Beemo Hudson, 13

District Three Suite, Capitol

D3M

July 5, 329 AEDD

It was Beemo's second-to-last morning in the Capitol. He didn't think he was ready for that.

It began with a bowl of oatmeal sprinkled with brown sugar, a glass of water, and a dish of seasonal fruit and cottage cheese. Beemo knew from his dietary studies that it was important to eat balanced portions even while carbo-loading for the Hunger Games. He had wanted antioxidants, calcium, protein, fiber, and whole grains from his breakfast for training, but it would also give him the energy to undergo a rigorous day of interview preparation. He and Twyla were going to take shifts, spending half the day with Delta and half the day with their mentors. Beemo was beginning with Astrix. He sat down with him in the living room as soon as breakfast was over.

"How do you feel?" asked Astrix.

"I feel okay," Beemo said.

"How much do you know about the interviews?"

"Not very much."

"Then I'll start with a little explainer. Each phase of the pre-Games tells the audience something new about you. The interviews are sometimes regarded as the most important part because they happen right before you go into the arena. A successful interview can be a final chance to attract sponsors before the Games actually begin, but the interviews are also important because they make you stand out as unique. The Tribute Parade shows off the tributes' physique and interactions with the crowd, the Private Sessions tell the viewership about how well you can fight, but it's the Interviews that really separate the favorites from everyone else. That's when you become a person to them, not just a number or an outfit or another District Three Male. Interviews count because they tell the audience about Beemo."

"Hence the angles."

"Yes, hence the angles. You only have three minutes in front of the crowd, so there's no time to really tell them about you. Picking one trait to emphasize helps you stick out in their minds. Our job is finding what angle will help you most when it comes to the crowd."

"I don't want to stray too far from who I actually am."

"I agree with you. I think you're a natural at making friends. You've gotten along well with everybody you've met in the Capitol, including the other tributes, and being friendly and relatable could definitely work on the crowd. I actually wanted to employ a more strategic approach first, though, using process of elimination."

"That sounds fun!" It did sound fun. Beemo enjoyed using mathematical and scientific tools. Even if Astrix wasn't the most helpful mentor, he seemed like he had useful advice about the interviews, and Beemo was interested in hearing what he had to say.

"The interviews run back to back, and they're like an hour long in total. If several tributes have the same angle, they'll tend to blur together in the mind and the audience won't be able to remember individual tributes as well. We're going to think about what the others will pick as their strategies and find something unique for you so you won't get lost in the crowd too much."

"Alright. So I think we can safely lump all the Careers together. Even if they pick slightly different angles, it's really all the same thing."

"Yeah."

"I could see some outliers going for tough, confident, or mysterious, so I'm going to avoid those."

"Good."

"I'm not doing sexy or super self-deprecating. I'm definitely not doing the Capitol flattery either. I'm not shy. I don't want to be funny. I just want to be friendly and likeable. I know it's a little overused, but honestly, I think it's the right answer for me."

"Then we'll start out trying that. So, Pandora has a bunch of dossiers on the tributes. She knows tons of things about you. She could bring up anything, from your friends to your career aspirations to your allies here in the Capitol. She'll ask you questions that she thinks will improve your popularity or have lots of room for you to bounce off of. Remember, she's on your side. Let's start off with some softballs, okay?"

"Alright. Here, I'm gonna be Pandora now." Astrix cleared his throat. "Welcoming Mr. Beemo Hudson, all the way from District Three! You walk onstage, clapping, more clapping, you sit down. How are you doing tonight, Beemo?"

"I'm a little nervous, to be honest, but I'm excited to be here with you all. Tomorrow's going to be a big day."

"It is. The Games are commencing, the field will shrink. How prepared would you say you're feeling?"

"I'm feeling pretty prepared. My allies and I paid attention in training. I think we used our time well, and that I'll be able to tackle the arena."

"And who are your allies?"

"I teamed up with Twyla and Brielle and Tom from District Seven."

