ALL AFTERNOON, Iko's prep team swarmed her without mercy and without reserve.

Time passed painfully slow as she kept her arms firmly at her sides in an effort to resist the pressing urge to hit them whenever they came too close, closing her eyes whenever they told her to so they could paint her eyelids and dust powder over her nose. They primped and prepped, slathered her in questionably coloured products that made her wither a little on the inside at the strange sensation, waxed and trimmed and plucked at misplaced hairs and tutted like she was at fault for the state of her appearance, clucked and flustered over ugly scars she refused to cover up and the dryness of her skin. She'd been through this once, prior to the tribute parade, but she still wasn't inured to the persistent and pervasive invasion of her personal space. But what did this sort of invasion mean to these people, who've undergone so many aesthetic surgeries they barely resembled human beings? Come to think of it, Iko had begun to think of her prep team as a trio of exotic birds rather than actual people as they hustled and bustled around her like bees buzzing around their hives in the spring.

Granted, Iko thought that if she was going to be a victor of the 68th Hunger Games, she should probably learn their names. They were going to be part of her entourage for her victory tour, anyway. But after that, they weren't her problem anymore. So, maybe not.

Gritting her teeth, Iko tried distracting herself with the Games as Thing 1 and 2 fussed over her eyebrows and hair in a flurry of hands and tools and Thing 3 busied herself with ripping off the wax strips from her legs. While they worked, they chattered away in bubbly, agitated voices that drilled through Iko's head. From time to time, she caught words like shiny and fabulous and in-season, and none of what they were talking about registered in her mind. Each time Thing 2 got a little too exited, she tugged on Iko's hair a little too hard and a spike of pain lanced through her scalp. Iko hissed, and Thing 2 dissolved like foam into stuttered apologies and fearful eyes.

Not soon enough, they stepped away from her, and Iko's skin stung from all the handling, all that grime scrubbed from her flesh and out from under her nails, polished and buffed and shined until she glowed like satin. Somehow, despite the hours of discomfort and torture, she'd come out feeling like a brand new person. There was a cloth thrown over the full-body mirror, which Iko was pretty sure orchestrated for entertainment value, so she wouldn't see her prep team's masterpiece until Janus had her fitted in her dress. All this work just for three minutes of stage-time seemed a little excessive.

Without wasting a second, Janus entered on cue, toting a long, flat bag in which Iko assumed was her dress. Iko stood.

"Humour me this once," Janus said, shaking the bag. "Close your eyes."

Iko complied, too out-of-body to resist. Not once back home had she ever bothered spending this much time on her appearance. She heard the sound of the bag unzipping, a rustle of what sounded like a thousand small rocks clattering against each other, and then the liquid cool of satin slipping over her skin like water cascading down her body. After a couple seconds of silence, and Janus making sounds of approval, Iko heard the hush of the cloth over the mirror as it fell away. Then she felt Janus' smooth hands on her shoulders as he guided her to her left a couple paces.

"Okay, now open them."

Iko's eyes snapped open and the person in the mirror looked nothing like the monster who'd grown up learning how to be deadly. In the mirror stood a girl with the night sky for her evening gown, a thousand tiny, glistering diamonds winked back at her, like Janus had sewn stars into the skirt of her dress, tumbling like black smoke down her legs in a small pool of gossamer at her feet. The sleeves were sheer, shimmering with tiny flecks of silver. Her skin shone like moonlight, and her eyelids were artfully smudged with dark shadows that made her seed-black eyes gleam wickedly. Under her eyes, from the lower lid, thin rays of silver beamed down her cheeks. They'd painted her lips black, smudging silver glitter over her bottom lip as though she'd just sipped the stars from a straw. Her nails were painted a glossy black, tipped with silver, like the edge of a blade. Atop her hair, which cascaded past her shoulders in dark waves, sat a silver laurel wreath. Her crown.

