Rated Adult for Violence, and Language.

005A

The glowing yellow light from the overhead lamps blur her vision, as she looks upon the boy she used to know who has become a man. His eyes are the same, but he wears his blonde hair shorter, almost cut to the scalp the front a bit longer. A two inch scar runs down his face just below the ear lobe to trail along his jaw line. He's fit and even in the poor lighting, she can see his plain black t-shirt form to his shoulders and chest. He looks shocked, his hands moving on the gun. Katniss keeps her hands up, her elbows tight on her side.

"You want to lower the gun? It's distracting."

Peeta's face is perplexed as he lowers his weapon," What the hell are you doing here?"

Katniss nodded behind him toward the armed guns," Do you think you can tell them to stand down?"

Peeta turned toward the wall of armed guards behind him," Lower them."

Katniss sighed, pulling the hem of her shirt down around her waist," I need your help."

Peeta turned back around leaning to the side to peer around her, his eyes scanning the darkness behind her," Where's Brenton?"

Katniss swallowed down the tears threatening to choke her," Peeta-"

"Where is he?"

"They've taken him. He's at a camp as we speak."

Peeta's eyes widen, his look far off," What?"

"I tracked their movement a thousand yards outside the East camp. He's there…with Snow."

Peeta ran his hand over his face," They'll run a DNA sequence on him; they'll know he's mine," Peeta closed the gap between he and Katniss," Why did you let this happen?"

"I didn't let this happen, and how dare you accuse me. I wouldn't have come here if I didn't need to."

The shuffling of feet reminded Peeta, of the others standing behind him. He glanced, to each side lowering his head to turn back towards Katniss, his voice low.

"Can we not do this in front of everyone?"

"You run the place, I'm just a visitor."

Peeta nods keeping his eyes from hers, "Johanna make sure everyone gets back to their posts."

The dark haired woman wipes the sweat above her lip with her forearm," Yes, sir."

Peeta signals for Katniss to follow him with his pointer finger, as she proceeds to walk behind him inside the building. Johanna glares as Katniss who simply smiles at her, a curt shrug causing her hair to fall at her back.

Peeta holds the large metal door open for her, allowing Katniss to walk by. The hallway is narrow and the walls seem to span up at least twenty feet. The structure is metal like the door and the deep gray bounces off the overhead lights, the shine of the material almost too bright.

Katniss keeps her back straight, as Peeta comes up behind her, his left hand finding the small of her back. She allows him to lead her to the far door at the back of the hallway. Her muddy boots produce a clicking sound which resounds through the hallway. She doesn't dare sneak a look at his face, as anxiety has almost nearly choked her.

They finally reach the door, a key pad is located to the upper right, and Peeta leans over to the side to press in a sequence of numbers. His shoulder brushes hers and she's upset by how much her body tingles when he's next to her, even after all these years. The door gives a long stream of beeps before it opens with a loud click, Peeta pushes it open waiting for her to step in.

Katniss walks through the door hesitantly, as Peeta rushes past her. When she's fully in the room she looks around, the same shiny metal forms the walls of the room much like the hallway. It's scarcely furnished with only a bed in the middle, which looks to be barely lived in, and a graphing table against the wall.

A makeshift closet is set against the far wall; she looks over to Peeta who has walked to the other side of the room, wringing his hands. He's pacing the floor, his irritation and fear clear.

"How did it happen? We did everything to make sure this never happened?"

The question caught her off guard slightly," The best I can guess is he went looking for you. I tracked him to district twelve; I guess he thought you may be there."

Peeta stilled his movement, looking to her," Why?"

Katniss sighed, leaning her head back," He found some of your things, your picture, a few years back. He knows you're his father. He's been insistent the last few years, I kept pushing it back, but he got inpatient."

Katniss leaned her head forward, having it hang towards her chest. Her body ached and the adrenaline from before was wearing off causing her to be aware of her exhaustion. She stood there not moving, afraid to even breathe. Peeta had started to pacing again, rubbing his face with his right hand while the left took to his neck.

Katniss voice came out as a whisper, as tears crawled up into her throat," Are they going to kill him?"

This stopped him in his tracks as he walked over to her, the distance felt more than the few steps it took him to reach her. Her dark hair had fallen around her face, Peeta reached out to her gathering the strands. This caused her to look up, as he laid the collection of her hair to one side.

"Snow knows how valuable he is. He won't risk killing him in private. He'll use this for all it's worth."

"What do you mean?"

Peeta's eyes became blurry and Katniss could feel her own well up," Snow will use him in the arena."

Katniss couldn't help the gasp escaping her lips as her legs fell out underneath her, Peeta took hold of her sides before she fell to the floor. Katniss gripped onto the material of his shirt, her cries coming out as strangled bursts.

