As the blackness faded, a deep grey showed outside the car's window. When he left the simulator, he saw the night sky. Based on the light, he knew the sun would soon herald a new day. Richard wanted to ask how long he slept, but something else demanded his immediate attention.
Up ahead, he saw a new campsite. Unlike the last one, which seemed more permanent, this one had a temporary appearance. He sensed everything could vanish once he finished here. That thought made him apprehensive.
His limo pulled up to a long building and the driver parked. This had to be another orientation meeting but Richard couldn't imagine what needed discussion. It didn't make sense, but he had about as much chance fighting those in power as a leaf does defying the wind. He stepped inside.
Richard anticipated meeting his mentor or a new set of instructors, nothing else. Instead, he sat in an oversized classroom occupied by most of the other tributes. The seven empty seats attested to their absence. Another half hour passed before they arrived. After so much time isolated, he expected lively conversation. None spoke and all had a vacant expression that screamed leave me alone.
An elderly man entered the room. He had the look of another government official based on nothing more than his pinstriped blue suit and haughty air. The man stood behind a lectern and gave the microphone a quick tap. He hesitated a few seconds, waiting until certain he held their undivided attention.
"Good morning, tributes. I am Mister Oren, this year's Game Master. I am here to lay out the final phase of your training. As you may know, the old hunger games included an unexpected twist every twenty-five years. Since this game is the Fiftieth Capital Hunger Game, we will be doing something special, which I will explain in general detail. No specifics will be given."
If this Mister Oren expected questions, or some sign of enthusiasm, he must be disappointed. A few nervous feet shuffled, disturbing the quiet. Richard's mind fixated on two things, final phase and something special. The rest turned into an annoying noise.
"Very well, let's first address this final phase of your training. Until now, you trained in isolation. For three days you will train as a group. Physical training in the morning, a meal break, weapons training, and you will be ending each day with individual simulator duels. You will be divided into two groups each morning. Group One at Camp A and the rest at Camp B. Group One will be male tributes on day one, sectors ten through eighteen on day two, and even numbered sectors on day three."
Richard wondered why this sudden togetherness. The games allowed but one winner. As an individual, you could prepare yourself to fight others you didn't know. Putting them in such close proximity led to personal connections. That might distract him when the horn sounded the start of the game.
"Every twenty-five years, there's a special game, a Quarter Quell with a specific theme. This year's game will emphasize how the rules of warfare can change. You must adapt or die. Everything you anticipated, based on prior games, no longer applies. The cornucopia is still in the arena, but you'll not see it when the game starts.
"A second change, no opening bloodbath. You will still have opportunities to eliminate your fellow tributes, but it will require as much brains as brawn. Since there is no visible cornucopia, everyone begins the game without any distinct advantage.
"In prior games, sponsors provided a limited number of specialized items needed for survival. This time, your mentor can provide almost anything you desire. Such generosity comes at a price. You'll need to figure out how to contact your mentor. The old style sponsor beacons sometimes missed or they alerted others of a tribute's presence, which is why we have eliminated them in this game."
That changed everything. If the Game Master just threw the tributes into the arena with nothing, it turned the opening into a footrace. The bloodbath would happen, but later, and it would be dragged out as tributes reached the cornucopia. Richard needed to rethink his game strategy.
Game Master Oren wanted their attention and a quick rap on the microphone did it. "Today is an off day. Once you have completed the three day training session, you'll have one day to either rest or avail yourself of a final personalized training session. After that, you'll have a chance to communicate with your family and friends in the morning and do your pre-game interviews that afternoon. The game starts at noon on the day after the interview, which also marks the anniversary date of the Mockingjay Uprising that started six decades ago. May the odds be ever in your favor."
When the man left the room, everyone remained in their seats. Tributes glanced at each other, not sure what to do. One of the girls stood and exited the room. Like a broken dam, the others drifted out of the place. Once Richard got outside, he gravitated towards the parked limos. He climbed into his and the driver started the engine. A few moments later, the driver dropped him off at a nondescript cabin.
