Ain't it Fun

"Ain't it fun living in the real world? Ain't it good being all alone?"

Ula Taylor, 17, District Four

It felt good to be in athletic wear again. The Chariot rides were important to the Games. Not only were they part of the Hunger Games traditional preparatory ritual, but the Chariots were your first impression. They got you sponsors, in other words. Ula understood that.

Even so, last night wasn't exactly her cup of tea. She couldn't shake the feeling of being, for lack of a better phrase, "meat on a stick." It was like the Capitol was drooling over them all right before they were slow roasted for dinner. The costume they had her in made her feel exposed and uncomfortable.

The next three days training were going to be much much easier.

So why did she still feel a nagging pit in the back of her stomach? She didn't know.

"Calder, you ready to go down?" she asked mechanically as she finished her last bite of cereal.

"I don't know," Calder shrugged, with a smile. "I don't know if I can handle being with everyone again for very long."

Ula grimaced. Calder had been on edge ever since the District One girl came over and introduced herself backstage. She knew that he didn't feel at home with the career pack. They were all a little too direct and confrontational for him. She didn't particularly like any of them either, of course. But this was how it was done. She was a career.

"Come on," she shook her head.

With a nervous laugh, Calder jumped to his feet and trotted after her as she walked over the elevator. Traditionally, the mentors usually greeted the tributes before they were sent off to their first day of training; however, Finnick had disappeared the previous night for some sort of mysterious "meeting." Molly disappeared into her room immediately after he left, and neither tribute from Four had seen them since.

Of course, Iris Siren had peaked in on them a few minutes earlier to make sure they were getting ready for training. Honestly though, they were so thoroughly instructed in pre-Games procedure at the Academy that they were probably both perfectly capable of getting themselves down to the training center.

Pressing the button in the elevator, the two tributes felt themselves begin to lower. The training center was two floors below the lobby. It would have no windows, so that the paparazzi wouldn't be able to catch any sneak peaks of the tributes abilities, or lack there of.

"Remember to impress the Gamemakers," Iris cooed after them as the door slid shut.

Ula and Calder only got one floor down before the compartment came to a stop. With a ding, the door swung open, revealing a two rather surprised District Three tributes. Behind them, Ula could see Beetee Xavior and Sparky Nuetro hovering.

"Oh, looks like it's already full," the District Three girl squeaked, sounding horrified.

"Yup, we're at maximum capacity," Ula said, crossing her arms. In her mind, Seymour Yew's voice buzzed. Intimidation was key during this training period, he always said. It kept daring tributes from attacking the career pack in the middle of the night later in the arena. Beside her, she could feel Calder squirming uncomfortably.

"It looks like there's plenty of room to me," the boy said amiably, sticking his hand out and catching the door before it closed. He looked Ula straight in the eye as he stepped into the elevator. "You coming Aeriel?"

"Zync," Sparky Neutro breathed in warning.

The girl didn't say anything. Her lips were pursed though, and her cheeks were turned a bright shade of red. Cautiously, she slid in beside her District Partner. Ula didn't say anything. She just watched the two, keeping her face blank. No need to start any fist fights over something stupid.

She could practically feel the pit in her stomach growing by the minute

Barric Yule, 15, District Eleven

"Have at it then," the stout woman said, waving her hands to shoo the crowd of tributes away.

The tributes scattered almost instantaneously, everyone off to their stations of choice. Barric swayed in his spot for a moment as he glanced around the room. He hadn't been paying attention to most of what the head trainer had told them, so he missed her tutorial on what everything was exactly.

Looking to the left though it was hard to miss the army of maniquins and targets lining surrounding a table of large pointed objects. Barric felt himself smiling.

"I think we should go check out the weap-" he began to say, turning to Emmer. He stopped talking when he realized that she had disappeared. He frowned. They hadn't officially agreed on anything, but he had sort of assumed that they were going to be allies. After all, he had been talking with her a lot since they had gotten onto the train.

Glancing around the room, he felt his heart sink. Emmer's little head was nowhere to be seen. It appeared that at least for the moment, he was alone. A nervous knot twisted in his stomach as he glanced around the room. The careers had gone to the weapons station already, and were currently weighing a variety of swords in their hands. He didn't really want to go join them there all by himself, so he kept looking. His eyes eventually fell onto the obstacle course, and almost mechanically he drifted over to it.

A boy was already running through it. He was wearing knee and elbow guards, as well as a helmet as he swung across as set of monkey bars, towards a beam that had sand bags swinging across it. The boy looked like he was struggling a little, but he was managing. Barric could feel his heart beat pick up slightly. He wanted to take a turn. Badly.

"Um, sir," he walked over to the trainer running the station.

"Yeah kid," the man glanced at him.

"Would this be considered a contact sport?" he asked, praying that the man would say no.