In a handful of hours, they'd turned her into this magnificent, ethereal creature pulled from a fairytale. Cold to the touch, but untouchable still, and sharp as knives. Iko couldn't believe it. Struck dumb with shock, she pushed her shoulders back, turned from side to side, taking her time to inspect Janus and the prep team's handiwork, and her reflection turned too, the backless dress gleaming under the light, a mirage of everything she could only have for a night. This was her. This couldn't be her. But it was. In some perfect universe, she looked like this forever. In some perfect universe, she was beautiful, a ruler of the starry abyss.

"I take it from your reaction that I've outdone myself again," Janus mused, uncrossing his arms from over his chest as he smirked at her. He put one hand on the doorknob. "Ready?"

Ready? Iko wanted to laugh. Her readiness had been years in the forging. One more night in false security, and then it would be her turn to bring home the crown. It would be her they would cheer for when she got home. It would be her name branded in history. She was so close. So excruciatingly close to her time, she could already smell the blood. Feel the cool touch of a weapon in her hand. Hear the sound of skin tearing, a heart stopping as she slips her knife between someone's ribs.

"Always," Iko said, satisfaction flexing its claws in her chest.

Janus let out a dark chuckle. "Oh, I know you are."

And then he opened the door.

When they met up with the District 2 team by the elevator, Aeneas was practically glowing with excitement, Rhea couldn't stop grinning, Enobaria and Evander were dressed to the nines as well, and Alex had his back to her so she could see the intricate gold designs sewn into the collar of his suit. Aeneas' vibrant eyes landed on her first, and he let out a small scream. Just as he launched into a feverishly animated tirade about how beautiful they both looked, how stunning the stylists and the prep teams' work was, showering them with compliments like rose petals while Evander pitched in every once in awhile and Enobaria nodded along but said nothing, Alex turned around, his gaze meeting hers. He did a double take.

For a second, the words seemed to have evaporated from his tongue as he took her in with a slow once-over. For a second, his stare burned into her cool flesh and her eyes were twin scythes that cut him down to the bone. They'd slicked his hair back, and yet some of it had managed to escape the abundance of hairspray keeping every strand in place. If he were anyone else, it would be less endearing and more unkempt disaster, but Alex made it work with his casual charm. If Iko looked like a dark princess from a fairytale, he looked like a prince. There was no denying that Alex was beautiful. And now he was shining.

"Look at you," Alex rasped, when he'd found his voice again. His amber eyes were radiant, but he was unsmiling. Maybe if she looked closer she could've sworn those were actual stars in his irises instead of a reflection of her dress.

Iko bit down on her tongue to keep her mouth from voicing the sounds of her heart. Neither of them would look anything like this in the days to come, which was both a pity and a massive relief. Her heels were already making her feet hurt enough for her to want to take her sharpened nails into the person who'd invented such impractical monstrosities, and the sooner they were off, the less murderous she would be.

Remember, her mother's voice in the back of her head warned like an invisible hand snuck through her hair and tugging sharply, You are a Career. You are heartless. You are cold. You are deadly. All that matters is the Games. Do not let petty distractions take this from you.

Alex blinked, and seemed to remember himself, a shadow passing over his features. A teasing smile tugged at his lips. "You're tall now."

That did it.

Before Iko could snap at him, Aeneas ushered them into the elevator. In a blink, they were suddenly in the City Centre, waiting backstage, lined up in single file for the interviews. A woman in a plain black suit stood at the mouth of the curtain, clutching a clipboard to her chest, in front of Opal, whose gold dress threw specks of scintillating light onto the walls of the waiting room. All the tributes were lined up in reverse order to the individual assessments. This time, the girls would go first, which didn't buy Iko a lot of time to mentally prepare for the three minutes of excruciating play-pretend. As the lights dimmed on stage and came back on again in an elaborate sequence to introduce Caesar Flickerman, their host for tonight, the woman went down the line to quickly take their names to confirm a full attendance once again. She'd done that before, when Iko and Alex had arrived to join the queue of tributes behind Titus, who flicked Alex a smirk and offered Iko a withering smile, which she ignored.

Tonight, Caesar had dyed his hair a dark crimson, just a shade off the red of fresh blood. His suit was velvet, and his jokes went down smooth as wine as he entertained the crowd.

