I hated the feeling of Effie Trinket's long nails digging into my shoulders as we waited in a dark walled room filled with the other twenty four tributes and their similarly nervous escorts. I was always under the impression that the Capitol was clean and bright, with as many windows on the buildings as possible, but this room, right beside the bustling, sunlit station, had not a single window in sight. Of course I knew exactly where we all were; right beside the stables of the grand Remake Center.

The building above us contrasted highly with the room we waited in. Thousands of windows lined the four floors, and possibly the main entrances. Its shining white wall glistened like every other building in the Capitol. Where I was now, was a large dimly lit room tall enough and high enough for the tribute trains to pull into. I was currently sitting on one of the thirteen double benches, the only items to be found in the room, beside the train tracks and the four elevators just to our left. We had been waiting twenty minutes, after getting off of our train.

The mentors had all left the moment the trains had departed to make room for the next train. Haymitch had even told us he wasn't allowed to wait with us. He'd be escorted to the Chariot Hall where all mentors stayed while they waited for their tributes to be transformed into their Chariot Costumes by their stylists.

I still didn't know why we had to wait so long. Our train was the last to arrive, just a few minutes after the train from District Eleven, which was far from the Capital but not as far as my district. I took a few minutes to look at the tributes Peeta and I sat to the left of; the ones from District Thirteen. Well if you wanted to be technical they were from the current District Thirteen.

The original District Thirteen - built upon the industry of nuclear weaponry - had been the supposed orchestrators of the rebellion and had been bombed several years before the new District Thirteen was created, at least that's what we were told in school.

Forty-nine years ago the District Thirteen of today's Panem was discovered after several farms in District Ten found oil on their lands. District Three's scientists were brought in and discovered almost a third of the District had rich oil flowing beneath the ground. This was probably both a pain and a blessing to the Capitol, seeing as they gained a district but lost a third of a pre-existing one. In fact the Capitol wasted no time in building enough homes and facilities for the 4000 people from District One, Two and Twelve, they sent to live in the new district. Oddly enough the newly built District Thirteen was both one of the richest and poorest districts in Panem. This was due to the two largest demographics District Thirteen had. The workers of the oil rigs and refineries were more poor than even the miners of my home. Ironically enough they were originally from District Twelve, probably due to their knowledge in mining. The other class was the one who controlled the workers; Overseers, as they called them in the Capitol. This small class was built of families who were old residents of Districts One and Two and used to lives of luxury and status.

Diane and Trevor were obviously children of oil rig workers, most noticeably - besides their old, over worn clothes - by the black stains on their skin and under their nails, an unfortunate side effect, I assume, of living very close to the oil rigs. It was also notable because the child of an overseer would look cleaner than the white walls of the Capitol buildings.

I felt sorry for these kids, since I knew exactly how it felt to be born into a life of the working class; hard and almost impossible to bear at times.

I turned my head to look at the other tributes, but the sound of the elevators stopping made me look in that direction. Just as my eyes traveled to there, nine tall Peacekeepers walked out of the pristine elevators. Out of the nine only one, a rare female Peacekeeper, had her helmet off to display her long, tied back, black hair and dark olive skin. In her hands she held a thin glass device that had electronic writing on it.

She stopped in front of us and stood tall. "Up on your feet tributes!" she said, treating us as if we were Peacekeepers, a blank expression covering her face. We all stood slowly. The Careers had smug looks on their faces as they had gotten up faster than the rest of us, "I am Commander Athena Ignatius," the female Peacekeeper continued, "Head of tribute security. I'm here to make sure you all make it to the arena alive and in one piece."

She looked at us all like we were going to die, and apart from one of us, her gaze was right. "These Peacekeepers to my left and right will be taking you to your assigned floors to meet your personal prep teams and stylists. Report to your assigned Peacekeeper when I call your district and gender."

She began with the boys first, calling out the district and gender of those assigned to the first Peacekeeper. I assume that two Peacekeepers each had a floor they were assigned to and a different gender for each pair.

