I did write this for a contest awhile back, so if something doesn't make sense, that's why.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. Just Nico. He's my brain baby.
A few hours later, I had been poked, prodded, and had my hair cut. I personally didn't think it needed to be cut, but what did I know? Apparently the new haircut made me look older. I'd also gotten a tattoo on my left cheek, near my eye, and an earring. According to the stylists that also made me look older. I rubbed at my ear, which still stung. I was now in a room somewhere in the building, waiting for them to bring me my official outfit for the night. I mostly just wanted to get it over with: it wasn't like I would see the outfit anyways. A few minutes of leg swinging and humming later, the door opened.
"Alright, here are your clothes!" The stylist chirped. I hesitantly reached and took the bundle, then stiffened, noticing immediately what was missing.
"Where is my jacket?" I growled. They had taken it from me when I first came in, saying something about cleaning it, but it wasn't here now.
"Well, we decided that you didn't really need it." He said. I could hear his hand moving the air, as though brushing off my complaints. I raised an eyebrow and dropped the bundle of clothes on the floor.
"What are you doing?" He cried, snatching them up. I shrugged.
"I decided I didn't really need them." I said, unconcerned. He growled a little, then sighed.
"Fine. I'll get your jacket." He grumbled before stomping out. I smiled. These people were easy to manipulate. I hopped off the table and started dressing, hoping I was putting on the clothes right. Apparently I was, since when the stylist came back in he merely set my jacket down before leaving again. I quickly finished dressing before shrugging the jacket on over it. The soft leather felt good against my skin, and it felt less stiff. Maybe they really had cleaned it.
After getting yet more beauty treatments, I was taken to a waiting area. I stood in the corner, listening to conversations and getting the lay of the land.
"-need allies, maybe we should ask." That's not interesting, considering I don't want allies. More people who know I'm blind? No thanks!
"-train crash, they died coming." That was somewhat interesting. Everyone was talking about the same things, or was silent. All in all I counted twenty four heart beats, apparently six were late.
"Hi." I jumped about two feet. Make that five late. Did Adrienne not have a heartbeat or something? I turned to where I hoped I would face her.
"Hey." I replied, trying to lean against the wall and look nonchalant about jumping. Unfortunately, the wall was two foot farther away than I thought and I ended up doing a weird hop skip to find it without falling. I swear I could hear her thoughts, and she was thinking that I was an idiot. Honestly, I couldn't argue.
"What's with your face?" She asked, shifting a little.
"What's with yours?" Ok, didn't mean for that to pop out. "Er, I mean, they did a tattoo. Something about looking older."
"That's weird, they usually play up the younger kids." She commented. I bristled.
"I'm seventeen." I growled.
"Seriously? You look about thirteen, maybe fifteen with the tattoo and earring." She said. I rubbed my ear again. The stupid thing still hurt. The tattoo hadn't hurt at all, they used some sort of special equipment, but there was no getting around the fact that they had to stick a needle through my earlobe.
"I don't look that young." I grumbled before we both fell silent. Before I knew it, we were being loaded into chariots, during which there were a few iffy moments for me. Once inside, I gripped the handlebar as tight as possible. The ground moving under my feet was not fun, especially as I couldn't even see where we were going. Soon the fresh night air was flowing against my face, and the cheers of the crowd were hurting my ears. I grinned anyways and waved a little. These people could keep you alive. I reminded myself. It didn't take long for us to get to the end of our little ride, at which point I finally relaxed. The president started making some sort of speech which I promptly tuned out in favor of thinking about my bed. My wonderful, soft, comfortable bed. I really hoped I could go to sleep soon, considering that tomorrow was training. I was definitely going to need a good night's sleep for that. And a plan to avoid the camouflage booth. A blind guy trying to paint camouflage? Yeah right. The chariot moving jerked me out my thoughts and I grabbed the handlebar again before plastering on another smile. The crowd started cheering again and was still going at it when I went to bed that night.
The next morning I was standing in front of the door to the training room, trying to work up the nerve to go in. Adrienne and most of the other tributes had already gone in, with me stepping aside to let them. I just couldn't figure out how to manage completely new surroundings with no guidance whatsoever. Especially as being clumsy would likely be deadly. I stepped to the side when I heard footsteps coming, still not ready to go in, but willing to allow others.
"I figured you'd still be here." Mac said, even his voice was smug. I stayed silent, there wasn't much to say to that.
"Here, take this." My mentor shoved something in my hand. It was a round cylinder with a button on it. One side was flat and smooth, the other side had a small hole in it.
"What is it?" I asked, still fingering it.
