Hi again! If you're reading, thanks so much! 

Make sure to leave comments, likes and questions. I'll do my best to respond to each comment and answer each questions (as long as it doesn't become a spoiler). :) 

Stay safe and take care! ~CANGEL 

***

The Training Center

Scarlet Wolfe

     The building that they were in now would become home to all the tributes for the remainder of their stay in the Capitol until they entered the Arena. It seemed fitting that in their new home was also the place where they would test their skills and be trained to kill each other.

     Above the Training Center was a tower that was bigger than any building Scarlet had ever seen before. There were fourteen floors in the tower, not including the actual Training Center which was on the ground level, or the basement level, where they had ridden their chariots into a few minutes before.

     There was one floor for each of the district's participating in the Hunger Games. Each floor was gifted to the tributes that the level corresponded with, except floor thirteen, which likely remained empty. As the tributes of District 14, Scarlet and Crimson had the top floor. The penthouse suite and the most desirable—at least, according to Penelope.

     It would be simple to remember and even easier to navigate. Penelope had grabbed them from the basement and shown them to the elevators. As Penelope quickly entered the elevator and Crimson at her heels, Scarlet hesitated at the doors, looking apprehensively at the five-foot by ten-foot box made entirely of what was either crystal or glass.

     Scarlet had never seen an elevator before. District 14 had one in the Mayor's office building, but it had stopped working sometime before she had been born. She thought understood how it worked, but it didn't stop her fear from trickling in. What if they were moving and the floor cracked and shattered? What if—

     She stepped back, shaking her head just as the doors started to close. Relief filled her until Crimson's hand shot out, keeping them open. Her brother's impatient look showed no sympathy. "Get in, Scar."

     "I'll take the stairs." She glanced around, searching for a side door and an alternative route. There had to be one. But a whisper of doubt flickered—if anyone would skip practicality over aesthetic appearances, it would be the Capitol.

     "Scar—"

     She stepped back, bumping into something firm and warm. She flinched forward, wrenching herself around to glare at whoever had come up behind her. White cotton caught her gaze first. As she raised her eyes, a hint of tanned skin followed, and then an intricately carved spiral seashell that her fingers immediately ached to replicate in crystal. Scarlet swallowed as she brought her eyes to the face of the person standing directly in front of her. Sea-green eyes met hers. Finnick Odair.

     And with him were his district's tributes, Roe and Loach. Her competition. Her enemies.

     "You getting on?" He asked with a knowing smirk. He knew she was afraid. Her fingers balled into fists.

     "Of course, I am." she said, tipping her chin up. No way would she admit to having any fear in front of this...fool. Scarlet knew that one day, her pride would cost her dearly. She just hoped it wasn't today, as they rode up the glass elevator to their quarters.

     She took a small step back and extended her arm, gesturing for him to go first. "After you, Finnick."

     "Alright." He strode past her with ease, no hesitation. No fear. Roe and Loach followed, but Scarlet stepped in front of them, cutting them off without a backward glance.

     Giving them her back was an insult. As Scarlet entered the elevator, she kept her eyes on her brother. If they decided to retaliate his reaction would let her know. They didn't.

     She forced herself into the elevator, glancing down as she moved to the back of the elevator. Instead of finding flooring, her eyes shot straight down to the cement flooring beneath them and the wicked-looking mechanicals that would make this entire elevator work. She swallowed, fear thrumming heavily through her veins as she struggled to maintain her composure.

     Scarlet moved to the back of the elevator, tucking herself away in the corner. Her fingers gripped the railings on either side of her and with herself supported, she felt a little calmer. If the floor cracked or shattered, she could still hold onto the railings. She wouldn't fall to her death right away. At least she'd have a chance.

     Her confidence crumbled as the rest of the District 4 group entered the elevator. There had to be a weight limit for safety, right? How could they not have reached it with all these people inside it right now?

     She could still leave. Her spine straightened with resolve, poised to march straight out of this death trap and find some damn stairs, when her eyes caught on all the other tributes headed this way with their mentors and escorts. Her resolve crumbled. She could not afford to lose face in front of everyone. Scarlet sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, leaning back into the corner where she stood, resigned to her fate and potentially early demise.

     The elevator moved without warning and her stomach dropped. Scarlet sucked in a sharp breath. I should have gotten out when I had the chance. Her fingers went numb with the tightness of her grip on the railing.

     Warmth pressed against her shoulder. She turned her head to the left, expecting Crimson, but it was Finnick instead.

