"The more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in combat." -United States Navy SEALs Motto
The Training Center, a huge tower built for tributes and their teams only, is quite luxurious; Every tribute team's living quarters are on the tower's floor correlating to their district, so James, Violet, and the rest travel up in a glass elevator at what feels like light-speed until they reach the seventh floor. Bunting remains quite excited: James' display with the helmet seemed to have gained some support for District 7.
"The crowd loved you two!" Bunting squeals. "James, the helmet truly was amazing! Anyone who's anyone has heard of the boy with the helmet from District 7!"
James huffs out a laugh as they exit their elevator to a high-tech, plush Capitol room bigger than James' house. "It wasn't that impressive. I just had a big helmet that I took off."
"The crowd doesn't seem to think so," Violet chimes in. "They loved your outfit."
"No, they loved your outfit," James replies, the hint of smile forming on the corner of his lips.
"Mm hmm," Violet smiles, a noise that sounds like a yes but means completely the opposite. "Whatever you say."
"If what Bunting says is true," Blight starts, snorting as Bunting glares at him for doubting his truthfulness, "Then sponsor deals should be fairly easy to secure, even for me."
"How easy are they to get?" James asks, sitting down on a plush red sofa as the rest of the team takes their place on similar sofas in the expansive living room. "The sponsorships."
"Not too hard," says Eques. "If your tribute impresses the crowd well enough, sometimes it's only a matter of asking the idiots in the Capitol."
"She's right," Blight agrees. "Eques stunned the crowd eight years ago in her Games, and I even managed to send her a small sword."
"I didn't even have a cool helmet," Eques smirks. "I kicked ass."
James nods. "What if I don't get a high training score, though?"
"You said you know how to use an axe?" Blight asks, kicking off his shoes, much to Bunting's dismay, who complains that the carpet is new.
"Yeah," James replies.
Blight smiles a bit. "Then you won't get a low score."
WEEKS UNTIL THE REAPING: 17
"Why do I have to do this?" moaned James, kicking a stray pebble with his foot.
"Because you need to," Otto firmly replies, crossing his arms.
They've wandered into the outer region of District 7, called the Beyond by most. Past the designated logging center of District 7, which stretches several miles, a fence was put up to prevent those from escaping. At first it was heavily electrified, but since they have to move the fence every few years to gain access to more logs, it's only a chain link fence. The Beyond, a place untouched by man, is teeming with life. Otto has a few targets set up: A mock dummy, a soda can, and a few empty beer bottles. Slung over his back is a rucksack containing some food, but more important five small, compact axes.
"But it's not needed," James frowns. "I won't get picked."
"That's what Justinian said," Otto frowns back. "And he applied for as much tesserae as you did." He rubs his forearm. "We need you to do this in case you get Reaped."
James sighs. "Alright, alright. What do I have to do?"
Otto digs into the bag and pulls out a small hatchet, and tosses it to James. "Throw it at that beer bottle. The one in the middle."
"Okay," James replies, and steps back. He juts his arm out to the left, and whips it toward the beer bottle; As expected, it misses by a mile and thuds into a nearby tree, landing harmlessly on the ground.
"Smooth," Otto shrugged, tossing him another one. "This time, don't jut out your arm. Bend your elbow back towards your head, and throw it hard. You're throwing it like a baseball."
James doesn't say anything, but bends his elbow back, throwing it hard towards the beer bottle. It nicks the top of the bottle, but barely.
"Better." Otto nods, tossing him a third one. "Don't throw it as hard. You have good form, but you throw it way too hard. Let the axe do the work."
"Sorry I've never thrown weapons," James replies, though he shoots Otto a grin that means he's not mad.
Otto grins back. "You haven't thrown weapons at beer bottles? Loser."
James bends his elbow back, the blade of the axe touching his back, before he threw it lightly towards the dummy. It lodges itself in the dummy's head. James turns to Otto, who smiles.
"What a pro," Otto says with a clap.
