As he stepped off the train Kyle noticed there was something different about the Capitol from his home district. It wasn't the clean, organised and paved, or the way that the sun seemed to shine down brighter where he was now than back home. Even the near alien looking people, pressed up against the barricades separating those involved in the games wasn't the cause for Kyle being somehow unsettled by his new surroundings. There was something else, something that just put him on edge in a way that it was so familiar but not for good reasons. Whatever it was, Kyle could almost put his finger on it. The answer was on the tip of his tongue. So close he could taste-
'Kyle. Get your head out of the clouds, we have a schedule to keep.' Sheila called out and snapped Kyle from his train of thoughts causing him to lose the progress he'd made in identifying the source of his unease. But in the process she'd opened up a whole new can of worms.
Heidi remained silent, her blonde curls bobbed up and down as she kept pace with their Capitol escort.
'Sorry. Wanted to take in the sights before, you know.' Kyle offered to the stocky, redheaded woman, hoping that it would be enough to appease Sheila's displeasure for his inattention.
'Don't talk like that, Bubbeh. I'll be showing you all the sites soon enough, just you wait and see.' Sheila said, her voice stiff.
From in front, Heidi's shoulders trembled, and Kyle began to really pity the girl who'd gotten drawn into this with him. As much as Sheila had promised on the train that she was going to do everything in her power to assist the both of them, both Kyle and Heidi knew who was really going to be getting help.
'Sure, Mum. I can't wait.' Kyle offered, wincing internally as he realised that Heidi could hear the whole exchange taking place.
These next few weeks were possibly the end of the road for Kyle, and the last thing he really wanted was his mother to be there for it.
First Kyle was lead away from Heidi and his mother by the Capitol escort for his district. Following the resident, Kyle had been lead up elevators so transparent it almost appeared as if the two of them were shooting up through the building, no walls holding them in.
Then came the medical ward.
Kyle was lead past eight empty beds, each separated by a screen on both sides. It was only safe for Kyle to assume that they were for the other male tributes. He was directed to take a seat by a mask woman gripping her clipboard like a shield.
'Kyle Broflovski, District Four. I'll be needing a few samples and some confirmation about some items on your records.' She ran off. There was something off about her voice, a bitter element to it, as if felt she was above this kind of work.
Kyle felt some sympathy for the doctor who had likely been taken away from more pressing matters to poke him and fill out paper work, until he remembered that this was the Capitol, and she was a voluntary citizen of the fair city.
He simply didn't have the sympathy to spare on her.
After the examination, Kyle rubbed his left arm.
The doctor had drawn three viles of blood after she finally managed to find the vein, though her apology about the difficulties finding it were that bit too chipper to indicate any sense of remorse. Then he'd been jabbed in his upper arm numerous times with all sorts of shots to boost his immune system and help with performance.
'Do you honestly think all the past tributes managed to get that in shape in a couple of weeks? May as well give everyone a bit of an edge.' She'd explained before jamming the loaded syringe into his bicep.
Eventually, after the doctor had waved his escort over from wherever he'd been hiding, Kyle was lead down the other end of the room, passing the other three beds.
Only the one from district two was still occupied.
He was a pig faced, hulking mass, and seemed to be reveling in the glory of some past venture that he was retelling to his attending physician, who for some reason seemed to be eating up every word the tribute from two was saying as if each syllable were covered in honey.
Unfortunately, the other tribute had felt Kyle's eyes on him, and diverted his eyes from his doctor to lock onto Kyle's. Kyle almost stumbled at how quickly the look changed in this boy's eyes from satisfied to venomous, before a sense of recognition flashed through the boy's face and settled on some sick glint of amusement.
'My, my, my. I'd recognise that horrid red hair and monstrous nose anywhere. Broflovski's boy, hey? Man, this is sweet, guess the odds really were in my favour.' He finished, laughing.
Kyle couldn't get out of there fast enough, stepping on his escorts heels to get out of there all the quicker.
