SONG: Hated Because of Great Qualities by Blonde Redhead

Iris' mother – Georgia, her name had been – had been pretty. She'd had the same harsh features as Iris, the same longness – long, thin face, long nose, gangly limbs. But the same features that didn't look good on Iris had somehow just seemed to work for her mother. Perhaps it was maturity, perhaps one day Iris too would grow into her features. For now, though, she was as plain as could be, and she was mostly alright with that.

As she stared at herself in the mirror, however, Iris could almost – almost – see her mother staring back. There weren't any photos of her mother as a teenager, but Iris could now see what her mother must have looked like at eighteen. The illusion was shattered by Ulysses' sharp cough behind her – when Iris brought her eyes back to the mirror, her mother had disappeared, and it was Iris alone. She no longer looked like her mother - it was her same, boring face. The makeup on it flattered her, true, but underneath she looked just the same.

"Your frame," Ulysses began, "is not suited for a dress. You have no curves to speak of – you resemble a wooden plank. Long, thin, and completely flat. A dress, I feel, would only accentuate this about your body." He brushed a stray hair from her shoulder. "I despaired at how I might dress you for tonight. However, I feel I have been successful."

Iris had not even noticed her outfit – she had been too busy marvelling at how much of her mother she could see in her face. Ulysses had dressed her in a suit. If he had told her beforehand what she would be wearing, she would have thought a suit would make her look even more boyish. It had somehow done the opposite. Straight black pants, made of silk, with a matching black blazer. A loose, emerald-green blouse with a deep neck, exposing much of Iris' small chest, only barely covering her breasts. Cinching her waist to give her some semblance of curve was a surprisingly comfortable black lace corset, which Ulysses had put over her blouse like it was a belt. A pair of shiny black stilettos completed the look, adding at least four inches to her height. The suit was utterly flattering, and made Iris feel more beautiful and confident than she had felt in her whole life.

Ulysses smirked. "You are at a loss for words."

She was. Not that she would ever admit that to him. "Thank you, Ulysses."

Her stylist scoffed, and waved her away. "Do not thank me, child. It is my job. I did not do this because I care about you."

/

The interviews were not terribly interesting. The Careers said the exact same things they had last year. They might as well have been the same people, playing the same roles as all the Careers before them. Iris felt sorry for them, in a way. Sure, they were privileged and pretty and talented. But they were also given no choice on the matter. They had the same parts to play, every single year. The only thing that Iris was grateful for about her current situation was that she was allowed to be whoever she wanted to be. She didn't have to be a bimbo, or a ruthless murderer, or a cunning strategist. She wouldn't be given a dumb name like the Angel of Death or the Queen of Hearts. The character she presented to the audience could be whoever she chose.

On her way back to her seat, the girl from One shot Iris a smile. Iris knew it was for her, because it sure as hell wasn't for Axel or the snot-stained boy from Five. Iris scowled at her in return, and the girl laughed and sat down with a flourish. Most of the audience was still staring at her as if she were the best thing they'd seen for years – and maybe she was, in her pale blue dress that barely covered, well, anything.

The smile had disrupted her focus – she zoned out for most of the other interviews, wondering what it meant instead of rehearsing in her head. She realised this as the girl from Five sat down, and swore to herself quietly – now she had no idea what the rest of the Careers had said, and had no idea how to frame her responses in juxtaposition to theirs. She was very annoyed with herself, and determinedly took in every stuttered word the boy from Five spat out.

And then it was her turn. She caught a glimpse of herself on the huge TVs beside the stage - she looked angry. Quickly rearranging her face into a more neutral expression, Iris made her way onto the stage, holding herself as confidently as possible. She tried not to fiddle with her hair, which Ulysses had pulled back in an elegant french braid, two long strands left out to frame her face.

Caesar offered her his hand and she shook it tightly, and tried to forget about the thousands of people in the room. "Good evening, Caesar," she said smoothly, and sat down, gesturing for him to do the same. This earned her a few laughs from the audience, and she was pleased – she'd started off on a good note.

Caesar chuckled, and complied by taking a seat. "Iris, Iris, Iris. I must admit I have been curious about you."

"Oh, you have?" Iris asked, leaning forward as though she was curious. "Do tell."

"Well, first of all, a volunteer from Six!" he said. "And your training score! Both very impressive. I'm not sure what to talk about first."

"I'll start then, Caesar," Iris said. Pomponia had told her to take control of the conversation as much as she could, and she'd already found an opportunity. "I enjoyed training, very much. In my district, it's important that I know how to defend myself. Pairing these skills with weapons was just perfect for me, and if I have to be honest with you, felt natural."