"Think of it as your new eyes. Hold down the button and point it forwards. It will vibrate when something's in front of you." He explained. I nodded and pushed the button, pointing the end with a hole at him. The tube vibrated slightly and I grinned."Thanks!" I said, hiding the tube in my sleeve and pushing the door open. Grunts, clashes, and a smoky smell greeted me inside. This would certainly be interesting. I decided that learning how to start a fire would definitely be a good idea at this point, so I headed towards the smoky smell.
An hour later, I threw down the sticks.
"Stupid fire." I muttered, throwing a kick at the sticks for good measure. Guess I'll just use matches. I made my way out of the booth and wandered with the help of my handy new "eye". I had already decided to name it Tom, since he was my old eyes. Walking aimlessly, I realized that the ground under my feet was soft and cushy, like a mat. Wait. A mat. Oh shi-
"Hey kid!" A girl's voice rang out. She sounded like she would prefer bashing my head in to playing with dolls.
"Uh…" Was the only thing I could make come out of my mouth. I could hear her walking closer and I cringed slightly.
"You're on my mat." She growled in my ear. I gulped.
"Er, sorry?" I offered. Apparently that didn't appease her, since she threw a punch in the next second. I barely managed to duck, her fist brushed my hair. Bad idea! Mayday, mayday! I knew better than to get in a fight, I was hopeless at hand-to-hand combat. Tom had given up on trying to teach me when he broke my wrist. That hurt a lot. I managed to avoid her next punch, but couldn't see or hear the knee to my stomach. I felt it though. I doubled over in pain.
"Little boy still hasn't even thrown a punch." She sneered at me. I slowly straightened, hoping she wouldn't take the opportunity to beat me any more. Apparently it was my move, since she was just standing there. Run! The little voice inside me cried. And I obeyed it, tripping over a few random things, but I managed to get across the room, far, far away from both the mat and girl. From now on I needed to stay away from people. Of any kind. I finally ended up at the knot tying booth, where no one else had gone. It was interesting, only listening to the man's instructions and trying to manipulate the rope into the knot. The teacher said it looked good though, so I was happy enough. Plus rope tying was not painful, unlike walking around.
I had forgotten about the training scores. As I sat on the hard bench, waiting for my turn, I had to wonder how. After all, Mac had reminded me several times. I just wasn't listening this morning when he told me. I guess that would have been helpful information. I sighed and tried to figure out what I was going to do.
"Adrienne Holverson." The announcer was obviously from the Capital, I could tell that much from her voice. I waited until I heard the girl next to me get up.
"Adrienne." I heard her head turn.
"Yes?" She questioned, sounding somewhat surprised.
"Good luck." I smiled.
"You too." I could almost hear her smile before she walked through the door. I leaned back against the wall, wondering what I was going to do. I bet they'd be impressed if I did it blindfolded. For once my inner voice had a good idea. I quickly tore both of the sleeves off of my long sleeve shirt and tied them together, making a halfway decent blindfold. I held that in my hand until the announcer called my name.
"Nico Daimon!" She chirped and I scowled. Where did they find my last name? I wondered. I certainly didn't advertise it. Nevertheless, I stood and followed her in. The room felt strange without a lot of people in it. I tied the blindfold on and stood still for a moment, acting as though I was getting used to it before going to where I knew the weapons rack was and making a great show of feeling for a slingshot. Strangely enough, the room smelled like burnt soup, lemon, and was that Corkspite? That would have been useful. By now the judges were all talking and I could smell some food that seemed really good. I really hoped there would be food back at the room. Once I had found the slingshot and ammo, I went to where I had heard guys chopping away at dummies. It didn't take me long to find them, set up in a circle, which served my purposes perfectly. I slowly walked around them, touching each dummy before standing in the middle.
Whump. The judges fell silent after my first hit.
Whump. Whump. Whump. My hits were starting to get a rhythm to it, and I enjoyed it. After going around the circle twice with only two misses, I decided that was enough and gave a little bow before walking out the door, not taking off the blindfold until I was outside. Well that was fun.
That night, Mac and I sat on the couch to wait for my scores. It was just my luck that the actual scores weren't announced, apparently there was a large number flashed on the screen and then the 'announcers' discussed it. Without ever actually mentioning what the score was. Jerks.
"C'mon Mac, tell me what it was!" I whined, just wanting to go to bed. Of course, the sooner I went to bed, the sooner tomorrow would come. And tomorrow was an interview with what's-his-face.
"Nah, you don't need to know." I could hear the smirk in his voice.
"That is so not fair!" I punched him in the gut and listened to the satisfying whoosh of air.
"Dang kid, you pack a whallop!" He wheezed out, "fine, you got an eleven. Adrienne got a nine." He got up and walked away, muttering something about an ice pack. I just sat there. A score of eleven was good. It meant more sponsors. More sponsors meant a greater chance of me getting out alive. I grinned. This was good.