She tucked her head underneath his chin, as the anxieties of the last few days rushed out of her. Peeta gritted his teeth, willing his own panic and grief to be pushed down inside him. He held onto her tightly, lowering their bodies onto the floor of his living quarters. It already felt as though they were mourning the death of their son.

005B.

Brenton

The room I've been staying in for the last two days is damp; the gray bricks seem to hold in the water in the air, causing the room to be a few degrees colder than outside of it. I sit up from the mattress; my muscles are sore and unrelenting.

The wounds on my back have started to heal faster than I imagined, and I assume it has to do with the ointment Daria has been covering them with. The routine is always the same, she comes in around mid-morning to change my bandages, usually nothing is said and I'm too afraid to break the silence. However, I can't help but want to touch her, feel her skin with my finger tips.

I even dream about her, the deep green of her eyes burning through me. I can't almost breath when she's in the room, it's as though all the air has left the room. I have to stop thinking about her, since our last talk she has distanced herself and I need to respect her boundaries.

The bandages on my back are tight and the tape doesn't relent. I swing my legs over the edge to reach for the new shirt I was assigned, since my last one was cut from body and thrown into the mud. The material is as stiff as the one before, and I unbutton the front. Slipping my arms through the sleeves, I'm careful to not break open my stitches. Some of the lashes were deeper than others, resulting in Daria having to suture some.

The fabric falls on my back and I'm happily surprised the pain isn't more painful than I assumed. The fabric still irritates the sensitive skin of my back, and I flex the muscles in my back trying to free them of their stiffness. I button up the front of my shirt, and stand slowly, my feet landing on the cold cement floor.

My pants are still on from this morning when Daria came to check on me, I can remember her blushing, if only for a second, over my naked body. I had been sleeping, and the underwear I had been issued was stained with blood.

The thin sheet had been covering the lower half of my body; she had woken me by throwing my pants between my legs. Her dark had whipped in the air as she turned around waiting for me to dress.

I shake my head at the memory of her with her arms crossed, as I bend down slowly for my boots, slipping my feet into them. The insides are still a bit wet, and I hope I don't get an affection on my feet. There's a bang at the door, signaling for me to hurry up.

I was informed the night before my time of rest was going to end soon, and I was expected to act as any other code would, I wasn't an exception even if I was nearly killed by whipping. The metal door opens with a creak and the red headed Keeper from before, Darius I believe his name is, waves me on.

I nod shoving my hands into my pockets, as every step feels heavy, and I'm terrified of what Snow has planned for me next. The hallway is as dark as my cell however streams of light shows through the cracks of the brick walls, and it's almost poetic to me, light showing through the darkness. It reminds me of something my mother would tell me, and the thought of her makes my stomach fall.

Keeper Darius walks me to the adjoining hallway where I can see a crowd of codes being marched into the courtyard, some turn and stare at me, while others ignore my very presence.

The natural light is nearly blinding since it's been days since I've been in direct contact of the sun. I'm pushed into the cluster of boys, I almost lose my footing, my knees sticking out forward before my feet can follow them.

I gain control quickly, as I look back at Darius who keeps his expression unreadable, although his eyes look worried, this in return doesn't settle my ongoing anxiety. I follow the flow of the crowd, passing underneath a high archway. I'm forced to move forward by the others behind me, and I have no choice to keep moving.

I look over to my left as soon as my feet hit the dirt, and I notice a similar mass of girls are heading in the direction as the boys. I crane my neck over the boys ahead of me, which isn't hard seeing most of them are shorter than I am.

I can easily see the posts, I was not so long ago strapped too, and the bile in my stomach begins to rise. I try to square my shoulders, even though they keep hunching over involuntarily.

When the mass of people walk past the posts, I exhale a breath far too loudly. I relax a bit, but my relief is short lived when I spot the silver head of hair of Elective Snow over the crowd.

His suit is pressed, a wrinkle not in sight, as the dark blue gleams with the sunlight bouncing off of it. He's standing a measurable distance from any of the codes, and I suppose this is not to sully his appearance by being in close proximity to those he sees as expendable.

The crowd of boys is being pushed into the girls who are to the left of the courtyard, as Keepers aim their weapons toward us, our bodies press into one another, as grunts of being uncomfortable rise up amongst the crowd. I'm less concerned about being trampled than I am of belonging to a mass grave, when the Keepers continue to raise their guns at us.

I'm looking for an exit strategy, when finally we're allowed to stay where he stand cramped, and the Keepers as each side move to the front to where Snow and Thread stand. I can't help but avert my eyes from Thread, I'm sorry to admit but I have a solid fear of him.

I scan the crowd for Daria, many of the faces I encounter are nervous and I can't quite decipher if it's because of the threat of being shot or if I'm the one looking towards them. I try to ignore the occasional glare I'm given, desperately needing to find a head of dark wavy hair.

It takes me a few minutes to finally spot her, she has her head lowered, she appears to be whispering to the pair of little girls, who can't be more than twelve, who cling to her sides, and each has a handful of the hem of her shirt in their palm.