"Do you have a plan?"

"We do have a plan, although I can't tell you what it is tonight. Don't want the other tributes to know what we're up to."

"Good, good. That'll make them laugh. Wait for it to reach its peak, then as it's dying down, Pandora will ask the next question. So Beemo, do you have anything you'd like the folks back home to know?"

"I love them all so much. My parents helped me figure everything out during the Goodbyes and I'm so grateful for their help. I know that my friends are rooting for me, and I can't wait to go back to them."

"Good, good answer, but you'll want to address the people directly. The Capitolites like that, they find it sweet. Now Pandora will probably ask you for some sort of small anecdote. Quick, find something for a longer response, in three, two, one."

"That's such a good question, Pandora. Actually, my alliance had a really funny moment in training. We did it for practical reasons. So many alliances fall apart because of miscommunications or people getting frustrated and upsetting one another, so we had a little circle with a talking stick to prepare for dealing with any disagreements. It sounds silly, but I genuinely think it's given us an edge. Staying calm under pressure can be useful in the arena, and we know we'll be able to find solutions even when we feel strongly about the best course of action. Our teamwork is going to be top notch, I promise you."

Jeremiah King, 18

District Nine Suite, Capitol

D9M

July 5, 329 AEDD

Jeremiah was enjoying his time with his mentor. Johnnie was sort of grumpy and regularly requested that everyone, from the Avoxes to the stylists to Jeremiah and Maize, keep refilling his coffee cup. If they got the fixings wrong and mismeasured the cream, he would send them back to remake it. Mae Lowland was nowhere to be found, so Johnnie was assuming mentorship over Maize until she returned. Maize was currently occupied with learning how to sit with maximum Capitoliteness, so Jeremiah had Johnnie all to himself for the morning. They were coming up with a good interview angle for him. "I think that's still too heavy handed," said Johnnie.

"Are you sure? I feel like if I'm not confident enough, I'll come off as stiff."

"I know, but we can't have you looking too sure of yourself. You got an eight, not a ten, and we don't want people to get suspicious about what you can really do. There are seven Careers and I can't have them targeting you in the Bloodbath."

"So I'm too cocky. What next?"

"Try to flip it around. Say oh no, your allies are the really strong ones. They've got all the survival skills down pat, you're just the muscle. Push everything onto them. Refuse to acknowledge your own abilities."

"Are you sure?"

"Here's a secret: people aren't very smart. If you say you're dumb and the only thing you contribute to your alliance is physical protection, they won't question it. Just tell them you're not a threat. They'll shrug their shoulders and go 'oop, I guess he isn't a threat' and there you have it."

"Do you think anybody will genuinely buy that?"

"We have to hope so. Nobody's going to believe that you're weak, so the best option is getting them to underestimate you in other ways. Tributes have successfully done it before, but it's up to you to sell it."

"Okay."

"Let's try it out. Refill my coffee?"

"Fine." Jeremiah trudged into the kitchen and brought back the entire carafe back with a potholder, then went back for the cream pitcher. "Here, I brought the reinforcements to you."

"Pour me?"

"You could do this yourself, you know."

"Yeah, but I've already won my Games. When you're a Victor, you can make your tributes fetch you things too. It's lots of fun."

"I'll bet." Jeremiah reached for the mug and dutifully topped it off, maintaining the intensely monitored cream ratio. Johnny squinted to examine it before tasting.

"I suppose this will do."

"If you deigned to serve yourself, you could get it exactly how you like every time."

"It makes me feel fancy to criticize other people's inferior methods."

"Of course it does." Despite his irritating coffee habit, Jeremiah really did like his mentor. Johnnie was good at his job and seemed genuinely invested in his tributes' success, even if he demanded that they wait on him when it came to his beverage of choice.

"Let's try it."

"Alright."

"What do you think of your training score? Eight is high, no?"

