Can you guess what happens next?

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Take care and stay safe!~ CANGEL

***

Scarlet Wolfe

     "What do you mean, she's not coming?" Scarlet asked, confusion and anger rising within her. While Crimson was being prepped for his interview with Caesar Flickerman by Verra, his stylist, Scarlet was being told that her stylist wasn't coming.

     Not that she was running late. But that she just...wasn't coming.

     "Why isn't she coming?" Scarlet demanded.

     As expected, Penelope Bright took great delight in Scarlet's alarm. "You know, you probably caused this entire situation by being such a horrid little girl." Penelope huffed, sticking her nose in the air.

     It wasn't as if she had expected a different reaction from Penelope after repeatedly antagonizing their escort, but perhaps Penelope ought to have been a bit more concerned, seeing as her interview was a direct reflection onto Penelope herself.

     Where was Cassandra? "Where is my stylist, Penelope?"

     "Oh, don't worry. They'll be bringing you a spare. I made sure of it," Penelope said with a cruel smile.

     "What?" Scarlet demanded.

     "And you'll get a new prep team as well! A complete fresh start!" Her escort clapped her hands together, her normally sour expression perking right up in the face of Scarlet's misfortune.

     Unable to contain her frustration, Scarlet turned on her heel and walked to her assigned room, slamming the door shut. The soft, slow door closing mechanism did little to vent her fury. Scarlet grabbed a vase from near the window and slammed it against the wall, watching it shatter into a thousand pieces. She sank to the ground, running a hand through her hair, covering her mouth in order to stifle a bubbling, misplaced laugh.

     Cassandra wouldn't just quit. She loved her job and took pride in her work. She had promised Scarlet.

     I won't stop helping you, Scarlet Wolfe.

     A tear slipped down Scarlet's cheek as she recalled Cassandra's warning about Alistair Paine. Had he orchestrated this? The high score of 10 had felt like a trap, with strings attached to it that she couldn't see. Was Cassandra's disappearance a part of his twisted game? Was it a punishment for her brazen behavior?

     No one would tell her why though, so only endless possibilities filled her head with no certainty. She only felt certain that whatever reason Cassandra had for not coming was not a voluntary one.

     But even as the guilt swirled in Scarlet's gut, she knew that Cassandra's disappearance didn't matter. She couldn't do anything for her lost stylist. The only thing she could do was focus on today, on the interview, and then on the Arena tomorrow.

     You are a warrior, Scarlet Wolfe.

     She had to be the warrior that Cassandra believed her to be.

     Scarlet wiped away her tears, feeling a surge of determination. She couldn't fail her stylist. She couldn't fail Cadmium, who was still waiting for her back home in District 14.

     She couldn't let herself down.

     Scarlet was going to win the Hunger Games no matter what games were being played.

***

     Confidence was an easy thing to have in the privacy of one's room, especially when facing a future filled with endless potential. After all, she'd gotten a gem of a stylist before, perhaps Cassandra's replacement could—at the very least—replace Cassandra's talented mind and her missing skill.

     But as she stood in line behind the stage where the interviews would be starting any moment, she felt her confidence slowly draining away.

     Daring. Bold. Wicked.

     That was her interview angle.

     She crossed her arms and glared at Crimson. She wasn't mad at him...exactly. But seeing him looking fierce in his red suit with sharp eyes and perfectly styled wild curls made her resentment grow. His stylist, Verra, hadn't disappeared—like hers had—and Crimson was the result of their original costume designs.

     He looked like death delivered in a finely wrapped package. He looked ready to go into the Arena and come back out bloody, but alive.

     Crimson's eyes found hers, scanning over her outfit. His lips twitched with amusement as he looked away, not even trying to calm her down. But what could he say? There was no fixing this. Her anger boiled into rage. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

     It wasn't supposed to be this...this puffy, pink monstrosity of a dress!

    Scarlet turned away from her brother and glared down at the clothes she'd been forced into wearing.

     Daring. Bold. Wicked.