I keep my eyes on her, trying to memorize every curve of her profile, slowly as if she can sense me, Daria locks eyes with mine, and I can't bring myself to break the connection. We stay this way for awhile, it's as though we can communicate by a stare. She looks worried, and I want nothing more than to go comfort her. Finally she's the one to break the stare and I feel a bit empty inside.

I can see her shifting from side to side, and I'm beginning to join her in the overwhelming anxiety. My attention is torn from her, as I hear a commotion before me, the shifting of bodies alert me. I see one of the Keepers pushing aside the codes in front of me, and my stomach lurches as it's clear he's heading towards me.

I try to stand my ground as he nears me, reaching out for my collar, tugging on it harshly. At first I try to resist, digging my heels into the ground, fed up with having to use energy to pull me forward, the Keeper slammed the butt of his rifle into my stomach, causing me to double over. The pain in my back burns now, and I hope I haven't busted a stitch.

I try to hold my ground but the pain of all my injuries is too much and it's hard for my mind to concentrate on anything but.

My body is easily manipulated by the Keeper, as we move through the crowd, each body in our way parts without fail. I try to keep my expression stoic, but I'm afraid my fear is showing through. My legs have started to drag; it's become difficult for me to keep up with the Keeper, and now dust covers the lower half of my legs.

We finally make it to the front of the crowd, and I'm pushed out from the other boys, to land on my knees in front of Elective Snow and Head Keeper Thread. I lay my hands on my knees, struggling to stand up, as I feel a wet spot forming at my back. The pain is almost blinding and I'm more than positive I've busted a stitch. I breathe in slowly, as I stand up facing Snow.

The sickly sweet smell of roses mixes in with the musky stench of the courtyard, with at least a thousand children pushed together who're not able to take sufficient baths, the odor washes over me, the mixture excruciating, and I want to double over and vomit.

Snow eyes me and I grit my teeth, part my lips and smile. He keeps studying me, and I force myself to relax my body. I push my pain deep down, wanting to seem unfazed by his abuse.

"How long has it been since you've been down in the muck? Aren't you afraid of getting your suit dusty? The dry cleaning can be a bitch."

Snow keeps his shoulders back gracing a smile on his lips as they curl up, I can see a small spot of blood caught in each corner. I keep my eyes trained on Snow, not wanting to exchange with Thread yet.

Snow leans in, wanting our conversation to be between us. The stench of blood and roses is excruciating, the odor isn't helping my fight to keep in the bile in my throat from rising up.

"You are very much like your father. Harm towards you personally doesn't seem to get the job done. You are a very hard nut to crack, but as you've come to realize, I am a very determined man when I set my mind to something."

I lean back a bit, he only follows me with his eyes, and I can't help the feeling of crisis washing over me. Snow smiles once again, the arms of his suit jacket wrinkling a bit from his posture.

"And I always get what I want," Snow straightens his back, nodding towards Thread who hasn't taken his eyes from him, "Always."

Thread walks over to a line of Keepers positioned in front of the gathering of girls. His back is turned to me, not allowing me to hear him or read his lips. The Keepers nod in unison, and each one walks into the crowd of female codes pulling one to the front.

A few start to struggle but for the most part all of them are compliant, which is troubling to me, no fight usually means no spirit. I can't take my eyes off the Keepers holding tight to their appointed girl, my eyes franticly search the line for Daria, praying she hasn't been chosen.

I try not to show my relief knowing Snow has been watching me closely. Thread is giving orders, as each Keeper lines up one female in a line, having them face the crowd. Snow turns his body from me, only his profile showing from where I stand. Thread calmly walks to the girl on the far left, as he reaches for his side arm, pulling it from his waist line.

He extends his right arm quickly, dispensing a round into the forehead of the small girl, her blonde hair flies out into the air by the pure force of the bullet entering her skull. Her body folds into itself landing on the ground, dirt springs up, a cloud washing over her.

I can't help but react with shock, as the crowd behind me gasps, and there's cries ringing out. I turn back to Snow, who keeps his posture straight looking on to the line of the remaining girls.

My voice is strained," What are you doing? Stop!"

"I will get what I want."

Snow nods to Thread who has already begun to stand in front of the next girl, her body is shaking, and her bright red braids fall behind her back. I let out a breath remembering her as the little from before, the one I had given an apple to. She's visibly shaking now; her little hands are trembling, as Thread raises his gun once more.

I try to yell out before the next shot rings out, her body joining the one before her. The other girls have tried to run away but the Keepers behind them keep their feet in place. A pool of blood has settled under most of their feet, forming around the soles of their boots. I turn body to Snow sharply, my eyes are blazing I'm sure.

"WHY? Is this all to ensure I'll fight?"

Snow turns to me, his eyes cold," Haven't you been paying attention? This has all been about you."

