As soon as we enter the Capitol, Katniss and I are handed over to our prep teams to get ready for the parade of tributes. Cinna works for both of us, but I have two other stylists of my own: Xenia, a young woman with blue skin and jet black hair (What normal person dyes their skin? I wonder), and Grant, who must be in his sixties. It's hard to tell since he always bleaches his hair a bright platinum blond. Not to mention the fact that he's probably had so many cosmetic operations. He was one of my stylists in my first Games, so I ask him, "You remember working on me before?"

"Of course I do," he replies as he examines me. "I always remember the tributes we helped, especially if they win. Your victory was a miracle, if I remember correctly."

"Technically, all of the victors are a miracle," I say. He doesn't respond, but for a moment, he lets a small grin escape his lips. I could always count on him to not rat me out when I was sixteen, and the same rules apply now. It's nice to actually be my Capitol-hating self again. He puts me through washing and waxing next.

Once I put a robe on, Xenia comes into the room to look at my hair. "Wow, you need a trim. Or a new haircut all-together. How can you live with these split ends?"

"Same way I live with myself," I reply, laughing. "Go on and chop it all off, if you want." That's exactly what she does. When she's done, my hair is shorter than it's been in years. She runs some gel through it to spike it up for the ceremony. She cuts my nails, too.

Cinna arrives a few moments later with my costume. "I don't know much about your taste in fashion, but I hope this is to your liking, Haymitch."

He opens the costume bag to reveal what looks like a plain black jumpsuit, but I know better than to be fooled. He's got something stellar waiting for me. The capes of fire Peeta and Katniss wore last year were the best I'd ever seen, and Katniss has always been right when she says that Cinna really knows what he's doing.

I put on the jumpsuit and look at him expectantly. "Is this everything?"

He shakes his head. "Press the button in your right sleeve."

I nearly jump a mile when I see the tiny lights flickering all over me, giving the appearance of flames. "Whoa. This is so much cooler than the stupid costume from my first Games. Back then, they put us in these black overalls, miner hats, and covered us in soot. Nothing else."

Cinna chuckles. "Thank you. I remember watching the parade and thinking, 'I can do better than that'. Ever since then, I knew I wanted to be a designer."

"You sure do your job well," I admit. He bows and leaves without another word, probably to assist Katniss. The female tributes always need more attention.

Grant pulls out a crown with the engraving "Quarter Quell Victor" on it, and places it on my head. "To commemorate the importance of your win twenty-five years ago," he explains. "The letters on your crown light up, too, if you press the button in the back. All eyes will be on you. The audience is just dying to see you again."

"I bet."

Before I know it, Katniss, Peeta, and I are in the Remake Center. I immediately search for the District 11 tributes, but I don't need to look far. My old friend Chaff approaches us, with his stump of an arm, wearing his parade costume.

We shake hands enthusiastically. "Chaff, my good man! You make me glad to be here. Allies to the end, right?"

"You know it!" he agrees. He turns to Katniss. "Well, hello, my dear. I finally meet the famous Girl on Fire." In a shocking move, he plants a big kiss on her lips. I can't help but laugh at the sight. I'm even more shocked when Peeta joins in with me. She's completely mortified.

We don't have much time for talking, so Peeta gets right to it: "When your chariot enters, Cinna says you two should look away from everyone, as if they mean nothing to you. Don't hold hands or anything nice. We want to show them who's boss."

"Fine by me," I say. Katniss just nods.

I help her get onto the chariot; then she pulls me up with her. We drive out into the audience, and I feel as though we're being ourselves for the first time in so long. I'm pretty sure this is how I looked when I killed those Careers: hostile. Ruthless. We don't care what anybody thinks anymore; not the other tributes, and definitely not the Capitol. This is war.