"Ooh, you're so much less hairy than our usual tributes!"

I resist the urge to growl at the insufferable creatures swarming around me like flys on a carcass. I've been sitting in the Remake Center for the past three hours, forced to listen to my prep team gossip about the upcoming Games. If I had my way, my leg hair would be the least of your concerns.

It's hard to look at these people and believe that they're actually human with their bright colors and numerous piercings and oddities. I can't even begin to fathom how anyone could live like that.

Daffodil is far too hyper and... well, yellow. I guess she really decided to embrace her name in her fashion choices.

Clementine, on the other hand, her appearance is far more abstract. Bright orange skin makes it hard to look at her for long. Hair that gleams like rubies and nails that look to be coated in blood give her an unnerving aura.

Hugo almost looks normal in comparison to his colleagues. His only adornments are the swirling tattoos on his arms like pink sleeves and his matching earrings bouncing around in tight corkscrews.

My senses barely register the pain of hair removal. I don't even take notice of my prep team's constant flow of meaningless words. After a while, it all seems so pointless. They pamper me, create a stunning facade around my naked body, only to throw me into a den full of ravenous animals called tributes. Hope my death means something to someone. I certainly couldn't care less.

They must have finished their work while I was lost in a train of morbid thoughts. The three freaks hurry out of the bland, white room, leaving me alone to wait for my stylist. If I get some idiot who thinks fish fillets are the hottest new trend...

The door opening causes me to snap my attention towards the woman entering the room. She's tall, with tanned skin and silver hair that falls to her slim hips. Elegant tattoos inked in silver and white, spiraling around her face and neck, match the floor-length, ivory gown she wears. "Lilith, you've grown since the last time I saw you." The words float from her lips like a song floating along on summer breeze.

"Crystal? What are you doing here?" I ask, confused. "You haven't been a stylist for District Four in years."

"Onyx and I decided to come back for the Quell. We didn't want you to go through this alone." A sad smile flits across her face, revealing the depth of her kindness.

"I'm glad you're here," I say, encircling her in a hug despite my body only being covered by a thin robe.

"Me too."

"What's the game plan?" I ask, reluctantly pulling away.

"You'll see," Crystal says, a glint in her eyes. "Let's get you ready."

Crystal's hands move around me with a practiced ease. Her fingers are neither gentle, nor are they overly rough. When she moves them, they possess just enough firmness in their motions to properly secure pieces without causing me any discomfort.

"Okay, here we go," Crystal says after she's finished ensuring every detail is perfect. "You can look now."

Slowly, I turn to face the mirror embedded in one of the walls. A smile begins to spread across my face as I take in Crystal's masterpiece.

She's dressed me in a floor-length dress in a shade of blue that resembles the darkest depths of the ocean. It clings to my body as it wraps around my torso and neck, ending in a halter top, and exposing large portions of my midriff and back. A rope circles around my waist like a belt, and, when I look closer, I can catch the glint of diamonds speckling it. My dark hair has been curled and done up in an elaborate bun, loose strands falling to frame my face. A golden crown adorned with sapphires has been placed delicately on top of my head. My makeup has been kept relatively simple, meant to enhance rather than hide my features. Golden hoop earrings are dangling from my ears, and a blue bracelet made of rope from my wrist. Sparkling blue and gold heels complete the look.

I truly appear to be a goddess of the sea.
"Well?" Crystal asks, seemingly pleased with her work. "What do you think?"

"It's perfect." My reply is short, but the emotion behind it isn't lost on my stylist. "Thank you."

"You deserve so much more than a pretty dress. It's the least I could do."

"Still, thank you."

"Come on," Crystal says, "let's get you downstairs."

After riding the elevator down to the ground floor of the Remake Center, I emerge to find that most of the tributes have already arrived. The idea of socializing is as unappealing as ever, the thought giving me anxiety, so, instead, I make my towards the District 4 chariot. Can't this thing start already? I lean against the side of the chariot, not bothering to hide my disgust at this whole situation.

The sound of a familiar, taunting voice catches my attention "Is the little traitor upset?" Cashmere approaches, a spiteful sneer on her annoying face. "Scared?"

"Should I be?" I ask slowly. I look down to examine my ocean blue nails, flicking an invisible speck of dust off of one of them.

"I think so," she says, getting close to me. "I mean, unless you want your precious brother to see your insides become your outsides."

I finally raise my eyes to meet hers, letting a smirk tug at my lips. "Over your dead body."

Taken aback, Cashmere pauses to regain her composure. "Oh, I think it'll be yours."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"Too bad he's from Four," Cashmere whispers, turning to leave, "otherwise I might have my way with him."

I lash out, grabbing her arm before she can getaway. "Watch your back, Cashmere." My words are deceivingly sweet, honey thinly disguising the poison running through them. "Your brother's, too."