I open my mouth to respond, when I catch a streak of dark hair out of the corner of my eye. I whip my head over to my left, as Daria rushes to where the girls are, forcing her body in between the remaining codes and Thread pistol.

My legs are like led, as I run over to where Thread is pointing the barrel of his gun to her forehead. I nearly knock her over, finding it hard to stop so quickly. I'm at her side but she keeps her attention to Thread, her back is straight, as she has her shoulder firmly pushed back.

Her voice tight and unwavering," They're just little girls."

Thread presses the barrel to her skin, a red ring forming," But you're not? Are you?"

A glance back to Snow who has remained still, I'm panicking now, as I turn back to Daria, her green eyes are narrowed. It comes out as a choke, my voice caught in my throat as I shout out.

"No! Stop! I'll do it. I'll compete. Just don't…please."

Daria has started to tremble, but I can see her jaw tighten as she tries to calm her body. I have to admire her courage, although it only makes me acutely aware of my own cowardness. I brush my fingers against hers trying to give her some kind of comfort, a reminder I'm near, but she pulls away from me, knotting her fingers in the hem of her shirt.

I try to ignore the brush off, and turn my attention back to Thread who still has his gun pressed against her skin. He keeps his dark eyes trained on her, and I think I see a smile coming forming at his lips. My anxiety has only begun to rise further, and I have to stop myself from being frantic. I turn back to Snow; his posture is as calm as it always is.

"You've gotten what you want; now tell your attack dog to stand down!"

Snow takes in a deep breath, his face unreadable," Is this so?"

"Yes!"

Snow gives out a laugh, and it makes my blood rush," I find I'm becoming fond of you asking me politely. Ask me please again."

My eyes fall and I know when I've been beaten," Please."

Snow lets out an even louder laugh which echoes through the courtyard, I try to keep my shoulders back but I feel ashamed and my back falters for a second. Snow nods to Thread who lowers his weapon holstering it, I turn back around my eyes on Thread.

He quickly grabs Daria by the collar, she tries to keep her feet planted but he throws her into the nearby crowd of codes. She skitters to a stop before knocking most of them to the ground, I can feel her eyes on me but I keep my eyes averted from her not wanting to see her disappointment in me.

I stand there silently, not wanting to move as I hear Snow shout orders to the Keepers to move the other children into their barracks and holding cells. The courtyard is eerily quiet, as I look down to the two tiny bodies a few feet in front of me.

The trail of blood has run over the earth mixing in with the dirt. I tense when I can sense someone beside me, the sickly smell of roses assaults me, and I have to fight from striking him. He leans down to my ear, his breath warm, making me want to vomit.

"You're father would have never caved so easily. Perhaps you're not half the man he is?"

I closed my eyes shut, willing the anger and tears down inside of me. Snow chuckles once again, knowing he's gotten the best of me. I open my eyes, as I hear his footsteps; they begin to fade into the distance. At last it's only Thread and I who remain; he's looking down to the bodies smiling bright.

He can feel me staring at him, as he looks up towards me. He's still smiling, the scars on his face jagged and easily spotted, as he closes the gap between us, I stand my ground.

"I can't believe you broke over a couple of dead little bitches. Or was it the one I was pressing my gun to?"

I step forward, my face inches from his," You and I will have our time, and then I can finish what my father started with your face."

We stand there for a few more seconds studying the others face, until I break the contact, turning on my heel to walk through the courtyard to the nearby corridors. I can feel the tears rising up my body, but I grind my teeth, pushing my feelings deeps down. I know what I have to do, to survive and allowing my emotions to control me will only hinder me. I have to become what I've feared for the last few years. I have to become my father.

005C.

Daria

My hands have continued to shake for the last twenty minutes; the thought of the feel of the barrel of Thread's gun against my skin hasn't left me and has only gotten worse. I tried not to look down at the bodies as I left the courtyard, but I couldn't stop myself from taking one last look. I had taken most of the younger girls back to the barracks, half were deep into having panic attacks, the cries rose up through the cold brick rooms, and I had to quiet each of them down before a Keeper came in.

Finally, I had successfully gotten everyone calmed down, and I began my search through the corridors looking for him. I wanted to reach out for him when our fingers brushed against one another, but I knew how dangerous it was to show concern or affection for him. I wanted to strike him for being so careless, how open he made himself for Snow to see the perfect way to manipulate him.

Brenton is raw emotions and honor, and I want to curse him for being something so rare, someone Snow could use for his own devices. It takes me awhile before I spot him, leaning over the side wall; a small patch of grass is located down below.

His back is to me and I can see a deep brown spot located at the middle of his back, most likely one of his stitches must have broken open earlier. His fingers are digging into the stones of the wall, and I can easily see his arms tremble, the spasms of his body threaten to make him lose his footing.

