Theo opens the door for me and together we match down the halls towards command. Without waiting I shove the door open. Before I lose my nerve, I have to get it all out.

Every head turns in my direction. Several looks are exchanged. A few eyes narrow at me, my sister is a traitor to their cause. A few give Theo a nasty look. It doesn't seem to bother him. He leans on the door frame and crosses his arms and ankles. He gives me a slight nod of encouragement. I turn back to the room. I take a deep breath and raise my chin and straighten my back.

"What is this?" Coin demands straightening up.

"I'll do it." I say harshly. There are cries of excitement and relief from a few. "But." I say louder, over the noise. It stops almost immediately. "I have conditions."

There's a tense silence as eyes turn to me. Coin, I can see, is grinding her teeth. I make eye contact with Jorge and he winks at me. I take another deep breath.

"And those would be?" Coin asks wryly.

"We do it my way. No more filling me without my knowledge." I stared hard at Plutarch. "Me and my squad leave this underground hell hole. I want to be outside and in the camps above ground. We make a plan and get the Maze A boys out. And you publicly punish the guys who attacked me. I'm almost positive the one caught the Flare."

"And you didn't inform us immediately?"

"I was a little unconscious. And it's not my job to test each individual. I thought that was your medics job?" I snap back.

"I informed the medics." Theo says from the door.

"Fine. Who?"

"Peter. Drew and a transfer who goes by the name Dozer. You can find Drew in the infirmary." Theo says from the door. Coin just flicks her eyes to him and nods. One of her men gets up from the table and leaves the room, side stepping around Theo, who didn't move.

"What else is on your list of demands?"

"I kill Chancellor Ava Paige and Director Janson."

I could feel Theo's body tense. I guess I should have told him before, but I wasn't sure how he'd respond. Not when it involved Janson.

"Is that all?" Coin asks.

"No. When the war is over, if we've won, Hailey will be pardoned."

Dead silence.

"No form of punishment will be inflicted," I continue. A new thought occurs to me. "The same goes for the other captured subjects, if they intend to use them the same way."

"No," says Coin flatly.

"Yes," I shot back. "It's not their fault you abandoned them in the maze. Us WICKED defectors wanted to go early, but you said no. So now my baby sister is being used and abused by them. That's not her fault. Who knows what her and anyone else is being subjected to."

"They'll be tried with other war criminals and treated as the tribunal sees fit," she says.

"Hailey will be granted immunity!" I feel myself rising from my chair, my voice full and resonant. "You will personally pledge this in front of the entire population of this underground hell hole. Soon. Today. It will be recorded for future generations. You will hold yourself and your government responsible for their safety, or you'll find yourself another Face of the rebellion!"

The room was silent. My words hang in the air for a long moment. No one moved. No one seemed to breathe until Jorge groaned as he moved his arms behind his head. "Seems fair."

A few heads turned and whispered to their neighbors, a few nodded, while a few shook their heads

"That's her!" I hear Fulvia hiss to Plutarch. "Right there. With the costume, gunfire in the background, just a hint of smoke."

"Yes, that's what we want," says Plutarch under his breath.

I want to glare at them, but I feel it would be a mistake to turn my attention from Coin. I can see her tallying the cost of my ultimatum, weighing it against my possible worth.

"What do you say, Madam Coin?" asks Plutarch. "You could issue an official pardon, given the circumstances. The girl...she's not even of age."

"All right," Coin says finally. "But you'd better perform."

"I'll perform when you've made the announcement," I say.

"Call a national security assembly during Reflection today," she orders. "I'll make the announcement then."

I nod once. And then turn to Plutarch, "I am not a performing monkey. I'm not putting make up or a costume on. I was very clear on that."

They didn't look phased at all. "Our plan is to launch an Airtime Assault," says Plutarch. "To make a series of what we call propos - which is short for 'propaganda spots' - featuring you, and broadcast them to the entire North American population ."

"How? WICKED has sole control of the broadcasts," I ask.

