CHAPTER 6
Murderers with Smiles and Champagne
Caroline stood in a circle with the other tributes side by side to her. They were all clothed in the mandatory training gear - clothing that was given upon arrival to their District's apartment in the training center. Later that day, they were all gathered in the training room, just two days after having been reaped for the 68th Hunger Games. The room itself was located in the sub-levels of the building.
The training room was full of equipment and a variety of trainers with different skill sets. There were almost a dozen survival stations on one side and the other had multiple areas to practice and/or learn fighting skills, with or without weapons. Caroline eyed the knife and bow station for a moment before quickly looking away. She had to remember what Finnick told her. She had to avoid showing off her best abilities because if she did, the advantage of surprise would be lost.
He recommended trying something new today, to either better herself or focus on the survival skills. He knew she was good at a lot of things already thanks to their behind-the-scenes training but he was just as worried as she was. He wanted her to be prepared for anything. He wanted her to come home just as much as she did.
Standing in front of them was the head trainer Atala Marnowa. She was a tall and slender woman with dark black hair tied into a sharp bun. There was no smile on her face, only exhaustion based in her features with a hardened shell to contain herself. She had been doing this job for far too long – trained too many children even though she knew sometimes it was useless. She and the other trainers below her were dressed normally - no over-the-top clothing or makeup could be seen on any part of their bodies. They looked just as tributes did but with a few slight alterations.
Atala stared at them as she began explaining what everyone was doing here – what they were to accomplish by the end of the three-day training period. She went on to describe everything that was about to happen in the Games, everything that they'll possibly need to prepare.
The tributes around the head trainer looked between themselves as she continued. It was almost as if they were sizing each other up to decide what was the best course of action to go with.
Caroline tried to ignore everything around her and listen to what she might be facing, but it becoming exceedingly difficult considering she could feel multiple pairs of eyes bearing down on her, both from above in the Gamemakers box and the other tributes.
She didn't want to sound conceded or egotistical but it nearly felt like there were too many people staring at her … like she was being pointed out or something. She didn't want to be the center of attention – she had never liked that, it grated her nerves in a way she didn't like.
She could have sworn the male tribute from District One was smirking at her from the side and it made her insides feel a shiver down its spine. Everyone knew of District 1 and 2, they were traditionally the volunteer Districts of Panem. They were always brutal when they kill and full of arrogance when they speak. Every year they manage to hold the title of most kills and it was disgusting to even see how joyful they looked about killing other children their age.
Technically Districts aren't allowed to train their people for the Hunger Games but somehow, the two lower Districts are able to get away with it. Since they are closer with the Capitol and provide certain resources, it created a bit of leeway. In the other Districts, they're labeled as Careers. Conceited but potentially deadly.
She attempted to observe everyone in the room herself, to get a better feel for who she was up against. Trying to ascertain how she'll have to get past all of them in order to go home to her little brother.
No matter how hard she tried to remember what was happening around her and stay in the moment - she still couldn't quite believe where she was.
Her brain was constantly trying to wish that this was just some terrible nightmare. She was always struck back to reality fairly quickly, it was hard enough that she knew her luck would never be that good. How can it? She was the daughter of dead parents and condemned to be the sole carer of a five-year-old child at just 14 herself. Her life was full of bad luck. Getting reaped for the Hunger Games was just the icing on the shit-filled cake. Anything after that would become the topper.
As her eyes flickered from tribute to tribute, a startling fact suddenly popped into her mind. Something she hadn't considered. They were all … her age. It didn't occur to her until just now when she failed to notice there were no entry-age children within the group. Every year, there was always at least one child at the age of eleven or twelve. Always. The ages were always varied and never just one age group. It was near enough impossible to simulate that without there being tampering involved.
She tried to think back to Ceaser Flickerman's introduction to this year's annual Hunger Games – the start of the show where he goes through every tribute that's been picked and shows them off to his audience. She tried to recall all the ages of the tributes exactly, trying to discern if she was just making a mistake … but she wasn't. The only age she could remember seeing was seventeen and nothing below.
A little frown appeared on her lips in confusion and she couldn't help but feel a little uneasy at the new revelation. It didn't make any sense. The odds were astronomical for that coincidence to occur. It didn't sit right with her. She couldn't quite place a reasonable understanding of the situation, to why this might have happened without it sounding very, very bad.