I quicken my pace towards him as I don't try to silence my footsteps, the clicking of heels easily heard through the stones forming the walls. He swings around quickly, his posture defensive ready for an attack.

Realization washes over his face when he sees me and his body relaxes, he wipes his mouth on his sleeve, as I approach him. His eyes look hollow and he opens his mouth to speak, as I slap him hard across the cheek.

His head whips to the side, but retracts quickly; his face is covered in shock. My anger and grief are running through my body, and all I want to do is take it out on him. I know he isn't the true perpetrator of my pain, but I want to have him feel as much as I am right now.

I strike out again pushing my hands into his chest, making him back into the ledge behind him. He doesn't try to defend himself, as I beat on his chest, tears blurring my vision. My hands feel numb after a few minutes of beating into his chest, and he grabs my arms tucking them in between our bodies as he pulls me to him.

He smells of dirt and sweat and a deep musk which only belongs to him and for a minute I'm lost in it. However, my anger won't subside and I push him away, his face is flushed and pained.

"Daria-"

My voice is raw and hoarse," Why did you let this happen?"

The shock on his face is unmistakable," What?"

"You went up against Snow and Thread on your own! What did you think would happen? That he would only come after you?"

"I didn't think-"

I nod, my tears fall from my eyes running down my cheeks," You're right you didn't think! You live in this little world where honor and words mean something, but this is reality and none of your values matter! You killed those little girls because of your ego, your enemies won't always attack you directly and the rest of us suffer!"

I can see his rage wash over him, and I want to take my words back," There's already suffering here, or are you too numb to all of it!"

"And who are you? The great crusader given the task to save us all? You're not a hero Brenton. You're just a boy with the unlucky fortune to have the leader of the resistance as your father."

He points his finger at me and I can see his own tears falling," Don't attack me, because you've given up!"

"I've come to terms with reality."

I can see him ready to blow, as he turns his back to me punching the nearby wall, I jump slightly my body wracking with sobs. His body is heaving, his breathing coming out in short bursts.

"I was trying to save you. I only wanted to help; I couldn't let him shoot you!"

"I don't need you to save me."

Brenton turns back to face me, his face is unreadable, and I feel helpless to change the effect I've had on him. We stand there watching each other for the longest time before; I turn around walking down the hallway. I can feel his eyes on me, but I keep my gaze forward, rounding the next corner.

When I'm sure, I'm safely out of his range of sight, I lean up against the wall, slowly sliding down the wall, my body falling to the ground. I try to fight back the tears racking my body, but my exhaustion has set in and I'm powerless against it. I'm more ashamed of what I've just done to Brenton than I've been of anything else.

I've done my part in breaking him, when all I really wanted was for him to hold me. I hang my head forward; my dark hair covers my face, as I let the grief of the day take me over.

005D.

Brenton

The walls are covered with the reflective white tile, which also lines the walls of the labs. I've been waiting in the room for at least half an hour. After my run in with Daria, a Keeper had come for me escorting me into the cluster of buildings where Snow's office is located. At first I was afraid; he hadn't gotten his fill of manipulating me from before.

I had tried to resist when I pushed into the room, but the incentive of a gun firing off in my direction gave me pause. There's a long leather table located in the middle of the room, with a tray of tools beside it. I decided sitting on the floor was a safer bet than sitting next to the items which could ultimately cause me even more physical pain.

My injuries are starting to affect me even more than before and it's excruciating to even lean my back up against the tile. The material where the blood has dried rubs against my back, and it doesn't help the throbbing pain from the broken stitch. My anxiety has hit an all time high, and my expectations are bleak, as I wait in a room far too bright.

I almost have to laugh at the irony of the situation. I knock my head against the wall repeatable; I can't get the image of Daria looking at me broken, out of my head. When Thread had his gun trained on her my entire body froze, it was as if the world had stopped and everything was in slow motion.

The door opening causes me to jump and I brace my hands on the wall rising myself up. I'm taken aback by a man with orange hair, his suit is as colorful as his hair, a swirl of purple and orange thread makes the outfit. His stature is skinny and lanky and I'm not sure how to react to someone who looks the way he does.

However, it isn't long before I'm further floored by two women who follow him into the room. The curvier one has bright aqua hair, which seems to span out every which way, and the other has golden markings curving over her features, each is wearing dresses which are too tight, the colors just as blinding as the man's suit.

All three are busy opening cases they had carried in, and rearranging the items on the metal table next to the leather bench in the middle of the room. I stand unmoving next to the wall, contemplating if it's feasible for me to sneak out of the open door. I take a step towards the door, and as if on cue each hunched over body straightens and turns to me.

I'm confused to move or stay still when the woman with the unruly hair walks over to me. She has a bright smile and the purple in her eyes are distracting. She stops inches in front of me, lifting my arms up over my head, I keep them there are she runs her hands over my chest, my eyes dart from side to side confused.

