A/N: I worked on this for like 3 weeks and I'm not sure if it'll go anywhere, especially when I'm still writing chapters for my GOT fanfiction and working on an original novel, but I thought it was pretty good and wanted to share for anyone who's still in the Hunger Games fandom even though we've all mostly died out. Regardless, enjoy! If it seems people are interested I'll see about writing more of it.
I woke up with my back pressed against cold metal, naked against the unfeeling surface of the examination table. The feeling was familiar, comforting even. I'd laid against it less than two weeks before, waiting in fear for my stylist to arrive so they could doll me up and sit me in front of a live Capitol audience. There was no less anxiety, no less feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. Just a thin cotton blanket concealing my nudeness from the rest of the room.
"Finally awake, sweetheart?" Haymitch's voice was grating against the echoing room, forcing me to pinch my eyes closed against it. When I could finally open them again I turned toward him, finding him resting against a whitewashed doorway leading into another blindingly white hallway. "You're in the hovercraft infirmary. They bring every victor out this way. There's no way they'd let their new superstar meet her adoring public looking like a drowned rat."
I stared at the ceiling, tears coming to my eyes as the sadness rushed over me. Peeta had given his life for me in the arena, throwing himself into the pack mutts and dragging Two's Cato in with him. The screams echoed in my head, the image of the bloody spray cast onto the cornucopia burned into my eyelids. Peeta's blood was on my hands, and on the forever I'd promised when they'd announced that two victors might be crowned. The stain had even seeped into the crushing dread felt upon hearing my name announced as Victor. Champion. Survivor.
"They're sending in Cinna to get you pretty." I watched Haymitch throw open a medical cabinet, searching for what I could only assume was another bottle of liquor. "Damnit. I've been sober for days, the least they could do is fully stock a bar in here"
"Sober is a good look on you, Haymitch. Perhaps you should try it more often" Cinna entered, pulling a heavy cart behind him. With him were two women I didn't recognize, one a stylist,both women with wildly curled, rainbow poofs of hair on their heads and glitter coating every visible inch of skin. Their cart was loaded with brightly colored bottles, all containing some sort of swishing liquids, gels, and scrubs, along side brushes, cases of powder, and a thick salve-like material I recognized as the first step of Beauty Base Zero. "Katniss, how are you?"
I shrugged, eying a silver object that look suspiciously like a knife. Cinna took my hand, turning my arm to examine the skin stretching from my wrist to elbow. He sighed, touching his hand to a few small scars that marked me, rewards from dropping the Tracker Jackers onto the career pack. "I have never hated anything more than I do the marks these games leave on survivors" Something told me he wasn't talking about the tracker jacker scars.
"They'll be gone before you know it. The sculptors have already repaired what was necessary on the inside, but after this she'll be brand new" One of the women, the one wearing a ridiculous puff of fake orange fur as a dress, said. My eyes widened as she removed a syringe from a sleek black case, filling it with yellow liquid from a small medicine jar. She flicked the syringe, squirting a small amount of the liquid into the air.
"This will just pinch for a moment" Cinna said as his companion jabbed the syringe into my arm, compressing the plunger and sending the liquid racing into my body. It felt like fire under my skin as she withdrew the needle with a cluck of her tongue.
"Should be gone by the time we land tomorrow in Capitol." The second woman, dressed in a sleek business suit, offset by the fact that it was bright magenta in color, her skin was artificially dyed pink, probably pumped full of pigment on the daily to keep its vibrancy. The color made me sick.
"I think that will be all ladies" Cinna said, capping off the used syringe and tossing it into a red canister in the corner. A puff of smoke erupted from the top, signaling the incineration of the needle and its container. "Thank you for your help"
The two women tittered together as they left the room, leaving it in silence as Cinna continued to organize his own supplies. Haymitch had retreated to a wheeled chair in the corner, having found the cabinets bare of his poison.
"We'll land tomorrow officially, in the public eye anyway. But you'll be leaving the ship tonight. And we need to get you all dolled up." Cinna said, opening a jar filled with a thick blue gel. He swiped some up with a cotton applicator, dabbing it onto a series of bruises that lead down my hips and across my thighs.
"Where are they taking me" if I was going to district 12 I didn't see why they were bothering with the scars and bruises. It was the rainy season now, and I'd be forced to cover up to avoid catching something.
"The Capitol" I shot up into a sitting position, knocking the applicator from Cinna's hand. Haymitch raised an eyebrow, continuing on from what he'd just said. "What? Didn't think they'd let you go home just yet did you? No rest for the victors. Besides, your real home is in the capitol now."
"Why do they need me there. I already won for them. Peeta and Rue died for them. " I spat out, glaring at Haymitch as if he were the cause rather than the messenger.
"Believe it or not, Capital government does know that the games aren't all fun for the victor. They know the Districts past 1,3, and 4 don't enjoy sending children to their deaths" Haymitch was gruffer than usual, I had to pay close attention to hear it, probably a result of his alcohol deprecation. "You'll be taken in for a mental evaluation. They call it your recouping time, spinning some story about how you need time to take in your victory. Really they'll stick you in the Victory Tower, along with the other victors; they drag them all to the city this time of year"
"Victory Tower?" I remembered the name from the footage that always ran on the television after the most recent victor was announced. It was a huge, glass tower, the walls showing holographic banners displaying the name, face, and district of every victor since the first hunger games.
"They send all new victors there. You'll be required to spend time socializing in the city now that you've won" Cinna had gone to work on my nails, filing their jagged edges into place. "It's important that you meet your fellow victors, as they often work together to get sponsors in the games"
The thought made me sick to my stomach. Being victor wasn't a one time deal, that much I knew. That was why there were almost constant streams of information on the lives Victors lived after their games. Prim had enjoyed those shows, especially the ones that showed female victors who'd become fashion designers or adopted new pets. Every few years there'd be a social broadcast focused on one district. The most recent one had been the year before, showing off district three's victor pair that had begun developing energy technology in their free time.
"Relax, sweetheart. They're all victors too. And not all of them were careers" Haymitch slouched further in his chair as Cinna began working on the visible skin. It wouldn't be long before I was whisked off to a bath lathered with oils and expensive soaps.
"But some of them are" I argued. I'd never get the image of the sheer malice in Clove's eyes out of my head,nor the twisted grin Cato had worn moments before Peeta threw them both into the pack of mutts. "Some of them were born to kill"
"You'd be surprised, Honey" Haymitch's eyes narrowed. "Just because you walk in a career doesn't mean you leave that way. One, Two, and Four have a talent for breeding psychopaths, but even crazies can break"
I frowned. After watching Cato and Clove fight their way through half the tributes in the arena, I could hardly imagine anyone from District Two being broken. Glimmer and Marvel surely weren't the bloodthirsty lunatics their Distrct Two counterparts were but they hadn't exactly been reluctant when they were chasing her down. Marvel didn't even blink when he killed Rue.
"I don't want to" I said, looking at Haymitch pleadingly.
"Sorry, Sweetheart" Haymitch glanced up as a whirring noise echoed throughout the room. "We're landing. Welcome to the Capitol, Girl on Fire."