…
Three days passed way too quickly in Caroline's opinion when they found themselves in one of the many places she never wanted to come back to. All the Victors were sitting outside the training room, waiting for their private session to be called.
She had no idea what she was going to do.
Part of her wanted to just get it over and done with by showing off her impressive hand-to-hand combat abilities or how deadly she could be with a couple of knives. She could also shoot quite well with a bow and arrows too.
However…
The biggest part of her wanted to do something different this year considering all the pain and suffering that not only the Capitol has brought upon them, but Snow as well. She knew she was playing with fire but she craved to be rebellious for the first time without fear of retaliation. To do something she's dreamed of since the day that bastard of a President threatened to take away the only family she had left in this world. He's already taken her dignity and any self-worth she had, the stability of her mind included after everything she was put through in the Games.
She wanted to throw something back in his face for everything that he's done and take some of those people they call loyal down with him too.
Thinking about it … she could if she really wanted to.
Evan was safe … so were Ms. Jenkins, Annie, and Mags. They were safe from his clutches away in District 13 with the rest of the rebellion. She had nothing left to lose back in her District. Finnick was already being thrown into the arena with her so that left nothing for them to do about it until they're dumped into the battlefield. They already knew it was going to be carnage in the arena so that wasn't anything new.
But what could she do that would prove a point? Something that could stir something inside of them, something that could possibly make them feel guilty about supporting any of this. The Hunger Games … the Quarter Quell… how can she make them come around to see just what their actions are doing to the people of Panem? How much this affects the human race in general?
She needed a way to make them pay, even just a little, for everything that they've done and supported.
Finnick would not be happy knowing what she could potentially be planning…
Good thing he won't know until later…
She was so lost in her thoughts that it wasn't until she felt a finger graze underneath her chin, snapping her back to reality. It was a light touch that was gone as quick as it came. She blinked a few times to break away from her staring into nothingness, giving a little shake to her head. As she tried to assess how much she had missed since spacing out and she realized quickly that many tributes had already been called for their sessions.
Everyone below District Four was gone from their seats and up next was Finnick who had yet to be called. He sat beside her, his body turned towards her direction so she was the only one he was focusing on. Since they were close enough together where they were almost touching – he was able to fiddle with ends of her hair while it was tied into a long braid. When down, it would reach just below her upper arm.
When he gets bored or anxious, he fiddles with her hair. It was weird … but sweet at the same time. Sometimes he would even braid it for her, like this one just before they left this morning. He would tell her it calms him down and keeps him in the moment. She didn't object because she knew it was one of the ways he copes with his emotions. Every Victor has a method to deal with the demons inside of them and the memories that plagued their souls. This and tying knots were just one of the few ways Finnick knows how to deal.
"Hey," He whispered very lightly so he couldn't be overheard, "You okay?" His features were full of concern. He knew just how much she hated it here. Everyone probably did but everything to do with this place was bringing back memories that wanted to long be forgotten. For the past three nights since arriving at the Capitol once more, they've both had been having nightmares about their first Games. They've both woken up with sweat-covered sheets sticking to their bodies.
If it wasn't for the makeup their prep teams applied every morning – anyone could have seen the dark black bags hanging underneath their eyes and the pure exhaustion plastered on their faces. It feels like they've barely had any sleep with everything that's been going on lately.
Caroline's lips lifted slightly half-heartedly and could only manage a small shrug. She pulled her legs up underneath her and crossed them, rolling her shoulders back until she felt a satisfying crack. Her body felt tense and restless. She wanted to get out of this place … now.
"Is anyone?" She retorted lightly in her own lowered voice, turning to him in return, "What about you?"
Finnick hated sitting around and doing nothing – it was a pet peeve of his. He needed to be active, to be doing something, anything, especially if he's waiting.
"Nervous, I guess." He replied before taking a glance around the room. Everyone was either staying as silent or conversing quietly like they were. He brought a leg up to his chest and rested against it, "Can't wait for this to be over with already." He continued, "All this waiting is driving me nuts."
Caroline's lips quirked into a grin, "You're already nuts, dear."