     She shook her head in disgust, wondering just where everything had gone so wrong. Pink wasn't her color, but it wasn't the color, or the ribbons in her hair, or the small child heels, or the babydoll pink nail polish that caused her blood to boil.

     It was the overall look of this outfit, which had her looking like a six-year-old princess.

     Bold? Daring? Wicked?

     How about, Joke?

     Forget the girl with blood on her face as she volunteered for her sister during the reaping. Forget about the stunning girl with death lips in the Tribute Parade. Forget about the twelve-year-old that scored a 10 in individual training. Scarlet Wolfe would only be remembered as the Tribute Joke.

     Scarlet rubbed her temples. The rest of the tributes had all either stared at her silently, in shock and disbelief, or outright laughed. Even though she had anticipated their reaction the moment she'd looked at herself in the mirror, suffering through her humiliation in silence was harder than she expected. She wanted to say something witty or cut back to Roe and the Careers, but their outfits were stunning, and Scarlet felt every bit the joke they made her out to be.

     District 4. District 7. Female. Male. Female. Male. Sexy. Charming. Smart. Logical. Attempted and failed cocky. Brave. Boring. Humble. Boring. Hostile and cutting.

     Soon the District 12 male tribute is on the stage and next is Scarlet's turn. She debated if she should try to skip the whole thing, but the peacekeepers manning the entrances and exits said no.

     As she waited, her new prep team appeared, treating her as a doll as they touched up her makeup and fixed her hair without acknowledging her. She never thought that she would miss the first three, but compared to these people, her original prep team had been a dream to work with.

     Scarlet started walking toward the stage, doing her best to ignore the trio that surrounded her, hoping that if she ignored them long enough, they would simply disappear.

     They didn't.

     She stopped at the edge of the curtains, watching the boy wrap up his interview from the projected screen. Dawson. The boy from District 12 who had accompanied her throughout the entire first day of training.

     "Do you have any last words for your family and friends back home?"

     "I'll do my best to make you proud. Mom. Dad. I love you both."

     Scarlet turned away from the screen, unable to stand the sight of Dawson's face any longer. Suddenly, a puff of powder exploded in her face. She choked, eyes stinging, tears of pain leaking from her eyes.

     Instantly, they started trying to touch up the make-up that she was sure was getting smeared and runs.

     But she was done. Finished. Scarlet Wolfe had had enough.

     She gripped the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head in one hard yank. Panicked hands tried to pull it back down, but she fought them off. The fabric of her dress stretched over her face and across her shoulders as it caught on something she couldn't see. Darkness surrounded her, but their imagined screams and cries soothed the panic that rose from the lack of sight.

     She stepped backwards, fighting to get herself free of the ridiculously puffy fabric.

     R-r-i-i-p-p.

     The fabric gave way and the pressure that trapped the dress over her face and shoulders eased. She pulled the dress over her head completely, breathing hard as she stared at the three stunned faces, as she stood in nothing but her corset, panties, and heels. Her prep team reached for her, their faces a mixture of concern and horror, and Scarlet reacted.

     Her closed fist connected with the woman's nose and Scarlet felt a crunch. Blood exploded from the woman's nose and splattered across Scarlet's skin and down the woman's carefully coifed outfit. The woman dropped to the ground like a rock, covering her face with her hands.

     Scarlet didn't think as the man grabbed her, placing his hands on both of her biceps, pulling her toward him. She reached up, pulling the ribbon from her hair and looped it around his neck, throwing him over her shoulder. Scarlet looked up to a sea of shocked and horrified faces staring back at her.

     She let go of the ribbon and stood back up. At some point during her fight, she had moved from the hidden cover of the curtains to the stage. She knew she was in trouble. Fighting was forbidden among the tributes. She hadn't fought with another tribute, but she had fought on camera, in front of all Panem. And that might just be worse than if she had fought preemptively with another tribute.

     She needed to play it off. She had to make them see that she wasn't resisting the Hunger Games or fighting against Panem. This was just her.

     Daring. Bold. Wicked.