Fear briefly flickers across her elegant features, revealing the impact of my words.

Letting go of her arm, I watch as she hurries over to where Gloss is conversing with Brutus.

It's well known among the victors that Cashmere has had it out for me since the day I won. She doesn't truly understand what some of us have to do in order to make it out alive. She's far too busy being caught up in her own world. Time to teach her a lesson on survival.

A familiar voice drifts from across the room, catching my attention. With a quick glance, I notice that it's coming from the District 12 chariot. Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire, appears to have been cornered by no other than my district partner.

Not again. I start to walk towards the pair at a brisk pace, hoping to save the newbie from the likes of Finnick. I school my features into a look of disdain with ease, effectively removing any trace of the encounter from my face. I would prefer it if no one ever learned of the conversation between me and Cashmere.

I arrive in time to see a half-naked Finnick Odair leaning in close to the young victor, a seductive smirk dancing across his lips. "What about you, girl on fire? Any secrets worth my time?"

Rolling my eyes, I snatch the container of sugar cubes he holds in his hands from him. "Eating food without me? you should be ashamed of yourself."

"Give those back." Finnick tries to grab them from me, but I expertly dodge out of the way, plopping one in my mouth with a small smile.

"I don't think I will." I start to turn away, but pause, looking back. "Oh, and Johanna was looking for you," I lie smoothly.

"Oh?" Finnick raises an eyebrow. "What does she want, if I may ask?"

"Probably that net you're wearing." I laugh, noticing the obvious discomfort that has been radiating from Katniss our entire conversation. "Why don't you go show her?"

"And suffer through her insults? You sure are driving a hard bargain, Lil."

"Take it or leave it, but I highly recommend taking it, Finn." I shoot him an unflinching look, my posture giving off a confident aura dripping in the promise of power I don't actually possess.

"If you insist, then I guess I have no choice. You scare me." Shooting a forlorn look at the sugar cubes, still secure in my grasp, Finnick saunters off.

"Sorry about him, he was just teasing you," I say apologetically, turning to face Katniss. "I'm Lilith, by the way."

"Katniss," she responds in turn.

"Yeah, I know." I chuckle lightly. "You better watch your back around here, Twelve. Don't let the sharks get a taste of your blood." I toss another sugar cube in my mouth before giving Katniss a dangerous smirk. "See you later, girl on fire."

The younger girl's face contorts as if trying not to let her discomfort become evident. She definitely appears tough on screen, but I don't know if I'm ready to believe it quite yet.

I walk with a purpose back towards my own chariot, tossing the container of sugar cubes to a random worker on my way. I have a job to do, and the time for messing around is up.

"Adara," Finnick greets me, already leaning casually against the side of the chariot when I arrive.

"Odair."

"While you were off eating what rightfully belongs to the horses- which, by the way, I'm very disappointed in you for that- I happened to run across a certain tree."

"Oh? What type of tree did find so very far away from a forest?" I cross my arms over my chest, and give him a penetrating stare.

"A very angry tree," he replies, his lips tugging upwards in a small smile.

"And what did this tree tell you?"

"That I look beautiful. Well, maybe not in those exact words, but close enough."

Somehow I doubt that Johanna said anything like that.

Crystal rushes over to us, her brother and fellow stylist, Onyx, beside her. "It's about to start." She quickly inspects my makeup for flaws. "I don't need to tell you how to win them over, you already know." Smoothing out a wrinkle in my dress, she gives me a thumbs up.

I nod my head in silent thanks before climbing into the chariot with ease, Finnick following. Let's get this over with.

The crowd's roar reaches my ears as we start to move forward, even without the aid of speakers. It's a deafening cacophony of bloodcurdling screams. It's strange to think that they're emitted due to a drunken joy, rather than a paralyzing fear provoked by an imminent death.

I effortlessly let my features slip behind the carefully crafted mask that I've been wearing for the past eleven years. My weaknesses invisible. My strengths prominent. Cold, emotionless, and, most importantly, dangerous. A murderer who's about to be released on a killing spree.

What would you do if I told you the truth? If I let the mask fall for a second too long? Would you still cheer for me, or would you flee in terror? Would you pity me, or would you hate me?

As soon as the chariots pull up to the Training Center, I jump out, ignoring the potential risk of doing so while in motion. I begin to make my way towards the elevator, hoping to make it before anyone can attempt to pull me into a trivial conversation, but my efforts are in vain.

Haymitch Abernathy, District 12 mentor, intercepts me, grabbing my arm to prevent me from pushing past. "Lilith Adara, wish I could say it was good to see you."

"Haymitch." I nod my head in acknowledgment, ripping my arm from his grasp. "to what do I owe the displeasure of this conversation?"

"The Games, I'd say. Wouldn't be here if it weren't for them, would we?"