His mom had told him that he may be recognised as her son on the train and that it could possibly be cause for him to be targeted by some of the other tributes. Kyle had not been expecting for it to happen so soon, or to see someone's pig like eyes light up in a way that made Kyle's gut twist in all the wrong ways.
Leave it to Sheila to always make everything harder for him then it should be.
According to his cast of a prep team, Kyle was going to be made better than new. All Kyle knew was the fact that he hadn't been pinched, prodded, or contorted this much at any point in his fifteen years.
'Have you ever heard of a nail file?' one of the men lamented as he went about his allocated task.
'You think his nails are bad? Have you seen what I've got to work with?' The one working on his hair exclaimed. To be honest, Kyle agreed that he was going to have his work cut out for him. Nothing Kyle had done himself in the past had been remotely close to taming it. Kyle wished the stout man luck with the impossible, tightly curled mess.
'Ouch!' It was all Kyle could do to fight against the knee jerk reaction he had at every zap from the white, pen like cylinder that burnt away his blemishes and freckles with no warning. Kyle did not understand why anyone would consider freckle density and configuration to be a losing point, but according to his head stylist, who was directing the cast of bright red clad men.
'How's that?' The third one asked, turning his beady black eyes away from the expanse of Kyle's freshly waxed chest he'd been working on.
'Thin them out a little more and then I think we can build him up. Thom, darling, how are things going with you?' The stylist turned his attention away from the man with the correctional pen and towards the one working on his hair.
'Oh, Carson, it's the worst. All I can think is either we shave it all off or run a treatment through to get it back to basic.' Kyle gritted his teeth as the comb that Thom had attempted to run through his hair got caught for the umpteenth time.
Carson seemed to consider both options, tapping his chin with one of his long, perfectly maintained digits.
'Treat it. The poor lamb would look pitiful without anything to frame that face of his, and getting rid of that gorgeous shade would be down right criminal.' Carson waved to Thom who with a renewed sense of purpose, scuttled off to one of the side tables to mix up whatever the 'treatment' was.
'Don't you worry, honey. We're gonna make you look stunning, like a shining Adonis. The Capitol will be besides themselves when they see you ride out into the parade with what I've designed for you.' Carson proclaimed, tossing his bleached blond hair back in a motion that was too fluid to be anything put perfected over many years.
The four preppers agreed with Carson, voicing their praises for his work. All Kyle could hope was that he could make it through the rest of today with what remained of his dignity intact.
Now that he was all dressed up, Kyle followed his escort down to where the chariots were waiting. There was still time before the parade began, and only a handful of other tributes were around. Craning his neck, Kyle failed to locate either his mother or Heidi in the sparse crowd. Turning back to his escort, Kyle found that he'd been swept up in a conversation with someone else who could only have been Capitol born and bred judging by his fuchsia stained skin and near luminous suit they were wearing.
As he hiked Carson's 'masterpiece' up to offer some semblance of mobility, Kyle felt exposed, vulnerable, and terrified. There was nothing more that Kyle wanted right now than to walk into his Dad's study and lay down on the couch while his Dad kept on flipping through paper after paper, the sound of the rustling pages and the occasional scratch of pen on paper lulling him into a state of calm.
Kyle really just wanted his Dad right now.
'Let me guess, District Four.' A monotonous, somewhat nasally voice made itself known from Kyle's right.
'How'd you figure that?' Kyle asked sarcastically before turning to see who'd spoken.
'Whoa. Are you a tree or something?'
'Yep. Though they seemed to be rationing bark, or whatever they used to make this. Honestly, I'm still deciding which of us got the short end of the stick here.' The new comer drawled, waving a tanned hand between the two of them.
The skin was too free of flaws or anything to indicate that it's owner had previously spent their life in the lumber district before this.
'Well at least you have actual pants on. I'm stuck in some skin tight skirt which is impossible to get around in.' Kyle laughed before holding his hand out to the tanned, well muscled tribute.
'Kyle Brofloski, District Four, though you already know that.'
'Craig Tucker. Eight. And I see no problem. I think you make a pretty fine catch.' Craig's lip quirks upwards briefly before taking Kyle's hand in his own.