The one with the markings on her face follows the others lead running her bright green hands over my arms, she stops short at my face tracing her nails over my features. It's unsettling how they seem to be studying me, but I keep my refusals to myself. The man just watches from afar, and I'm worried what the end result will be.

The woman tracing my face stops short and gives me a light slap to the face, it's more playful than assaulting and I have to blink. The other has stopped touching my chest, and I'm happy to have their roaming hands away from me. I lower my arms slowly, the pain in my back intensifying.

The one who had slapped me is staring at me in awe, as the other is shaking her head, her eyes are wide.

"He looks just like him."

"Yes, the eyes."

I keep glancing between each of them, and I'm completely caught off guard. The man comes to middle of them pushing each woman to the side. He leans into me and he smells faintly like cinnamon. I have to lean back to stop his nose from pressing against mine.

I'm uncomfortable by their close proximity, especially the man's, as my shoulders tense and I'm concerned with not falling to the floor. The man shakes his head along with the wild haired woman. He places his hands on each side of his face perplexed.

"It's so strange seeing the same place on every jumbotron posting for the last seventeen years, and now to see it on an entirely different person."

The woman with the gold engravings lightly touches my cheek bones," The bone structure is different, so is the skin tone."

I glance to each face quickly as they observe and talk about me as if I'm not present. The woman with the hair bites a tip of one of her fingers.

"He is fetching though. Isn't he?"

I stare at her wide eyed as the man nods," Quite."

The one with the markings agrees," Oh, yes. He'll bring in very high numbers, and not because of his name. He is very nice to look at."

The man slaps his hands together," Imagine what he'll look like when we clean him up. Exceptionally ravishing."

The women giggle in unison, and my stomach lurches. The man turns on his heel flourishing his hand in the air.

"Strip him down; we need to see what we're working with."

I nearly choke on the saliva in my mouth," Excuse me?"

I'm ignored as the two women pull me to the center of the room, undressing me. I try to resist at first, but their fingers are nimble, and I almost burst out in laughter, my sides becoming ticklish. The woman with the markings unbuttons my shirt quickly pushing it from my shoulders.

The fabric sticks to my back from where the blood had dried, I flinch slightly, my jaw tightening. She notices this moving behind me to slowly peel the fabric from my skin. I can hear her gasp and murmur about brutal treatment, as the fabric is thrown to the side. I'm far more concerned about the woman washed in green as she pulls my pants down.

I had forgotten about my lack of under clothing until the air of the room hit my bare skin. She gives out a light giggle as she pushes the pants down my legs. The other lifts the back of my legs up one at a time at the knee to pull off the over sized boots.

Soon I'm standing in the middle of an overly bright room, completely naked with three strangers circling me like birds of prey. I want to flinch or pull back when I feel hands pushing at my skin, or tracing the deep scars at my back.

I feel absolutely vulnerable and it outrages me. I close my eyes counting the seconds until it's done. I can hear them talking amongst themselves, I assume in front of me when I open my eyes.

The man walks over to a bright colored case pulling out a silver piece of metal, he turns it in his hand and I can see a bright blue light emanating from it. He picks up a slim pair of shears as he hums to himself walking behind me as the others busy themselves setting up different bottles of products and utensils.

I want to step away when his hand lands on my left shoulder, as I feel the stitches located at my back being cut. I start to protest when I feel a warm sensation moving down my back. I'm shocked by how much the pain in my back has lessened and move my right hand to my back.

He quickly slaps it away telling me to be patient. I can hear the device in his hands humming to the tune coming from his lips, the heat following. After a few minutes the man walks in front of me, the device still in his hands.

"You shouldn't have any more pain, but I'm afraid there will be visible scars, but I imagine it'll help your image in the arena. Roguish warrior and all, it is if you manage to stay alive after the first round. It's so awful when the attractive ones are killed early on."

The green washed woman clicks her tongue her face scrunched,"Flavius, you shouldn't say such things to the boy before he's even been introduced to the world."

Flavius nodded," Octavia you are right," he turns to me," I'm sure you're very…tough. Let's hope you're given a capable mentor."

The woman with the hair laughs sharply," I doubt it, with how Elective Snow feels about the boy's father."

Flavius turns on his heels," Venia bite your tongue."

I shake my head, "No, it's fine. She shouldn't be chastised for telling the truth."

Venia lays her hand on her cheek leaning to one side," I like him very much."

I try to manage a grin, but I'm still uncomfortable by my state of undress. Venia walks to me pulling me forward to where the leather bench is, as Octavia drapes a soft white robe around my shoulders. I put my arms through the wide sleeves happy to feel something on my skin which isn't made from sand paper.

I'm instructed to sit down, as Venia pulls my hands forward setting them in a clear bowl of solution. She goes to work on my finger nails scrubbing all of them with a small brush, as the others circle me rubbing products on my skin and moving my robe to where they need to reach.