The floor assignments weren't by your district's number but by how rich your district was. The first floor was for the three richest districts; Districts One, Two and Four. The second was were the next richest were assigned to; Districts Three, Six and Thirteen. The third had Districts Five, Seven and Eight; districts that were well off financially. And the last floor, the fourth floor, was for the poorest districts; Districts Nine, Ten, Eleven and Twelve.

"Female Tributes from Ten, Eleven, Twelve and Thirteen you're assigned to Roth." she said and turned to the boys of those districts. My head spun when I heard her say that. Why are the tributes from Thirteen on the same floor as the poor districts? Is it because the tributes are both children of oil rig workers? I pondered the thought in my head as I was pushed towards the elevator.

My heart was threatening to burst from my chest as the Peacekeeper held his firm grip on my arm. He was guiding me towards the last door at the end of the fourth floor, on the side dedicated to female tributes. He raised his hand slowly to the button on the side of the door and ordered strongly, "In."

I did as I was told, not liking it all that much, taking a cautious step inside. It was a spacious silver room, with a table in the center. Carts and trays with various products laid on them were dotted about the room. On the wall were bizarre looking machines. I had no clue what they were used for, but I had an odd feeling I was about to discover their uses.

The most bizarre and oddest thing about the room were the two women and the man who swarmed around me. Like flies around a light bulb. My prep team, I thought as the door shut behind me deafeningly. My ears had little time to adjust before I was pulled into a sitting position on the table.

"Hello, you must be Katniss," The man said in the same silly Capitol accent everyone had here. "Cinna, your fabulous stylist, has told us exactly what he wants us to do with you. I'm Flavius." His hands went up in the air in a flamboyant manner that almost caused me to burst out laughing, but I held my laughter back. I didn't want him to take offense. "I'm in charge of making sure your hair looks as beautiful and perfect as humanly possible. I'll also be working on your makeup so it will make you sparkle and shine." Flavius's voice and mannerism weren't the only things flamboyant about him. His hair was like orange corkscrews, spiralling up toward the ceiling in short bursts of colour. His lips were painted a vibrant shade of purple completely contrasting his hair. What did work were the shimmering blue gloves and matching jacket he wore over a denim shirt and pants.

My hands were soon pulled into the hands of an aqua haired woman with gold streaked tattoos above her eyebrows. She seemed calmer than Flavius and the other member I had yet to be introduced to. Her voice was sharp, but kind as she introduced herself, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Katniss. I'm Venia and I'm here to make sure you are free of all that nasty body hair and to make sure your eyebrows don't look like caterpillars climbing up your face."

Before I could remark that my eyebrows did not look that way, I was spun around and staring into the brown eyes of a... Green skinned woman? I seriously had to rethink my thoughts on the Capitol's ideas of beauty.

"Hello Katniss, my name is Octavia," The green skinned woman said in a voice as bubbly as Effie Trinket's. "I'm here to colour and shape those nails of yours and no doubt try and remove the dirt." She muttered the last little bit, thinking I hadn't heard, when of course I had.

Venia suddenly turned me around to face her, a serious expression on her aqua-caressed face. "Let's get to work, shall we?"

For the next three hours I'm in a living hell. They don't waste any time in stripping me naked and demanding that I get into a little room with all kinds of knobs and nozzles. Venia told me to close my eyes and I found myself obeying. I felt something hit my skin and gasped, getting soap in my mouth. I spat it out and heard Flavius tsk as he handed me a glass of water. They each took a brush of a different color and began scrubbing at my skin until I felt I had none left. My skin was on fire and completely bare as the soap ate at my hair and got rid of the first two layers of dead skin. I had to admit that I loved how soft my skin felt, but hoped I never had to go through that torture again.

