding my breath. I'm not going to show him anything but contempt; I'm never supposed to show fear or pain, not even to a mentor.

“Then he should stay out of my room,” I bite back. Brutus tightens his grip, and Lyme has to pry his hand off. It isn’t until I stumble that I realize he’d held me a good inch or two off the ground. I glower and look briefly at where he's grabbed me, by morning I’ll be bruised. I don't wait for Lyme or anyone else to say anything when I brush past Cato, and just as I do I yank the knife out from the wall, purposely slicing the air next to his throat. He has a brief flicker of surprise on his face when I don't pull back until the last possible moment. Grabbing the letters from his grasp, I lock the door behind me when I enter my room and lean heavily against it with a silent curse.

“Stupid Clove… I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t strangle me in my sleep.” I mumble to myself. Whose to stop him if he were to break the down door? Of course even Brutus isn’t that stupid. If anything he’ll have Cato strangle me on national television just for his amusement. I’ll have to remember to try and win him over somehow, for now, I’m tired. I throw the letters inside a dresser that I find has a lock, and lock them. I'm too tired to read them now and all I want is to sleep. Finding a nightgown among the Capitol-provided clothing, I change into it and climb into bed. The sheets they provide us are the same as the ones in District 2, they warm almost instantly and I'm quickly put asleep.

When morning comes, a faint light peeks through the window. I’m woken from a dreamless sleep by Lyme, who kindly greets me with gentle whispers. I try to think for a moment of where I am, and I remember that I’m on the Tributes train.

“Come now Clove, we have schedules to keep,” she says in a gentle voice, as if to assure me that I’m safe. I realize that’s she’s being careful when I look down and see that I'm still wielding the knife from yesterday. She obviously remembers my mentor and what I've been taught. Lyme has me shower even though I don’t need it, but she says presentation is important and insists. While I'm showering, she lays out a casual set of clothes for me:  a black shirt and jeans that match. When I finish getting ready, she tells me that what I'm wearing won't matter when we get to the Capitol, as long as it's decent. Apparently I'll have a stylist who will decide all of that for me, including my hairstyle. So I just carelessly tie my hair up into a loose pony tail.

After I’m dressed she points me to the dining room, and makes a point of telling me to behave. She tells me that Brutus has a hangover so I’m not to throw any knives. I nod as I walk past her, but I don’t make any promises.

When I enter the dining car, my first instinct is to look for Enobaria, who comes in just as I do. Cato is already seated and talking to his mentor, who looks up as I enter to give me a glare. Neither of them have changed from the previous night. In fact they’ve already begun stuffing their mouths.

Enobaria takes a seat as far as she can from Brutus and holds out her hand to me. “Come eat with me Clove,” she calls, waving me over.  

The moment I slide into the seat across from her, I’m presented with more rich food that I’m in no mood for; several different dishes of eggs and bacon, fried potatoes, and pancakes drowned with absurd amounts of syrup. I wrinkle my nose at the overpowering smell.

Enobaria chuckles before sending the food away. She knows my tastes in food almost better than I do, so she asks for a simple tureen of fruit for me, which I pick at as I drink my morning orange juice.

Breakfast is quite, aside from the polite conversation Lyme shares with Enobaria. That is, until Cato opens his mouth.

“What’s your advice for us to stay alive Enobaria?” he asks, taking large gulps of his drink. The way he asks is rude beyond belief, as if he were her equal or better. I want to cut his mouth off for being so bold. She doesn’t answer though, and when I look up to see why, it's because she’s staring at me, tapping her first two fingers against her head. To anyone else, it would look like she was thinking, but I know that she’s reminding me to be smart about things, starting now if I have any hope to win.

“My advice is to keep each other alive,” she finally says. Brutus snarls and Lyme nods with a smile.  

“You’re supposed to give us advice too Brutus,” I say to him. Right now I know I’m the last person he wants to help, especially after I threatened his prize Tribute last night. But he can't just openly abandon me, even he understands that. Instead, he leans back in his chair and chuckles as he thinks for a moment.

“Don’t get killed,” he says, breaking into loud laughter. Enobaria sighs. Cato laughs along with his mentor like always, but to me it sounds forced. And after his words of ‘wisdom’, Brutus tears back into his food and Cato follows suit. It's not long before the both of them begin turning green from overindulging, but neither one of them shows any will of slowing down. I smirk to at their stubbornness and I wonder which one's going to lose it first.

