A/N- OMGale! I am sooo sorry for the really late update again! Well, the excuse is: I had no internet access. At all. Because we were supposed to be connected a week ago at home, but it only turned up this morning and I had a hard time setting it up cuz of the stupid house design... Then, I was on trips in school all this week so I couldn't use that internet either. But finally, I managed to get things sorted and can at last give this chapter to you all! I hope it's worth the wait and hassle :D
Brooklyn Virgona. District 1 POV
I sit, twiddling my thumbs, my foot tapping impatiently on the smooth floor. It's too quiet, way too quiet. The sound of my tapping foot echoes down the length of the room. Not many people are talking, and if they are, they're whispering almost silently. I hate the silence. It's agonising sometimes, listening to the sound of nothing. Just an empty space where time seems to drag on and on. On and on.
"Renold Elmwood" A robot-like voice booms from a nearby speaker.
Ren, who's sitting to my right, stands up. Most of the other tributes lift their heads and watch him as he walks slowly towards the large double doors.
"Do us proud, Ren!" I call encouragingly after him.
He looks over his shoulder and gives me a brief smile. Then the doors slide open and he steps in. They close behind him like a solid wall of darkness, separating him from the rest of reality.
I have no concerns, I'm sure he'll do fine. He was pretty good in training, especially with the spears. District One will be presented with high scores, no less than 10. But, of course, whatever Ren gets, I'll get better. He may be good, but he's not a patch on me. I won't tell him this; he'll see for himself when the scores come out tonight.
Someone pokes my shoulder.
"So, Brooklyn, what have you planned for the Gamemakers?" Kelvin asks.
I shrug dismissively. "That would be telling"
"Oh, come on, at least tell us what sort of thing you're gonna do" He pleads.
"Fine, I'll tell you something" I say, lowering my voice. "I'm going to do everything"
Bryn's head pops in. "What do you mean, everything?"
"Oh you know, throwing knives, axes, arrows, all that stuff" I reply casually. "As much as I can cram in"
Kelvin nods his head. "Yeah, you'll have to put in a lot of effort to beat me"
I snort. "I can easily beat you. I'm more than just a pretty face"
"Actions speak louder than words" Kelvin says, flexing his muscles. "You'll have to get a good score to prove it"
"Fine. I'll look forward to whooping your ass and topping your score" I say competitively.
"In your dreams" He says, a little patronizingly.
I choose to ignore his little snide comment, turning my cheek and looking over at the doors. The doors that behind sit a room full of weapons and a booth full of Gamemakers. I can't wait to get in there. I can almost feel them watching me as my fingers trace along edges of knives, axes and can hear they're gasps as they-
The doors slide open and Ren walks out. He seems confident, fairly pleased with himself.
"How'd it go, Ren?" I ask as he walks past.
"I think it went quite well; they seemed to like me" He grins. "Your turn next"
I nod. "Yeah, I can't wait"
Ren gives me a thumbs up, before stepping back into the lift. The glass door swipes shut and he rises to the floors above.
"Brooklyn Virgona" The speakers boom again. My name. Brooklyn Virgona. That's me! My time has finally arrived. Show time.
Without a hesitation, I leap from my seat and walk quickly up to the door. The doors sense my presence and slide open. Just as I'm about to walk in, I turn my head around. Kelvin is grinning at me, urging for me to go ahead. I sneer back at him and face forwards. This is what I've been waiting for. My chance to show them what a Victor is made of.
The few mumbles of brief chatter fizzles out as soon as I walk in. The many sets of eyes turn to watch me as I stride to the middle of the room, my head held high and confident. Once I'm in line with the booth, I stop and give a short bow. This gains a few smiles from some of the Gamemakers; they know I'll be good.
"You may begin, Brooklyn" The head Gamemaker, Opus Trimarti, says.
I nod in reply and turn to look around the room. It's pretty much the same as the training room, except smaller and more compact. There are the same pieces of equipment and weapons as before, as well as a large selection of dummies and targets. Walking over to the weapon rack, I carefully select a weapon. I choose an axe.
Gripping it firmly in one hand, I go over to the dummies. Glancing over my shoulder, I can see the Gamemakers watching me intensively, waiting. I think I've delayed enough there, plenty of suspense. Now, to begin and put them out of their misery.