After Venia has successfully cleaned all of the grim and blood from my fingernails and hands, the water a deep brown color, I'm instructed to lie on my stomach. My face is pressed into the leather; the smell almost overwhelms me when I feel a hard pinch at the top of my skull.

I move my hand to where I felt it and I'm shushed by Flavius.

"I hear you had glorious dark hair, it's a pity when they have to shave all of the hair off to protect against parasites and what not. However now, you should have hair growth quickly. It should be ready to style after we get you clothed."

I want to inquire about how this could even be possible, but I'm happy to at least have my hair returning. The soft robe is pulled from my body as I'm washed down by soft cloths, and another coat of product is rubbed into my skin. It takes a few minutes for the lotions and soaps to all dry on my skin, before I'm told to sit up.

Flavius walks up to the women handing them each a piece of clothing. The set is black and sleek, and I'm pleasantly surprised the fabric isn't colorful and insane. I'm dressed accordingly, with under clothing, and I'm taken back by how Venia lingers near the bottom half of my body when I'm being fitted. The slick fabric of the shirt clings to my body and the pants are a soft cotton blend I assume.

When both articles of clothing are on, I'm given a pair of black socks, and a pair of sharp looking black boots with buckles. I slip the socks on and then the boots, before I sit back down. Octavia rolls up the sleeves of my shirt, instructing me this will show off my muscles even more so, as Venia nods.

My scalp has started to tingle, and I'm shocked when a piece of hair touches the top of my ear. My hand shoots up to the top of my head, and I'm greeted with a handful of hair. I give off a relieved sigh, and I see Flavius smile.

"I just love your dark hair; it sets off those blue eyes."

"Thank you for giving me my hair back."

"Oh, don't thank me; it was Elective Snow who instructed us to do so, the same with the dark colors. If it was up to me you would have been in bright orange."

He gives me a wink and I'm confused on how to react," Why was it his idea."

Octavia busies herself with placing bottles into her carrying case," He wanted your clothing to match the image he has set up for you."

"What image?"

Flavius has started to cut away at some of my hair styling it appropriately," We don't know."

I let my mind wander as the prep team works on the finishing touches; it takes about a half hour before I'm allowed to look in the first mirror I've seen in days. I'm taken aback by how much I don't recognize myself; my hair is cut below my ears and slicked back.

The dark clothing sets off my blue eyes, and I can see a simmer of red coming from the fabric when I move. A knock at the door announces visitors as it opens silently. A pair of Keepers instructs the prep team it's time for me to make it to the stage, and my heart sinks. I walk around the standing mirror and keep my back straight as I walk pass the Keepers waiting for them to lead me on.

The hallways are brightly colored with the tapestries I've noticed around where Snow keeps. We're not down half of the hall before I can see a flashing of lights, and I suck in a deep breath before I'm pushed through an opening and onto a large stage.

Snow is standing at a podium, and there's a crowd of people ridiculously dressed in bright colors. Devices with lights are pointed toward me and I assume they're what I've heard called cameras. The crowd is a buzz with chatter and I can hear my name called, some are hissed and others in awe. Snow waves me on and tells me to stand on my mark which is located three feet from his left.

I glance over to the other side of Snow and I can see Heavensbee give me a look of concern. This confuses me, and I'm left wondering when I hear a loud countdown coming over the speakers.

A bright flash of light shines in my eyes and a myriad of lights go off nearly blinding me. I'm incoherent for a few seconds, until I can see Snow motioning to me, my name being drawled off of his sharp tongue.

"I have here our new competitor, but not just any competitor. This is the biological son of one Peeta Mellark, the scourge of everything we hold sacred in the Capitol," the chatter has formed into a booming of voices,"Brenton Mellark, the destroyer of worlds!"

I can't help but look to him, as he catches me a smile forming at his lips. I'm lost in my own mind as lights threaten to blind me, and I can hear threats being called out. I stand there for a while more, I estimate at least an hour before I'm pulled off stage and back into the hallway. Snow follows me, as I turn to him.

"Destroyer of worlds?"

Snow smiles," I found it to be inspired, case in point I've never seen the crowd so excited by a competitor before. It should be very entertaining."

I watch Snow walk off down the hall, as I'm powerless to stop from being pushed and pulled the other way.

005E.

Daria

Night has begun to fall, a cool wind has come through and I tuck my knees into my stomach. I had found a corner to sit in after my altercation with Brenton earlier. I had checked on the younger girls, before returning back to my place of quiet. However the time of when the Keepers would be sweeping the grounds was nearing and I didn't want to be caught somewhere unauthorized.

I was surprised earlier when I had seen the prep team leaving through the courtyard; most likely they had come from preparing Brenton for his introduction.

I find myself imagining how different he would look the next time I saw him, and the sham washes over me. I had been harsh and cruel to him, I afraid to face him again. I sigh pushing myself off of the stones, walking toward the courtyard which connected to the corridor where the female barracks were located.