James is amazed by the Capitol.
Awaking from a deep sleep at exactly 4:37 in the morning (He knows this because there are at least three clocks in his bedroom with the time displayed in big numbers), James finds that there's no shortage of buttons to press. One changes what he looks at when he glances out the window, another delivers food to him, another dries his hair. The Capitol showers have at least a hundred buttons, and James' shower lasts almost an hour as he messes around with every option available to him.
Too much luxury, James thinks, toweling himself off just before the clock(s) strike six. At least the food is good.
He lays awake and considers writing a letter. He's not familiar on the etiquette of tributes writing to their families. He's been in the Capitol for a total of a day, and he slept through most of it, but there's so much he wants to tell his family. He knows he can't physically speak with them, but even now a letter is starting to seem unreasonable.
James wonders what his friends and family think back in District 7. He smirks to himself as he imagines Grant bouncing around the town square when they introduced James, bragging that he was friends with the mystery boy from 7. He can imagine Buck, blissfully unaware of why James is on a huge screen but excitedly announcing it in broken toddler sentences. Otto and Ven are probably both quiet, but inside they are also probably secretly pleased with how James' entry went. James' father is probably a bit sad, having watched another son go out the same time last year, but is also happy that James' entry was good.
He sits, pondering whether or not to write the letter and if it's legal for almost a full hour and a half, but by then Bunting has stormed in, yelling that it's a "huge day" for James. Rolling his eyes, James throws on the training outfit set out for him by an unknown assistant when James was sleeping, and heads out of the door, his socks slapping against the hardwood floor.
"Mornin', James," Blight nods when James enters the dining room.
"Hey, Blight," James replies, plopping down in a chair and grabbing the first thing he can see: A blueberry muffin with warm butter inside.
"Sleep well?" asks Eques.
"Like an angel," James replies.
"Good," Bunting half-frowns. "You missed dinner. The servants couldn't wake you."
"Neither could Bunting," Blight replies, rubbing his eyes. "He woke me up, though."
Bunting shrugs with a smile. "I have been known for my energetic voice."
"You're loud," Violet groggily points out, earning a short laugh from James and Blight.
"She's not wrong," James points out, a smile still on his face. He looks over at the little girl seated next to him. "How'd you sleep, Vi?" He pauses. The nickname was sudden. Reminiscent of what he calls Otto. He didn't mean to call her that, it just...came out.
Violet's nose wrinkles at her new nickname, but she gives a small smile (Seemingly accustomed to her nickname almost immediately), and says, "Good. Except when Bunting yelled."
Another round of laughter from the table, save for Bunting, whose face is bright-red. "He wouldn't wake up!" protests Bunting.
After their breakfast, James and Violet take an elevator with Blight down to the actual training center. The center is below the ground floor, but the elevator takes only a minute to reach to the bottom of the building (Which ceases to disappoint James). Once they step off, someone jogs up to them and smacks a piece of cloth with a '7' on his shirt. His training outfit is simple: A black, tight-fitting athlete's T-shirt with compression pants and sleek running shoes.
The training center has everything from blades to courses in camouflage, and the tall woman who introduces herself as Atala explains the simple rules: The tributes are free to move about the stations as they please, lunch will start in two hours, and nobody is to harm another tribute. Gamemakers watch above, but most are too fixated on the feast set out for them to to notice the tributes.
"Have at it!" Atala beams.
Immediately the Careers are running for the most dangerous weapons. James turns to Violet to ask her what she wants to do but she's already made up her mind, running towards the trapping instructor. James sighs, resolving to meet up with her later, and turns towards the Careers and the weapons. Breaking out in a jog, James closes the gap of fifty feet in seconds, and stops when he finds that the girl from District 1, a beautiful girl with long legs and long, black hair has two axes in her hand, swinging them about. The other axes, belonging to a clumsy boy from District 8 (Who has wandered away from the Careers) and the District 2 Male, are already being used. This girl, however, seems to have no intent on actually using them.
