The Odds Have Never Been Very Dependable

Chapter Four: Deryn

Deryn and Dylan followed the Peacekeepers onto the train with identical indifferent faces. It wasn't a far walk from the Justice Building to the station, probably only a few minutes really, but it seemed much longer. The moment they stepped outside, they were swarmed by reporters and cameras. She wondered if she looked like a ninny on the television screens, but decided against looking for one to check.

When they'd finally arrived at the train, they stood for pictures for only a squick, before heading inside. The train set off immediately, but Deryn hardly noticed. She was too busy staring at the interior. It was grand, nicer than anything she'd seen in District 10. The walls were metal, steel she assumed, but the floors were polished and wooden. Most of the furniture were metal, but still managed to keep a certain elegance. A glass chandelier hung from the ceiling, accompanied with a few other florescent lights. Beside her, she spotted that Dylan was also staring in awe.

Nora cleared her throat. Deryn and Dylan turned to their escort. "Dinner will be in an hour. Until then, you are free to do what you wish. I expect you to be in the dinning car, this car, at five o' clock sharp." When the two of them nodded, she continued. "Your rooms are in the cars behind us. Your mentor will be joining us at dinner so you can talk about strategies. I shall see you two in a little while." She nodded at them, and bustled off through the door at the other end of the car.

Deryn shifted awkwardly. She stood with Dylan for a few moments, until he turned and headed into the other cabin, leaving her alone to decide how she was going to pass her time. She wasn't sure what she was going to do for the hour. Changing clothes seemed pointless, considering they'd be in the Capitol soon, and then undergo preparation for the Tribute Parade. Anything she put on would just be tossed away. The least she could do, however, was take a nice, long, shower.

Which is what she exactly intended to do.

She turned on her heel, and followed Dylan through the door. There was a small hall with two doors on either side. One, she assumed, was for Dylan, and the other for her. When she tried both doors, only the one on the left was unlocked, which she assumed was now her room for the next few hours.

When she entered the room, she almost spun right back out. There was no way this room was for her. It was too...nice. Nicer than even the dining car. Like the previous car, the floors were a dark, polished wood. However, the walls were wallpapered, reminding her a lot of the room the Justice Hall put her in. There were a two windows along the other wall, just enough to let in the perfect amount of natural light. On one of the side wall was a door she assumed led to the bathroom. The furniture looked like it belonged in the Capitol itself, not in a room she'd only see once!

She looked at the room in awe for a squick longer before shaking off her daze, and heading to the bathroom. It took her a little while to figure how to use the shower, but she finally managed to find the hot water setting after pressing a ton of buttons. She undressed quickly, and set her clothes aside so they didn't get too wet from the shower, before jumping into the shower. Hot water was rare in District 10, and she was determined to enjoy this luxury.

Once she was done, she slid out of the shower and dried off. The towels were soft, and she wondered what they were made out of. Back in her District, almost every part of an animal was given to the Capitol, this included pelts and fleeces. Wool was almost always in high demand.

After changing back into her original outfit, she walked out of her stateroom and back into the dining car. Inside, Dylan sat on one of the couches watching the television, and an older man sat next to him. He had brown hair, and a five o' clock shadow. His attire was slightly formal, with black slacks, a white shirt and suspenders. It took her a second to realize that this was their mentor, and one District 10's few Victors, Clyde Rigby.

"Well, she joins us!" He said when he turned and spotted her walking over. "Well don't just stand there gawking, come over here. We're about to watch the other Reapings, and check out your competition."

Deryn crossed the room, and took a seat on the other couch and watched the screen as the District 1 tributes were announced.

"That Riva girl looks tough," Dylan mumbled. "Not so sure about that Aleksander bloke, though. He looks a bit soft."

Clyde shook his head, "He volunteered, which means he must be confident in his abilities. Nobody in the Trained districts volunteer out of the goodness of their hearts."

The Trained Districts were Districts 1, 2, and 4. The Districts that taught their children and raised them to be killing machines. Deryn knew that they had other names in the different districts: Careers, Victors, Acolytes. In District 10, they were referred to as a Trained. In almost every Hunger Games, they were the Victors.

She looked at the screen curiously, watching the boy from District 1 volunteer for some thirteen-year-old boy. The older boy, Aleksander, Dylan called him, had reddish brown hair that looked naturally slicked back, like he'd run his hands through it too often. He had fair skin and really dark, emerald green eyes.

I wonder if he's going to be the one to kill me, she thought bitterly.