With in minutes, It turns out to be Cato who admits defeat. Greener then I’ve ever seen him, he eventually staggers to a stand, and moves over to lay on the one of the compartment couches. His stomach bulges and I’m almost certain it’s to burst. I pop a grape into my mouth just to keep myself from laughing as he waddles by.

“Are you still on about that girl?” Lyme asks after the sound of noisy chewing stops. The grunt Brutus gives draws my attention back to him.

“12 Does not just volunteer,” he growls, following it with a loud belch.

“It's known to happen,” Lyme says back calmly. “I don’t understand why you’re so bothered by it. How do you feel about it Enobaria?” she asked my mentor, who has otherwise remained silent, lightly sipping from her morning tea.

“There's nothing to be concerned about. Or are you worried your Tribute will be killed by a coal miner's daughter?” she challenged. Brutus is up in an instant, though he stumbles and ends up with his face in his plate. He gurgles angrily before getting himself situated. An angry, incoherent mumble escapes his lips, and he reaches for my mentor across the table; until I wedge the kitchen knife just in front of his fingers. I glare back at him when he jerks his hand back and leers at me.

I consider throwing the knife for a moment; he isn't my mentor and I had no respect for him at all, but he and Enobaria were all I had for the games. But from the way he looks at me, I know I've crossed a line. I'm almost certain he's going to strike me for it, and I feel myself tense. But instead he laughs.

“Finally, something about you I like,” he says. But Lyme is frowning. I'd completely disregarded her warning about behaving, so I could understand that, but Enobaria acts as though I’ve done nothing.

“Now that we know you can use a knife, what else can you do?” Brutus asks with a tone of seriousness when I pull the knife from the table. Before I can answer, the car goes black and there's sounds of a body hitting the floor. Cato curses. Aside from the few light that are still lit, it's like night has suddenly fallen, but that’s impossible. I realize then that we must have gone though the tunnel that will lead us to the Capitol.

The train is quiet as we go through, and it's revealed that the tunnel is long. I begin to feel uneasy as it stretches on. I think about the mountain its cutting through. That same mountain which officially cut us off from the rest of the world. Away from our families, our trainers, our friends. Away from the comforts of the world we knew, just before we enter into the territory of the Capitol. The more I think about it, the more it feels like I'm going to start suffocating. We were trapped in a tiny, enclosed space, and there was five of us. Five people breathing together, six if you counted how heavy Brutus breathes. We'd expend our before long. The sense of agitation nearly turns to a full panic when feel someone hand on my shoulder, I flinch and my fingers tighten around my knife.

“it’s alright… Clove,” It’s Enobaria, the sound of her voice put me at ease, and finally, the darkness disappears just as suddenly as it appeared, flooding the compartment with light again.

“Its about time we arrived…” says Lyme softly, she peers out the window. “Isn’t it just something?” she gushes. Cato and I run straight to the windows to see with our own eyes what we've seen on Television. The Capitol, center of Panem and ruling City of all Districts. Television doesn’t capture how striking it really is.

The glistening buildings were all different hues of bright colors that towered high into the air, cars of odd shapes and sizes speed down the paved streets laid out between them. And the people, who are all very much like the that Effie Trinket woman from 12, all have their hair colored atrociously with pink, blue, orange, or any mixture of the three. The clothes they wear are bizarre, shaping their bodies in ways the body should never look. They all have designs painted on their faces, but the most obvious thing is that they have never missed a meal. The people of the Capitol are very large.

When we approach the station, they eagerly point and cheer as they recognize our train and who it carries. Their latest Tributes. Cato likes the attention, he smiles and waves as we pass. I don't like it, but I wave to them too, playing along and blowing a kiss here and there to show how much I liked being here. That I would please them. By the time we’ve completely pulled into the station, I'm fully disgusted with how people from the Capitol have enjoyed waiting for us to die. When I step away from the window, I hope that each of them gets to feel what it's like to lose their children, or better, to have to fight for their own lives. I doubt it'd ever happen though, the people of the Capitol were exempt from the Hunger Games.

The second we’re off the train, everything picks up in speed and we're swarmed by people. The Peacekeepers have to literally beat some people out of the way as they lead us through the crowds, who are all trying to touch some part of us. Lyme is going on about our schedules, yelling so that she'll be heard. Our schedules starts with the meeting of our stylists, but I don’t hear anything she says after that, and when a larger woman manages to barge her way through, shoving me aside because she’s trying to touch Enobaria, Cato has to lift me onto his shoulders, before I consider giving the crazy Capitol woman a piece of my mind. Brutus forces a path through the crowd with the peacekeepers, while Lyme leads us into a large building with giant windows so clear you'd think nothing was there. The doors swing shut behind us as the crowd goes into another frenzy at seeing another train pulling into the station now behind us. How odd these people are.  I can’t help but wonder what it is they do all year long when the Games aren’t in motion. I’ve never seen people act the way they do, and by the end of the game, I will never have too again, whether I survive or not.