Venia handed me a robe and told me to put it on as she led me to a different chair. She put her hands on my shoulders and pushed me back, making me lay flat. I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth as she smoothed hot wax over my eyes. I bit my lip to keep from screaming as she pulled the cloth strips off, taking my eyebrows with her. I swear she left me with hardly anything left. Venia put some soothing cream on them after and it cooled my skin, taking away the pain. When she handed me a hand held mirror to look in, I was amazed that they weren't red. Next Octavia began working on my nails after sitting my chair back up and handing me a glass of water to drink. I watched as she filed and clipped my nails before painting a clear liquid over them. Afterward she told me it was to make them stronger.

Finally I was done with them. My nails were clean and looked neat. My body was as smooth as silk and made me look soft. My eyebrows were debatable, but I guess I liked them if I was forced to admit it. I stood there in front of them, waiting for a response. If they weren't satisfied, I'd have to endure the torture longer. I held my breath as Flavius opened his mouth to speak.

"Wonderful, you're ready for Cinna," Flavius said, clapping his hands together. I was still wondering what this mysterious Cinna would be like.

"Thank you." I almost laughed as I realized I managed to say this without clenching my teeth.

"We'll be right back darling," Octavia squealed as the diverse trio hurried out of the room. I was so glad to see them leave. I wasn't sure that my mind could take another second in their presence.

I stood there alone and nude, as I had removed the robe I was given, knowing my stylist would ask me to whenever he arrived. I imagined him to be as flamboyant and feminine as the majority of male Capitol stylists I'd seen. He'd probably say my braid, that my prep team had left untouched, was an adorable style. As I touched that same braid I thought of my mother and Prim. They were probably so afraid right then, knowing that they might never see me again. I pictured my mother sitting on her couch with Prim curled in her lap watching our old television screen, with my grandmother in the seat beside them, as it played repeats of the Reaping every hour until the rest of Pre Games began.

The Pre Games were more like Pre Hunger Games events than actual games. They were over a span of four days and consisted of four events; the Reaping, the Chariot Rides, the Training Days and the Pre Game Interviews. I doubted that these events were just for show, and actually had a real purpose. As I stood there alone in the cold room I thought about what those purposes could be. Obviously the Reapings were to select the tributes of each year and give the Capitol half a day to meet them before the Chariot Rides started. The Chariot Rides were basically a glorified fashion show on wheels, meant to impress sponsors around the Capitol into sponsoring and donating gifts to the tributes they believed made the best impact on them. I laughed aloud, thinking like that was even important. Really the most important event happened behind the cameras. The three days that were dedicated to training the tributes. This was what I was looking forward to. Part of me wanted to show off my skills, while another told me to be cautious and hide that I was good with a bow. I'd have to ask Haymitch his opinion.

The Training Days were made a part of the Pre Game events before the Chariot Rides were even brought into the games. In a room underneath the huge Tribute Center, where all the tributes lived during these three days, tributes would not only get to train with all kinds of weapons, but learn the survival skills necessary to at least last the first day in the arena. I knew I would excel at those. I was a survivalist, a stealthy aerial hunter. I knew more about snaring food, building fires, and identifying dangerous or edible plants than any of the rich Careers would know. But I doubted that would matter since at the end of the Training Days all the mattered was the training score you got. And the Gamemakers who watched you through the Training Days wouldn't care if you could do all that. They only cared about your skills with a weapon, or your speed or strength. Something that made you stand out from the other tributes.

The sound of the door closing in front of me knocked me back into the room, out of my thoughts. I watched as a young, normal looking, dark olive skinned man entered the room. This was Cinna?

I was a little amused by how normal he looked. His hair wasn't dyed, instead a natural shade of brown. He wore it short and in a normal style unlike other Capitol men. He had a subtle mustache and beard that were left untouched, unlike many other Capitol men who had theirs shaved in weird and bizarre shapes. He wore a long black shirt and black jeans with a pair of black sneakers. I wondered why the Capitol influence hadn't gotten to him. His eyeliner and six gold earrings - four in the left ear and two in the right - were the only thing altered about him. The eyeliner he wore was gold and had been applied lightly to his eyelids bringing out the flecks of gold in his caring green eyes. Around his neck he wore three necklaces, two were simple silver chains while the third, though still with a silver chain, had a curious pendant. It looked like a dog tag Peacekeepers wore though slightly different, it had a marbled stone were the identity of a Peacekeeper was usually found.