Vicky waited inside. She didn't say anything, she just pointed to the sofa. Richard sat. His mentor continued standing at the door until the two ladies entered. Vicky did nothing more than direct them to the sofa he occupied. She drained her cup of coffee and shouted those magic words that guaranteed them absolute privacy.
"Time for me to impart some words of wisdom," Vicky purred. "Every game has four parts. Part one is the bloodbath. Part two, hunter and hunted. Part three is the dissolution of alliances, and part four is the final battle. In prior games, part one lasted no more than an hour. We need to rethink the opening strategies."
Their mentor paced back and forth like a caged animal. Several times she stopped, her brow knitted in deep furrows as she stared at them. Richard almost disturbed the quiet, but her menacing expression had him keep his counsel. A glance at his two fellow tributes confirmed his suspicion that they too feared interrupting Vicky.
"My thought, all three of you should try reaching the cornucopia at the earliest opportunity. Fight as a team for that first day if the opportunity presents itself. Your best chance of survival will depend on speed and power. Richard, that will favor you. Susanna, go for a weapon; your speed in combat should make you a formidable opponent. Rebecca, I'm suggesting you grab a weapon and avoid the bloodbath as you've faired poorly in gang attacks."
"I thought you opposed alliances," Richard said. "Is a hidden cornucopia sufficient reason to discard that advice?"
Their mentor ran her fingers through her long black hair. "You will spend the next three days in close proximity to the other tributes. Alliances are going to happen, it's natural. They can take you deep in the game, but there is a drawback. Since the game allows but one winner, sooner or later, your fellow tributes will turn on you. If you're lucky, everyone just wanders off. If not, you can die when somebody betrays the group. That is why I emphasized evasion tactics. Best you avoid other alliances and rely on yourself."
"You're describing the second and third phase of the game," said Susanna. "How long does that last?"
"Depends on the alliances. Those who hunt tributes last the longest. Everyone wants to reduce the number of tributes. Once you're down to five or less, come the new day the Game Master will do something that will drive everyone towards the final battle. If you're in an alliance, expect treachery. Let me simplify it for you, the final phase is another bloodbath if you're not entertaining the audience. Encourage that, it plays into your strength. All of you."
Richard glanced at the clock. "We have about an hour of privacy. Any suggestions on how we entertain a crowd and stay alive at the same time?"
For once, she considered his observation worthy of response. In the past, one of the girls had to ask the same thing before she answered. His initial gaff still haunted him and she refused to offer him absolution for his offense.
"In your group practice sessions, don't excel at anything. That doesn't mean dragging your feet or making a deliberate mistake with every weapon. You want to practice without looking like a major threat. Scout out your fellow tributes during your communal meal for anyone willing to form alliances. However, when you get to the simulator, hold nothing back. Sponsors are watching those live and it can mean life or death in the arena."
Richard's head motion indicated his disapproval. "Your advice is great here in the training area, but you haven't answered the main question. How do you entertain an audience?"
"Kills keep the crowd entertained. Either the hunt or the actual death will delay that final stage. But don't think you can avoid the inevitable. Once the number of tributes drops below six, the Game Master will force an ending. For now, let's enjoy a good meal."
Everyone went to separate quarters as they prepared for dinner. Richard enjoyed the shower and change of clothing. He stepped out feeling more refreshed than he had in days. His confidence soared as he reviewed his mentor's advice. A chance to interact with the other tributes had its risks and rewards. Best he focus on minimizing the first and maximizing the second.
When he stepped into the common room, something had changed. In the past, Vicky ate with them and acted as either the supervisory adult or a conversational guardian. Tonight, she remained in seclusion. Servants placed an array of food and drink on the table and retired. The two girls approached the table, a bit wary without their mentor. He understood their apprehension as he too thought the sudden change in custom unnerving.
Unless somebody tampered with the clock, they still had another five minutes of privacy. Richard wanted to use that time to his advantage and asked the girls if they intended sharing their observations regarding the other tributes when the next day ended. Their laughter said far more than he wanted to hear.
