"The Set Up For The Spotlight"


Sometime later, multiple teams of beauticians were hard at work, trying to beautify the less fortunate tributes. One particular group had the task of making Steve Rogers presentable to the public. The women and the lover boys were having a field day with the super-soldier.

Many of the beauticians found it hard to believe that Steve came from a poor district. His body was in peak condition. No one from D12 had enough to even put on excess weight, let alone muscle. Mmm, the man exuded masculinity, and a few of the staff members were often distracted by his sleeping beauty charms.

When it came to washing, the group put the task to voting. Whoever won the best of three in Roshambo, would have the honor of washing the super-soldier from head to toe. The remainder of the team was relegated to lesser tasks, such as: shaving, manicures and pedicures, and of course, waxing.

Of course, everything else went off without a hitch. Now waxing…that's another story because some lucky so-so had taken it upon herself to wax every body part that could possibly be exposed during the tournament. Bad idea.

The beautician had just finished waxing Steve's arms and was just starting on the man's chest. She began by smearing a thin layer of wax on the super-solder's chest, then she proceeded to apply the strip of paper to the spot.

Pulling quickly, a large of patch of hair was removed. The beautician continued with the same strip of paper until it could no longer adhere. Turning away she searched for another box of paper, and while this was happening, Steve was slowly awakening.

In his groggy state, he could not register that someone was hovering above him, but he did feel the cool wax. Cracking his eyes open, he caught sight of the beautician as she was beginning to rip the paper away from his chest. "Aah!" Steve shouted loudly, as he jolted up from the table. The beautician that was tending to his chest quickly stepped away from the super-soldier.

The dazed man looked at the offending piece of paper in the beautician's hand. They were waxing me?! Steve thought as his hands raised to touch the tender skin. Ouch… "Uh, sir. Could you please lay down?" The person said in a pseudo-polite voice. Knowing full well that he wasn't capable of fighting, Steve did as he was told and suffered through the rest of the wax session.

Once that was over, Steve was led into a locker room by a beautician who assured him that someone would soon be in to assist him. The man watched the person shut the door before inspecting the room. He noticed that the area was empty except for himself, and was debating if it was a good idea to leave when suddenly, someone burst into the room. What stood out about this person was that he wore a leather body-hugging jumpsuit with silver and green trimmings.

His hair was slicked back into a pony tail, which allowed people to better see the man's features. It also seemed as if the person's skin was unnaturally pale; almost translucent in appearance and that somewhat frightened the super-soldier.

While Steve was stuck in thought, Loki cleared his throat. "Fuckin' tribute, do you not have any manners?!" Loki waited for a response. Is this man deaf or some shit? Upset that his words didn't register the first time, the raven-haired man repeated the phrase but in a louder tone. This instantly caught the shorter man's attention.

Smirking, the taller man slinked over to Steve. Draping his arm over the super-soldier's left shoulder, causing the man to tense up. "I've had my eye on you ever since you entered the facility." Poking the man's chest, Loki led Steve out into the hallway and into a crowd of people. "See, tributes like yourself, have to dress as caricatures of your districts."

Moving past racks of clothes, the pair paused in front of a full length mirror. "I just don't see the fun in dressing you as a coal-miner." Loki's eyes roamed over the shorter man's abdominals. His mouth crooked into a smile. Mmmhmm, I have so many plans for you. Turning the soldier around, Loki made Steve face him. "What you need is some pizazz. Something that will make the crowd desire you and you're partner." That last word was said with so much venom that a nearby designer was coated in the toxic liquid.

"Good evening and welcome to the parade of tributes. I am your host, Nick Fury" The bald guy announced to the public. His co-anchor began to introduce herself when Fury cut her off and pointed out that the parade had begun.

Down below, the tributes from District 1 were the first to roll down the street. They had the theme of milk cartons and apparently, their district was the dairy capitol of the country. The crowd exploded with cheers.