James takes a deep breath, quelling his nervousness as best he can, and walks up to the girl from District 1. She looks over at him, her eyes mesmerizing. "What do you want?" she asks, her voice both sounding like honey and having a bitter tone to it.
"You gonna use those axes, 1?" James asks, crossing his arms, hoping that he appears to the Careers like he's fearless.
The girl's eyes narrow for a moment, and then she smiles, almost flirtatiously. "Watch this." She turns, and hurls the hatchet, her smaller axe, towards a dummy. The handle hits the dummy instead of the blade, and clatters to the ground harmlessly.
James smirks. "Smooth. Looks to me like District 1 is gonna have a victor this year."
"Hey, aren't you the brother of the kid who froze last year?" asks the boy from District 2, a hulking boy with shaggy, sandy-blonde hair. He thinks his name might be Pollish. People from District 2 have dumb names. "Such a shame."
"Yeah, but I'm not weak, like him," James frowns.
James feels a pang of guilt for calling his brother weak; He'd never believe it in a million years. Justinian was funny and smart and the furthest thing from weak, and couldn't be killed by any of the Careers. That being said, he just can't let the Careers think he's weak. He can't. James apologizes to him internally and vows to fight the Games for his brother.
The girl from 1 smiles, handing him her second axe, which is much longer. "I'd like to see you do better."
"Gladly," James smiles.
Taking a deep breath, gripping the long axe in two hands, James rears back and swings, with a grunt, at the nearest dummy's arm, hacking it off. Quickly spinning on his right, James cleaves off another dummy's head before sidestepping to the left and burying it in a third dummy's head. Surprised that he could do it and feeling the gaze of the Careers on him, James leaves the longer axe embedded in the dummy's head and quickly scoops up the hatchet, rearing back and throwing it into a fourth dummy with a grunt. The hatchet's blade finds its home in the chest of the fourth dummy.
Panting slightly, James turns to the District 1 girl, whose mouth hangs wide open. He asks, "Is that better?"
The Careers don't say anything, save for the District 4 boy, who says, "Join us if you want to live." The sentence is supposed to have authority, but the boy's voice is shaky.
James shakes his head with a frown. He looks over at Violet, currently painting her arm an autumn orange. He glances back towards the Careers. "Leave me and the little girl alone if you want to live."
Without another word, James turns and walks away, almost colliding with the girl from District 12. He exhales to himself. He just did what he thought impossible.
He just stood up to the Careers.
He's fifty feet away from the Careers when he hears a voice. "You don't like them, either." It's deep, a boy's for sure.
James turns to see the boy from District 10, who's tall and one of the most muscular tributes James has ever seen. He remembers his Reaping, seeing a girl his age, a girlfriend maybe, sob as he took the stage.
"Who? The Careers?" James asks.
The boy, who has a bow and arrow in hand and is standing next to the archery targets, turns and nods. "I don't like 'em either."
"They're arrogant," James agrees.
"They ask you to join 'em?" the boy asks, firing an arrow into a dummy's throat.
"Yeah, I said no."
The boy nods, letting another arrow fly. "I did too. They asked me right before the Tribute Parade." He pauses. "I hate Careers."
"I hate them too."
"I'm Declan," the boy says.
"James."
"I know who you are," Declan replies. "You're the kid with the brother who died last year. You had the helmet on yesterday."
"That I did," James replies.
"Wanna be friends?" Declan asks, turning to him with a smirk. "We'll be besties."
"Yeah, sure," James smiles back. He likes Declan. "Friends. Besties."
"Good." Declan racks the bow on the weapon rack nearby. He nods toward Violet. She's talking to the boy from District 12, an Asian boy around sixteen who looks strong enough but also looks like he hasn't had a decent meal in his life. "The little girl your friend, too?"
"She is," James replies. "You're her friend now."
Declan nods. "Fair enough. You two gonna team up?"
James nods back. "Most likely, yeah."
Declan considers this for a moment. "Do you want to work together in the arena?"