Cato and I are separated from our mentors  and we’re left with Lyme, who leads us down a hall. Citizens press themselves to the windows, trying to get a look at us as we pass. Cato waves and flexes his arms for them, whipping them into another frenzy. Lyme chuckles at Cato's showiness, but she's watching me expectantly so I wave at them too. Just to amuse her.

The hall opens up into a larger room that Lyme calls the "Remake Center,” where Cato and I are ushered into separate sections divided by curtains. Inside, some Capitol people strip me down a little too eagerly and start scrubbing my body with some type of gritty foam that leaves my skin tingling unpleasantly. While they do that, two more make sure my nails are filed into perfection and even go so far as to strip my body of any hair, except for on my head and my eyebrows, which they still strip thinly.

“You have such lovely skin,” says the voice of one of my stylists.  When I have enough freedom, I look up to see a tall man with blue hair and pink eyeliner standing behind the woman styling my hair, running his eyes over my body. He reaches over to a table of things just out of my reach, and grabs a tin of dark cream that he starts rubbing into my skin. The cream's cold but it gets warmer as he rubs. I don't reply to the compliment, instead I’m gripping the table as they rip more hair from my legs.

"I can't say the same for her hair!" huffs my hair stylist. She'd spent the last three hour ’fixing’ my hair, treating it with soaps of all different scents and colors, and cutting and snipping here and there before shaking her head and starting again. I'm almost certain that my hair is at least an inch or two shorter. The woman is named Ayla, at least that's what the man calls her as he keeps applying the cream to my skin. The others stylists finish their tasks and excuse themselves, leaving me in the care of the man, who's apparently called Tahno, until there's only him and Ayla left.

When they finally finish, the two of them step back and admire my still-naked form. “She’s perfect!” Ayla's squeals happily, she bounces in excitement, and her green hair shaped into some kind of animal bounces unevenly with her.

“Of course, we didn’t have much to fix. Not like with that girl from District Twelve.” says Tahno simply. His statement is almost immediately followed by someone’s squeal.

“Excellent! Now you truly look human!” someone exclaims. There’s another squeal, and I have to wonder if there's something wrong with the Capitol citizens. They all talked in high pitched voices and everything they say sounds like a question because of how they end their sentences. It's one of the most obnoxious things I've ever heard, and it's even worse when they laugh.

“Thank you,” a sweet voice says from off to the side, and the mere sound of it makes my stomach flutter oddly. “We don’t really have much of a reason to look nice in District 12.” the voice says.

District 12? The girl who volunteered for her sister is in the same room as me?! I’m up as quickly as I can move, trying to look around the curtain that seals me off from the rest of the Tributes. But Tahno stops me.

“Ah ah!” he says, “You’re not allowed to be seen by the other Tributes until the Ceremony tonight.” he warns, again it sounded more like he was asking me if that was right. “Ayla call in Hayden. She’s ready.” he says. Ayla claps, and is off in and instant, the curtain fluttering behind her as she dashed away. I can see into the section beyond the curtain, where I think the District 12 Tribute is, but all I can make out for sure is that their dark hair is braided into a ponytail. Tahno watches me silently until Ayla returns with a white robe that they wrap around me before leading me into an all-white room. They leave me in the room alone, and I don't have a choice except to wait until someone comes back for me. There really isn't much besides a couple of seats and a mirror in here for me.

I step cautiously over to the mirror, and I can't believe the change. My skin is nearly glowing, and my hair is down curling around my neck and shoulders. It feels so soft I can’t help the urge, and I run my fingers though it at least twice. I look like someone from the District 1. I hate it.

I'd rather have been covered in sweat and dirt from hours of training than be this weird girl that I saw, with skin literally shining with the light and hair that smells strongly like honey.