Finnick placed a hand over his wounded heart, "Ouch." He complained lightly with a dramatic look on his face, "That hurt." She took her braid out of his hands and playfully swatted his hand. They shared a small laugh at their equal attempt to lighten the mood but unfortunately, it rapidly came to a halt when the speakerphone was reactivated.
"District 4 - Finnick Odair." A man's voice echoed through the room. All the Victor's in the room seemed to pause and stare towards them – to Finnick in particular. There was suddenly a void of noise in the air and everything seemed to just stop. "Report for your individual assessment."
Finnick clearly didn't want to leave her, or do this assessment, but knew that he had to. He glanced towards the door to the training room before letting out a small resolving sigh. He got up slowly from where he sat and before he left, he turned to look down at Caroline. He bent down and kissed her forehead, stroking her cheek as a form of comfort for them both. He ignored the stares they received and just focused on her.
"I'll see you soon." He promised quietly with stern eyes of promise.
Caroline lifted her hand up to touch his, giving it a small clench of courage.
"You better." She countered, a small smile lifting on her lips, "I'll eat all the ice-cream and burn all your clothes if you don't." Ice-cream was his favorite food while cupcakes were hers.
He sent her a playful glare, "You're a rascal, you are."
Now he really didn't want to leave.
Caroline just rolled her eyes and pushed him towards the door when she noticed the guards getting a little testy. She sent him a small vote of confidence before he finally left for his assessment. He had glanced back at her once more but she sent him a nod, telling him silently that she'll be okay, just as he will without her for the short amount of time.
Some might say they relied too heavily on each other and they were probably right. Finnick was her emotional rock while she was his. There was just a connection between them that no one would ever get.
No one really grasps an understanding of what they've gone through being a Victor. In fact, they could never tell anyone in fear of someone they cared for getting hurt. If Caroline were to have done something President Snow didn't like – he would hurt her family. If Finnick had done something President Snow didn't like – he would hurt both Caroline and her family because he knew how much all of them meant to him.
Only a few other Victors would ever really know what they were going through.
Caroline had fallen back into her trapped thoughts when Finnick disappeared and she was left waiting inevitably for her turn to arrive. She started to think back to her Games seven years ago. The last time she sat in this chair, she was nervous like she was now and extremely anxious to leave. During her last assessment, she had shown off her abilities with a bow, piercing each dummies heart through and through.
She received a surprising score of 11 which was off because she hadn't been trying all that hard to make a big impression in the first place. Her strategy was planning to be the element of surprise, and attack if needed. She wasn't going to go actively seeking anyone out to kill them. She wasn't going to sink so low like a Career tribute would do.
If someone came at her, then she'd have no choice but to retaliate to prevent her premature death. In the end, none of her plans seemed to work for very long because as soon as everyone was dumped into the arena … the bloodshed around her just kept on growing.
They kept coming for her and they never stopped … she didn't know why.
She still couldn't fathom the reasoning behind anything to do with the 68th Hunger Games and she still didn't like it one bit. She loathed not knowing and sometimes it drove her crazy because she still didn't have all the answers. She figured out after the Games had ended why her name had been reaped but that didn't account for everything that happened during it. It didn't make sense that she became the main target that year.
"District 4 - Caroline Winters."
The man's voice appeared once again and smashed through her running thoughts. Caroline blinked out of her head and turned up towards the speaker. She silently wondered if she really heard the voice or if it was just her imagination. It would be the first time that's happened. She was proved wrong when the announcement continued.
"Report for your individual assessment."
There was a moment where she stayed where she was as silence encased the room. When she felt everyone staring, it greatly reminded her of her first training day seven years ago. It made her feel uneasy, so much so that she wanted out of this room that very moment. She managed to push herself up and start walking towards the door without a second glance over her shoulder.
She still wasn't sure what she was going to do for her assessment.
…
Caroline stepped foot into the training room as the door automatically opened for her. Everything looked relatively the same, however, a few of the stations that didn't need holograms were placed into the center of the room for easier viewability. The Gamemaker and his guests were stationed up in the viewers box, above where they would normally sit.