     With great effort, a slow smirk spread across her face. She glanced at the third remaining prep member, who flinched away from her. Scarlet snapped her teeth together in a wicked grin, laughing at the scared little mouse before her as she cowered away. She turned, and headed toward Caesar Flickerman, who did a remarkable job covering his shock with one of his famous showstopping smiles. There's a reason he'd been the face of the Capitol news and broadcasts for so long.

     She caught sight of herself on the projected screen as she strode across the stage in nothing but her corset and underwear and the confident smirk that reformed her from a girl into a predator.

     She bypassed the empty chair meant for her—the one that all the other tributes had sat in before her—and stood behind Caesar's chair. She wasn't like all the other tributes before her. Resting her hands on the back of his chair, she smiled down at him. "I know you normally like to ask the questions, Caesar, but I have only one thing to say to everyone watching tonight."

     "Well, we're certainly curious to hear it, Ms. Scarlet Wolfe. Please do tell."

      She looked out into the audience. "When I come back as the Victor of the 67th Hunger Games, I'll replace Finnick Odair as the youngest tribute to win." She paused, letting the audacity of her words sink in. "Here my words and watch, as it rains down in the Arena with the lifeblood of fallen tributes and know that it won't be from the Wicked Wolfe of District 14."

     Like some kind of golden beacon, she spotted Finnick in the crowd, disbelief and amusement splayed loudly across his face, but something dark gleamed secret in his eyes.

      She ignored the feelings that stirred inside her, the longer that dark look was aimed at her, and she blew him a kiss.

     The audience turned toward him, waiting to see how their darling would respond to Scarlet's bold statement. Finnick stood, first waving and grinning to the crowd, before turning toward her. The crowd erupted, cheering for him, proclaiming their great love for him. Finnick Odair was truly loved and wholly adored by all who resided in the Capitol.

     All except her.

    "May the odds be ever in your favor, Wicked Wolfe of District 14."

     The crowd exploded into absolute chaos, launching to their feet at Finnick's words. But their cheers weren't for her. They're for him. Scarlet wanted to scream. How could he steal her interview away from her with only a few words?

     They weren't even his words. They were the Capitol's words!

     Scarlet's nostrils flared and her temper spiked. Her fingers dug into the back of Caesar's seat as she glared down into the audience at Finnick. He offered her a nod and held her gaze.

     She leaned down, leveling her head next to Caesar's, "I'll see you soon, Caesar."

     She pressed her lips to his cheek. Caesar jerked in surprise, his face morphing into faux embarrassment with an underlying thrill of being taken by surprise.

     Scarlet spun on her heel and walked away from the stage. She hadn't been dismissed and she didn't know how much time she had left on her clock, but she didn't wait or hesitate.

     Crimson waited by the curtains, watching her interview. They held each other's gaze as she passed, but neither voiced any words. Tomorrow they would be in the Arena, each of them fighting for their lives. There was nothing left to say between them.

     Hidden from the prying cameras of the Capitol, Scarlet found four peacekeepers waiting for her. She let out a breath as they surrounded her. It was good that Crimson and her hadn't matched outfits. It was good that the Capitol would see him in his own light, and not in continuation or in tandem with her own decisions. This way he would not be punished alongside her.

     She had done all she could to make it seem like she was just a daring and wicked tribute intent on winning.

     Scarlet had thought that her only concern after the interview ended, would be getting a good night's rest before she entered the Arena tomorrow.

     But now, as she followed the peacekeepers away from the backstage area and through the hallways of the building, she wondered if she'd even make it into the Arena.

     Scarlet, you really are a fool.

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

Oh, Scarlet. Oh, dear. Why, Scarlet, why?

I mean. You need to give the girl props. She can really make a bad situation worse.

What is going to be Scarlet's consequence? Do you think she will get into the Arena? (JKJK, you know she will. So, what is President Snow going to do?!) 

Let me hear your thoughts!

What will Crimson's interview be like afterward? 

Remember to like and vote if you enjoyed this chapter!

Take care and stay safe!~ CANGEL