"I don't want to kill my friends," James frowns, sad at the realization that in two weeks' time, Declan or James or both will be dead.
"I don't either," Declan agrees. "How about a non-aggression pact?"
"A what?" James asks, wrinkling his nose in confusion.
"A non-aggression pact," Declan repeats. "We won't team up and fight together like the Careers, but we won't attack each other, either. If we find each other in the Games, we'll just...leave each other alone."
James considers this. He likes Declan; He's friendly, doesn't seem arrogant and is good with a bow. He'd be a powerful ally, but the thought of having to betray him hurts James too much. What Declan's proposed is a good idea: They won't have to turn on each other, but won't have to kill each other, either.
"That sounds good," James replies. "I'll get Violet, and maybe that Asian kid over there, in on it too."
"It's a plan," Declan repeats. Suddenly, his face lights up. "Oh, yo, let's sit together at lunch."
"Why?"
Declan nods behind him, and James notices the Careers looking at them from across the Training Center. Most of them, the girl from 1, are looking a bit concerned.
James smirks. "They're afraid."
"Bingo." Declan's eyes have a glint to them. "Let's scare the hell out of them."
James' smirk grows a bit wider. "Great idea."
After an hour or so, they are called to lunch. Unsurprisingly, the Careers sit together, loudly laughing and talking to each other. James sits with Violet, Declan, and the boy from 12, whose name is Romeo, at their own table, and they start to conduct plans.
"Well, first, for our little don't-team-up-with-each-other-but-also-don't-kill-each-other group, we need a name," Romeo starts. Romeo, who turns out to be a lot stronger than James first thought, sports quiffed black hair and while he has a sturdy frame to him, he also devours his food quickly. James doesn't know much about District 12, but since every tribute from 12 eats this way, it can't be a good sign of how life is. But a lifetime of rationing means Romeo will be able to outlast starvation much longer than the rest. James also has gone many weeks, months even without proper nutrition, but not as much as Romeo by the looks of things.
"The Black Cats," Declan suggests. When everyone looks at him, he says, "What? Don't black cats mean good luck?"
"Nope," Violet says.
"They don't," Romeo frowns.
"Just the opposite, actually," says James. "They mean bad luck."
"Damn," Declan says.
After a moment, Violet suggests that they name themselves the "Ace of Spades."
"Ace of Spades?" Declan asks, eyebrows raised.
"Yeah," Violet replies. "Have you ever played, like, um, cards before?"
"I played Go Fish like once," Declan shrugs.
Violet's eyes narrow at him, and James snorts. "That doesn't count."
"I've played poker with my brother a few times," James says, fondly remembering when he, Otto, and Justinian would hang out in their treehouse for hours on end and play cards.
"It's the luckiest card in a deck," Violet says, the little girl rolling her eyes as if she's superior because these three boys don't know what the ace of spades card is.
"Sorry I don't gamble," Declan says with a smile.
"Not okay," Violet crosses her arms. "Anyway, we're lucky, and that card is the highest card, and we're also the best, so we're the ace of spades."
"I like it," Romeo says. "The Ace of Spades."
"Same," James and Declan both say at the same time.
"It's my district token," Violet adds. "So I'm double-lucky."
So that's her district token, James thinks. He wonders who gave it to her. "Yeah, well I have a clover necklace, so I'm also double lucky."
"Lucky," Romeo groans. "I got a pebble as my district token. A pebble."
Declan laughs, and says, "Mine's worse. I got a bottle cap. A bottle. Cap. That's the most useless thing ever."
"I don't think district tokens are supposed to be exceptionally lucky," James points out.
"Fair," Declan says. After a moment, his eyes light up and he says, "Yo, we need, like...a code system. Like Morse code."
"I don't know Morse Code," James says.
"I don't think any of us do," Declan says hurriedly. "We'll probably be on our own for awhile, if not the whole Games, but we'll be close at the Cornucopia. We need to design a code system as to where we're gonna go."