"Well, it's high, but it's not that high. I feel good about it. I think I'm ready to defend my alliance if anyone attacks us—ugh, Johnnie, this all feels so fake. I can't do this."

"It was pretty bad," admitted Johnnie.

"All my attempts this morning have been bad. I don't think this is the right angle."

"Fair enough. Want to try again, same question, but you just say whatever feels natural?"

"Okay."

"What do you think of your training score? Eight is high, no?"

"Not high enough. I'd really been wanting a nine or a ten, but I guess I don't know as much as I thought I did. I do think I'm strong enough to defend my allies, but I was hoping for a better score. Oh god, I sound pathetic. Can we just, like, give up for a little bit and eat some tater tots?"

"No, that was good! Acting disappointed is an excellent way of deceiving the other tributes. It was a perfectly fine answer, Jeremiah. Let's keep going. A-hem. I'm sorry to hear that. How has your time in the Capitol been besides that?"

"Oh, I've had a great time. The food is delicious and everyone's been really nice. They stocked up my room with a super luxe shower and all these really pretty pajamas. Training went well. I've been enjoying my week, but I'm ready to get into the arena. My allies studied survival stuff like crazy, so I think I'll be okay if I stick close to them and we don't get separated…was that any good, Johnnie?"

"Yeah. Look, you're saying the right things. You just have to be more confident. Tonight, you won't be able to hit the time-out button and ask me if you said the right thing. There aren't any do-overs when you're onstage for real."

"So what do I do?"

"You refill me."

"It's been like two minutes. Do you seriously need another cuppa already?"

"Yes. Coddling you is drying out my throat. Cough-cough. Hear it? I'm positively dehydrating."

"I can hear that." He refilled the cup and swirled in another generous splash of cream. "Here you go." Johnnie took an exacting sip.

"It's cold. See, this is why the carafe needs to stay with the coffee machine. It maintains the temperature."

"Come on. It didn't cool off in the two minutes since I took it over here."

"Back to the whole interview thing. Do you think I actually have a chance at making a good impression tonight? I'm not in the mood to sink my whole team's chances just because I don't know how to talk to Capitolites."

"Well, that depends. Are you practicing some more or are you giving up and eating tater tots?"

"The second one sounds a whole lot better, but for your sake, I'm gonna go with the practicing option." Johnnie smirked as he emptied his cup again. Steam rose into his face (See? Jeremiah knew that coffee wasn't a damn degree below scalding! His mentor was just a huge drama queen.)

"That seems like the right choice."

Nikita Valeta, 18

District Twelve Suite, Capitol

D12M

July 5, 329 AEDD

Nikita wasn't sure if he especially liked Stefania or if he just especially disliked his mentor. Yew and Aileen were spending the day coaching Aspen, and Nikita was feeling a tad bit unwanted. Stefania had scooped him up and was designing a friendly, confident angle, but he was still jealous of his district partner.

"You're not missing out on much," Stefania said.

"Yeah, I know."

"Hey, I understand that you want a mentor on the same page as you, but Yew can't be that. This is District Twelve, and I'm the best person to help you approach this as a Career tribute."

"I know."

"It could be worse. Lots of outlier mentors can't do anything but tell their tributes how to walk and smile, or worse, they're so drunk or worn down that they can't do much of anything. That little Nine girl wouldn't have any chance at sponsors unless Johnnie Amaranth-Miller decided to slide over and make deals for her. Say what you will about Yew and Aileen, but they are going to find you sponsors."

"Aileen hates me."

"Aileen thinks you're annoying, but she doesn't want to see you die, and she's a shark when it comes to negotiating. If she wasn't, no District Twelve tribute would ever receive anything. Ever. She pushes for her kids. Aspen's going to be her priority because she doesn't usually get high-scoring tributes, but she also knows that you'll have the Cornucopia supplies, so you're going in with an advantage."

"She won't get sponsors for me."

"Yes, she will. She'll probably even get together with the Career mentors and do some dealing with them. Aileen talks her smack, but she's going to look out for you."