"I know I wouldn't be," I reply, rolling my eyes. "What do you want, Haymitch?"

"An alliance."

I let out a short laugh of surprise. "And here I thought you were smart. I work alone, or hadn't you heard?"

"Funny, I always thought you were the moral Career," Haymitch says sarcastically.

"Don't call me that," I snap. "I'm not one of them."

"Your history seems to say otherwise."

"My history says that I'm a dangerous killer, not that I'm anything like those bloodthirsty idiots." I give Haymitch a hard look filled with hostility. "Don't get the two mixed up."

"I wasn't planning on it," he replies simply, his devoid of the anger mine holds. "Why do you think I want an alliance with you but not One or Two?"

"Because you're growing crazy in your old age?"

"No. I want you because I don't agree with what the others say about you."

"If that's what you think, then it's bound to get your tributes killed." My words are drained of the anger, a hollow shell in comparison to what they were earlier on in the conversation.

"I'm not so sure." Leaning closer, he whispers in my ear, "Midnight. Roof. Bring the others."

"What?"

Stepping away, Haymitch gives me a nod. "If that's how you truly feel, then I guess I'll respect your decision."

"I-"

Before I can get out any of the thoughts or questions fighting for dominance inside of my head, Haymitch is gone.

•••

Cold wind slices against my exposed skin, chilling me to the bone. I regret not bringing a jacket, but I didn't expect to have to wait so long for Haymitch to show.

"If he's not here in the next five minutes, I'm abandoning ship." I scowl as I wrap my arms around my torso.

"Haymitch wouldn't call a meeting for no reason," Marie says, ever calm.

"Ever considered that maybe he's insane?" I snap back, irritated.

"Oh, he's definitely insane," Anders comments, "but he's also smart."

"Is he, though?"

"Come on, Lil," Finnick says from where he's sitting with his back pressed up against a wall. "Just a few more minutes."

"Fine," I grumble.

Seconds turn into minutes as time slips by. I'm about to give up all hope of Haymitch ever gracing us with his presence, when the elevator door opens.

"Finally, you-"

Marie cuts me off before I can finish. "What exactly is this all about, Haymitch?"

"And why are you late?" I jump in before anyone can cut me off again.

Haymitch doesn't even look at me. "I'm here to discuss an alliance. Oh, and," he keeps his gaze focused on Marie, "I don't own a watch."

"Why?" Anders asks.

"I don't find them particularly useful in day to day life. We have escorts for a reason."

"No, not that. Why an alliance with Four?"

"Well, mostly Lilith since she made Katniss slightly less angry than Finnick did, but, to answer your question, there's a plan. A plan that, if all goes accordingly, will mean that this just might be the last Hunger Games in history."

"You've lost your mind," I say, my skin long since numb from the cold.

"There's a rebellion," Haymitch continues. "Katniss is the face of this rebellion. An icon. They need her."

"You want us to die for her?" Finnick asks in disbelief. "So she can win the Quell?"

"Your negotiation skills haven't exactly improved with time," I say sarcastically, having to fight back my anger.

"I can't predict what might transpire once inside the arena. So, yes, you may die, but that's a possibility either way." Haymitch's eyes finally meet mine. "If you agree, there's a chance we may be able to extract you from the arena. All you need to do is protect Katniss and Peeta."

"Okay," Finnick says reluctantly after a few minutes, "I'll do it."

"Lilith?"

Everyone's eyes turn to me.

A flurry of emotions wells up inside of me, struggling to be let out. My heart is pounding in my chest. I clench my fists, letting my nails dig into my palms until I feel the blood start to pool around them.

I'm presented with two options: death, or rebellion. If I refuse, I know my life will end in that arena, but at least that's it. If I choose rebellion, I may survive only to live a life worse than death. My loved ones may die because of my actions, or worse, face torture. I don't think the others are truly aware of the consequences of failure, or what it will mean for our society.

I want to puke. I want to run as far as I can and never look back. Whatever I choose, I will be considered the traitor that I know the other victors have always called me behind my back. A traitor to my country, or a traitor to myself and everything I believe in.

But I learned a long time ago to push my feelings deep beneath the icy facade I've perfected. Locked inside of a neat little box where no one will ever find them, not even me. Because if there's one thing I can't afford to do, it's put myself first.

So, this is how I'm able to look at Haymitch in the eyes and say, "I can't do it."

Author's Note

This chapter ended up being a lot harder to write than expected, but overall I'm pretty happy with it. I may or may not have put a couple of references in this chapter, so I'm sorry (not really) about that. I don't think anyone will get them, but if you do, good job. Please comment on any advice, ideas, or anything else about the story. I'll have chapter 5 up next Sunday.

Edit: 08/20/20

It only took about 5 years for me to finish rewriting this chapter. It was getting really long so that's why some parts were cut out. Hopefully, I'll be able to get the next one out soon.