The news anchors commented for a little while longer about the District 1 tributes, before they moved onto the next District. The girl tribute was only twelve, and had long, curly brown hair named Pansy. Deryn felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. Despite being a Trained, she was still only twelve. The shock and fear was evident on her face. Nonetheless, however, she walked up to the stage. When nobody volunteered, they drew the next tribute. Robert Fitzroy.

A boy walked up to the stage, and Deryn knew she despised him. The way he walked, the way he held himself with such self-importance, as if he was the most important creature to ever grace the face of Panem.

"Well, he looks like an ass," She spat, glaring at the television. Clyde laughed.

"I agree completely," He said. "But he also looks like a tough competitor. Watch out for him."

There was a cough behind them, and the all turned around to see Nora standing by the table. "Would you all care to join me, or am I going to be dining alone?"

The three of them smiled sheepishly, and walked to the table to join her. They continued to play the television, occasionally getting a glimpse of a tribute. There were a few who stuck in her head, a girl from District 9 that looked small, but physically fit. Deryn guessed she'd be able to use a sickle in the arena pretty well. As well as a girl from District 4, with long black hair and at the age of fourteen.

However, the tribute that stuck in her mind the most was the last one, the boy from District 12. He was eighteen, with a slim, but tall build. He had olive skin, a mess of black hair, and when the cameras zoomed into his face, she realized he had startling gray eyes. Despite the severe difference in appearance, Deryn couldn't help but think of her brother when she watched him make his way up to the stage.

"So," Clyde said as he set his silverware down and gently pushed the plate away. "Strategies. Does anybody have any?"

Dylan and Deryn shared a glance before saying, "Stay away from the bloodbath."

Their mentor raised an eyebrow. "Well, aye. That's clever, but what if the only safe food to eat is at the Cornucopia? Or you don't have anything to keep you warm at night." When Dylan began to speak, Clyde interrupted. "Now, I'm not saying go charging into the bloodbath with your banners waving, ready to bathe in the blood of the fallen. That's dead stupid. What I am saying is, though, don't be afraid to grab something off the edges. It might just save your life, plus it'll show sponsors you've got the guts to survive.

"Also, what skills do you two have?" He asked. When he got blank looks in return, Clyde rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, there's got to be something you two are good at that'll help you in the arena."

Deryn shifted in her chair awkwardly before saying, "I can throw a knife pretty good."

She heard Dylan scoff beside her. "More than pretty good from what I hear," He said. "You have perfect aim near every time."

Clyde nodded, "Aye, that'll help you in the arena. What about you, lad? Any secret skills?"

"Not that I know of, sir," Dylan shrugged. "My mum was a healer, back in our District. I know a few remedies and herbs, plus some edible plants, but that's about it. I can climb pretty well, too."

Their mentor nodded, "That's good, too. Don't underestimate knowledge. Might just save your hide." He turned to Deryn and asked, "Can you climb?"

"Aye," She nodded. "Well enough."

"All the better," He looked at them for a moment, then added, "You two are both attractive enough, too. I think Ms. Barlow and I can scrape up a few sponsors for you. What do you think, Nora?"

Nora nodded, "Yes, I think we can. Not many, though. The wealthy districts have most of the people in the Capitol betting on them already. A few, however, I think we can manage."

"A few is good enough for now. As we go on, we'll be able to get more. Sponsors come flooding after the scores are released," Clyde said as he got up from the table. "Now, both of you, get some sleep. We'll be arriving at the Capitol soon enough. You should be ready for your designers." He took one more swig from his glass, before walking out of the room towards the Sleeping Car.

Over the course of a half an hour, one by one, they all departed from the Dining Car until it was just Deryn. She was pacing slightly, thinking of a possible plan that she could use in the Arena. She was too nervous to sleep, anyways. She kept wondering what her mentor would force her to wear during the parade. Probably a cow suit, like they'd done every year beforehand. Or maybe dress them up like pigs. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

Eventually, she grew tired and stumbled her way back to her room, collapsing onto her bed without even changing. The bed itself was softer than the one she shared with her mum back at home. She rolled in it for a moment, kicking her shoes off and pulling the covers over her. Before she knew it, her eyelids were drooping. After a few more moments of getting comfortable, she finally managed to fall into a peaceful sleep.

Hurk, here you all go. Sorry for the long wait, I was struck with a major case of Writer's block. It's still affecting me, too.

Next chapter, the fic returns to Alek's point of view. You'll get to see his reaction to Deryn!

See you all (hopefully) soon!

-Jules