The co-anchor, who we'll call Jane, was the first to speak. "Look at Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. Sources say that they have the greatest chance of survival." Fury shook his head in agreement. "That's right because those two had formal training. It's as if they were solely trained for the Hunger Games."

The television hosts sat back and watched several teams trot down the street. Some participants wore rainbows, while others had on latex. It was truly a sight to see. Eventually, by the 4th chariot, the crowd had lost interest in tributes.

At the end of the street, Steve and Pepper stood in a garage with Loki by their side. "People will be amazed by your dazzling outfits." Loki said as he was brushing Pepper's hair away from her face. "Uh, we're dressed like you." Steve mentioned.

Turning to Steve, Loki gave him a strained smile. "I know that. Now get ready." The raven-haired man instructed the pair. He watched as the two climbed into their chariot. "You both look so dashing." Staring at them, he noticed that something was missing. "Ooh, you're not wearing your helmets!" Loki hurried away.

"And here comes District 11 and their theme of Direwolves. Look at Jon Snow and Theon Greyjoy; so fetching in their pelts and boots." Jane gushes, as she gripped the base of her microphone. The camera zoomed into her face, and she smiled sweetly. "Eh, this is my show, bitch…" Nick Fury says, scrunching his nose up, before he shoved the brunette out of her chair. She hit the ground with loud thud and a pained cry, but the studio-crew ignored it.

Fury straightened his coat out, before he spoke, "Look who we have here—the final district: District 12… Holy shit, look at their costumes!" The bald-man tried to sound interested; but his agitation was apparent in his voice, as he began describing what Steve and Pepper's outfits looked like to those without televisions. "—green lycra Capri-pants, black bedazzled boots, gold suspenders, a hardhat, and a construction worker's vest… that appears to be filled with water—I don't know what the fuck these two are wearing, but I don't think the crowd minds." Just as he said that, the hundreds of thousands of participants in the seats stood up and cheered for District 12's tributes.

Jane picked herself off the floor, and shoved a few tissues up her nose to slow down the blood flowing from the wound within it. "I think they look classy! Like… like… elegant Waste Management workers!"

Fury rolled his eye, before leaning away from his microphone: "They look stupid as hell. Whoever put their costume together should be punched in the face with barbed gloves and beaten until they died." Jane looked horrified, "Why would you say such a thing, Nick!" The man shrugged in response.

Steve and Pepper, meanwhile, where waving and smiling at the crowd; the latter soaking up the attention like a sponge. As they bathed under the limelight, Pepper entwined her fingers with Steve's. The man jumped, and tried to snatch his hand back, but the ginger-haired woman quickly explained her reasoning for holding onto him. "The crowd loves this!—loves us—c'mon, Tony said we had to be likeable." As she said this, she brought their hands into view of the cameras. The crowd went absolutely wild!—they even did the Mexican wave!—it was glorious!

Back at the village, the god was furious with what he saw, so much that his focus was taken away from cleaning. I should be out there with that haggardly woman! He thought while wiping down the counter. The toxic fumes from the cleaning products did not help with the situation.

Not wanting to add to the hulking man's sour mood, many of the patrons vacated the bar. One even shut the entrance to slow the beast if he were to become enraged.

As we return to the capital, we can see that all the tributes had gathered underneath a balcony. Who stood atop it was none other than the country's president, Bruce Banner. He gave a winning smile in the direction of a nearby camera before beginning with. "Isn't this just cute, a whole new crop of tributes at our disposal." Looking at each face below him, he continued. "I know you all were expecting an inspiring speech, but I have simply grown tired of repeating those same lines each year, so instead, I will say this."

"You're not the first to participate, and you sure ain't the last. Give us a show and may the odds be ever in your favor."

People stood in silence, waiting for president Banner to continue, but when he didn't and instead, he started clapping for the tributes below. The crowd instantly picked up on this and clapped along with their president.