"A natural fighter! That's great. Tell me, which weapon do you prefer? I've been dying to know. Swords? Bow and arrow?"

"Caesar, Caesar, Caesar," Iris tutted, shaking her head. "You know I can't tell you that. Don't tempt me." She'd thought that being in front of a national audience would make her nervous, but Iris found that talking to Caesar in her meticulously-crafted persona came naturally. Perhaps it was because this was the first time in over a week where she had been in charge, where she held the power. Maybe she was only telling herself that, but it felt real.

"Oh, alright," Caesar said, acting disappointed. "The suspense is killing me! Iris, you're going to give this old man a heart attack." Caesar put a hand over his heart and wiped imaginary sweat from his brow.

"Old? Oh, Caesar, you don't look a day over twenty-five," Iris said, putting a hand on Caesar's arm.

"Oh, you flatter me," Caesar said, flashing his unnaturally white teeth. "Tell you what," he said, leaning forward and dropping his voice to a whisper as if he was sharing some great secret with her, "if you make it onto this stage again, I'll give you the name of my beauty therapist."

Iris tried not to cringe. "Caesar, you can keep that name. See, I don't need to rely on my looks, unlike some people," she said, and threw a smirk at the Careers. "I have talent, and brains, and I don't need a flashy performance to get the job done."

Judging from the annoyed – and downright furious – looks the Careers were giving her, it hadn't been a good idea to indirectly insult them in front of a live audience – but the audience in question were eating it up. The boy from One mouthed something at her, and she stared at him for a moment before looking back at Caesar, trying not to let her expression falter.

Caesar seemed to pick up on her concern, and followed her eyes to the visibly pissed-off Careers. Changing the topic, he turned to Iris, adopting a more serious tone of voice. "I know you won't talk about your weapons, but tell me this at least – who is the girl you volunteered for? Your sister, maybe? Your cousin?"

Iris shrugged. "No relation."

"Oh, come on now, you can't leave us wondering like this! Why did you volunteer in her place?"

Iris caught Pomponia's eyes in the audience. Her escort gave her a subtle nod and she grinned at Caesar, leaning arrogantly back into her seat. "The thing is, Caesar, I got myself into a spot of trouble back home. I have a very bad temper, you see. Get myself into all kinds of fights. Usually I'm careful about it, I make sure there's no Peacekeepers around to see, you know?" She glanced at the audience, to see if they were buying it. One man was leaning forwards in his seat, slack jawed as he listened to her story, and she took that as a good sign. "Well, this time I really lost it. This guy insulted my mother, and I can't just let that slide, you know? So anyway, I hit him as hard as I could, and I had just gotten him down to the ground when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turn around, my fist still raised. There's a Peacekeeper right there, and he pulls me off the guy and hauls me straight to prison. This was the day before the Reaping, mind you, so not a great time to go around beating people up."

Caesar frowned. "Certainly not, but I'm afraid to say I still don't understand why you volunteered."

"Well, Caesar, the man I beat up is kind of well-known in my district, though at the time I hadn't recognised him." Iris sighed, knowing damn well that everyone at home knew she was spewing nothing but lies. "His brother is the leader of a gang. They weren't very happy with what I did. So I had three choices. Take my chances with the gang. Rot in prison for the rest of my life. Or volunteer to help entertain you wonderful people."

"Well, it all makes sense now! Iris, I must admit that I will be watching you in the arena."

"Caesar!" Iris said, trying to look shocked. "If you're not careful, people are going to think you have favourites."

The gong rang, and Iris stood up and shook Caesar's hand. Walking back to her seat was a blur but she dimly registered the applause, and the looks she was getting from the Careers. Caesar called Axel up to stage, and she swung her left leg over her right and tried to look at anything but the Careers.

Axel was less of a blubbering mess than she had expected him to be, but he still didn't do well by any means. He was certainly more sober than he had been in his last public appearance, but he mumbled and slouched and Iris was absolutely certain that Caesar had no idea what he had tried to say.

The only other tributes who made an impression were Kasia, and, predictably, Christopher. Despite her initial doubt about Kasia, Iris was glad that she had decided to ally with her. The girl from Nine was dressed in a long, sage green dress, which complimented her olive skin and made her look effortlessly elegant. The crowd liked her almost as much as the beautiful girl from One - she would definitely have some sponsors which, if the alliance stuck together, would be excellent for Iris. She was cool and confident, answering Caesar's questions without a tremble to her voice. Christopher, though evidently nervous, was charming and unflappable, and quickly established a rapport with Caesar that was adored by the crowd.