The door behind me opens again, and a different Capitol woman steps inside. She's younger, and much less outlandishly dressed and styled than her prep team. Instead of a bright unnatural color, she'd left her hair dark with red streaks through it.  Aside from that, she was entirely normal. She wore a simple red and black eyeliner which really seemed to bring out the intensely of her green eyes. I assume this is Hayden, but she's not at all what I was expecting. I'd been prepared for an old grotesque person, but she couldn't have been older than twenty five. Not only that, she was absolutely beautiful, and looking at her made me nervous about my being naked under my robes

“Hello Clove,” she says gently in the same tone Lyme used to wake me up this morning. “My Name is Hayden. I’ll be your Stylist,” she offers her hand to me and I don't say anything as I take it within mine to shake it. Her skin is soft to the touch, much softer than I was expecting, and I drop her hand in surprise.

She’s unbothered by my reactions though. “Drop your robe,” she tells me. And I do without a second thought, struggling with the feeling of embarrassment as she walks around me, scanning me from head to toe with her eyes. “Tahno is right. You have very lovely skin. And I'm glad to see that Ayla hasn't cut too much of your hair… though she has used too much conditioner…” she says loudly, I'm not sure if it's to me or if she's just thinking out loud as she runs her fingers through my hair.  “Tell me Clove…. What do you consider yourself?” she asks, tilting her my head towards her gently.

“I’m a survivor?” I question. And she smiles.

“You may robe yourself again,” she says with one final glance, motioning that I should sit with her as she perches herself on one of the cushioned seats in the room. I quickly robe and take an empty seat. “Are you hungry?” she asks and I shake my head. She watches me for a moment before moving on. “Very well. Then lets talk about the Opening Ceremonies tonight. As you know. It's customary to dress in a way that reflects your District.” she begins.

I nod as Hayden outlines what tonight will be like. For the Opening Ceremonies, each District is supposed to represent its industry. For District 1 this is Luxury, District 3 has Factories, District 11 had Agriculture. District 2, our main industry was originally Masonry, Mining and Stone Cutting, but over time Weaponry developed. I guessed that meant Cato and I would be dressed as; Blacksmiths, or maybe even Peacekeepers.

“So, I’ll be what? A Blacksmith?” I ask, thinking that whatever it was, it'd still be better than District 12's costumes. This was where we would start trying to get Sponsors, and District 12 was famous for having costumes so uninspiring they actually drove Sponsors away.

“No, I have… something else in mind, my little survivor,” she says. I guess my expression must show my confusion because she grins and puts her finger to her lips, like it was a big secret.  And I can’t help but wonder just who Lyme has placed my fate into.

It isn’t until several hours later, when Cato and I are reunited at bottommost part of the Remake Center, that both of us are dressed in our Opening Ceremonies costumes. The sour look on his face when I see him again lets me know that he's about as happy with our clothing as I was. He and I are dressed in matching golden armor with slight difference between them. Hayden's design is a round metal cap that covers the top of my head with a pair of wings spread out and back on either side of my head, each individual feather etched out in detail. The next part of the costume is a body plate of thin gold with a V of golden feathers over my neck and chest, reaching down to just above my stomach in a cascade with the topmost feather layers at my neck. This same idea is the design of my golden skirt, which like the body plate, has feathers cascading to my knees. Cato is dressed the same, skirt included, so I have fun with that thought. Each of us has prop weapons to go with our outfits, but where I have just a golden dagger, he has a golden sword and shield. In short, Hayden has dressed us as Roman Gods ready for battle.

“I’ll gut your stylist if you slit the throat on mine.” Cato grunts through gritted teeth. I hadn't been so sure about my costume as Hayden had dressed me, but I could definitely see the image working for Cato. Even being mopey like he was now, he still stood tall and powerful, his broad stature was the image of a Roman god ready for battle, with no intention of showing mercy. I'm pretty sure all the crowd will see with me was a pitiful girl with a knife, trying to look like a god.

“Don’t be a baby,” I tell him. Only because I’m amused with the mood this has put him in, and more embarrassingly, the skirt that it's put him in. Though I don't say anything outright about it, I adjust mine obviously, and I can tell he gets the picture.

“You’re perfect.” Hayden says as she walks around us for a last minute inspection, “warriors, survivors. Show them that you are those. Show them the ferocious warriors they want,” she says, winking at me as she's satisfied with the last-minute costume check.

“Still better then District 1...” Brutus murmurs as he and Enobaria finally decide to make an appearance. I look over and see that he’s right. District’s 1 Tributes are dressed as some atrocious pink birds and I counted myself actually lucky for only having the few feathers I have.

“What do you think?” Hayden asks my mentor, who's staring down at me.  

“You’ve made her perfect,” she murmurs. I want to smile, but I don’t.

“I’m the perfect monster,” I say.