I contemplated going another route, due to the fact I didn't want to have to cross where the girl's had been shot earlier. I walked quickly down the hall toward the courtyard, my boots hitting the dirt hard as I halfway jogged and walked across the grounds.

I nearly trip over my own feet when I see him, hunched over a shovel in his hand. The steel pounds into the ground, his breathing comes out sharp, as I stand there watching him. He senses my presence when he turns to face me. I almost have to gasp at how handsome he looks, even with streaks of dirt and sweat covering his face.

He now has a head of hair other than a shaved scalp, his bangs hang in his eyes and the dark strands set off his bright blue eyes. He's wearing only a dark colored undershirt without sleeves and the ripple of his muscles gleam from the sweat, his olive skin is brighter than before and I assume because of something the prep team placed on his skin.

I smooth my hair down, which I can only imagine the state it's in, as I move to my eyes rubbing them, wanting to hide any redness resting there. He's leaning against the shovel in his hand, looking at me. I look around him ignoring his expression of annoyance.

There are two places on the ground where dirt has been moved and repacked. I look back to him, the realization of his actions coming over me.

"You buried them?"

He shrugs, dark strands falling into his eyes more so," They died because of me; I thought they deserved more respect than to be thrown into one of the mass graves."

I hang my head down, my own dark hair falling around me like a curtain," I shouldn't have said it. You didn't kill them. I was upset, it's just everything I do here is to protect them, and I felt like I failed."

"But you were right about me believing everyone plays by certain rules. They don't."

"I never wanted to make you feel-"

"You were being honest. I don't ever want you to apologize for being real with me. I almost feel like I saw beyond your walls for once."

I look up, as he places the shovel down on the ground walking over to me. My breathe catches in my throat, as he stands a few feet in front of me.

"I don't ever want to be the reason for your pain."

His blue eyes burn into me, and I'm lost in him for a few seconds. I clear my throat stepping back, putting space between us.

"Aren't you afraid of the repercussions of digging the graves?"

He look behind him at the freshly dug graves shaking his head," No. Snow has what he wants now, he won't risk losing it."

"And what's that?"

He look back to me," He has leverage against, Peeta. What better revenge is there than to murder his enemies only living son on live television?"

I want to reach out to him, but I'm afraid of becoming close to him, because if I allow myself to, I may never want to let him go.

005F.

The cool breeze lifted the leaves up, causing them to blow around his ankles, dancing in spirals. He leaned against the trunk of the tree, pulling his dark coat across his chest. His body ached, as he rubbed his eyes willing the exhaustion to be push down. He moved his hand from his eyes down to the long scar trailing at his jaw bone.

A rustling of leaves alerted him, causing him to reach for the blade at his waist. These days there was a kill order out for him and most bounty retrievers for the Capitol shot first and asked questions afterward. He hadn't been out of the compound in sometime, but he knew this matter had to be handled first hand.

The ivory of the handle fit into his hand perfectly, the groove made for his bone structure. He pulled the blade free, as the sound came closer to him, closing his eyes he concentrated on the sounds around him. The footsteps came closer, as he waited for his time to attack.

Taking in a deep breath, his rounded the tree coming face to face with the owner of the heavy shoes. The older made held his hands up, as the blade laid against his throat.

"Peeta it's nice to see you haven't lost your edge."

"It's a needed asset when you have a price on your head. It's good to see you again, Haymitch. "

Haymitch lowered his hands, glancing to the blade," Do you think you could get the damn blade away from my throat, I was intending on using it to swallow and breath later."

Peeta rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth curling into a smirk, placing his blade back at his waist," Sorry."

"I am surprised it was you who came to meet me and not Finnick."

Peeta shook his head," No. I wanted to be the one. Besides this is important."

"I know, I saw the program. He does look a lot like you."

Peeta ran his hand over his face," They're going to need a mentor for him. Are you still on good terms with the Capitol board?"

"Define good terms?"

"Haymitch-"

"I got it kid, it's important."

"I need for him to be trained by someone I trust."

Haymitch nods," How's Katniss dealing with all of this?"

"How do you think? We spent all this time a part, she had to lie to her son to protect him, and the entire reason for it all was to keep him safe."

"I can go talk up a few of them tonight, at this after hours club they like to frequent. I can be at the East camp by morning."

"Thank you, Haymitch."

Haymitch reached for the younger man pulling him into a quick hug," Sure, kid."

Peeta stepped back, nodding his gratitude to his mentor, turning around to make the trek back up to where the base was located. Haymitch watched him go, worried about the man he saw before him. It seemed interesting to the older man, he would now be needed to train another generation of Mellark men.

A/N: I hope you're all still sticking with it. I know it's incredibly long, but I promise it's worth the patience. Reviews are Love!

-Stace