"Er, it depends what you mean by that," he said.

"I have concussion problems," Barric explained.

"Ah, well I suggest you skip this one then kid. I mean, you get hit in the head with one of those sand bags and its going to hurt. You don't need that in the arena the arena," the trainer frowned.

"Oh," Barric muttered, his heart falling. Stupid concussions. They took all the fun out of everything.

At the other end, the boy who had been running the course was finishing up. He had been nailed in the side by a few of the sand bags, and he had a fake arrow sticking to his cheek. At least he hadn't fallen off though. The suspended course was high enough up that any sort of trip up would have hurt.

"That was awesome," Barric bubbled as the boy came back around to the front to give the trainer his saftey gear.

"Thanks," the boy beamed, glancing at Barric. Now that he was up close, Barric recognized him as the boy from Eight.

"Some of the guys back at home made a mud course just like this one that I used to run. One of my freinds decked me once when I was in the middle of it. We took a pretty nasty fall," Barric said, smiling at the memory.

"That's cool. Do you want a turn?" Eight asked, holding up his helmet.

"Nah. I don't want to show off all my tricks out in the open just yet," Barric lied smoothly. Eight nodded with a smile, seeming to understand. Taking the opportunity, Barric held out his hand "I'm Barric by the way."

"Loden," Eight responded.

"I was just heading over to the track station, you wanna come?" Barric offered.

Loden's expression broke out into a wide grin. "Yeah sure. Sounds fun," he nodded. Barric felt a bubble of happiness swell in his chest. And to think Chaff said the whole ally thing was going to be difficult. Taking the lead, Barric started off towards the track, with Loden tailing close behind him.

Andromeda Albion, 17, District Two

Andromeda sat on the edge of the weapons table watching with extreme interest as Brodus mauled one of the maniquinns with a long curved sword. She had already thrown a few stars at the target station, but weapons training had gotten boring fast. There was nothing interesting about hitting a bulls-eye over and over again.

Back at home it had been easier to focus because Quintus hovered over her shoulder twenty four seven. Without him it seemed pointless. It wasn't like another few hours of training were going to change anything anyways. She liked watching her allies play around much better.

"Having fun there?" Jeremite asked her as he came over to exchange blades.

"Tons," Andromeda winked at him. He rewarded her with a small smile as he lifted a long double edged blade that probably would have been too heavy for most tributes to lift. "Are you going to use that one in the arena?" She asked him.

He shook his head. "No. I like twin swords much better. They're more fluid than this, but my girlfriend always tells me I should work on being more versatile. There might not be twin swords in the Cornucopia."

"Girlfriend?" Andromeda wrinkled her nose.

"Yeah. Sorry, I'm spoken for," Jeremite grinned. It was a shame too. Jeremite was cute. So was Brodus too, of course, but Brodus was a bit too serious for Andromeda's taste. As for Calder, well, he was just too nervous all the time. Maybe if he could calm down for a moment, Andromeda could warm up to him. She glanced over at him twirling a pair of nun chucks around his body in a very showy fashion. Yeah, she supposed he wasn't all that bad.

"Is he talking about Agatha again?" Biathyst snapped from the throwing knives station. "Because I told him to save the nauseating relationship talk for later. Nobody wants to hear it."

A flash of annoyance passed over Jeremite's face before quickly disappearing. Andromeda just giggled though. "Oh I was the one who brought it up," she said. "Somebody's got to keep tabs on all the boys around here."

Biathyst shot her a look as if she was crazy. "Save the boys for later," she said. "You've got your own life to worry about right now."

"Amen," Brodus muttered quietly to himself, his back still turned to them. He probably didn't intend for everyone to hear that.

"You guys are no fun," Andromeda whined.

"Hey. They've got a point, we've all got a legacy to fix," Jeremite said softly.

"Actually, I thought we should talk about that," Ula broke into the conversation. She had been silently sword training beside Brodus for a while now. Andromeda had almost forgotten she was there though. She hardly spoke to any of them.

"Talk about what?" Calder cut in, pausing with his nun chucks. Andromeda smiled. Apparently Ula hadn't even confided in him yet. That must hurt. Maybe he'd need someone to talk to later. She'd like that.

"Last year," she clarified. "We should outline everything we need to fix to dominate this year. We can't leave any room for error."

Brodus was already nodding in agreement, silent as always.

"Oh, I know. How about we not split up on day freaking three," Biathyst rolled her eyes. "We should be just fine and dandy after that."

Ula's lips pulled into a thin line, and she looked like she was ready to drop the subject simply out of annoyance. Andromeda silently hoped that she would. Strategy wasn't really her thing. It was just so incredibly boring.

Jeremite shook his head though. "No, there are other things to talk about other than keeping together," he defended her.