"But we have a full tech team working. About ten years ago, they essentially redesigned the underground network that transmits all the programming. The team of techs thinks there's a reasonable chance it can be done. Of course, we'll need something to air. So, Raya, the studio awaits your pleasure." Plutarch turns to his assistant. "Fulvia?"

"Just like that? That fast?" I asked, feeling suddenly edgy and nervous. I wipe the sweat off my palms and onto my pants.

"Yes now! Come come!" Says Fulvia. "First stop, we need to get you into hair and make up!"

"Wait... what?" Theo asks. "What's wrong with her?"

"We need to get on this! No time to lose! Plutarch and I have been talking about how on earth we can pull this off. We think that it might be best to build you, our rebel leader, from the outside...in. That is to say, let's find the most stunning Right Arm Rebel look possible, and then work your personality up to deserving it!" she says brightly.

"You already have her uniform," says Theo. "The symbol and everything...what else is there?"

"Yes, but is she scarred and bloody? Is she glowing with the fire of rebellion? Just how grimy can we make her without disgusting people? At any rate, she has to be something. I mean, obviously this" - Fulvia moves in on me quickly, framing my face with her hands - "won't cut it." I jerk my head back reflexively but she's already busy gathering her things.

"Wait! I said NO!" I cried, but Fulvia has already grabbed my arm and steered me out into the hall, Plutarch right behind. I get a quick glance at Theo before I'm pushed and pulled around the corner. He looks bemused. I grind my teeth. I already regret this.

•×•

I sit in some kind of chair while a few different people apply goop and goo onto my face and hair. Trying to hide the bruises of last night. By the time I'm done and freed from the chair I have a full face of make up and my hair is done all fancy. I look in the mirror and I hate what I see. I don't see me. I see their dancing performance monkey. I feel the anger bubbling inside of me.

I'm painted like I'd just finished combat, I'm bloody and grimy, yet with perfect make up and hair. They covered my bruise only to add a fake one. My uniform is the standard issue black military with the red bloody handprint.

This is stupid. I hate this already I grumble silently.

Then we're out on the soundstage, where I seem to stand for hours while they adjust makeup and lighting and smoke levels. Eventually, the commands coming via intercom from the invisible people in the mysterious glassed-in booth become fewer and fewer. Fulvia and Plutarch spend more time studying and less time adjusting me. Finally, there's quiet on the set. For a full five minutes I am simply considered. Then Plutarch says, "I think that does it."

I'm beckoned over to a monitor. They play back the last few minutes of taping and I watch the woman on the screen. Her body seems larger in stature, more imposing than mine. Her face smudged but sexy. Her brows black and drawn in an angle of defiance. Wisps of smoke - suggesting she has either just been extinguished or is about to burst into flames - rise from her clothes. I do not know who this person is.

"They'll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you." I glance over my shoulder and see half my squade crowded into the room. Standing silently at the back is Theo. He doesn't say anything and hardly looks at me. I hate what they are making me.

Everyone's so excited, so pleased with their work. It's nearly time to break for dinner, but they insist we continue. Tomorrow we'll focus on speeches and interviews and have me pretend to be in rebel battles. Today they want just one slogan, just one line that they can work into a short propo to show to Coin.

"People of North America, we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice!" That's the line. I can tell by the way they present it that they've spent months, maybe years, working it out and are really proud of it. It seems like a mouthful to me, though. And stiff. I can't imagine actually saying it in real life - unless I was using a Capitol accent and making fun of it. Like when Minho and I used to imitate Effie Trinket's "May the odds be ever in your favor!"

But Fulvia's right in my face, describing a battle I've just been in, and how my comrades-in-arms are all lying dead around me, and how, to rally the living, I must turn to the camera and shout out the line! I find it stupid how this tv lady who has clearly never been in any kind of combat is describing what it would be like. I tried to open my mouth and say something, but she just shushed me and I'm hustled back to my place, and the smoke machine kicks in. Someone calls for quiet, the cameras start rolling, and I hear "Action!" So I hold my fist in the air and yell with all the anger I can muster, "People of North America, we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice!"

There's dead silence on the set. It goes on. And on.

Finally, the intercom crackles and Jorge's acerbic laugh fills the studio. He contains himself just long enough to say, "And that, my friends, is how a revolution dies."

