Okay...please don't hurt me...H-h-here is a n-n-new chapter. I know its 10:40 at night but I forgot it was a Wednesday. Wont happen again, pinky-promise. By the way, 120 views! You are all AWESOME, love ya'll soooooo much. Couldn't keep writing without the love. Here ya go. Hope you like it.
Disclaimer: I wish I was Suzanne Collins...but I'm not.
P.S. Violence can be found in this chapter!
-Teenage Twi'lek
As night conquered the mountainous Capitol, Katniss and I sat down to a sizable dinner. Every food imaginable covered the table. I chow down, stuffing myself with delicacies never before seen. Katniss almost looks surprised but starts eating as well. The gargantuan meal is followed by and equally large dessert which none of us, save Effie, have room for. Effie gets up after the feast, and skips over to a black rectangle mounted on the wall. When she turns it on, my mouth drops, not even on the train were there televisions of such magnitude. Only our pink proprietor seems interested in watching the recaps of the Parade, and as such, I head to bed, nodding good-nights to Haymitch and Katniss.
I wake, according to the bedside clock, ten minutes before the "banshee" is supposed to wake us. I quickly take a shower, and dress in a red and black outfit given to us for training day. When I hear the clip-clop of Effie's shoes approaching my door. I open it, and give her a curt salute, before making my way downstairs. I don't eat much for breakfast, and Katniss and I take the elevator down to the training room. We are close to last in (I blame Effie. She tried to get us to watch the Parade recaps, again!), and a tall, dark-skinned woman steps up. She introduces herself as Atala, the head trainer. She explains each station and shoos us on our way. Immediately, the Careers of the first two districts head for the combat stations. I follow Katniss, to a less frequented station.
I walk up to the snares teacher, who seems overjoyed at actually having somebody to teach his craft. I get the inclination that most people see it as a useless trade. After an hour perfecting knots, I am somewhat good at this, but Katniss is much better. We wander from 'non-career station' to 'non-career' station, practicing survival techinques. A few stations later, the lunch bell rings, and we take a brief respite. Afterwards, Katniss and I part ways. I head for the spear station, and spy the Career's plying their trade. A kid named Marvel, from District 1, is the best, almost always hitting the bullseye. The mammoth of a tribute from 2 is nearly as good, but focuses on power as opposed to accuracy. The girls from 1 and 2 are less good, with the blonde, Glimmer I think, being the worst. Normally, District 4 is included in the Careers, but apparently not this year. I walk up and reach for a spear.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" Marvel yells, not only bringing attention to himself, but needlessly interrupting the general training process. I mime shooting a bow, minimizing the movement to mock him. The other careers laugh, but other tributes don't, out of fear of the Careers. "You can't practice here, we're already practicing. You can wait till were done, 12." He made to push me, his mistake. I grabbed his wrists, twisting to pull him off balance. My left leg swung out, catching him in the back of the knee and buckling him. As he fell, I spun his arm behind him, landing on top of his back with my knees on his collarbones. While pinning him to the floor, I pulled his arms diagonally towards the opposite hips. He begins to scream out, as his shoulders are nearly pulled out of their sockets. I see several peacekeepers heading this way. I let go, and roll off of him, getting up. I lock eyes with each member of the Careers, asking them to challenge me. Marvel gets up, pain and hatred filling his eyes.
I walk up to the spear rack and test one out, before throwing it. I hit the target, in the right shoulder. I throw in silence, the other Careers watching me. I am not great, but not awful. Sighing, I walk over to the knives. The short girl from 2 is there, Clove I think. She is flinging knives into the dead center of each target. I watch for a moment before she notices me.
She nods, "What you did to Marvel, asshole had it coming." I cock my head. The careers…divided? This could be advantageous. I pick up three knives, weighing them in my hand. The small brunette watches, her eyes flitting over me, assessing everything she sees. Without raising my arm, I flick the first underhand, catching a dummy in the knee. My second, I deign to flip directly up in the air. The third, I throw overhand, striking the target in the throat. I catch the second as I spin, releasing it in a smooth motion, watching as it buries itself in the face of the dummy. Clove's eyebrow is raised, reassessing me. I give her a Cheshire grin, before a thought comes to me. I spin on my heel and walk directly towards the dark skinned Atala. She frowns at my approach, but when I whisper something into her ear, her frown deepens. I spin once more and walk back to Clove. A glint in the rafters catches my eyes. I focus on that, not pausing my gate, or the direction I face. It is the minute girl from 11, twirling the serrated knife, the same one that the beast from Two had been hoarding earlier. I grin under my calm mask of apathy.
Suddenly three things happen. Cloves eyes widen, and she moves to take a half-step forward. I hear the clap of boots hitting the ground twenty feet away; the boots that only Peacekeeper's wear. The final thing is not definite, but I have learned to trust it. A sixth sense fills in the blank. Someone is behind me, swinging. I jump backwards, flipping over an arm that would have crashed into my skull. As I continue in my course, the form of Marvel enters my vision as everything seems to slow down. He is over extended, all of his weight planted on the leading foot. The Peacekeepers are sprinting to stop this fight. Pity they won't get here in time, for Marvel at least.
I land, and spin. My attacker stumbles as he follows after his wild haymaker, I wrap my left arm around his neck, and pull him backwards, slamming him into the ground. As I release him, my left elbow swings out, cracking across his nose. I am roughly hoisted up and off of him by white clad arms as the Peacekeepers separate us. The guards lift Marvel up, and I see the results of my handiwork. His nose is plastered across his face, a red mess. They quickly drag us out, and drag him in one direction, presumably to a doctor, and me to a bland grey door. One of the Peacekeepers enters a code into the keypad beside the door. They hurl me to the ground, and I hear the click of the lock behind me. I raise my head to survey my new confines. A shock of white hair and the stench of roses greet me.
Suspense. Suuuspense. Suuuuspense, suuuuuspense, suspense suspense suspense suspense. Just kidding. Any way, Valen went all ninja-like in this one. Give ya three guesses on who the "mystery figure" is. So...yeah...HUNGER GAMES!
-Teenage Twi'lek
P.S. It is very hard to replicate the Jaws theme with words. Commas and periods are not endowed with the ability to intone suspense, so the word itself will have to suffice.
P.P.S Don't you #love the post scripts!