"Like what?" Biathyst asked, sounding a little hostile

There was a small pause as Biathhst's District partner struggled to form a response. Andromeda could see his frustration building as his mind blanked. "Like some additions to the alliance," Calder offered suddenly.

Jeremite grinned. "Exactly. Like extra additions," he agreed.

"Last year they only added that one girl from Eleven, and she more or less just shadowed the Porcelain Braavos the whole time," Brodus said, his nose wrinkling.

"Well if we are taking anyone they're going to have to pull more weight than that this year," Biathyst snapped.

"I don't think we should pick any of the big muscles either. Better to take some younger but talented kids and kill the stronger ones like the boys from Six, Nine, Ten, and Twelve as soon as possible," Brodus added. Andromeda stared at him for a moment, her head tilted. She hadn't realized that her District partner was such a strategist. Guess he had a lot of time to think about that kind of thing in prison.

"What 'cause only the boys can be threats?" Biathyst smirked at him, raising an eyebrow.

"No," he shook his head, his eyes scanning the room. "We should steer clear of the girl from Six too."

"Sounds like a plan," Andromeda smiled.

Ula nodded, apparently satisfied with that decision. "Alright," she said. "Who do you guys want to recruit first?"

Vixen Rhodes, 17, District Five

Vixen's stomach was in knots as she looked around the room. Twenty four didn't seem like such a big number in school, or when her father was talking about cattle counts. But suddenly the number was making her feel claustrophobic. Every time she tried to look somebody in the eye, she could feel guilt welling up in her stomach because she knew she was going to have to kill them if she wanted to live. In order to see her family again, every single one of them would have to die.

Her father had told her All Victors needed to be ruthless.

Things got even more complicated when it came to allies. She had so many freinds at school, it seemed natural to start walking around and socializing with the other tributes. But every ally came with baggage. Baggage that she wasn't sure she could handle. It had been easier being on the train with Hawk. She knew she wasn't going to ally with him. He would never have agreed to go into the arena tied to her, so she just didn't have to think about it then. She couldn't avoid it anymore though.

"You alright honey?" the woman asked from behind the counter.

Vixen looked up at the trainer. She looked older than most of the Capitolites she had seen thus far. Like maybe she was pushing forty or something. Everyone else either had features that were too altered to tell age, or was relatively young. Vixen kind of liked that the trainer was older though. She made her feel like she was a little bit closer to home.

"Yes, I'm fine," Vixen smiled. "Just worrying about things."

"Well I don't blame you for that. You do have plenty to worry about," the woman smiled back sympathetically.

Vixen was at the fishing station. In her hands, she was trying to make a basic hook out of wood. The tedious task lent perfectly to conversation because it involved a lot of whittling. She probably wouldn't even need any instruction until she got further into the stick she was holding. Hopefully there would be some kind of river, lake, or pond in the arena because Vixen wouldn't mind spending a lot of time here.

"What do tributes usually do on the first day of training?" she asked, just to fill the silence. The trainer looked quite happy that Vixen was ready for some conversation.

"Oh, just what you're doing now. They try out some new things, meet some new people. Usually a fair amount pair off during the first two days. By the third most things are set," the woman explained.

"I'm not sure if I want an alliance yet," Vixen said quietly, feeling stressed out again. Absently she wondered if she'd go crazy in the arena without company. It wasn't out of the realm of possibilities. She wasn't very used to being alone.

"Whatever you feel comfortable doing is the best thing," the woman nodded wisely. "It's when kids try to do things they're not fit for that trouble arrises."

"Like when?" Vixen asked curiously.

"The careers last year. Their personalities didn't mesh, but they forced it. So of course it didn't work. Or a two years ago when the little girl from Eleven tried to support herself all alone. She wasn't cut out for that either. It's when kids know what route fits their strengths best that they win," she explained.

"That makes sense," Vixen muttered, staring at her fish-hook-in-the-making.

Then of course that posed a new question. What route fit her the best? She thought about life back at home, and in her gut she knew the answer. That didn't make things any easier. Every ally she had was going to have to die eventually. And of course, even if she had an ally, and they died on their own, she'd probably have to kill somebody else. Like her father said, every Victor had to be ruthless.

"So, theoretically then, if I wanted an ally, who should I look to?" Vixen asked the trainer. She supposed that this might be more of a question for her mentor, but she didn't really want to approach Madison for anything, and the trainer seemed knowledgeable enough. She figured that anyone whose lives revolved around the Hunger Games was probably qualified to give some advice. Even if they had never been in themselves.

"I'd go pick someone popular with the crowd, one of the big threats. They aren't really a threat if they're on your side, and they'll like you both better just for being with each other. Personally I'd go for one of those big strong boys, but anyone your age would probably be a good choice," the woman winked with a soft smile. "Just remember to pick someone who you'll get along with and you should be fine."

