Disclaimer: I really wish I am them but I am not…
Percy’s POV
They had me lay down on a table covered with sterile cloth.
“ You guys are not going to cut me up, now, are you?” I called out to my prep team. A girl, maybe in her early 20s with spiky green hair and purple lipstick hovers close to my face.
“ No,” she giggled in that weird Capitol accent. “ We’re just going to clean you up a bit. Your nails are a mess!” she says, holding out my hand. “ See? It’s black and chipped here and there!”
“ Yeah. It’s black and chipped because I once worked in the mines,” I inform her. She gasps and her blue eyes widens.
“ No!” she say. I shrugged. “ How old are you? Sixteen? Fifteen? You’re too young to be working in that dangerous place!” she wails. Yeah, but apparently not too young to be playing in the dangerous Games, I thought to myself. Ironic.
The door of the Remake Center opens and in comes two more people: a guy in gold bell jeans with diamonds sewn into the hem and blue locks, followed by an older woman with curly purple hair and tattoos all over her arm. So….I guess this is the rest of my prep team.
“ I still don’t know your name,” I tell the girl. “ You know mine but I don’t know yours.”
“ Oh, silly me!” she pipes in her silly Capitol accent. Why do these people speak in such a high pitch? Why do their jaws barely open when they talk? Why do the ends of their sentences go up as if they’re asking a question? Odd vowels, clipped words, and always a hiss on the letter s…no wonder it’s impossible not to imitate them.
“ I’m Deia , this is my twin Deilly,” she points to bell-boy, “ and that is Tolip,” she pointed to the purple haired woman. “ And we’re you prep team!” she says happily, clapping her hands in obvious joy. “ Your stylist is Portia and she will meet you after we are through with you.”
Through with me?
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I’ve been in the Remake Center for nearly three hours now and I still haven’t met my stylist. Am I just too hideous for her to see before these nut-jobs put me through their endless torture? They had me scrub down my body with a gritty foam that not only removed dirt but at least three layers of skin. My ‘damaged’ nails are shaped (I feel like a sissy now) and my ‘terrible’ skin are being treated. The scars and burns are not to show. Personally, I think they will scare my opponents better. I tried to tell this to them.
“ Oh, no!” Deia cried out, clearly upset at me for suggesting such a thing. “ You are to look your best! You’re young and handsome and you should not show horrible scars and burns to them!”
“ Yeah, well, when I’m in the arena, the scars and burns will return. Maybe even worse,” was my reply. As a final resort to keep me shut up, Tolip pulled a silver tape over my mouth.
“ Let us do our jobs, sweetheart. It’s for the best,” she says, patting my forehead.
And I was rendered speechless all through the torture….
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“ Well, now,” Deilly say as I stand there, completely naked, as the three of them circle me, scrutinizing every part of my body. “ You look more human now!” They all laugh.
I raised an eyebrow at them but I force myself to smile, just to show how ‘grateful’ I am. “ Thanks,” I say as ‘sweetly’ as I could. “ But we just don’t have much cause to look nice in District 12, especially miners.”
