Chapter Nine

Author Note: Oh my gosh. I haven't updated this in so long. Again. After promising myself I wouldn't do that…argh, sorry. I just got loaded with schoolwork and I started writing a new Harry Potter fanfic – Dangerous Beauty. It's /slightly more light-hearted, so check it out if you want ;D

Training. I tug at the uncomfortable, skin-tight silver jumpsuit Pinne has forced on me. How I am expected to fight in this eludes me. I glance at Diamond, who stands silently behind me with a pensive look on his face.

That boy never ceases to confuse me. When the stylists had berated him for the bruises on his face, he had blamed it on clumsiness. If I were he, I would have told the truth and more than willingly accused him. Anything to gain higher popularity and thus gifts that will help me greatly during the Games.

Contestants who gain the favor of wealthy viewers can obtain various gifts that are parachuted to them during the course of the Games. These gifts can mean the difference from freezing to death or barely making it out alive and winning.

The elevator slides to a stop with the silent hiss of escaped air. The gilded metal doors open and Diamond and I step out.

Several pairs of hostile eyes glue onto us, assessing our weaknesses and strengths. I shiver; this isn't an experiment. This is real. I force myself to stand tall, my chin jutting. The scientists instructed me to appear strong – worthy of an alliance with the most formidable opponents.

I glance at Diamond before scanning the room. To one side of the spacious room huddle a couple scrawny things. Their cheeks are sunken and their eyes are yellowed – a sure sign of starvation. They are definitely not my allies. I look at the other side, where a couple athletic forms are lounging, eying me with confident gazes. Now, those would be my allies.

I start towards them, expecting to have Diamond right behind me. Instead, he goes straight towards the weaker ones that are sure to be the first victims. I stop and watch him incredulously. What does he think he's doing? I shake my head. For a muttation designed by the all-knowing Creators, he sure is stupid.

I continue on my path towards my allies, making sure that my eyes never waver from theirs; I do not want to appear weak. A girl with shoulder-length dirty blond hair and glinting red-brown eyes leans against the wall, her arms crossed. A boy with similar hair and dull brown eyes stands, gazing blankly at me. These must the tributes from District Two. I am only slightly surprised to notice two more tributes with them; the scientists had informed me earlier that two more tributes would help, both from District Four.

I struggle to remember the information the scientists had drilled into me about District Four. It is a district of fishermen and produced many strong tributes. In short, they are good allies to have.

I reach the girl from District Four and she grins, the rubies set at the corners of her eyes glinting maniacally. Her auburn hair is twisted delicately into a style that's both pretty and wild. I shudder as I realize her teeth have been filed to points.

"You must be Kara. I'm Aliss," she says sweetly. I frown; her voice is laced with hidden barbs and traps. I glance at the worn sheath strapped to her hip. Knives, huh? My mind scrambles to come up with good offensive strategies. Knives have always been my best way to attack – well, that and bare handed fighting. It will be interesting to fight her when the time comes.

"Hello? Anyone there? I will not be slowed down by some imbecile!" she shrills, her voice devoid of any past-illusions of sweetness. I allow myself to smile.

"Yes, I am Kara," I say quietly before moving on to the other tribute from District Four, a boy with jet black hair and icy blue eyes. I am happy to notice that Aliss appears to be infuriated; of course, I shouldn't be happy that one of my allies is angry at me, but I cannot help it. I freeze just as I am about to introduce myself to the boy; what if provoking Aliss lessens my chances of winning, thus disappointing my Creators? My breath catches and icy cold fear grips my heart. What if…? What if…? Thousands of questions whirl and I stumble a little.

I notice Clove, the girl from District One, smirking as she watches my moment of weakness. I pull myself together quickly, dispelling any stubborn thoughts of failure from my mind. I straighten and smile brightly at the black-haired boy.

"I'm Kara, weapon of choice is the bow," I lie cheerfully. Let them think that archery is my strong point; when the time comes, I'll whip out a dagger and kill them all.

The boy tilts his head before answering softly, "Nice to meet you. I'm Nev." I blink. I can sense no hostility coming from him. I brush him off as a weakling; after all, he hadn't even tried to intimidate me – how good of a fighter could he possibly be?

At last I come to Clove and Bruno, the tributes I had read about before. Strange, that moment in my room seems like a lifetime ago. Bruno, who had been peering intently at the ceiling, merely glances at me and grunts his name before continuing in…well, whatever fascinating thing he was doing. Clove, however, forces a smile that's so convincing, if I didn't have the snow leopard DNA, I would never have known. Mental alarms ring as I take in her strong build and sly smile; she would definitely be strong.

"So, how are you planning to train?" I ask casually, hoping to get more information about their fighting styles. So far only Nev had told me, saying that he preferred to lay net traps. Aliss chuckles and rolls her eyes, those infuriating gems glinting with every move.

"Nice try," she says. Well, it was worth a shot. I lean back on the wall, noting that it is slightly moist. I scan the room again, subconsciously looking for that shock of golden brown hair. I stop, realizing that I am looking for Cirrius. I refocus, assessing everyone for weaknesses.

I have to win. I have to.