From backstage, Iko couldn't really see the whole City Centre, but she could tell from the volume of the crowd that it was packed with a sea of people eagerly waiting like hungry dogs for the tributes to come out one-by-one. An elevated stand relegated to important guests of the evening was spotlighted at some point, and so was the overbite of a balcony that seated the Gamemakers to the right. Cameras whirred as the television crews claimed the other balconies.

"You're on in five," the woman with the clipboard said, on cue, to Opal.

Eager to take some weight off her feet, Iko propped her shoulder against the wall. None of the tributes made conversation. Not even Sage, whom Iko had spotted earlier, casually picking at her sea-blue nails in her teal dress studded with pearls. As the line moved up one pace, as the woman tapped Opal on the shoulder and guided her to the stage where she waved to the crowd with a reserved smile, her dress flashing under the stage lights, Iko felt her hands go clammy and her skin grow cold. She watched as Caesar and Opal spoke about the Games, and it became apparent in the first minute that whoever had coached Opal must've decided that, tonight, she was going to be candid and mysterious because her words reeked of wisdom and sense.

Alex had to nudge her forward as Titus left the line, and under the limelight, it's painfully obvious that Titus was basking in the glow of attention, playing himself, cocky and sly and condescending.

"Growing up, I've always wanted to participate in these Games," Titus said, a lazy smirk crept over his lips that made some of the women in the crowd scream. In a way, Iko could see why, because while he wasn't anything like Alex, Titus was good looking. But she'd shoot herself in the mouth before she'd willingly admit it. "Every year I watched these Games with my father, we would always talk about how, someday, I'll be there. Someday, I'll be in that arena. Not just as one of the kids, but as the one who ends up winning. Some of us lack focus and dedication, but I believe that if you apply yourself, all your dreams can come true. And I really think that, the fact that I'm finally here, finally allowed the honour to compete, is testament to that. Anyone who doesn't want to be here is an idiot."

Too soon, it was her turn. As though her brain had switched to autopilot, much like when Aeneas had forced her to practice walking up and down the length of her room in her heels, Iko's mind clicked off and her body moved, cutting across the stage as the a hush of awe rippled through the crowd when they eyed her dress. Janus was right. He'd outdone himself this year.

"Iko," Caesar greets, flashing her a blinding grin as she took her seat. "You look amazing!" He glanced at the crowd with an expectant look on his face. "Doesn't she look beautiful?" When they responded with a cheer, Caesar turned back to her. "How are you tonight?"

Just the way Aeneas said.

Iko cocked her head, letting the barest ghost of a smile slip over her lips, a cold and vicious and horrible thing. "Like a victor already, Caesar."

Amusement lit up his face. "I'm starting to get that feeling. And your score! A very impressive ten, by the way. One of the highest!" he exclaimed, leaning forward with his microphone, expression sobering suddenly, as if poised to discuss something serious. "Now, I hear that you are quite deadly with the knives."

"I'm the best," Iko said, both smug and matter-of-fact.

Caesar let out a laugh like he was ripping out a chunk of air and spitting it back out. "Really?"

"I could clear you from across this theatre." Nonchalantly, she glanced at the crowd with a smile that gleamed under the bright lights. Like a bullet before it slammed dead-centre into a chest and buries itself into the heart with devastating accuracy. Like a blade before it sunk into its target. Like the eyes of a predator as it gunned down its prey under a starry night.

Caesar pressed a hand to his chest, affecting an over-exaggerated expression of fear.

"And how long have you been cultivating this particular skillset?"

"My entire life," Iko mused, with a derisive flick of her fingers. "I've never seen myself being anywhere else but here. And this is not where the vision ends."

"You and Alex both scored the highest out of all the tributes this year," Caesar pressed. "Do you think he'll be posing you any trouble?"

"Oh, no, I wouldn't say trouble, precisely." She held onto the cool edge in her tone, kept a vice grip on her act. Aeneas had spotted these interview questions almost too well. "I've known him for awhile, and I know that he's definitely a strong competitor, but I've always welcomed a little challenge. Right now, I'm promising you, and everyone else out there, that you can count on me to give you a show to remember. And I don't break my promises."