"That was one of the bravest things I've ever seen," he said, reaching out to shake my hand. "With your sister," he added and I noticed his voice didn't have the Capitol accent; instead it sounded normal and strong. "Hello Katniss, I'm Cinna."

"You're my stylist?" I asked calmly.

He nodded. "Yes, that's right. Let's see how the team did." He circled me slowly, surveying my naked body. For some reason, I didn't feel violated. After careful thought, I realized Cinna radiated an aura of protection; protection that only came from a father. "I like your hair. Who did it?" he asked softly, his eyes held a genuine look of curiosity to them.

"My mother," I answered him, unlike with the other people who I had met today, I had no spite in my voice for Cinna.

"It's beautiful. Your mother is very talented and has light fingers." I smiled at him, genuinely. I felt like Cinna was someone I would trust with my deepest secrets, and he wouldn't tell a soul about them.

"Are you new?" The question was nagging at me. "All the other stylists that work for the Games are pretty recognizable. You must have got stuck with District Twelve, all the newcomers do."

Cinna smiled as he answered. "I am new, but I asked to be assigned to District Twelve. Why don't you cover up and we can have a chat over a nice meal." He handed me my robe, and I slipped it on before following him into a small room with two red velvet couches and a small wooden table. One of the four walls had been made into a window where you could see the dusk horizon beyond the city.

Cinna took a seat on the couch closest to the window and I followed his action, watching as he pushed a small blue button on the table. Before my eyes a section pulled away to reveal another one hiding beneath with our meal resting on it. Chicken with glazed orange sauce on top with buttered peas and onions to the side. Beside them sat a basket of flower shaped rolls and a bowl of pudding the colour of honey. I thought of the meal and then how life in the Capitol must be like. They were never hungry, never saw people on the streets dying from lack of food. The people in this place never watched Peacekeepers carry people who died from starvation to the fence so their bodies could be used to keep the wild animals away.

"We must seem like despicable people in your eyes. All this technology, food and money and we use it on ourselves or those we deem important. But that's not what we are here to talk about. Tonight, they're going to have the usual Chariot Rides and you're going to go out and show yourself to the world."

"So you're here to make me look pretty?" I asked in a disappointed voice. I was hoping he wouldn't be like everyone else, but I guess I was wrong, until I heard what he said next.

"No, I'm here to help you make an impression on those people out there." He told me looking out the window at the Capitol scene. "My partner, Portia, is the stylist for your fellow tribute, Peeta. We decided together what outfits to dress you both in." My heart did a little jump when he said this.

In the Chariot Rides each tribute pair was dressed in matching costumes that reflected their District's particular industry. Just to name a few, there was District One which was luxury items, from fur, to diamonds, to expensive fabrics. They were always dressed luxuriously and glamorously. District Two's main industry was masonry as they built the buildings for Panem, mined precious gems, and cut varieties of stones from the buildings they built. They were usually dressed in costumes that were grey and colourless or looked like brick buildings. District Four, the last of the Career Districts, was built around the industry of fishing. The tributes from there were dressed in fishnet, coral, fish scales and sometimes all three. I remembered watching a replay of a Hunger Games years back when the stylists had made their tributes dress in all three. The reaction from the Capitol was hilarious, especially by how bad they looked that year.

District Six was transportation, building trains, cars, hovercrafts and so on. District Eight was textiles; this district was were all our clothings cheap fabrics and materials come from. District Eleven's industry was agriculture. They always had the costumes that smelled the most pleasing due to the orchids and vegetable fields they farmed. And District Twelve's industry was coal mining, so Peeta and I would probably be stuffed into skimpy outfits and silver hard hats with headlamps, or even be exposed naked with black powder all over us.

