Cato's POV:

Dreamt of the girl from twelve last night. I remember sitting on the green, grassy ground on the edge of a clearing with my back against a tree and sword beside me with my eyes closed. This was not a good idea, someone could easily sneak up on me. And they did. I open my eyes to see huge blue ones with silver specs in them, rimmed by long dark lashes with blond hair tangling in them. I don't back away from her face so close to mine, I move closer to her. I place my huge hand on the smooth, delicate pale skin of her cheek and bring her closer to me, my forehead pressed to hers. I close my eyes again and breath in her scent, she smells like fresh flowers and lemon grass. Open my eyes again and she looks at me with a peaceful smile and speaks in a soft voice.

"It's ok Cato. Do it." She orders sweetly. I move over her and push her gently on her back with me on top of her and look in to her perfect blue eyes and she smiles wider. My hand is underneath her in the small of her back while my other one still on her cheek. Slowly I lower my head and brush my lips against her plump pink ones and kiss her gently as possible. When I pull away I look at her face, she's blushing, her smile wide and her eyes slightly teary but not from sadness. I reach my hand out for my sword and wrap my fingers around the handle and lift the sword above my head and plunge it into her chest. And her cannon goes off.

I woke sweaty and honestly shaken. The way she smiled as I killed her made me uneasy that someone would enjoy being killed, I wouldn't. The way she looked me in the eyes until they finally fluttered close made me wish they opened again and the way we kissed made me wish I didn't kill her because I wanted more of these moments.

What in the hell was I thinking? Kissing her? Wishing she wasn't dead? I didn't even know her! We would NEVER have any of those moments because she would be dead in a few weeks or maybe sooner and I would be a victor. If it came down to us I would have to kill her to win. I would, wouldn't I?

No more thinking of this girl, I was a ruthless, brutal career, I was not like her weak, heartbroken mentor who was never sober. I will kill and I will win.

I got dressed and headed to the dining car for breakfast to find Clove, my mentors and my escort. I took the empty seat next to Clove and chucked piles of food on my plate. Clove looked at me in disgust, but I didn't care what she thought because her thoughts her numbered. I piled the food into my mouth. I was quite well fed because I was being trained for The Hunger Games my whole life but none of the food back home was this good.

"You guys know what to do don't you?" Says Brutus tiredly as he takes a sip of coffee. We both nod and Brutus gets up and walks out of the car followed by a savage looking Enobaria. We knew, we had been train for this out whole lives.

I shrug and go back to stuffing my face with food just to piss off Clove. She was seventeen and small for her age but had a stocky build and had good muscle tone for a girl and was cruel as careers came. The only reason she had been allowed to volunteer this year because of what she did to Miya the other eighteen year old who was a training career in our district. I never saw Miya again after the incident but from what I hear Clove scratched a not very pretty name into her face with a knife. Miya pulled out and let Clove take her place and went back to starving. That's why she is here, usually career waited till their last year to volunteer so they got in at much training as possible. We were handpicked and only one boy and one girl were chosen in the same year so they would be trained together and put into the games together. I was handpicked. I was chosen.

I was gripping my knife and fork tightly now deep in thought I hardly noticed that the train had stopped and Clove was at the window waving giving the freaks in the crowd her sadistic smile. I made my way to the window and just stood there, arms over my chest eyeing them down with a cold glare making them scared, making them see that I was to be feared.

...

The whole tough act broke when I felt the hair being ripped from a place where it should never be ripped from. I let out a loud yelp and took in a deep breath and prepared for the next rip.

After about an hour these crazy looking people were finally finished cutting and ripping the hair from my now raw body and put me into a deep bath filled with vile smelling goo that soothed my skin. Then they put a purple coloured cream on my face where I grow hair and washed it off after five minutes. They washed me down and exfoliated my skin and the put moisturiser all over me.

They were finally done but didn't let me put my clothes back on, not that I was ashamed of anything. They left me in the room naked for about five minutes until a orange woman with puffy green hair walked in and without a word examined every inch of my body. The truth is not very many women had ever seen me like this. Careers were not allowed to have relationships back home we were not allowed to care, we were supposed to focus on training and that's what I did.

After she was done observing my body she stood up and walked out of the room with me still standing here naked. She still hadn't said a word to me, I suppose dressing career tributes was serious business.

When she returned it was with a black haired avox carrying some heavy looking gold metal. I looked at it questionably.

"It's your costume." She said and started dressing me quickly and when that was done applied make-up to my face. When I looked in the mirror after she was done with me and left I looked fierce and intimidating. The outfit showing of my muscles and the make-up on my face making me look menacing. I liked it.

I wonder if she would.

Prim POV:

I laid back letting them abuse my poor skin in silence. They had cut a good four inches off my hair, I hadn't realize how long it had gotten since I always wore it up, they cut off the ends because apparently they were dry and dead. It was now at my hips. They put in some oily green stuff and left it for half an hour and when they rinsed it out, it was glowing.

They plucked my eyebrows into shape and finished by washing me down and scrubbing my skin. I felt cleaner than I ever had in my life. They say a quick goodbye and leave telling me my stylist will be here soon.

I sit there naked on the bench waiting for my stylist. I don't really have a problem with nakedness, my sister did, but working with my mother I have pretty much seen it all. Though I kind of hope they are female. Then a man walks in. Damn.

He gives me a gentle smile and holds out his hand for me to shake. I take it.

"Hello Primrose, my name is Cinna." He says as he lets go of my hand, "I was your sisters stylist my first year." He gives me a small smile but his eyes are sad. He must have actually cared for her a bit.

I remember my sister in the parade and in her interview, she always looked beautiful. Maybe he could make me beautiful like her. I remember her and Peeta in flames wowing the Capitol. What would he do for me?

I looked at myself in the mirror. I wore tight skin clinging black pants that joined my tight black top that hugged at my small curves and exaggerating them. It came down my chest in a V showing the smallest amount of cleavage. I was not used to this. I wore black, lace up boots with a small heel on my feet that went to my knees and a black crown on my head over messy blond curls, no not all blond now, I had a few red streaks through my hair. My make-up made me look nothing like myself, it was dark around my blue eyes bringing them out, my lips were red like blood and the make-up on my cheeks made them stand out. Cinna came over to me holding a small remote, admiring his amazing work. He passed the remote to me.

"Press the red button Primrose." He said with a sneaky smile. I did as I was told and watched myself glow. I was like burning coal, crooked lines of red, orange and yellow ran across my body illuminating my face more so my eyes looked darker and mysterious.

I did not look like a girl anymore. I looked like a powerful, dangerous, seductive woman. A threat.