I tighten my grip and step back on one foot. Then, swivelling the top half of my body, I make a strong swing at a dummy, slicing it's head cleanly off. It lands with a soft thud on the flat ground. I don't pause for an applause, I just get on with my routine. I've had it planned in my head for days; what moves to make, leaving the best until last.
I execute my performance swiftly, taking notice of the many applauses, but not stopping to receive them formally. I allow the axe to flow freely through the air, slashing through stomachs, necks, heads. I keep at it until every single dummy is left in a crumbled mess on the floor. Then, I return the axe and give a quick bow to the Gamemakers. Their eyes are astonished, glowing like the sun itself. Well, I guess I'm doing better than Ren.
Next, I decide to move onto another one of my strengths: Archery. Over at the weapon rack again, I take a silver bow and matching sheaf of arrows. Standing quite a way from the targets, I load an arrow. I pull back the string, adjusting the position of the arrow so that the point is directed at the centre of the target. I let go.
The streamlined arrow goes shooting straight towards the target and a second later, I hear it stick. I look over; the end of the arrow is pointing out from the centre of the target. Bull's eye.
Now that the first is over, I finish off the rest of the arrows, sending them flying across the room and hitting every target perfectly. The air is full with the sounds of clapping and cheering, the Gamemakers obviously impressed with my skills.
The last arrow is sent and I place the bow back on it's hook. Walking slowly back to the centre of the room, I bow to the Gamemakers.
"Thank you for your time" I say politely.
"Ah, thank you, Brooklyn" Opus grins at me. "You are dismissed"
Without further hesitation, I turn on my heels and walk out the room. The doors slide open for me and I'm brought back into the world. Everyone lifts their heads to watch me as I go to the lift. My finger reaches up to the button marked 'District One Floor'.
"So, Brooklyn, how was it?" I hear Kelvin call to me.
Not turning around, I reply. "Couldn't have gone better"
My finger presses the button and within almost an instant, I'm on my way up.
Bryn Rosella, District 2 POV
Ugh, Brooklyn Virgona has got to be the most irritating, self obsessed person I've ever encountered. She thinks the world revolves around her pretty little body, swishy hair and tanned legs. She needs a reality check; she's not that stunning. I don't get why pretty much the entire proportion of male tributes turn as she walks in the room, their mouths dropping a few inches and their pupils growing wide. Even Ren, who never admits it, has a thing for her. I've seen the way his eyes drop when she stands near him, clearly eyeing up her legs. So shallow these boys are. So shallow.
And the way she walks around as if she owns the place, swinging axes around while taking extra care to put her ass in full view. She seems to think she's some Goddess or something. I hate girls like that.
Brooklyn has just finished her private session and honestly, she walked out like she'd won a medal. She's just presuming that she'll get an eleven or twelve. And she probably will, but I'm praying sooo hard that she doesn't and Kelvin does. If he beats her, it will make my day. No matter what score I get.
Speaking of Kelvin, he's in the room of assessment now. Hopefully doing something way more impressive than her.
"Psst, Bryn" Someone hisses my name.
I turn around and see Tal, two people behind from me.
"Come here" I beckon him to the empty seat beside me.
He nods and comes over, sitting himself down on the seat.
"Hey, how do you think old Kelvin's getting on in there?" Tal asks.
"Great, probably" I shrug. "I'm just wishing he does enough to beat Brooklyn"
"Ah, you really don't like her, do you?" He laughs.
"Like her? Why, she's my bezzie mate of course" I say sarcastically.
"Why do you hate her so much?" He quizzes.
I sigh. "Just everything about her really; her looks, her personality, the way she tries to make me feel inferior to her. It's as if I'm just a nothing because I'm younger than all of you"
"You're not that young. Fourteen is only two years younger than me" Tal says.
"Yeah, but you're two years younger than all of them. So that makes me four years younger" I say.
"So? Wasn't it you who told me that age is just a number?" He reminds me.
I smile. "Yeah, it is"
He puts his hand on my shoulder. "Then do us youngsters proud"
Tal seems to be physic, because the doors slide open and Kelvin walks out, looking very pleased with himself.
"I'm guessing it went well" I say to him as he strolls past.
He nods. "Yup, I'll tell you what happened in the apartment"
"Sure" I say.
"Good luck to you, you're next" He says, walking into the lift.
The door closes behind him and he's gone.