I throw the helmet, it smashes into the wall and makes a dent.

"I SHUCKEN told you I'm not a dancing monkey. I'm never doing this again. I'm out."

I step off the stage and storm out of the room, slamming the door. I head straight to the bathroom and into the shower. I stand for a long time in the hot water. I don't even care I maybe cutting into someone else's shower time. I press my forehead into the wall and try to cool my anger. Once all the makeup and hair goop is gone and it's just me again I turn the water off and dry myself off. I stand in the mirror and just look.

"Why on earth would they pick you?" I ask my reflection.

I'm not exactly pretty. But I'm not ugly or plain either. My dark green almond shaped eyes are framed on thick black eyelashes. I have thick full lips my nose is thin. I'm thin and wiry, my left arm is covered in tattoos from my shoulder blade and up over my shoulder and all the way down to the back of my hand. I'm not scrawny but I'm not swollen with muscle. I don't have big curves, but I'm not flat. I'm just average. If I didn't have purple hair and covered in tattoos, I'd blend into the crowd. Just another girl in the group. I didn't see anything remarkable about me.

I shake my head and pull on my clothes and leave the bathroom.

"There she is."

I jump and spun around a knife in my hand and held up. Theo smirks slightly and wraps his long fingers around my wrist and slowly pulls me closer.

"Where you waiting for me?" I ask. He had pulled me even closer, into his chest, his other arms snacked around my back.

"Not long. I knew you needed some time to cool off."

"That was a shucken disaster." I grumbled pressing my forehead into his shoulder.

"It was." He agreed.

"Aren't you supposed to be the supportive boyfriend or something?" I snap pulling away.

"I'm agreeing with you. And they can't describe what a battlefield looks like when they haven't been outside The Walls. We need out of here and into a real war zone."

I just hummed in response.

"Also, Ray, did I hear you call your boyfriend, Ray?"

I felt my face heat up. I think my brain glitches for a second and I forgot to function for a split second.

"I dunno. Maybe. Do you want me to?"

I'm so nervouse now my mouth is dry and I can feel my knees going week. I can walk into battle and face a hundred Gone cranks, and March into the Maze and game on Grievers, but this young man in front of me makes me forget to breath and stomach to drop and my heart to beat faster. I hate it.

"Yes." He whispered. His nose gently nuzzles into my hair. "Yes." He repeats. He slips his hands over my neck and presses his thumbs under my chin, tilting my head back so his forehead meets mine. For a moment he stands there, his eyes closed, breathing my air. I feel the pulse in his fingertips. I feel the quickness of his breath. He seems nervous. "Only if I can call you mine." His voice sends a shiver down my spine.

I slowly push on my tip toes and close the gap. My lips press to his hesitantly. At first he doesn't move. It's just our lips touch, his hands as still holding my head tipped back. He slowly steps closer, into my space, his body pressed to mine. His hands hold tighter. He steps closer, making me step backwards. He steps again, forcing me back until my back is up against the wall.

I gasp. In a matter of seconds Theo has gained some confidence and he smirks against my lips. His hands travel down to my shoulders and then slid down my arms and he intertwins our fingers. He pressed closer. I was very aware of every point of contact. He broke the deep kiss and just stayed pressed close. His air mixing with mine. We stayed pressed together against the wall, my eyes closed enjoying his contact.

"Tomorrow will be better." He whispered.

"I hope so...but it wasn't all bad. Hailey is alive." I whispered back.

"We'll get her back. I don't know how, or when but we will. I will help you, Ray, even if it's just us. I'll help you get her back from them." He vows. His voice is quiet, but it's even and without hesitation.

"You'll have to face Him." I open my eyes and peek at him, he's already looking, his eyes look stormy, but his eyes are as even and steady as his voice.

"I know. And I already told you, I'd I could push a button and kill everyone who works for WICKED, I would. That includes the man who claims to be my father." He snarled.

"Good. Because I will kill them all!"

"I'd expect nothing less, Soilder Raya Turner." He presses his lips gently to mine again. I humm and kiss him back.

•×•