A buzzer went off and the crowd exploded in a thunderous applause as they roared back at her in approval. Caesar nodded, impressed. "Very inspiring. Unfortunately, that's all the time we have today. Ladies and gentlemen, Iko Moriyama, tribute from District Two!"

Although her features were a perfect mask of cool and composure, Iko couldn't have gotten off that stage quickly enough. By the time she was out of sight and seated in a separate waiting room to watch Alex's interview, his eminent presence onstage had captivated each and every one of the members of the audience.

There was no ignoring him. Their desire was silent yet instantaneous, a magnificent mass-magnetic effect, like thousands of daisies attuning their faces towards the sun. If it wasn't so ridiculous, Iko would've found it a little bit unsettling how he so easily put all these people in his pocket. He was probably the most disorientingly dazzling out of all the tributes, quickly and easily working his brutal charm on both Caesar and the crowd. In the same vein, while he lounged with leonine arrogance and cracked a couple jokes with Caesar that had the crowd practically on their knees at his feet, he managed to maintain the casual air of someone who knew how to kill.

Women swooned in their seats and clutched their hearts. In their minds, they could have him personally and privately once he won (if he won). It wasn't a secret that President Snow had set aside a glorified service for particularly attractive tributes. If they resisted, they paid for it in the blood of a loved one. Alex's family wouldn't survive his resistance to the rule. A morbid thought snaked to the forefront of Iko's mind—in a way, when she won, she would be saving him from a fate worse than death.

"Now, Alex, I have a very important question for you," Caesar said, winking at the crowd. "You seem to have a lot of, ah, fans here. You must get a lot of attention from the ladies, back home, am I correct? Anyone special in mind?"

Alex smirked. "Maybe."

Iko scoffed. Bullshit. Like every student in the Academy, Alex had no time to waste on girls since all his focus had been fixated on training. Everything else was a distraction. Even then, even if Alex did have someone in mind, he would've told her. They were close enough to share secrets like that. But amidst all the secrets that were exchanged between them, not one had been a name.

"Details!" Caesar all but exclaimed, glancing desperately at the crowd and then back at Alex, whose lips remained sealed in a surreptitious smirk. "C'mon, we have to know!"

Iko envisioned all the girls from school back home hanging onto the edge of their seats wondering if, secretly, he might be returning their love. Even if he gave none of them the time of the day. If it weren't so amusing, she'd think it cruel, giving them false hope like that.

"Ah, as much as I'd like to tell you, man," Alex said, shrugging, still a perfect pillar of poise and confidence. "I'm afraid I'd like to hold onto this one chip a little longer. When I see you again at the end of it all, I'll tell you. You have my word."

The crowd groaned in disappointment. Iko lifted a brow in mirth at his beautifully constructed lie. At least she knew something they didn't. Alex was just playing them.

Intrigued, Caesar snickered. "Alright, alright. Moving on. What do you think about your district partner? Iko mentioned earlier that she thought you might prove to be a bit of a challenge. She alluded a little bit to the fact that you two have known each other for quite some time. Do you think your history might clash with personal interests?"

"Oh, I have every confidence that she's great at what she does," Alex said, smoothly, not in the least bit fazed by Caesar prying into their history. Heartless and cold and deadly. That was how they'd been raised. Despite his friendly disposition, Iko knew the kind of weapon Alex had been forged into. "We grew up together, and we've always been competition. Now that we finally get to experience the real thing, it'll be interesting to see which one of us truly deserves the top spot."

Caesar chuckled. He leaned towards the crowd. "Wouldn't you all like to see him win?" he said, in a theatrical crass aside. The crowd cried their assent, and the sound was deafening. Just as unmistakable was the number of people willing to see him through to victory, which meant sponsors. Which meant District 2 would be untouchable this year. Alex's smug grin told Iko he was well aware of this fact, too, as the buzzer signifying the end of his time sounded off, and Caesar shook his hand one last time. "Thank you for coming out here tonight, Alex. May the best of you win!"

AUTHOR'S NOTE.
alex and iko ready to risk it all for each other the night before the games begin.....