"So why isn't she helping me?"

"She can't do things like a Career mentor would. She's going to be more helpful once you get into the arena. Tomorrow, you'll be thanking your lucky stars that you have her in your corner, but today, you have me, and I come with my own area of expertise. I say this with love, but it's time to stop whining. Pull yourself together. You're a Career, you have the golden last interview of the evening, and you need the right angle. Let me help you find it." Nikita steeled himself. He understood that he was going to benefit from Stefania's help, but he wanted a real Career mentor of his own.

"You're right. Let's do this."

"Okay. We'll start nice and simple. What do you think is the most important part of an interview?"

"Telling a good story. That's what they taught us at the Academy."

"And they were right. You want the audience to understand what kind of person you are and why they should give you their money. What's going to make you special?"

"I'm a Peacekeeper?"

"That's one thing about you. Do you think it's an important part of your identity?"

"Um, I think so."

"Okay. So what traits are integral to a Peacekeeper's work? What characterizes a successful Peacekeeper?"

"Being able to follow a chain of command and obey orders, knowing and enforcing the laws, serving the Head Peacekeeper and the President, improving the country, staying calm under pressure, helping people."

"Those are all great things. Let's figure out how to bridge your values with the audience. Tell them you're patriotic and you care about making a difference in Panem. Tell them you're strong. Talk about your injury and recovery, and why you find your work so meaningful and important. You love District Two! Let that shine through, and people will love you."

Nikita considered that. It wasn't a bad plan. "That sounds good," he conceded.

"I think you should go for an open, confident feel. Stay casual, but let them know that you're in it for the people back home in Two. Remind them where you're from."

"Anything else?"

"Just be pleasant. Nice and smiley for me, okay?"

"I can do that."

"Then you don't have anything to worry about it. People stress so much over the interviews, but it's really not worth it. It's three minutes of making people interested in you. Your stylist will put you in a shmancy suit and Pandora will gush over you and your training score. You tell them you're going to be the Victor. Then it's all over, you go back to the District One suite for bed, and tomorrow the Games begin. Aileen and Yew will be up all night finding you sponsors, they'll say hey to you before you launch. You've already finished the hard part."

"Do you think the Careers are mad at me?"

"Why would they be mad at you, dear?"

"They wanted to get rid of me."

"I'm not so sure they did. I think it's more likely that some wires got crossed. You're going to be just fine. All seven of you got the same score, and that should take care of any lingering doubts about your abilities. Here's what you have to do right now: tell me what the Pack is planning for the Bloodbath."

"Why, so you can tell Aspen and spoil everything?"

"No. So I know what to expect when we're lining up sponsors. How many tributes are you targeting? Are there any people you definitely want to go after?"

"Well, we'll want to get Aran and Amy. Jeremiah's strong, so he should go if we can make that happen. Other than that, we just want to get a kill per person, so we're looking at a seven-tribute Bloodbath at minimum, but I think we all want to go for a double if it's convenient."

"Bragging rights." Stefania nodded knowingly. "Look, we're done if you want to be done. Get some rest, get a snack, and head down to District One if you'd like to do that."

"Alright. Thanks."

"You got this, Nikita. Go celebrate a little bit."

He decided that was a good idea.

Tom Leary, [AGE]

District Seven Suite, Capitol

D7M

July 5, 329 AEDD

Tom was not enjoying Valerian's lesson in deportment. "Bigger," ordered the escort.

"This is as big as I can go."

"No! Bigger! A smile that pathetic won't make anybody like you. It's hard enough finding people willing to sponsor you. At least make an effort." Tom stretched his lips in the largest smile he could muster.

"Is this better?"

"I suppose. You need it like a reflex. Watch and learn." Valerian dropped his face into a neutral expression, then broke into a bright smile showcasing miles of pure white teeth. Tom was pretty sure the corners of his mouth were throwing off cartoon sparkles.

"Okay. Let me try again." Tom did his best to imitate it.