Surprisingly, all the guests looked weirdly normal and she had to wonder if they were his 'helpers' in creating the arena. If they were Capitol citizens that had paid an exorbitant amount of money to see first hand what the Victors had to offer, then they would have worn exotic over-the-top clothing and makeup. These people wore all black robes and jackets with little to no face paint. Out of all of them, Plutarch was the only one standing amongst the dozen, while the others were lounging back in their sofa chairs, waiting for the show to start.
During her last assessment; she recalled everyone eating, drinking, and chatting along with each other. They usually didn't give two hoots about what the tributes did unless they were interesting specimens. This time; they looked subdued and attentive as they waited for the next Victor to step forth. She could feel them watching her very closely as she approached closer.
"Caroline Winters!" Plutarch called loudly, almost in a tone that showed he didn't want to be kept waiting. She turned her gaze up to him for a moment when he stared down directly at her. "You have 10 minutes to present your chosen skill."
Caroline looked at the stations to see what there was to offer and she stopped short when her eyes immediately caught sight a wall of thin, sharp knives. They were beautiful. The curves were meticulous and sharp, the handle made of a thin grey strap of leather. There were small engravings driven into the side of the blade that had unique winding swirls.
She remembered them very clearly… they were from her Games.
These were the knives she used in the arena after retrieving her backpack. There was a split-second where she narrowly missed getting hit by this very knife where it would have done much more damage. She barely managed to get out of the bloodbath after making a bold decision to go after some essentials.
As she moved closer to the weapons, she could tell by the slight notch in the blade and the faint tear in the leather that it was hers. She reached forward and grabbed it, holding the familiar weapon in her hand as she recalled the first time she used it.
She committed her first murder of the 68th Hunger Games with this knife…
Caroline felt her chest heaving rapidly from undeniable fright when she felt the sun beating down on her. The artificial sky was a pale blue with the ball of fire bigger than usual. She could clearly hear the Gamemaker counting down from sixty with the clock projected from up above. Everyone around her was getting ready to make a run for it, either towards the motherload of goods or into the treeline for cover.
She observed her surroundings and noticed everyone doing the same as her. Trying to assess what they had been thrown into and making quick plans on what to do first. All twenty-four tributes were standing on silver plates that were elevated from the ground a couple of inches. The cornucopia stood several meters from all of them and all of them would need to run as fast as possible to have even a chance of getting something from the pile.
They were all equal distance - from both the Cornucopia and each other.
10 … 9 … 8 …
She eyed all the weapons, rucksacks and needed supplies inside and tried to figure out as quickly as possible which one was likely to aid her more – while also keeping into account she needed to get in and get out without getting killed or hurt. The red one off to the very right side looked promising. She could see a glint against the light. She made a guess that it was probably a flask. She hoped there was already water inside but knew it probably wouldn't be likely. Next to the sack was a smaller mesh bag. It was hard to tell from this distance but she could possibly see that inside were a couple of knives.
She needed them, both the sack and the knives … she could reach them without getting hurt…
4 … 3 … 2 …. 1…
As soon as the boom of the cannon went off … the commotion started.
The backpack she wanted and the knives were luckily not too far inside the Cornucopia but were resting on the outside of the wall plate on the right side where she was closest too. She ran as fast as her feet could take her and pushed hard with all her might. She had to dodge a few people and it wasn't long before she heard screams when the blades started swinging.
Without thinking twice about it, she grabbed onto the bag, stuffing the mesh one inside and heaved it quickly over her shoulder. Unfortunately, her bad luck struck again when she felt a piercing sensation fly against her left arm. She gasped in pain and a small yelp jogged her when she noticed a long line of blood rapidly forming on her skin. The cut was at least four inches in length but thankfully it didn't look too deep.
Her head snapped up just in time to see another knife about to be thrown at her from the District Two male. Acting on instinct; she bent down quickly and grabbed the knife he had previously thrown at her and with exact precision – nailed him in the chest and straight through the heart.
She unintentionally paused for a moment as she watched his body collapse to the floor with a thump.
She killed him.
She had killed another human being … a child like her.
A terrified scream from another tribute was the thing that snapped her back to her senses and she finally took off running. Since there was no one coming that way, she headed towards the area the District Two tribute had been blocking.