Diamond is still talking with the weaker tributes. My eyebrows furrow as I try to think of possible reasons he would do that; I come up with nothing. Talking with them will not help him at all – in fact, it is detrimental. I excuse myself to my allies before striding over to his perch near the knot-tying station.

I ignore the tributes near him (after all, I'll just be killing them anyway) and grab him by the front of his matching impractical jumpsuit.

"What are you doing?" I hiss quietly. Diamond rolls his eyes.

"What do you mean?" he asks innocently. I fume silently, somehow knowing that my allies are watching my every move.

"You know we have to make allies! Don't you want to win?" I ask, trying to subtly remind him of his purpose as a muttation. He blinks.

"Well, not really," he says breezily. I stop and stare at him, genuinely shocked. Didn't his Creators order him to win? They must not have; no one can actually want to disobey them. I struggle to come up with ways to ask him of his purpose without revealing that I know about his identity.

"Then…why are you in the games?" I ask carefully, avoiding his eyes. Ha! You're not getting me this time. I can feel his gaze, and it unnerves me. I slightly shift my weight from each foot. Why had I even come here? I think longingly of my place between Clove and Nev – although they were sure to backstab me the first chance they got (and I would do the same to them), anything was better than here, under Diamond's eye.

"Because of you," he says finally. I stare, the sounds of arrows thudding into straw dummies echoing from the nearby archery station.

"You are lying," I say calmly. He is obviously trying to unsettle me…which, unfortunately, he has succeeded in doing. I quickly walk back to the Careers, where Bruno has been absently picking at his teeth with Aliss's knife. Aliss's face is bright red and she is trying to retrieve it, but Bruno is too tall. Aliss, while fierce, is quite small. I wince as Bruno licks the blade. Who knows what kind of contaminants are on that blade…and from what I've seen of Aliss, I'm sure there's quite a bit of blood.

I eye Bruno curiously. Could someone really be that dumb? I notice his eyes, while blank, are closed…potentially hiding something. I am interrupted by a tentative poke.

I whirl around and see Nev's pale eyes staring back.

"What?" I snap. I have no time for weaklings; I am only putting up with him because the scientists have told me to.

"A boy from District Twelve told me to give you this," he says, handing over a soft slip of violet cloth. My breath catches; lately, anything purple sends me into hysterics. Stupid Cirrius and his talk about the oh-so-mysterious purple beams.

"Thanks," I say curtly, before turning around to signal that the conversation is over. I hear an exasperated sigh behind me and I roll my eyes. Weakling.

I turn the cloth around in my fingers, my roughened fingers snagging on the delicate threads. Nothing. I snort, flinging it away from me. It is obviously a ploy to get me distracted. I make a show of turning away from it in case the person behind it is watching.

Sensing that my allies plan to waste the whole time away, I amble over to a random stall; it makes no sense to just sit there. The keeper of the stall, an elderly woman with wispy white hair, smiles happily at me, revealing slightly yellowed teeth. Weird. For a Capitol woman, I see no traces of artificial changes…this exception unnerves me and I quickly leave the stall, opting for one manned by a pale orange man with dark blue hair. There. This was someone I can suitably hate.

"Hello, there!" the man shouts eagerly. Oh yes. Definitely someone I can hate. All thoughts of the elderly woman leave me as I mentally point out all the superficial altercations he's done to his body. Stupid Capitol people; they don't care about anything real. I eye the table in front of him, spying various arrays of dyes and poisons. I glance back up at the man, who is jumping up and down like an excited child.

They let this guy man the table with lethal poisons? I scoff. A Capitol person is probably in charge of this. I pick up a small bowl of a thick pink paste and peer at it. Hm…Cristred made of frostberry and maurflowers. This would leave a victim blind and vomiting for days. Out of the corner of my eye I see that the man has finally quieted down. He approaches me and spies the bowl.

"Oh, you've picked up the Cristred!" he said cheerfully. "Cristred has the interesting prop-"

"I know what it does," I interrupted tersely. His face fell and his ridiculously bright orange lip quivered. Oh, for Panem's sake.

I point at a random bowl and ask, "what is this?" The man immediately brightens and begins a long speech on the qualities of the bowl, which I know for a fact is Bittersweet, a delicious concoction that instantly kills the consumer if eaten and heals even major wounds if used as a salve. I absently listen to him; for a Capitol airhead, he (admittedly) knows a lot about the poisons.

My Creators must have drilled him beforehand; if anyone can cure a Capitol airhead's stupidity, it's them.

The man continues to talk as I peruse the rest of the potions, only a few snippets of his words reaching my ears.

"-purple beams…" I catch him say. I drop the bowl of Britefast I am holding with a clatter. What?

"Wait, what did you say?" I ask urgently, grabbing the front of his silly sequined shirt. He blinks before saying cautiously, "fish oil can be used to increase electricity's range?" I growl angrily.

"No! Before that!" I hiss. He whimpers.

"Um…purple beams are a mythological type of wood that can be used to both cure death and erase memories?" he asks hesitantly. I let him go, his still-quivering body falling to the ground in a heap.

What does wood have to do with anything?

AN: Thanks for reading. As always, /pleaseplease/ review =D