Updated as of July 9th, 2022.

ONto THe sTOry.

Disclaimer: Laurel is slightly messed up. But it's okay to be a little broken.

FLASHBACK TO THE LAST CHAPTER

Aronn froze below me. About damn time he woke up.

"No, Effie. It wasn't anything like that-"

"No matter, my dear. Just...clean yourself up a bit and make it quick! Your prep team will be here any minute to get started!" She laughed, tottering away. I locked eyes with Emery, a need to defend myself rising.

Without another glance at Aronn, Emery turned, the door closing behind him.

"What a way to start the day," I sighed.

After a few minutes, Portia came to collect me. Aronn slipped out of the room with only a curt nod as a goodbye. The prep team was nowhere to be seen. Based on what Effie had said earlier, I figured they'd be around for one last deep clean before I was sent off for good. Portia informed me that I wouldn't be seeing them until I returned. She said it so casually, as if it were a certainty that I'd be back. I didn't know how to react, so I just looked away.

The stylish woman offered me a flimsy shift to dress myself in. I took it without complaint, changing quickly. Then she led me to the roof. We took the elevator instead of the secret stairway. Part of me wondered if she even knew about the other door.

"We will get you dressed and prepared when you get to the catacombs," Portia said.

"I know," I murmured. She glanced down at me, sadness creasing her face. But she didn't say anything more.

The roof was empty, and I almost turned to question Portia right as an Eye in the Sky appeared, freezing me in place. It was much smaller than what I remembered, but the sleek, silver design was forever etched in my brain. Portia gently nudged me towards it as a ladder slid down. Her nudge became an insistent pressure as she gestured for me to get a move on. I snapped out of my reflection, keeping my eyes on my feet until I reached the metal bars. Taking a steadying breath, I grabbed hold of two of the bars and became actually frozen in place. I forced myself to keep calm as it lifted me up inside.

A woman stood waiting for me, a syringe in her spindly fingers. She offered me a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes before she approached, explaining that she was injecting a tracking device in me and how it would only take but a moment. I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut when the needle stabbed into me, but I wasn't afforded such a luxury. I watched as she plunged it deep within my right forearm, briefly entertaining the idea of cutting it out with a rock once I was relatively safe somewhere in the Arena. I dismissed the idea almost as soon as it came to me. Wouldn't want to bleed to death by my own hands, after all.

Once she took the needle out, the ladder released me. I shook out my trembling limbs and waited as Portia came up next. She didn't have the pleasure of being stuck to the rungs, unlike me. In fact, she shot me an odd look for trying to get the feeling back in my arms.

An Avox showed us to a separate room where we were meant to eat breakfast. Despite not feeling very hungry, I ate my fill. Not too much- I wouldn't want to puke if I ran too hard- and not too little- it was called the Hunger Games for a reason, after all. Portia picked at her plate, worry creasing her brow. I raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

Half an hour passed, and soon enough Portia and I were off underground in the catacombs. A man gave us instructions on how to get to the last room I would be in before the Arena. The chamber for my "preparations". It was supposed to be called the Launch Room, but the only thing I'd ever heard it referred to as was the Stockyard. People whispered that it was the place animals would go to before their slaughter.

The room was sparkly and clean, with that new room smell that couldn't be replicated. Portia prompted me to shower. I did as I was told, but I didn't enjoy it. I could barely feel the warm water soothing my skin over the pounding rhythm of my heart. Once I walked into the Stockyard it started racing. My stomach remained settled, thankfully. It wouldn't do to be weakened right before my big performance, would it? I decided to even brush my teeth with a toothbrush that was so generously provided.

"How would you like me to do your hair?" Portia asked, her voice hushed. I glanced over, looking into her eyes filled with concern. I trailed a finger over my scar self-consciously.

"It would be smart to have it put back, huh?" I said, cupping my neck with my hand. Portia nodded.

"If there is a jacket, the collar will probably be high enough."

"Then tie it all back. Tight. I don't want to have to worry about it," I commanded, putting on a brave face as I walked over to sit in front of her.

Portia styled my hair into a braid that pulled at my scalp every time she went for a new section of hair. It stopped at the bottom of my shoulder blades, thoroughly impressing me. I hadn't had hair that short for years. And it was definitely tight. I ran a hand over the smooth bumps of the braid and thanked her, but she didn't respond.

An Avox brought in my clothes a few moments later, carefully avoiding looking up from the ground. Portia laid them out, winking at me when she pulled out the jacket. We dressed me quickly, Portia commenting on how the jacket would keep me warm due to the material it was made out of. The boots were very practical, but I was more concerned with the idea of the socks being waterproof or not. Portia couldn't help me there, but her best guess was that they were.

Everything fit perfectly, much to both of our reliefs. Portia offered me food, and I gratefully accepted. No need on passing up a good thing. She gave me a bowl of apple slices and a glass of water, but got nothing for herself. To be honest, I didn't think she expected me to be hungry at all.