"Not good enough. More life! More vibrance! More zest!" Tom was unclear on what Valerian meant, but he couldn't exactly make himself zestier. He tried and Valerian huffed impatiently. "We're not really improving. How about trying something else for a little bit?"

"Please don't make me do walking again."

"We can practice sitting instead."

"Fine."

"You can do this, Thomas. Big, big chest! Lead with the shin, kick out the ankle, take your seat, lean in with the left oblique abdominals, turn your mandible to the left, and smile at Pandora. Very simple."

"So I walk up to the chair with good posture and then sit and look towards her with a smile."

"Do you even listen? No, you want a nice big chest, shin out, ankle out, sit, left with the obliques and the mandible, then smile. The smile comes last."

"Ah, I see. But won't the crowd want me to smile as I come onstage?" Tom was being mostly sarcastic, hoping to waste Valerian's time as he willed the clock to tick faster, but Valerian gasped in horror.

"Oh my goodness, I didn't even consider that! Scratch that, Thomas, we have to take it from the top again and we have a mere fifteen minutes left. How will we ever take care of everything?"

"I don't know."

"Let's begin again. This time we've got to do it properly, since I won't have the time to restart if I forget another key element. See, this is going to be so difficult. I need a raise. Did you know that, Thomas? Because now I have to teach you two smiles and you're too grossly incompetent to even master one. I think a trained pigeon would have an easier time."

"That's a little harsh, don't you think?"

"Oh, I don't mean it in a nasty way. Just that tributes are much more difficult to teach than animals. Animals imitate. People have their own mannerisms, and then I need to wipe them away and make them a clean slate, then instill the correct behaviors in them, all within four hours. It requires at least a minimum of eight, but I suppose the mentors need their time too."

"I guess."

"Well, let's get to it. Smile transitions! So, let's have a nice big smile as you wave to the crowd. Hello! Welcome! You're excited to see them, maybe a little nervous. Your smile to Pandora should be a little more confidential, like it's just meant for her. You're asking her for a little bit of help. Play it out a little, play it up, come off as a little younger if you think it's advantageous. I think a slightly shyer approach could work out for you because of how quiet you are. We don't want the Capitolites to feel unsettled, do we?"

"No, we don't."

"So show them that you're cute and charming, certainly not a threat. Don't make it stupid and manipulative. A nice light touch should do it. So, let's go from the walk. And—oh!—you'll start out sitting. So let's also practice standing. Here, quick, stand. Not that fast! Oh, no, no that won't do. Here, observe. This is what you want. Nicely done. Up and walk! No, you need more ankle, um, yep, that's the way. Let's keep it going. Sit, and, no! Redo it."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes." Tom dutifully slumped over to the first chair and tried again. "That's nice, Thomas. And we'll just have you sit nicely this time. Remember, shin with ankle, oblique abdominals and mandible to the left." Tom obeyed.

"Is this right?"

"Yes! Great work. And just do it once more, with the smiles, please."

"Okay. When do I transition to the second smile?"

"Right after you sit down. Half a beat, then smile as you turn."

"So there's a delay?"

"No delay! I said half a beat, not a whole beat, didn't I?"

"Alright. I'll try that." Tom walked, smiled, sat, and smiled again. "How'd I do?"

"That was sort of okay. I think you might actually be able to impress me tonight."

"That's good." Tom tried to act as though he cared about impressing Valerian. As far as he was concerned, the whole thing was incredibly stupid. He'd never paid attention to how the tributes being interviewed walked or sat or smiled. He had listened to what they were saying and looked at their overall demeanor, but he supposed the Capitolites probably had different standards. After all, Valerian was a Capitolite. If he was to be believed, he was a trendy and popular Capitolite who knew all about the faux pas of the day and lived to save Tom and Brielle from certain peril should they turn at the wrong time, angle their feet incorrectly, or commit any one of another thousand miniscule indiscretions during their time on television.