"Like what?" Violet asks.
"Like..." Declan taps his huge bicep with his index and middle finger twice. "Two taps means that whoever gives the signal is going to the Cornucopia." He taps three times. "Three times means you're going to run into the forest or desert or whatever they have set up for us this year."
"I like it," James said.
"It's simple," Declan beams. "Two taps means Cornucopia, three taps means run away."
"I'm gonna run into the wild for sure," Romeo says. "I'm kinda strong, but the Careers have been eating healthy all their lives. If that beefy asshole over there, I think his name is Tybalt, checks me, I'll go flying."
"I'll try to remember," James says; He's not sure which district Tybalt belongs to, but he clocks six feet and is at least two hundred pounds of pure muscle.
"I'll go into the wild too," Violet says. "I don't want to fight the Careers. They're scary."
"They are scary," Romeo agrees.
"I'm gonna have to go into the Cornucopia," Declan sighs. "I can hunt, but with a bow only."
James wonders if Declan is so strong because he's been hunting for his meals since a child.
"I don't know where I'll go," James says. "I could probably fight the Careers off, but I need an axe. Two if I want to try and throw one at them. I'm not well-versed in making primitive weapons."
"That makes two of us," Romeo mutters.
"So," Declan says, leaning forward and lowering his voice so nobody can hear, "Tally count says two Cornucopia, two run. Sound good?"
"Sounds good," the other three of them echo.
By then, lunch is over, and the Careers seem to have mixed views on James' group based on their faces. The boys from Districts 2 and 4 and the girl from 4 all look far from impressed with their newly-assembled rivals. The rest, though, look a bit concerned. James and Declan are the strongest non-Career tributes, Violet is surprisingly fast, and Romeo is probably the smartest tribute out of all twenty-four.
The Careers don't look too happy, and that's what keeps him going throughout the rest of training.
.
2
.
DAYS
.
LATER
.
James sits in the dining room with the other tributes. It's their last day of training, and by now James' group has expanded their plans: Romeo is going to run to the west when the games start, Declan's going to the Cornucopia and then to the east, and James is going to the Cornucopia and then to the North. Violet will wait for James outside the bloodbath and then follow him. When it comes to the Feast, Romeo is positive that he's not going. The rest haven't made up their mind. Their pact now extends to the District 12 female, a girl named Amelia, who's quiet and frail and hasn't spoken to any of them, but Romeo wants to live.
One by one, the tributes are called to show off to the Gamemakers. The boy from District 6, Mick, goes, followed by the girl, and after what must be only ten minutes but feels like hours, James is called to go. He takes a deep breath, and Violet squeezes his hand. "Don't suck," she says dryly.
James can't help but give a short, breathy laugh. "I'll try, Vi."
James runs a hand through his hair, and then walks into the gymnasium.
Immediately, he sighs in relief.
District 7 isn't at the top of districts, which unfortunately means they don't get to make first impressions, but also isn't at the bottom of the district list, where by the time the tributes show up the Gamemakers are drunk off their ass on wine. District 7 is right in the middle, so while a few of the Gamemakers are a bit tipsy, they're far from bored. The Gamemakers, currently dining on what looks like chicken or beef, eye him attentively. Both his physical appearance and his costume at the Tribute Parade have enthralled the Gamemakers, and he silently thanks Cliff under his breath for making him wear that stupid helmet.
Unsure of what to say, James just walks forward towards the row of axes set up for him. Four long axes, five hatchets. There are three dummies in close proximity to him, and three further out. James picks up the longer axe, and takes a deep breath, his sweaty palms warming the cold metal of the axe.
In a flash, he picks up the axe and cleaves off the head of another dummy, just like in his demonstration to the Careers. Quickly stopping and spinning, James beheads another dummy before swinging as hard as he can into the third dummy's head; The force splits the dummy's head in half.
Empowered by murmurs from the Gamemakers, James takes a lunging step towards the hatchets. Flipping it in the air and catching it for effect, James rears back and throws the hatchet ten feet, hitting the dummy in the stomach.
