There was only twenty-four hours left. Twenty-four hours until it all began The 76th Hunger Games. It would only be another day until the first blood was to be spilled onto the cold concrete of the last arena to ever be created… Tensions were high and the anxiety of the tributes were reaching a new high. To the few tributes who had stayed relatively calm the past few days the news was starting to truly hit them. They were going to be killed, or be killers. Sadly enough most preferred the latter, although some were more malicious in their wishes.

Bettina Clark, who knew a fourteen year old could fantasize so much about death? As Bettina Clark got ready for her interviews, she wandered about the quarters a smirk plastered onto her face. She was ready for this, she knew the importance of the interviews. Have a bad interview and you risk losing sponsors... Or trick the tributes and the capital to an even larger extent, in her case that is. Bettina had a plan alright, a good one at that. Step one, get a medium rated score- low enough to go undetected but high enough to not put a target on her back as easy prey. Step 2, appear unrealistically average during the interviews- still undetected. Step 3, surprising the whole country get in a kill during the bloodbath. Then she has impressed the whole nation gaining sponsors and fans. It wasn’t actually the worst plan. She knew she could pull it off.

Now you see, Bettina had been watching the games ever since she was six. Every year her and her siblings would host parties, dance, and drink whilst watching the games cheering on their favorite tributes and crying when and if they got killed. Like many capitol children subjected to watching the games Bettina had fantasized about being in the games. She thought about her battle plans, her kill moves, even the way she would look wearing the victor's crown. Now of course she was unable to participate in the gems, that was until now.

When the Capitol Games had been announced most of the children who had once fantasized about the games wept. The realization came to them that the games were not the wondrous yet bloody shows they used to watch. The games were oppression itself. Oppression seen as entertainment through the blinded eyes of the capitol. Bettina didn't see it this way. Where most saw an anxiety inducing possibility Bettina saw her dream. And when her name was called at the reapings she smiled…

Two more hours until the interviews were to start, she had to be downstairs to get herself done up soon. She did not want to be late, and so Bettina left headquarters wearing nothing but a white tank top and black leggings, light and easy to get on. She was the only one in the halls, as she left much earlier than almost all the other tributes, the more time she gave to the stylists the better she would look. Her plan may have had been to go under the radar but she still wanted to look her best, this was her time to shine.

When Bettina had gotten to the styling floor she headed straight for her individual room. Pushing open the small silver door, inscribed with her name on it, BEttina was met by her stylists-Hawk and Aqua. Hawk was an older gentlemen, short and stout in figure. He wore a dark grey suit with hundreds of feathers covering the tie and sleeve and a small black hat with  small beaks down onto the front. Bettina hated him. She thought him to be a bossy and dull man who had no sense of style. Bettina was far more fond of her makeup artist, Aqua. Aqua was also older, with dyed green hair and blueish gray skin that almost made her look diseased. She maintained a youthful appearance though, with next to no wrinkles and very trendy “hip” tattoos covering her seemingly frail arms.

“Ready to be TRANSFORMED!” Aqua chirps in a light and airy voice. She walks over to Bettina before reaching over her shoulder to gently push the door closed. Being close to the girl Aqua quickly scans over Bettina with her pale gray eyes. Bettina observers Aquas eyes dart over her body before meeting with her own deep set brown eyes.

“Hawk go get the white one out….” She murmurs just loud enough for the older man to hear. Bettina looks at Aqua her eyebrows lowering into a questioning state.

“White what?” She questions her stylists as she steps away.

“Why your dress of course!” Aqua chirps, her diction fast yet softly articulated. She took a step backward, furthering herself from Bettina. Her eyes darted around the room obviously looking for something. It was no wonder the stylist count find something in the chaotic and immensely cluttered room. The bright silver walls were lined with shelves upon shelves of makeups, hair dyes, brushes, scissors, and many other apparatuses that only the richest of the capital could afford. It was quite peculiar actually, out of the chaos of the rebellion, that the stylists still had access to such vast quantities of luxury and commodity items.

It didn't take long before Aqua found what she was looking for, her makeup kit of course. Upon finding the large gold plated box, Aqua ushered Bettina into a nearby reclining seat, the back made of bright synthetic red leather. Bettina sat down in the chair as Aqua hovered over her. The older woman smirked devilishly before talking

“Well sweetie... Let’s begin this. Shall we commence?”

------------------------------------------------

A small white pearl necklace wrapped around a pale white neck, a 1-shouldered gleaming white and silver dress that barely reaches the knees where the ends flared out like the pages of an old crisp book, light brunette hair pinned to the side where it hung curled and styled in the utmost meticulous of ways. She looked beautiful, with her glowing white heels and the way she strutted onto the stage gleams of purple and gold light reflecting off of her dress and into the crowd, who's cheers surprised even her. Even in these days of The Mockingjay, some people still had the audacity to cheer on the girl, Rebekah Lockwood.

Rebekah strutted across the stage towards Joanna the subtlety of her smile alluring the crowd of both Capitolites and people of the twelve districts. Cheers could be heard towards the front of the audience, Rebekah's family desperately trying to show the slightest amount of support for her. They weren't the only ones cheering. The lovers, the Capitol kings and queens of the Hunger Games cheered as well, their synchronized yells able to rile up others, though who loved the Hunger Games but were afraid to go against the cultural taboo of now possessed. Yes, even now they cheered, their own children being practically sent to a snowy concrete grave.