"Make sure you speak clearly tonight," he ordered. "Be loud. You won't have a microphone, and nobody will care about you if they can't hear what you're saying to them."

"Okay."

"Stress your consonants. Talk at the audience, not to it. They're watching, not interacting with you. Understand the difference and use it."

"Okay."

"Are you sure you can do that?"

"Yes! I will be fine, Valerian. Can I please go talk to my mentor now?"

"Ugh, fine. See what that old clod says, but I promise you'll be running back to me in half an hour."

"Thanks."

"Yes, yes. Shoo. I need to prepare Brielle."

Tom fled before Valerian could change his mind.

Nascha Eirena Czarin, 18

District One Suite, Capitol

D1F

July 5, 329 AEDD

Nascha feared that she was on a spiral towards disaster. In a last-ditch effort to prevent the love triangle from imploding the Career Pack, she had revealed Tybalt's tortured past to them and it had blown up in her face. She'd had the best intentions. She only wanted to keep Orpheus safe and protect Nikita from having to choose between two opposing allegiances. It hadn't worked. Apparently, Tybalt's mentor had given him the skinny on her own backstory, the same way Admira had given Nascha the skinny on his. It felt better now that everything was out in the open. She was pretty sure everyone had already forgotten about it, especially considering the pressure of private sessions, but it still hung over her head. She had been trying to stay quiet and duck under the radar to avoid the Career drama, but she'd gone about it the wrong way and possibly sacrificed any trust or goodwill that she'd built up with her allies.

She could recover. It would just take a lot of time. It didn't matter that she and Tybalt were murderers because in less than twenty-four hours, all the other Careers would be too. Admira had been working with her on a cutesy, mysterious angle, and she'd had rigorous lessons all morning with Ariadne, who'd coached her on mannerisms. The preparation for the interview had gone well, but Nascha was an introvert at heart. It had been so long since her last hike with her birds, and she'd been around people nonstop. Once she got into the arena, she knew that she'd be surrounded by the rest of the Pack until she either died or won. As a result, she'd decided to have a nice afternoon alone.

She needed a bit of a respite. After some deliberation, she decided to have a shower. She scrubbed herself with pillowy lavender foam until she felt calmer. Then she wandered until she found another Avox and requested a Career Victor highlight reel. She popped the tape into the widescreen television in her bedroom, threw open the drapes to let the sunshine in, and watched while she feasted on hot mashed potatoes, iced tea, and crusty garlic bread with compound butter.

It was very inspiring. She wasn't generally much of a foodie, but even she knew that carbs could fix most ailments. The problem was that she wasn't sure she'd made the right choice. Volunteering had been her ultimate goal for so long, but now that she had come into the Games, it didn't feel like she imagined it would. She wasn't confident enough, and that needed to change.

Careers could smell hesitation. They didn't like it when one of their own was holding back, unsure what to do. Nascha couldn't be that person. As she watched, Admira came onscreen for a climactic ambush. The video showed a duo of outliers sneaking up on the sleeping Pack. Admira was standing guard, but facing in the opposite direction. One of the attackers drew a sword and struck at Admira's back.

She twirled around and looped a coil of razor wire over his neck, delivering a deadly laceration to his throat. Then she knocked his ally unconscious before performing a methodical, surgically precise kill. Nascha perked up at her mentor's success. She was clearly a master at her particular brand of combat, and Nascha was beginning to understand why Admira was so committed to teaching her the art of surprise. Admira was brilliant, and Nascha was beginning to get a sense of just how accomplished of a fighter she was.

It was exactly the feeling she hoped the other tributes would experience when seeing her in the arena. She'd always had more guile than anyone imagined. She did what she had to do, and she never got caught. So she needed a plan to win the Games. Just as Admira had suggested, she would take pains to appear innocent before striking suddenly. The problem was that as she took down her fellow Careers, the Pack would thin, so she would need to take care of stronger outliers early on. Her plot began at the Bloodbath. First, she needed to get two kills and establish herself as a strong hunter. Ideally, claiming one of the Fives or either the Nine or Twelve girl would give her status in the Pack. Then she could bank on her experience to lead expeditions against strong outliers like Jeremiah. The Pack would kill him and Nascha would cut down another Career in the chaos and be able to blame the whole thing on the now-dead tribute, who wouldn't be around to correct the record.