A second dummy. A second hatchet. Twenty feet away. Hit square in the chest.
The third dummy is twenty-five feet away, but James grips the third hatchet hard, and throws it coolly towards the dummy. It finds its home in the dummy's skull.
Thank you, Otto.
James turns towards the Gamemakers, many of which are nodding at him and smiling in approval. James pulls the long axe from the dummy and racks it.
"On behalf of District 7, I would like to thank you for your consideration," James says with a smile.
The Head Gamemaker, Mercutio Sampson, a man around thirty-five who looks relatively normal by Capitol standards, smiles back. "Thank you, Mr. Henderson, that is all. Please direct yourself to your living quarters."
James can barely contain himself as he fast-walks to the elevator, and slams the seventh floor. He barrels through the elevator door when it reaches their quarters, and sits down with a big, goofy grin on the couch.
Eques just smiles to herself as Blight asks with a grin, "Let me guess, you killed it."
"I killed it," James grins back. "They even addressed me by my name."
"That's wonderful, James!" Bunting cheers.
"That's good," Blight muses. "Better than my games. They barely looked at me."
"What'd you do?" asks Bunting. "Surely, it must have had to be incredible."
"Not really," James sheepishly admits. "I hit a few dummies with an axe and then threw three hatchets at a few ones smaller out. I wouldn't have impressed them if it wasn't for the hatchets, I think."
"Then you have to thank whoever taught you to throw hatchets," Blight laughs, giving James a squeeze on the shoulder. "Good job, kid."
"Thanks, Blight," smiles James.
The past few hours pass by fast, and by the time they're done with dinner they're sitting on a plush couch, watching the tribute scores. Violet refuses to tell them what she got, only that she blew them out of the water. James can't help but love the girl's spirit. As usual, the Careers score in the eight to ten range: the girl from District 1, whose name James learn is Lepus, scores the lowest out of them, only an eight. James can't help but feel a bit smug; The snobby girl from District 1 got the worst score. Her counterpart, a seething brute named Tybalt, earns a nine. James makes a mental note to keep away from him. The boy from 2, whose name turns out to actually be Pollish, scores the highest, earning a ten. So far, this is James' biggest concern in the Games: Tybalt is strong but dumb as a rock and probably isn't good with ranged weapons, but James has seen Pollish throw spears from thirty feet away and mentally, he's sharper than a knife.
James is nervous as his image, encapsulating his physique and the glare from the Tribute Parade perfectly, flashes onto the screen, followed by his earned score. James' mouth drops.
He's earned a ten.
The room goes berserk. Bunting's pulling him into a bear hug, Blight slaps him on the back, Eques is cheering and Cliff only shoots James a sly smile and says, "Good job, gladiator."
James can't help but stay stunned as Violet's image pops up, followed by a 7. How she got that, James has no idea, but James pulls her into a hug that lasts for a moment before releasing her. James wonders what his family is thinking back home. Otto is probably beaming to himself, Grant's definitely cheering at the top of his lungs, and perhaps even Ven cheers out loud. His friends from school are definitely stunned with his score, and he can imagine Iris crying with joy when her sister almost scored the same as a Career.
The other tributes go. Declan scores a nine, unsurprisingly considering he's Declan, Romeo scores a seven, and Amelia scores a five. The Ace of Spades isn't that bad.
Before long, James wanders away from the commotion, to his wonderful Capitol bedroom, where sleep takes him in a matter of minutes.
Yay! Chapter 4! 4,830 words excluding this little tidbit. This chapter established the Alliance of the Ace of Spades, which will have more significance later on in the story. Most of the training and James' Gamemaker interview was done here. The next chapter will probably be shorter, just a heads up, and will probably include the tribute interview by Caesar and the final steps leading up to the Games. The Games will likely start two chapters from now, so not much time left!
That's all for now! Thanks for reading, and remember to review!
-C