"All we can do now is wait, Laurel," she murmured, sitting adjacent to me. I offered her a piece of fruit.

"Then may the odds be ever in my favor," I replied with a smirk. She took the slice without a word.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and tried to get myself into the mindset I needed to in order to last for even a minute in the Hunger Games. I envisioned the grimy brick walls of my childhood and the fading light of the sun as it fell lower and lower in the sky. I smelled the garbage in the alleyway that cooked all day in the summer heat. I felt the sweat that clung to my skin and the rough hands of Mister Grim as he snarled his orders into my ear. I tasted blood as it flowed from my split lip and mingled with tears.

Old feelings of anger and hate burrowed their way into my head and my heart as I chased away the images of my past. I took another sip of my water, nearly spitting it out when Portia abruptly stood up.

"It's almost time," she whispered, walking over towards me quickly. A flare of distrust fluttered in my chest, but she knelt in front of me before I could act. Taking my left hand in one of her own, she pulled a metal band out of her pocket and placed it in my palm. Wrapping my fingers tightly around it, she stared hard into my eyes.

"Each tribute is allowed to bring one token to represent their district, and I knew you'd regret it if you forgot to bring yours. You left it on the train," she admitted, patting my clenched fingers. I kept my face carefully blank, but inside I was trying to figure out what the heck she was talking about. I didn't have a token.

"Thank you," I said, trying not to sound like I was asking a question. Her posture relaxed just the slightest.

"My mother always used to tell me that gold had healing qualities," she sighed, glancing at my right arm briefly before looking away. "I personally think she only said it as an excuse to buy more jewelry." She laughed quietly to herself before standing once more. I followed suit.

"Do you feel okay, Portia?"

She turned her back to me and crossed her arms, her shoulders hunching. I wanted to reach out and comfort her, but I held myself back.

"I'm scared for you, Laurel. I know how capable you are, but I just can't shake this feeling," she admitted, withdrawing into herself more. I blinked.

"We grew up thinking the Hunger Games were another form of just entertainment. Watching all of the tributes dying one after another, to see their mangled bodies...Never did I think it was real," she said, her voice losing power as she went on. "It was like they were actors. They didn't really die. I didn't realize that they were kids. That they had families just like I did."

I swallowed hard. I wasn't quite expecting that.

"This was my first year working with tributes. I figured it would be fun. I'd get to showcase my work to the nation and see everything up close and personal. But then I got to know you, and I guess it all lost its luster."

"It is time to prepare for launch."

Portia and I both looked up as the announcement was made before locking eyes with each other. Slowly, I held my hand out to her, allowing one side of my mouth to quirk up in what I hoped was an inviting half-smile. Her forehead crinkled, but she slipped her hand into mine anyway. Together, we walked over to the circular metal plate, and I step onto it confidently.

"Thank you for all you've done for me, Portia," I said, my hold on her hand tightening. "This won't be the last time we see each other. I promise you that."

"Just survive somehow, Laurel," she whispered, her eyes gradually turning red. "Everything rests upon you."

I jerked my head to look back at her just as a glass cylinder lowered around me, breaking our handhold. I pressed my palm against it, wanting to ask her if she had heard that from Haymitch but unable to form the words. She smiled, but it was wobbly, like it was moments from slipping off her face. She still pulled back her shoulders to stand up straighter, nodding at me to do the same.

The cylinder began to rise. Realizing my hands were clenching into fists, I relaxed them, only then remembering the odd token I never had. I glanced at the gold bracelet before unzipping a pocket on my thigh and shoving it in. Might as well keep it safe.

Darkness engulfed the tube for an indiscernible amount of time. My heart rate accelerated despite myself. Feeling a shift underneath me, I braced my knees as the metal plate pushed me out of the cylinder, out of the blackness, and into the open air. I squinted and blinked rapidly through the bright sunlight. A strong gust of wind pushed against my frame, but I held my ground, knowing what would happen if I stepped out of my spot even a moment too soon.

The booming voice of none other than Claudius Templesmith rung out around me. And I knew that my fate was sealed once the last words left his lips.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"

A/N: Okay. Don't kill me. But yes, I just ended it before the actual blood and gore and sadness could take place.

I'm sorry. Kind of.

I did this mostly because I wanted to get a little insight from you guys. I have my own ideas of what should happen in the Arena, but what I want to know is what do you guys think it should look like? Should the Arena be just like in the book? Should it have new features specific to this universe that I've altered? Any creatures you think should make an appearance? I'd love to know what my readers want to see next chapter.

Also, I really am sorry for the delay. I've been stressing out about the future and neglecting the one thing that gets rid of said stress.

Anyway.

Thanks again to all our new Silent Watchers for joining us in this adventure. I still smile every time I get an email notification about you guys. :)

Okay, that about sums it up.

Bye~!