“You’re a warrior, Clove,” she says, holding my face between her hands, “Fearless. And that’s what I want you to show. Do not smile. Do not wave. These people are beneath you, and you will give them no attention. I don’t care what Cato does. If he falls off the carriage or strips of his armor… show them you do not care. You're here to fight, and they're lucky to get to see you do it. Show me the determined warrior you are Clove.” she says, no, orders.  I nod, because I will obey.

When the opening music begins, she pats my cheeks and walks away... She says something else as she goes, but the blasting anthem drowns out whatever it is. Cato and I climb onto the golden chariot that will be pulled by pitch-black horses with wings, to symbolize unbridled power.

Ahead of us, District 1 is already entering the arena and their horses match their costume in outlandishness, snow white and coated with silver spray paint. I can't even start to imagine what those jokes are meant to stand for. Slowly, they ride out in their jeweled coated carriage, sparkling and decorated with all the luxury items the Capitol people crave. The crowd roars even before the carriage has fully left the center. There isn’t any doubt that District’s 1 Tributes, will have the most sponsors. They always do. Once they’ve pulled far enough out, Cato and I take our place to follow them.

“Do not smile. Do not wave. These people are beneath me, I will give them no attention, they aren’t even worth my time…” I repeatedly tell myself as Cato and I are escorted from the remake center and into the crowded Capitol street.

The crowd, still wild from District 1, cries out again as they see us, voicing their excitement. I stare straight ahead when they announce my name, I don’t smile, or let my lips form into anything close to even a smirk as I stand steady as a statue, and stare coldly at the crowd. Cato does the exact opposite. He does everything he can think of to bring the Capitols attention to him, yelling back at the crowd and beating his fist against his chest and the crowd goes wild. The people of the Capitol, mostly women, start throwing roses at us when we’ve gone farther out into the street. I catch one by reflex when it comes too close, but I don't drop my mask. I turn the delicate flower between my fingers once and then correct my mistake by crushing it in my hand and throwing it behind me without a second glance. For what ever reason my attitude actually has them swooning, and when I decide to look into the crowed, I make sure my glare is deadly.

The ride lasts no more then twenty minutes, ending with us entering the city's circle where we're no longer the sole attraction. District 1 is already waiting for us there, and as we're nearing the end, the far away cheers of the crowd start up again for the next District to start their parade. The large television screens installed around the circle provide us the view of the other Districts as they come through.

The Tributes of District 3 are dressed as Technicians, District 4 are clad in Fishnets and Pearls, and 5 is dressed to represent Electricity and Power. District 6 Tributes stand out as they come down the line with their horses armored to look like forms of transportation. 7, 8 and 9 are too poorly done to make any kind of impression, even on the hyped up crowd, who only seem to give courtesy cheers. The tributes of 10 are farmers. By the looks of it, I couldn’t tell if they had been wearing costumes, or just put on their best clothing from home, and District 11 looks to have put as much effort in their Agriculture theme as 10 had. But I never really expected anything past the first 6 Districts at this point. As District 11's carriage rolls closely into view, there are sudden screams of alarm and surprise in the far off distance, which turn into wild cheers soon after.

I look up at the television screens, and I can barely contain the gasp that tries to escape from my lips. The Tributes of District 12 are human torches, blazing bright and hot as their carriage sweeps through the street. All the screens are now fixed on the pair engulfed in fire, a living symbol of their Coal Industry.

“Katniss Katniss!” the crowed shrieks after them. The on fire smiles, blowing them kisses that they fall over themselves trying to catch. “I volunteer! I volunteer as Tribute!”  I hear her voice, I hear the bravery and the determination that allowed her to save her sister. “Thank you. we don’t really have much of a reason to look nice in District 12.” I hear the sweetness of her voice, and I think about how it made my stomach flutter. I see her now ablaze in flames, and she’s dazzling, but I'm not fooled.

I’m disgusted.

The girl underneath is completely unremarkable. I’ve never seen someone so plain and ordinary. She might as well have not been there. The only reason she's so popular with the Capitol is because she volunteered herself for slaughter to keep her sister from it, moving the emotions of the Capitol. Otherwise, she was just another Tribute from a District no one cared about. I see her weakness though. The Capitol called it bravery but she had chosen to save another's life, a coward's choice. She could not cope with the loss of her sister, she would rather offer herself than deal with that. That was her weakness, the Capitol people are fools because they don't see this, but I do. A smirk crosses my lips as I keep watching the display.

I’ve decided, that I will be the one to kill District 12's star Tribute, Katniss Everdeen. And I will show them just how ordinary she is.