She imagined that Odicci, Nathaniel, or Nikita would be the first to go. Nascha was a rapier girlie. She'd never stand a chance facing off against a long-range opponent in the finale, but she could hold her own against anyone with a short-range weapon. Haylia, Tybalt, and Orpheus also used rapiers as their primary weapon, but Nascha knew the Gamemakers' tricks. They never liked it when too many tributes used the same weapon, so they wouldn't stock enough rapiers in the Cornucopia for all four Careers who needed one. Tybalt had a short-range backup weapon, a machete, but Haylia's backup was throwing knives. She would also have to go on the earlier side. Then again, Odicci might be able to last longer if she chose to fight with her scimitar instead of using a trident.

Nascha had so many ideas. She was ready to conquer the Games and achieve the Victory she'd always dreamed of.

There was a knock at the door. "Your prep team is ready for you," said Admira.

"Thank you." Nascha opened the door. The alone time had done the trick. She had gotten her thoughts together in time for the interviews. She had the first one, which was a high-pressure job, but she knew that her stylist would come up with a showstopping outfit for her.

The odds were most definitely in her favor.

Danny Maddox, 18

District Six Suite, Capitol

D6M

July 5, 329 AEDD

Danny was being dolled up again. The prep team had gotten their hands on him again, and that meant another round of scrubbing. Fortunately, no waxing was necessary. Danny's stylist was a somewhat lackluster man who thought himself much cleverer than he actually was, and he had already revealed that Danny's interview outfit would be—surprise, surprise—a suit. The suit was at least a nice navy blue, not just plain black, but Danny had not even been permitted a patterned tie. It was a solid print in the same navy blue. His shoes and belt were an unappealing shade of brown. He had never worn a suit before and did not feel excited about his formalwear debut.

He did, however, feel excited about his bath. This time, there were lots of oils and fizzy things in the water, and he was given a hot towel facial while he soaked. That was a definite positive. Then he was subjected to rigorous grooming involving myriad serums, lotions, and jellies, until his skin felt vaguely numb and nothing at all like how skin was supposed to feel. When urged to look at himself in the mirror, he did notice how perfectly smooth he was. He looked like a picture off the cover of a magazine, not a real person. He had been airbrushed to perfection, and they hadn't even done his makeup.

Danny had somewhat awkward features. He had a natural squinty, pouty appearance, and had always felt that his nose was a bit too crooked, his lips a touch misshapen. Normally, he didn't mind this much. However, it surprised him to see just how dramatic his makeup looked. Marian had somehow adjusted his face for the better. Everything was symmetrical and had been scaled to exactly the correct size. Marian had also somehow squared things off to look more typically masculine, an effect that Danny appreciated greatly. She'd fixed an insecurity he hadn't even been aware of having, but now that he better conformed to the Capitol beauty standards, he would look his best onstage.

After drawing his face on more attractively, Marian moved on to coloring him in. She pulled the sallowness out of his complexion, cleaned up his acne, and made all the redness disappear. She recast him as so much healthier. He looked handsome like this, especially when Persephone expertly styled his hair. Artful use of a flat iron helped his bangs curl over in just the right spots, and thorough application of pomade made the comb tracks fade out just the right amount.

The outfit went on neatly. It started with underwear and a soft cotton shirt, then a crisp white dress shirt and trousers, and finally the sports jacket and tie. Then he was accessorized with cufflinks, belt, and shoes. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but the suit was custom tailored and, at the very least, tolerable. Danny hadn't worn tight clothing a day in his life until the Tribute Parade, and he didn't like the sensation of having his movement restricted.