Joanna's stare dug into Rebekah, her steely gray eyes intense. As Rebekah looked at the older woman she noticed something, she looked sick-very sick. Maybe she was just tired, food deprived… Rebekah had now no way of knowing. All she knew was how pale she was, and how dark the circles that hung beneath her eyes were. Joanna didn't seem intent on fixing herself up though. She wore no makeup, a simple gray dress and her short brown hair was barely touched- messy and almost matted.

Rebekah sat down her smile quickly fading away as she met eyes with Joanna. Joanna looked at her, in a observing fashion, for a second taking her in. Rebekah makeup was subtle - light gray eyeshadow, done eyebrows, and a flushed pink matte lipstick nearly applied onto her thin lips. Joanna nodded her head before looking out into the crowd.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I present… Rebekah Lockwood.”Joanna said, her rasp and somewhat harsh voice drained of all emotion. She wasn't happy, and she was obviously not trying to hide it. Strange it was, a few days ago her excitement - her lust for revenge drowning her brain but now… Things weren't the same. Was it remorse? Anger? Or perhaps simply a byproduct of whatever ailment Rebekah had sensed she may or have. Joanna looked back at Rebekah, causing millions of thoughts to run through Rebekah head. It was always, so very awkward. Here she was sitting across from the woman who had expressed nothing but hatred for everything she knew simply a few days ago. Joanna started the interview, sending chills down Rebekahs spine. She struggled keeping herself composed.

“Here we are Rebekah… One more night until the fight for your life begins. How does it feel to have people cheering for this? Cheering for your pain?” Joanna asked. Rebekah smirked, she was prepared for this question. Over the past twenty minutes Rebekah had made it her mission to watch every interview as they action to better ready herself for the questions ahead.

“I mean…. I usually don’t have people cheering for me all that often.” she joked smiling a bit, she was dodging the question. There were two opposing sides in the crowd, both very powerful in their own right. She felt it best to play the neutrality game, keep favor in both audiences. It seemed to work, from what Rebekah could tell at least. There were at least no boos. Those weren't uncommon in past games.

Joanna smiled at her. She knew what the girl was doing. Rebekah could tell right away that Joanna knew something else was up. Her stomach flipped when Joanna muttered the next few words.

“What is your position on the rebellion?” Joanna smirked at the younger girl. Rebekah's eyes widened for a brief second as she registers the question. What was she supposed to say? She was trying to remain somewhat neutral and here Joanna was throwing her the most controversial questions. Rebekah was quick on her feet though…

“I-” Rebekahs voice started to crack. “I just don't know why so many people had to get hurt.” she croaked, acting her heart out. Her plan never was to portray the sweet innocent girl, but it seemed she didn't have many options at the time. She was just going to have to stick with it. Messing with one's sponsors was never a great idea.

Throughout the crowd one could here the occasional “Aw.” or “Ah”, and in some cases one could even hear a sob. Many are hurt in war. Many of the “injured” were in the audience on that cool, windy, winter night.

Joanna's smirk had been wiped away from her sunken in face. It seemed as if in that moment she had been “defeated”. Not that her mission was to strike down any hope for Rebekah, but to test her… Well this was a possibility Rebekah though at least. She nodded for a brief second before asking the final question for Rebekah.

“Why do you want to live?” she asked, her silvery eyes like livid steel daggers.

--------------------------------------------

Rayna Alicya Hart was hiding in a corner. Yes, the “brave” Alicya, the “strong” Alicya… She was hidden in the corner of her room, cold pale wood pressed against her mostly bare back. Hot tears ran down her face as she weeped, the whole world crashing onto her. She was in panic, her breathing loud and unsteady as her heart raced out of control. She felt it all; the anxieties, the paranoia, the pain and the even the death. She felt it all spilling out of the blue midnight sky and onto her, filling her throat and lungs until she began to choke on it all.

One more night. One more night of sleep until she would be forced to face it all, them all. To fight this battle, to fight against the fellow children of the only world she ever knew. She has tried to be strong, painted on a colorful face of bravery and strength. None of it was a real though. She knew that under that mask was a vulnerable child with her heart chipping and peeling away like bloody paint from a house long forgotten.

She sat there for a very long time, wallowing in her own sadness as the anxiety ate away at the innards of her mind. It was time, time to face the biggest fear- herself. What would they do to her? She knew no one ever won without killing someone, but she couldn't. She had no choice, it was against her very being- her morals, her ethics, most of the things she stood for. She had never been interested in the games, no not one bit. She separated herself from what she could and want she couldn't ignore she disdain, that is in secret. No one hated the Hunger Games and got away with it. No, not that was until the Mockingjay had placed a handful of berries into her bloodied hand…

Alicya stood up, a bare bony arm wandering to her face before wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks and ran down onto her neck. She walked across the room, the cool ground uncomfortable on her pale bare feet. She entered into her bathroom, the bright white lights automatically turning themselves on before dimming to an appropriate level. She wandered over to a square mirror that hung high above the sink, at exact eye level with Alicya, or as her mother called her- Rayna.

She looked around herself, at her lightly flushed pink cheeks, her messy brunette hair still held together with the residue of her interview hair spray, and at the blue synthetic glow that came from her eyes. She states into the her own eyes for a minute. Why did she even wear those? Fake eyes for a even faker world? She took them out leaving her large dough colored orbs naked once again. It was in that moment that she vowed never to be anyone but herself. She would throw away the mask of bravery, the contacts, and the act she had played her entire life. If she was going to die, she was going to die as herself…

AN
Thank you guys. Thank you so much for reading this story. You guys are my biggest and baddest supporters and I really appreciate everything you do, especially your kind comments and suggestions!
Anyways.... The next chapter is the beginning of the games!!! I'm absolutely thrilled to have completed the Pregame stuff! Now it's time for action...