     "If it wasn't safe, they wouldn't let any of you use it." His lips quirked up. "Can't let any of the tributes die before the Games start. That wouldn't be any fun, would it?"

     Despite herself, Scarlet grinned at his sardonic words. Most of her panic left, replaced by a sliver of gratitude. But then she remembered his earlier words and her anger returned. Scarlet turned away without a word.

     Fish fodder.

     Despite the fact that Finnick's comment was actually well-reasoned and helpful towards subduing the images of her falling to her death as the ground shattered beneath her feet, nothing thwarted the displaced feeling of her stomach. She focused on the closed metal doors in front of them, feeling slightly more grounded.

     In the reflection of the metal doors, she saw Crimson talking to Roe and Loach. She couldn't read their lips from where she was, and she had not the slightest intention of moving from her secure spot to get a better view.

     When their images distorted, Scarlet moved her gaze from the door to her brother, unsurprised when she found all three of them looking back at her. Scarlet smooched her lips at them all the while keeping her hands locked on the railings at her sides.

     Neither of the tributes gave much of a reaction to her, but Scarlet noticed the way Roe's grip on her own bicep tightened. Crimson's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as they all turned away from her, returning to their conversation with one another. Whatever he was talking to them about, her reaction had helped him prove a point.

     She didn't care though. Whether Crimson was just trying to get a feel for who they were or what their weaknesses were, or if he was working on something else that she didn't yet know, it wouldn't matter.

     Scarlet would figure out what he was planning eventually, and then she would do her best to foil it. If he was planning on teaming up with either of these tributes, then Scarlet would do her best to kill them as early as possible in the Games.

     As bad going up was, slowing down was much worse. Her stomach, which had seemed to be drag feet beneath her, suddenly flung somewhere high above her head. She pressed a hand to her stomach, drawing deep breaths through her nose that hopefully went unnoticed.

     She was long past worrying about her smirk. If she opened her mouth, she'd vomit all over the floor. Forget being fierce—she'd be the girl who couldn't even handle an elevator ride.

     The elevator comes to a jarring stop, that would have sent Scarlet stumbling forward as her legs nearly gave way, if her hands had not been holding the rail so firmly.

     Finnick, Mags, their escort, and the tributes exited, leaving only Scarlet, Crimson, and Penelope. Finnick turned, meeting her eyes with an infuriating grin and a wink before the doors closed.

     Scarlet glared at the shining metal of the doors. She could not believe that he was the Capitol's favorite darling. How could anybody find him charming?

     She felt the familiar presence of her brother next to her, and Scarlet knew that he wanted to talk to her. Probably about Finnick. He, more than anyone else, knew how much respect Scarlet had held for the prior Victor. To him, her attitude probably made little sense, but right now, she wasn't in the mood to talk, much less talk about him. Scarlet looked out the glass elevator as it began moving, her stomach sinking once more.

    Alone with her brother and Penelope, Scarlet slid to the floor, pressing her face against the cool crystal-like surface. Scratching it with a freshly painted nail confirmed her suspicion—it was crystal. How they made it so transparent, yet sturdy was beyond her.

     She briefly imagined a team of overly enthusiastic District 3 'Beetee Latier's', stumbling over the highly technical explanation of their latest creation to anyone that they could get to listen to them. The absurdity of the images playing in her brain was almost enough to make her smile, but her stomach protested too much for humor.

     As the elevator slowed again, her stomach flopped, but this time, her mouth watered, and her gag reflex kicked in. She tried to swallow and calm herself, but she knew what was coming. The moment the door opened, she lunged out, vomiting all over the hardwood floor and the Avox's black shoes.

     Though the Avox didn't flinch and maintained a perfectly composed, downcast expression. She felt a twinge of guilt amidst her nausea.

     Being on solid ground did nothing to soothe her rolling stomach. Scarlet covers her mouth again, gagging in her attempt to hold her puke back until she found something—anything—her eyes caught sight of a metal vase nearby. She grabbed it and heaved the remaining contents of her stomach into the surprisingly heavy vase.

     As she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, she noticed the intricate engravings on the vase: A scene of Capitol citizens frolicking in a meadow, blissfully unaware of the horrors lurking beneath their perfect world.

     She looked back up from the vase to see her brother laughing in the doorway of the elevator, holding the doors open with his back and Penelope shouting in horror as she tried to escape the elevator while avoiding the puke.

     Penelope ripped the vase from Scarlet's hands. "THIS is a ONE-OF-A-KIND priceless piece of artwork!" She shook the vase, the scent of vomit causing her stomach to roll once more.

