PREDATOR | THE HUNGER GAMES

TARGET THE STRONGEST

"Hands at your sides!"

Cal rushed over and pulled Lara's hands away from picking at her outfit. He'd spent meticulous hours making sure her appearance was near perfect. He was determined to make a name for himself and his fashion using the two tributes.

Lara tried to resist but she was overwhelmed by the swarm of Cal's stylist crew. She could hear Atlas in the other room resisting the same pampering.

She'd never felt such stiff clothing in her life. Her dress was a brilliant gold with an overlap of a sheer material that gave a grainy appearance-fitting for her district. Her hair was pinned up with gold wheat pins, which stabbed at her skull. The sleeves had two thin gold chains running from her shoulder to her wrist, connected by the bangle on her wrist and hoop on the back of her dress.

Lara attempted to loosen the corset in the back. She was already receiving less oxygen from her panic; the outfit made it ten times worse. Cal once more swatted her hand away.

"Don't touch anything!" he commanded. He took her by the shoulders and directed her to the main living room where Atlas waited for them. They were placed side by side and sprayed down with a body glitter.

Lara recoiled at the sensation. She was almost positive it had flew into her mouth.

"Why is this necessary?" she spat.

Atlas wiped his face, "These outfits are ridiculous."

Cal was at his limit.

"The gold is to represent the grain and sun for your beloved District 9! The chains are a symbol of fortitude and strength, not just by yourself but as district partners. This is quite necessary for your public reputation within the Capitol or you will surely die within the first days of the games!"

Both tributes pressed their lips together in a thin line. They'd pushed him too far, and he'd had an outburst of anger and unfiltered honesty. He'd spoken the fate they'd denied to accept.

Their expressions changed and he faltered briefly. But their looks showed him they didn't want an apology.

He merely sighed and gently escorted them to the elevator. The journey to the city's inner circle stadium was silent up until they reached where all the tributes and carriages waited.

It was bustling with energy and anxiety. Lara could hear the chatter from the Capitol citizens outside the large opening their carriages were preparing to go through. The other tributes gathered by district, with District 1 in the front.

She locked eyes once more with the girl she'd passed during their time in the remake center. Her yellow hair was plaited and pinned into an elaborate bun, which was being stuck with pins at the moment. She resisted the actions of her stylist, just as she had before.

Unbeknownst to Lara, as soon as she had looked away, the girl had stared at her the whole time she walked to their carriage.

Atlas went to caress the horses, clinging to the comfort of something familiar from home. He'd helped his father in the barns while his younger brothers helped their mother in the field.

Lara could see that he was reminiscing, having seen him in the barn a few times over the past few years. She, too, had a sense of sentimentality wash over her; but she soon dismissed it when she remembered who lingered around her. Her critical eyes, painted with golden glitter, swept over the tributes.

The careers, that being District 1, 2, and 4, in the front looked around her age, but stronger. They're bodies looked as if they'd been training since they were young-they probably had been. She noted that their menacing expressions never left their faces. Was it a ruse to maintain a bravado as she was, or were they truly that confident?