"Will I be in the usual mining outfit?" I asked, holding my breath. I hoped, to whoever could hear me, that he was not the kind of stylist who liked the idea of just coal dust covering my body.

"No the coal miner thing is overdone; too many tributes have been seen in that style before, and Portia and I want you and Peeta to be remembered. To leave an impression that will make District Twelve unforgettable." Cinna had a sparkle in his eyes. I couldn't decide whether it was in his emerald colored eyes, or in the gold eyeliner he wore. "I don't think someone as brave as you should be dressed up in some stupid costume, now should they? So rather than focusing on the miners, we want to focus on the coal. Particularly the burning of coal." He then asked with a large grin, "How do you feel about fire?"

POV Peeta

I sat there on the cold steel stale table completely naked, with weird devices all around me. I was waiting for my stylist, Portia to appear. I leaned back and stared at the pristine ceiling, thinking of Katniss. I hoped she was alright, especially if she had to go though the same torture that I did. I shivered a bit, not just by the cold chill of the room, but by the thought of the prep my team had gone through on me. I had been scrubbed ruthlessly clean of too many layers of skin, then stripped of, what they called, unneeded body hair, finally they had finished with fixing my broken nails and smoothing out the calluses of my baker hands. They had flounced out minutes ago with only a quick mention that my stylist, Portia, would see me soon and that I wasn't allowed to put on my robe yet.

If that was what Katniss had gone through I think she would try to punch each member of her prep team without a second thought. I chuckled at the thought of her hitting one of my own team in the nose and the blood flowing down their face.

"I do hope I'm not disturbing you." A gently feminine voice said from beside me.

I jumped a little, turning my head to see a typical Capitol woman standing next to me. Her skin was a tanned olive and her heavily eye-shadowed eyes were almost black. Those were the only natural features she had. She wore a tight black dress with sleeves too puffy and weird ruffled shoulders. She stepped closer, her short, unnaturally blonde wig bobbed as she moved, "Well am I?" She said parting her black lips.

"No," I shook my head, "No, you aren't."

"Well that's good. So you must be Peeta. Stand up, let me have a look at you." She was very polite despite the notable Capitol accent. I stood, slightly nervous as she surveyed me over. I gulped a little, praying I wouldn't react weirdly, especially considering I wasn't used to being naked this long in front of a woman.

She stopped finally, smiling at me with overly bright teeth, "The prep team did a good job. I should introduce myself," she extended her hand to me, "I'm Portia Sterling, your stylist."

I took her hand in greeting, "Nice to meet you, Portia. May I put on a robe now?"

She laughed, a nice pleasant laugh to hear, "Of course you can. After you put on your robe, why not join me in the other room for a nice meal and a little chat?" She suggested, I think, leaving the room through a second door, keeping it open for me.

I quite quickly put on my robe and followed her through the door to a brightly lit room with a wall window in front of two comfortable looking armchairs and a table with food on it. Portia had already sat and was plating herself something to eat when I sat down and did the same.

"So Peeta, tonight you and your lovely fellow tribute, Katniss, will be presented to my fellow citizens in the Capitol. My job, and the job of Katniss' stylist Cinna, is to ensure to you both stand out among the other tributes." She smiled again, this time without showing her teeth.

I nodded, sighing a little at what was to come next, "So what new take of miners have you and Cinna come up with?"

To my surprise she started to laugh, "Oh no, no dear. We are not subjecting either of you to that tired old style. Miners and coal dust have been vastly over used. No, Cinna and I have come up with a completely new take on the coal mining theme."

I looked at her confused and a little bewildered, "What new take is that?"

"Why the burning of coals, dear." She smiled as she sipped a glass of tea. "We've decided to light you both on fire."

"Fire?!"