     She intended to tell Penelope how ridiculous her question sounded, but instead, she vomited again, covering Penelope's dress and splattering little bits onto her face.

     Shock echoed through the room and Scarlet did not need the ability to hear to know that a deadly silence filled the room. Penelope's mouth closed, her eyes locked on Scarlet's with pure anger.

     Their relationship had been steadily declining ever since she'd volunteered for Violet. But in that moment, Scarlet could see that Penelope Bright was completely done with her.

     She would be vying for Scarlet's death in the Arena.

     What had Cassandra said about using what the Capitol gave her to her advantage? Scarlet got the distinct impression that this was exactly what she had meant and what she'd been trying to tell Scarlet to avoid.

     Because in that moment, Scarlet didn't doubt that if Penelope had the chance to ruin her, she would do so in a heartbeat.

     Scarlet cleared her throat, swallowing the disgusting bile down her throat instead of spitting it onto the ground. Scarlet blinked up at Penelope, keeping her face as innocent as possible as she asked, "would you be so kind as to escort me to my room, Penelope?"

***

     The inside of the suite was stunning. And once Scarlet's stomach had fully settled, and the mess cleaned up, she could fully appreciate it.

     She found her room by herself after receiving the chilliest look from Penelope yet. It made Scarlet laugh in hindsight, even though she knew it would have been better if it never happened.

     The room that she had been assigned was bigger than her entire house back home. She could hardly believe that there were several of these bedrooms on this one floor, let alone a kitchen, living room, dining room, and restroom.

     It wasn't just big though—it was grand and magnificent. If this was how everyone in the Capitol lived, she could understand how their narrow-minded views were formed.

     Everything was automatic and instantaneous. There were so many buttons and gadgets that Scarlet wouldn't get through half of them even if she stayed up all day and night. She could preprogram her closet to pick an outfit that suited her tastes—as long as it was acceptable to Capitol standards. But what were her tastes? She'd never had options, let alone so many that she needed an automated system to prepare them for her. And where did the clothes come from? Was there another room next to hers just filled with clothing that she didn't want to wear?

     Scarlet studied the main room for a while, before moving into the bathroom, which was equally overwhelming and had twice the number of buttons to decipher and options to choose from. Eventually, Scarlet emerged, freshly showered and scrubbed clean of her make-up from the Opening Ceremonies. She dressed in soft black pants that hugged her legs and a tight black tank top with a loose long-sleeved shirt over it. She had found shoes that fit her feet exactly, but discarded them somewhere around her room after they started pinching her feet.

     It was hours later, when Scarlet emerged from her room, following the narrow hallway to the living room and the entry way where the elevator was. There she saw Cassandra and Crimson's stylist sitting on the couch, conversing.

     Cassandra gestured for Scarlet to sit down on the couch next to her. She listened without pause, finding relief in the stylist's commanding and competent presence.

     With Crimson as a tribute and Penelope avoiding her since the puking debacle, it felt like Scarlet finally had someone on her side. Even if Cassandra was only helping herself, her honesty about that fact only made Scarlet trust her more. Hurting Scarlet would hurt Cassandra, so as long as Scarlet didn't piss her off too much, Cassandra would help her gain and keep the Capitol's attention.

     "Your brother must be so proud of your first debut! I still can't believe you left him on his own, though." Crimson's stylist was saying.

     Cassandra smiles warmly at the other woman. "He needed room to stretch his wings. His designs were being hampered with me always hovering over him and imposing my own designs on his. His talent is boundless. Trust me, Cinna will make a name for himself quicker by himself than if we were working together."

     Cinna. That was her brother's name. Did he design clothes too like Cassandra? Had he learned it from her?

     As the two of them conversed further, Scarlet thought about her own younger brother. Cadmium had started carving years ago, after watching Scarlet. Would he be a great carver one day? She thought he would. His talent was boundless. He just needed to grow older and give himself time to hone his skills.

     Cassandra turned her attention toward Scarlet. "Congratulations, Scarlet."

     "Thank you." She hoped that Cassandra heard the sincerity in her words.

     "I know you have three days of training starting tomorrow, but let's talk about your interview costume now. I have a rough idea—and I've gotten a feel for what you like, but this will also be dependent on your strategy."

     Scarlet's muscles tensed up and her spine stiffened. She didn't have a strategy. "I just want to make them remember me."

     Cassandra's lips twitched upward in the barest trace of amusement. "Well, at least you don't want to make them like you."

     Scarlet scowled at her. "I don't care about that. It only matters if they think I can win. Even if they hate me, as long as I keep surviving in the arena, they'll eventually start to believe in me. I just want them to remember me until I can prove to them that I can survive."