Down below, a series of designers ushered the tributes into another building and began fitting them for their next task, interviewing. Of course, Steve and Pepper retained their designer and the man was busy trying to glue a sequined dress to the ginger's small frame. "Uh, must I glue the entire breast cup to your chest!?" Loki shrieked as stared into her empty top. "Can you like stuff my top?" The woman suggested.

The raven-haired man pondered the idea. "You may have a good idea." As that was happening, Steve stood off to the side, chatting with a group of children. "So, is it true that adults get into the game?" Several boys erupted with activity. "Dude, it's like a known fact that old farts are participating." Another boy joined in. "Yeah, I even tried to get my grams into this. Too bad she couldn't make it to the Reaping."

The older man inquired. "And why is that?" District 7's male tribute sniffled loudly. "Because she stroked out." Wiping the stray tear from his face. "Yo, I'll get catch you all later." With that, the kid moped away and the group settled into Silence. Steve cleared his voice and walked towards his own team.

"Damn it, I did well." The asgardian proudly announced to the room. In front of him stood Pepper with a new set of breast. Apparently, Loki had some magic leftover from his exile and he was able to alter the ginger-head woman's chest. Steve drank in Pepper's new look. Those enhancements are…eye catching.

The men marveled at the woman's new appearance when a bell sounded off. This meant that the introductions were beginning. Security flooded the backstage and began lining up participants in a single file. They shoved Loki out of the way, as they manhandled Theon Greyjoy into the spot the designer once stood. "Eh!" The man screeched in unison with prince of the Iron Isles, but, before the fashionable-man could criticize the rough-treatment of his dainty body, the sounds of Fury introducing the first tribute interrupted him.

Even backstage, everyone was made privy to the fact that Natasha Romanoff was the first to go up.

The red-haired woman – knowing that the first-impression was just as important as being able to fight in these games – swiped her hair out of her face and poised herself; before she stepped into the glare of publicity, and took her place at the only available chair. Fury eyed the woman across from him, as she settled into the posh, crimson-colored cushions of the settee. "Woohoo, look what we have here." Nick hooted appreciatively. The red-head smirked, as she sat back in her seat.

Remembering he was on-camera, Nick cleared his throat. Getting pseudo-serious, the bald man regarded his guest with concern in his deep voice: "Miss Romanoff, you're looking confident as hell – and, I will admit that that's fine as hell," leaning forward, Fury continued, "but, you do know that each tribute has a 10% chance of making it through the first day, right?"

Crossing her legs to expose her thighs – which, were barely covered in her gold and black, leopard-print cocktail dress – Natasha exuded sexiness. "I know that, Nick –" she smirked, her ruby red lips curving into a sultry arc. "—but, are you aware that you're looking at something special?" She faced the crowd and saw that they agreed with her.

Host Fury and his guest carried on the conversation for several minutes before he finally got around to excusing Tribute. Sending her backstage, the security supplied another participant to take her place. And this routine continued for the next 3 hours – and, it went pretty smoothly until Jon Snow was called up.

He regaled Nick in a many stories about his journey beyond the Wall and his allegiance with the Night's Watch. The audience was so entranced by the Stark-bastard that Nick let him go over his time. Unfortunately, the security didn't think that was cute, and so they came onto the stage, mid-tale, and made off with Jon; clubbing him and barking at him, as they pulled him back behind the thick curtains that shielded the backstage from the public-eye. Afterwards, everything calmed down, and it was about time for D12 to go up. And, even then, the super-soldier didn't have to worry because Pepper was called next.

The blonde sipped his drink and reclined on the sofa. It seemed as if the backstage lights were heating him; yet the air conditioner was on blast, so the continuous fluctuation in body temperature was causing the super-soldier to experience some unusual sensations. In an effort to get comfortable, the man curled up on the sofa. As he was doing this, a voice sounded backstage. "Steve Rogers" Snapping his head toward the sound, the man in question gulped, before straightening his tie and proceeding to the stage.