Vixen nodded, glancing around the room. In her mind, she went though the list of qualifications. Someone likeable. Someone threatening. Someone who she'd get along with. Well, that couldn't be too hard, hopefully.

"Thank you," she said to the woman. "I think you've been more help than Madison has."

"Oh, well. I just do my job honey," she brushed off, though Vixen swore she saw her eyes light up a bit behind the humble front.

Putting her half whittled fish hook back onto the table, Vixen stood up. "I think I'm going to go mingle," she smiled.

"Good luck," the woman nodded.

Then Vixen walked off. She had to find an ally, but in the back of her head she couldn't forget. Every Victor had to be ruthless.

Stoker Tachen, 14, District Five

Stoker wasn't having much luck with the first day of training. There was only about an hour left before they had to return to their suites, and he had tried a lot of different things. First he went to the berry station, and misidentified almost every plant in the book. Then he tried out the weapons station, and though he had sort of excelled, the trainers kept correcting him for his technique. Apparently he was just muscling his way through fights, and that wouldn't last against a talented career. Then he had went over to the technology station, where the trainer more or less told him that he was stupid. And of course, all the while, he hadn't really spoken to even one other tribute.

Well, actually he had. At the berry station, he tried to talk a little bit to the girl from Three, but she had just looked at him funny, like he had two heads or something. So he had given up on that.

Looking up, Stoker sighed. He was standing at the base of the large cargo net they had attached to the ceiling. Timidly, Stoker laced his fingers through the tweed ropes and began to pull himself upwards. Years of climbing catwalks had given him more than enough experience here. Maybe it was a bad idea to be training in stations that he didn't need to work on, but Stoker's spirits felt like they were at an all time low. He wanted to feel like he was at home again, just this once.

Termic always told him he was rather sentimental.

Five minutes later, he was sitting on the beam that the net was tied to, overlooking the rest of the training facility. The careers didn't look so big and scary from up here in the rafters. No, they were as tiny as ants, just like all the other tributes. They were all just one and the same.

"I'm screwed," Stoker muttered to himself, feeling pale.

"My sister uses that word a lot," a voice interrupted his conscience.

Stoker nearly fell off the beam he was sitting on, he was startled so much. Looking to his right, he found the girl from Eight watching him. She was sitting with both feet on top of the beam, so that nobody could see her from the ground. Her blonde hair was sticking to her forehead in light sweaty curls, and she looked kind of tired. Stoker imagined that she worked really hard to get to the top of the cargo net. Obviously she didn't climb things that often at home.

"W-what word?" Stoker babbled out.

"Screwed," she said, accepting the 'w'. "I don't like it that much when she does. It's not very nice."

"Oh, well, the Games aren't very nice," Stoker mumbled, feeling thrown. He wanted to climb back down to the floor now that he had company. He felt more comfortable when he was alone.

"No, I guess they're not," the girl said sadly, looking conflicted. Stoker didn't know what to say to that, so he did the easy thing: he didn't say anything. But after a moment, the silence became almost unbearable. he could feel her eyes on him, watching, quiet and curious. She seemed sad, but not despairing, like the full weight of their situation hadn't quite settled yet, and she was only vaguely aware that she was in trouble. He felt so incredibly awkward.

"Did... did you climb up here by yourself?" Stoker asked awkwardly, trying to change the subject.

Her eyes lit up suddenly, and all the sadness seemed to wash away, completely forgotten. "Yeah, I worked all morning over there on the rock wall. Then I came over here on the support beams," she said proudly. "Pretty good, huh?"

"Yeah, very good," Stoker muttered, drawing his knees up to his chest. She smiled at him, and he gazed tentatively back. This wasn't so bad, he supposed. "I'm Stoker by the way."

"I'm Paisley," she answered.

"Nice to meet you, I guess," he shrugged.

"You too," she grinned.

On the floor, the head trainer blew a high-pitched whistle. Stoker nearly fell off the beam, having been caught so off guard.

"Training time for the day is up. Please find your District partner and make your way back to your suites. Be sure to check out with me before you go," she yelled.

Paisley looked down at the floor. "Well, looks like I have to go find Loden now. Maybe we can talk more tomorrow?" she asked.

"Yeah sure. More tomorrow," he nodded.

She swung her body over the beam and began climbing down. Stoker watched her for another moment before moving to follow her. He wasn't really sure what had just happened, but he thought he might have just made a friend, if not an ally. Well, at least now he wouldn't have to die alone.

Ain't it Fun by Paramore

A/N So here comes the first day of training. There was a fair amount of set up here, obviously there are a lot more alliances to be made. I wrote all of the last two segments a today when I got home from school so sorry if they're a little rough (or short, I think I lost some steam there at the end).

I wanted to thank everyone who has either reviewed or pm'd me in the last few days. It's nice to know I that I've retained many of my readers.

Next training chapter coming to you soon,

Until next time,

Tales