     "Surviving can be easier if they like you."

     Scarlet dismissed it with a wave of her hand. It didn't matter if it would be easier, because Scarlet couldn't do it. She wasn't nice. She wasn't likeable. And she didn't care.

     "Can't I just wear the same thing?"

     Both Cassandra and the other stylist laughed. Full on. Mouths wide open, head tilted back, full body shakes; laugh.

     Scarlet looked up as Crimson entered the room. He sat next to his stylist, a relaxed grin on his face even as his eyes gleamed as he analyzed the current atmosphere and situation.

     When their stylists finally stopped laughing, Cassandra answered her. "No. You can't wear the same thing. If it's one thing that will make the Capitol forget you, it's to try to wow them over and over but not giving them anything new to chew on."

     That made sense. Everything about the luxurious room she was staying in right now, screamed at the fact that they need and desire to have everything they want at their fingertips. No work. No wait. No fuss. No word no. Only yes, yes, yes.

     "What's your idea?" she asked Cassandra as she glanced over at Crimson before looking back at her stylist. "Do we have to match again?"

     "You don't have to match. The Interview is more about you. The Capital audience will see you one after the other, not together. We'll be fine tuning the costumes to you as an individual—unless you want us to build off the image of you as twins..." Cassandra trails off, her eyes flickering between them.

     Scarlet and Crimson looked at each other, both weighing the pros and cons of taking such a stance. They had already agreed that they would not be allies inside of the Arena, and that they weren't working together beforehand, but in this, could they?

      "The Capitol already sees us as the Twins..." Crimson started slowly, repeating her earlier comment from the Tribute Parade. She recalled the excitement and adoration that the crowd had shown to their joint hands.

     She finished for him. "But do we want them to see us as a pair?"

     "If it helps them see us as more, then we should do it. We can't afford to be seen as weak or lesser than the other tributes. Once we get into the arena..." Once they were in the Arena, they would be individuals. On their own, with their own strategies.

     "Alright." She looked at her stylists. "We can match for the interviews."

     Crimson's stylist clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh, I was just hoping you'd say that. I mean, you two are twins, and you have such similar looks—that are very distinct at the same time—but we can play up the similarities—and your names, too! Crimson and Scarlet! The twins from District 14." The woman spread her hands up in the air as she painted the picture in her mind.

     The two stylists pooled their heads together and their fingers started flying over their sketch pads. Their eyes occasionally scan Scarlet or Crimson before returning to their work.

     It reminds Scarlet of Crimson. Bent over a scrap piece of paper, drawing out a design for Scarlet to carve into a crystal. Sometimes her carvings turned out good. Sometimes they didn't. But either way, Crimson's drawings were always beautiful. They didn't sell in District 14, but the papers made for excellent kindling.

     An hour later dinner is announced, Crimson and his stylist—she had learned was named Verra—left first. Before she could stand, Cassandra pulled her sleeve and drew her attention.

     She leaned in close. "Are you sure?" She pointed to the still unknown drawing on the sketchbook page. "Are you sure you want to be linked together like this?"

     "Is there any way for the Capitol to take me as a threat if we aren't seen as a pair?"

     Cassandra stayed quiet.

     Scarlet tried to give her a reassuring smile. "I'm okay with this, Cassandra. Besides, they have seen us as a pair from the beginning and it was my idea at the Parade that reinforced it in their minds."

     She covered Scarlet's hand with her own. "Alright, then. We'll make you stunning, Scarlet Wolfe. So beautiful, they'll be tempted to overlook your rotten personality."

     Scarlet felt her lips curl up in a genuine smile and Cassandra smiled back at her.

     "After we eat, or tomorrow after the training sessions, you should watch previous years interviews. The most successful interviews are always done by tributes that have an angle going into the interview. Sexy, confident, charming...Find one that fits you best."

     "I will." Scarlet nodded her head, intending to take the advice. She followed Cassandra's lead as she stood from the couch and walked into the dining room.

     Was this what it felt like to have a mentor?

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

Does anyone else feel like Penelope got what was coming to her? It actually made me very giddy to write this scene. Not only was I sharing a bit of chip in Scarlet's armor, but also delivering a little payback for Penelope's sour presence. Not everyone is as golden as Effie!

What about Finnick and Scarlet? Another interaction!! Not soooo bad.... Right? She didn't kill him...at least... :)

Remember to like and vote if you enjoyed this chapter!

Take care and stay safe! ~CANGEL