Warning 1

Author Note: I have a sneaking suspicousion you guys like this trilogy ;D Thanks for your EPIC support!

Prim's P. O. V.

The thing was, I woke up.

The people surronding me were gaping in absoulte amazement. I tried to tilt my head, only to realize I was hooked up to about a million machies with about three times as many wires. My eyes searched there alarmed faces as I realized something.

I was still alive. I was still alive.

"Impossible! She...she..." one man sputtered as they all stepped back, one hitting a button on a remote that unhooked every wire.

"Where am I?" I asked weakly, sitting up and instantly collasping, "wait...why am I not in the areana?"

I'd surrived the Hunger Games. Rue and Peeta had won. But I was still alive.

Not. Good.

"Sweetheart...how're you alive?" the same man asked me softly, trembling from...what? Fear? Excitment?

Both?

"I...I don't know..." I stood on shaky legs, only to collapse again. All of their hands instantly caught me, setting me on the bed edge and making me smile weakly my thanks.

"Well...at any rate..." another women took my hand with her violently trembling one, "we should...well...feed you, right?"

I'm not sure how long I was out, but the food felt even more rich than when I'd first experinced it from the Capital. But my stomach was increbidly swollen and hollow, so most of it just came right back up. And yet I just kept eating until it finally stayed down enough for me to call myself satisified.

The people in the Wire Room all looked in shock. They just stared as I scarfed down as much food as I possibly could, then threw it all back up, then went back for more. The man who'd first spoken was now silent and very pale, and I felt bad that they just had to come into the terms that a person who was once dead was living again.

When I saw myself in the mirror, I certainly looked like a zombie.

My blonde braids were long gone, and now my hair was frizzy and tangled many, many knots. My blue eyes were sleepy and unglazing, and my frame with thinner than ever. You could literrly see my ribs in full detail, and I was horrified.

Three of the people from the room came back to me. One looked around seventeen, having bright orange ringlets that snaked down her neck and her entire short, plump body was a light purple. The second looked in his late twenties, early thirties, with bright green hair that ended in arrow-forms down his back and fire red eyes. The third and last looked about Katniss' age, with long brunette hair with all the colors of the random weaved in, then pink, animae-type eyes.

She looked Katniss' age.

Katniss. I had to find her and tell her I was okay. Well...first I'd diszombify myself, then I'd present myself.

Turning the odd trio, I inquired, "Would you guys happen to know anything about styling?"

Rue's P. O. V.

An uprsing.

It was a little hard for my mind to believe, honestly. Little ole me, who barely surrived the Hunger Games and was still recovering from dyhydration and deadly weight loose, starting an uprising.

And yet my mind knew it was going to happen. It was the right thing...the Capital were demons and cruel, merciless. They could kill children and not blink.

They would get their karma.

But first I had to go on some kind of Victory Tour, celabrating the fact that Peeta and I lived and had to watch twenty-two other tributes die painfully. ("A momentance triumpt," my foot.)

Sorry, I sound mean now. But the Capital is just...ugh, it's awful. Besides, they'd killed innocent people countless times. They'd killed my fellow tribute, Thresh.

They'd killed Peeta's fellow tributes, Primrose Everdeen. She was also my best and only true friend in the world.

Sure, Peeta was a friend and ally. I mean, he'd saved my life in The Hunger Games. But we had a romantic-cover story going on, and sense there were camreas everywhere, it wasn't going to be easy just to be friends.

Prim and I didn't have any story-line. We were actually best friends, pretty much since I met her after she'd vetoed her big sister volunteering to take her place. It's a long story...but I admired her, and she was an amazing partner.

And now she was dead.

So yes, I would start an uprising. For Prim's sake.

I know that's what she would've wanted.

Prim's P. O. V

I looked pretty amazing. Maybe not as amazing as I had with the help of District 12's stylist that helped make Katniss the Girl on Fire, but I still looked great.

My long blonde hair was neatly combed and shiny, now in one braid instead of two. I had black slacks on that fit perfectly as well as fancy-type brown boots underneath, and my blouse was a pure white that complimented my now more colored face.

Annalie, Jade, and Mickey, (the three who'd made me pretty,) helped me into the box. Jade gave me a few instructions on how to stay still and act...well, dead. The train would take me back to District 12, and when they did, I'd pop out and run home.

"Thank you guys so much," I grinned to them, sad I'd never see them once more but happy that they'd been friendly.

"Be careful, Primrose," Annalie suddenly looked much older than eighteen speaking to me, "a few whispers speak of an uprising."

"Uprising?" I echoed softly. An uprising by who, I asked them nervously.

"The girl winner," Mickey replied, looking just as solem as the other two, "Rue."

Rue?

"You gotta start your act," Jade was slowly closing the coffin lid, "good luck, kid."

I sighed shakily as I was carried out by a few men grumbling about the weight. As soon as the train was moving, I slid out of the box and found a pile of cloth.

Burying my face in it, I screamed.