Iris knew that her alliance would be the second most watched alliance in the Games - even if there were other alliances formed, she and her allies had made an excellent impression on the crowd, and had hopefully proved interesting enough for the Gamemakers to keep around.

/

The backstage area was surprisingly busy after the interviews – Iris had thought there would be more effort in keeping the area as empty as possible. Quite the opposite – it seemed as though everyone's prep team, stylist, and kitchen sink were crammed into the space.

"Come on, children, quickly," Pomponia said anxiously, bustling Axel and Iris to the elevator as quickly as possible. Iris was just about to step onto the elevator when someone grabbed her suit and yanked her backwards. Iris let out a yelp of surprise before she could stop herself.

The elevator doors closed. Pomponia looked at her frantically, and Iris whirled around. It was her friends from One. The boy who had tried to distract her during her interview. And the girl who had smiled. "Can I help you?" Iris said, keeping her voice as steady as possible. They made her nervous, but she didn't want them to know the effect they had on her.

"Yeah you can help us, by backing the hell off," said the boy. "You think you're top shit. You think you're the best."

"No, I don't," Iris said.

"Well then why are you acting like you're already winning when everyone knows you suck? You're not pretty, and you're not clever."

"Wow," Iris said. "Impeccable intimidation technique. I really have to hand it to you, One, you've got me quaking in my boots over here."

The girl stepped forward. "Iris, wasn't it? I'm Agata," she said, and extended her hand. "My less-than-charismatic partner is Zircon."

Begrudgingly, Iris took her hand and shook it as quickly as possible before shoving her hands into her pockets so the Careers wouldn't see them tremble. She leaned against the wall in a way she hoped looked nonchalant, and raised an eyebrow. "If you wanted to get me alone, you could've just asked," she said in a low voice, letting a smirk play on her lips. Agata smirked at her, and tossed her long, dirty-blonde hair over her shoulder.

The boy scoffed. "As if I'd want to get you alone, Horse-Face."

"Wasn't talking to you," she said, looking him up and down. He was plain, compared to other boys from District One. He had a weak chin which he had evidently tried to conceal by growing a straggly beard - for whatever reason, his stylist had let him keep the horrible thing instead of shaving it off. "What was your name again? Glory or Victor or something? Yeah, you're not as pretty as you think you are. How about you go do some push-ups before your big day? God knows you need to with those biceps." Zircon's eyes flashed dangerously, and Iris knew that she had made a very dangerous enemy.

Agata rolled her eyes. "I apologise for Zircon. He likes to think he's clever but really we just humour him so he doesn't throw a tantrum. Run along," Agata said sweetly, and made a shooing motion with her hand.

"I'm not going to be pushed around by a couple of girls," Zircon sneered.

"I think it's too late for that," Iris said under her breath before she could help herself. It was evidently the wrong thing to say.

Zircon rounded on her, and pushed her roughly against the wall, pinning her arms so she couldn't escape. She fought down the panic that was rising in her body, and forced herself to meet his furious gaze. "You might be good, Six, but we're better. You think you can make fools of us in front of the Capitol? Think again. I am going to hunt you down tomorrow and guess what, then you'll be the fool. I'm not going to make it quick, either. I'm going to start with your eyes – I'll rip them out so you can't see what I'm going to do to you next. And then – "

"Zircon, I think she gets it." Agata grabbed him by the elbow and yanked him backwards. He stormed towards the elevator without another word. Agata waited until the doors closed before turning back to Iris, an annoyed look on her face. "Iris, Zircon could've been more subtle, but essentially that's what's going to happen."

Iris looked at Agata suspiciously. "Why would you warn me?"

"Because, unlike what my idiotic district partner seems to think, you could be valuable. My idea? Let you escape the Cornucopia narrowly, maybe with a cut or two. You're smart enough to evade us for a while, and we'll give you a couple of days while we clear out the rest of the filth. After that, you're going to be the last non-Career alive. By then, the whole of Panem will be transfixed. It's going to be the most epic game of cat and mouse the Capitol has ever seen. And guess what, Iris? I'm the cat." Agata smiled at her before walking away, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. Her smile, Iris couldn't help thinking, was not that of a cat, but a shark.

It was a while before Iris made her way back upstairs. She didn't want to admit it, but her run-in with the Ones had left her rattled. They were the ones who had screwed up of course – why would they tell her their plan? It was obviously an intimidation technique, and that meant that they feared her.

Iris smiled. What kind of cat was scared of a mouse?