Kyle tried to control the flush that threatened to burst across his face at the feel of Craig's larger, and much warmer hand, gripping his own.
'Either way, I can't believe we're expected to parade around in this stuff. Like seriously, this is ridiculous. I'm hopping around in a fish tale and painted with glitter, you're wearing tree shorts and nothing else. Like, are we supposed to be taken seriously in this? How is this supposed to help us down the track besides making us think that at least the future wasn't as mortifying as this moment?' Kyle moaned.
'At least we didn't get their stylists.' Craig snorts, as he nodded toward a new pair of tributes walking into the area, both of which could have only been from the livestock district judging from their cow print chaps and hats.
'Oh god, you're right. How many tassels does an outfit need anyway?'
'Whatever it is, they never considered this moment. This moment that we are looking at right now with our very own eyes. I'm going to write a letter home, instructing my sister to memorise my description of those outfits so that she can pass the image down to future generations of Tucker family spawn.'
'Dude, you need to stop. If you keep that up I'm going to smudge these shitty scales and then I'll be the one suffering later.'
'I don't know, Broflovski. Will the suffering later be solely from me or will someone else have the pleasure of inflicting it?' Craig tilts his head towards Kyle, who gulped.
'Um, I guess it depends. Though only if you leave the outfit commentary until later. Like, once I've scrubbed all this off.'
'Sure thing. Running commentary on halt until princess' makeup has been removed. And just so you know, you're asking a lot. Twelve just walked in.' Craig nodded to a new pair and it took all of Kyle's strength to not double over at the 'soot' covered tributes who were leaving clouds of black behind them with each step.
'I guess I'm going to have to owe you big time later tonight, Tucker.' Kyle smiled over as he carefully wiped the tears out of the corners of his eyes.
'So, when do you-' Kyle cut out when he saw Heidi, dressed nearly identical except for the two seashells that covered her breasts, doing her best to shuffle over, and brought along with her a dolled up Sheila.
'Kyle, is this where you've been? What did they do your hair!? No wonder we couldn't find you, you don't look yourself. Annie and I have been searching all over for you, bubbelah. Who's your little friend here?' Sheila burst out before she whisked Kyle away from Craig. Kyle struggled to keep up with Sheila's brisk pace but was thankfully kept upright by her claw like grip on his arm.
'It's nice to see that you're making friends, Kyle, but you can't be dawdling. Stick with Annie or me otherwise you'll get lost and who knows what could happen to you.'
Kyle looked back to see Heidi, who had the same issues with mobility as Kyle with her own outfit with the added difficulty of keeping the sea shells in place.
'Now you two hop on up in there and wait until you're out before waving to the crowd. But don't come across as over eager. Remember, you're out there representing District Four. Chins up, shoulders back and backs straight. We are respectable people after all.' Sheila instructed before she's whisked away by the frenzied crowd of stable hands and organisers, making sure everyone is where they should be and everything is good to go.
'Sorry you were stuck with her.' Kyle leant over to mutter into Heidi's ear.
'I think I got off lightly. You had to grow up with her after all.' Heidi laughed, but the sound is hollow.
Once more, Kyle didn't hold any hard feelings towards Heidi or what she said. Growing up the son of a Victor meant that Kyle never had to work half as hard as everyone else to get by. Kyle never had to worry about an empty pantry, or the tightening of a budget when he outgrew a pair of boots. Kyle knew he wasn't exactly popular with the other kids in his district due to his silver spoon fed upbringing, but it wasn't like he'd asked for it. It was just something that was and Kyle couldn't do anything about it, just like his hair. It was because of this assumption that he worked harder in his classes, taking on extra work, shifts and assignments, because he had no excuse not to. Kyle wanted to prove that he was more than the son of a victor, but here, now, being thrown into the games as he was, Kyle realised that he was never, ever truly going to be able to escape Sheila's shadow or name.
If anything, Kyle realised that he envied Heidi Turner, the girl who was only her own name and face.