I would have had to take him out anyway, she tried to tell herself. He would have tried to kill me if I let him live. Think about Evan…
As she passed his immobile body – she wrenched the knife from his chest and without a second thought ran for her life away from the bloodshed and murder. She accidentally bumped into a few trees with the adrenaline running through her veins faster then it should. It felt like she had been running through the dense forest for twenty minutes before finally starting to make a stop in her stride. She stumbled over the tree roots before eventually regaining her footing.
She tried to calm the heavily beating heart in her chest with her breath slowing down from pants to small exhales. After a few minutes, she managed to find some large rocks and decided to rest for a second to grasp her bearings. She would carry on after catching a breather and figuring her next move.
Caroline looked around properly to notice the surroundings she had found herself in. It was a forest, that much she was sure of. Certainly nothing like back home. The trees around her were covering any chance of seeing the sky and all along the bark were vines. Some had a wet, sticky sensation to them. She grimaced, not liking the look of the substance and made sure not to get too close to it. For all she knew, it was poisonous to her. It wouldn't be a surprise.
As a few seconds passed; she eventually took off her backpack and threw it in front of where she was sitting. She unzipped it and started rummaging through the contents of what she was able to retrieve. There was a small portion of food consisting of dry nuts and meat. It wasn't enough to last a day or two if she really stretched herself thin and as expected, the flask she noticed previously was empty. She would have to find a stream to fill it somewhere along the line.
The one thing she was very pleased to find and thoroughly glad to see was a small tin of a clear paste. She let out a small laugh with a smile and instantly opened it. She pinched a small amount and glazed it over the wound the male from District Two was able to get out of her. The adrenaline had been pumping through her body too hard for the pain to really set in but as soon as she applied it, the sharp tingles that used to be there began to dissipate with relief sitting in its place.
It was an ointment the Capitol used to repair small wounds and repair the skin.
While remaining careful not to smudge the paste on her arm, she closed the tin and stuck it in the bottom of the bag, replacing all the items she had gone through back on top. There were enough supplies there to hopefully last her. Even then, she would still have to be exceptionally careful. She didn't know how many sponsors she actually had but she didn't want to rely on people she couldn't care less for.
She examined the knives she managed to procure and found they all looked the same. They were thin, easy to handle, and the blades held a weird but gentle pattern on the side. It was horrible to think but these knives looked extremely nice to both look at and hold within her grasp. Each one had a thick grey strap around the holder and it was tough to the touch.
She picked up and held the one that's done the most damage today … she let what little light there was around her bounce off of it.
The blood had dried out during her run so there were crusted bits of dark brown staining the surface. She felt her throat clench and her heart skip a beat as she stared at it – a bead of tears starting to accumulate in the corner of her eyes. She couldn't remember his name but she had killed him. He was dead because of her, because of the fact that she wanted to live – that she needed to live. He was probably the same. He wanted and needed to live but she had gotten him quicker than he could have done to her.
Looking closer at the blade, it was a tiny bit different from the rest that she had. There was a small tear in the leather binding and she spotted a clear notch on one side of the blade. It was a one of a kind and it had just taken another life of a child.
A hand raised to her mouth as she continued to stare at the weapon, the tears peeling over the edge of her eyelids. If he had never thrown this knife at her, he would have never been killed by her hand. If the Hunger Games never existed, this would never have happened to begin with. If the people of the Capitol were just as disgusted with the Hunger Games as they were, there would have never been a single Game, to begin with.
How could anyone support these games … to feel good about themselves and not want to do something about it? It was madness, cruel … how could anyone sleep at night knowing they were sending children to their death because of some stupid game? None of this is make-believe and maybe there are some people that don't seem to realize that.
She wanted to go home so badly.
"Miss Winters," Plutarch's voice cut through her flashback, "You only have six minutes left to present your chosen skill."
Caroline instantly felt her teeth clench and anger surge through her body as he spoke. Her chosen skill? What was anyone's chosen skill in the Hunger Games … killing? Because that's what all this was really about… who was more likely to make the kill and who would do it in a way the Capitol would cheer over. No, she wasn't going to play by their rules this time. She wasn't going to bow down to the Capitol's wishes anymore and do what they wanted of her.
She was going to tell President Snow and his lackeys to go screw off.
She's figured out exactly what she wanted to do.
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Have an awesome end to 2018/beginning to 2019! Don't drink and drive!