"Go," ordered his stylist. "I'm finished with you." Normally, the stylists were responsible for taking the tributes to the stage, but Persephone had merrily agreed to chaperone Danny. Danny preferred it this way, especially since Persephone had obtained permission to take Danny to the launch site instead of the stylist. It was a much calmer arrangement. He didn't like the stylist's frantic energy, and gladly allowed Persephone to lead him out into the hallway.

"What did Fleet come up with for your angle?" she asked.

"Sort of funny and casual. We're going to mention my, um, sense of direction."

"Well, that's good, right? It's one of your greatest strengths."

"Yeah. I'm just not good at talking in front of people. What if I ruin everything for myself?"

"You won't. I just can't see that happening. You're fine talking with the prep team. Even the Avoxes enjoy your company. You've made a lot of friends here. Why is the crowd any different?"

"They're seeing everyone else. You'd give me up for a better tribute. Why wouldn't they? Nobody will want to sponsor me after the Careers go."

"Well, your turn is halfway through. That's only thirty minutes. I don't think they'll get bored that quickly."

"What if I trip and faceplant when it's my turn to go up and answer Pandora's questions?"

"Then she'll make a joke about it, you get up and laugh, and people won't blame you. The interview isn't the end-all, be-all of sponsorship. Surviving a couple days will get you some sponsors, especially if you don't get too badly hurt. Are you going into the Bloodbath?"

"No, just Jeremiah."

"Then I wouldn't worry too much. Just pretend that the audience is us, the prep team. Find someone friendly-looking, make good eye contact, and talk to them like you'd talk to me."

"I don't know if I can do that."

"It's okay if you mess up, Danny. Even if something goes horribly wrong and you end up sinking to the bottom of the betting rankings, we're still here to help. That won't change just because you make a mistake."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. And Fleet's not ready to give up on you either."

"So what do I do?"

"Sit quietly, pay attention, and wait until you're called up. It'll be fine." Persephone slid open a curtain and showed him into a passageway sprinkled with tributes. She helped him find his seat, straightened his lapels, and squeezed his hand. "And we will be very proud of you, no matter what. Good luck, Danny."

Then she melted away, leaving him alone in a sea of people.

THE ILLUSIONIST

The Illusionist was trapped. Vallis Albertine had commandeered the train and now she was stuck in the mail compartment with nowhere to go. This was bad, bad news. She'd been so close to preventing the coup and she had it on good authority that Nikolai Fassnacht was closing in—she just needed to keep the usurpers in place for a few more hours until the cavalry arrived.

Apparently, Albertine had also caught onto things. He'd cleverly separated the Illusionist from her radio, so she couldn't send out a distress signal to other Peacekeepers, but he wasn't that smart. The Acrobat never thought things through all the way, just like he never considered that the Ringmaster was going to discard him as soon as he outlived his usefulness. He had forgotten that as a senior Peacekeeper in charge of monitoring the Games process, the Illusionist had been outfitted with a communications bracelet. Using it would require a huge lie. She was the mole, she'd played the long game for twelve years, but she was banking on the Ringmaster telling the truth: the Head Gamemaker had never received the message revealing the mole.
So there was still room to escape, if she could just sell her story. The Illusionist stripped off her gloves and pressed the call button on her bracelet.

"Tisiphone?"

"Konstance! It's such a relief to hear your voice. I need your help urgently. Vallis was the mole, and he just trapped me in my train. He's taking me to De ro t and handing me over to those Capitol spies who grabbed Atlas the other day. Can you get there first and pick me up?"

Hey y'all,
 We're gearing up for interviews! I plan to get the next chapter out by tomorrow night. I appreciate all the thoughtful reviews! I'll be opening up the sponsor shop when the Games commence, and I'm giving 10 bonus sponsor points to everyone who posts their Bloodbath predictions before the Bloodbath chapter comes out. See you soon!
 —LC :)