"Bryn Rosella" My name is called from a speaker.
"That's you then" Tal says. "Knock 'em dead"
"Will do" I reply, smirking and then heading over to the double doors.
They open as I draw nearer and I quickly glance back before they close and I'm left alone. Making my way to the middle of the room, I flick a stray piece of hair from my forehead. The walk isn't far and before I know it, I'm standing in front of a large group of Gamemakers.
"Bryn Rosella, District Two" I say clearly, making sure they take note of my name. Because I'm so young for a Career, they don't seem as excited, nor impatient for me to start. Just because I'm only fourteen doesn't mean I'm not as good as the others. Especially Brooklyn; personally, I think my aim is far better than hers. But I guess that's up to them to decide.
The head Gamemaker nods and makes a sharp cough, meaning for me to get on. I quickly turn away and hurry over to the weapon racks at the back of the room.
My eyes linger over the rows of freshly sharpened knives, small hints of light reflecting from the blades. I grab five of them out, slotting four of them into my belt and keeping one in my right hand. Jogging over to the target station, I look over to the Gamemakers, checking that they're watching. They are.
Eyeing up the furthest target, I wield the knife high in my grasp and flick my wrist fast. Releasing the knife, it goes swooping across the room and stabs the centre of the target. A quiet clap comes from the booth, but not quite as loud as I would have liked. So, I take two knives out this time, one in each hand and throw them both together. They split, going separate ways and then hit their targets. Again, a small applause.
I reach into my belt, two knives left. I know time is running low, not enough spare to grab more knives. I know I need to do something to leave them awestruck. I know I only have one chance. Two knives; one chance.
I take a step back and twist on my feet. My back is facing the targets, my eyes facing away. Through the corner of my eyes, however, I can see the Gamemakers. They look slightly puzzled, not knowing what I'm doing. They're watching me, fully focused, waiting for something to happen. Just the attention I need for my finale.
My hands reach down and grip the two knives. I pull them out. Now secured in a locked grip, I raise my arms. My eyelids close, my mind working fast. I'm picturing the target behind, drawing out a sense of direction. Opening my eyes, oh so slowly, I fling the knives back.
After a few seconds of torture, not knowing whether or not I succeeded, I finally hear that piercing sound of knives cutting into a board. I turn my head around, praying inside. I look over to the target boards. And there, sticking out from the centre point of the target, are two knives.
The uproar is phenomenal. The Gamemakers applaud much louder than before, some even standing from their seats. I look to them, beaming with pride. They smile back, even Opus, the head, winks at me. I want to scream, dance, sing. Anything. I can't believe I just did that. Me, Bryn Rosella, the youngest Career, has just performed one of the most advanced knife throws known in these Games.
So I can tell Brooklyn where to shove that.
Raymond Periwinkle, District 5 POV
At least a nine. That's what he said: Anything more than a nine, you're in. Anything less, you're finding your own allies. That's what Kelvin told me.
"Aim for a ten" I mumble to myself. "Yeah, a ten would be good"
Victoria, my district partner, suddenly looks up from her nails. "You what?"
"Oh nothing, just that I'm going to get a ten in training" I reply.
Victoria turns back to her nails. "Why does it matter what score you get? It's not like the person with the highest score will get special treatment or anything"
I sigh disappointingly. This girl doesn't understand a single thing about the Hunger Games; how can she not care about scores? They're like a badge you wear as a tribute, a start of your reputation. It's what the people in the rest of Panem see; a number. They don't know what we're capable of in training, that one number portrays that for them. If you get a high score, then people automatically respect you, remember you. But if you don't, then you're either laughed at or forgotten. And that could cost you sponsors, which could ultimately cost you your life. So how the hell can this girl tell me that scores aren't that important?
"Of course they're important!" I exclaim. "How else are you supposed to make an impression? How else are people going to remember you?"
"I don't want to be remembered" She says, flatly.
"I do"
"Why?" She asks, as if I've just said I want to leap off a building. "People who are remembered are easy targets. They're hunted down and killed by Careers"
I give a sly smile. "Not in my case"
"So you think you can beat a Career as easy as that, do you? Because, no offence, you are way out of that league" She says.
"No offence to you, but you are quite wrong there" I say.
She shakes her head. "Actually, I'm quite right. It's just common knowledge; a Career is much stronger than a stupid District Five boy. You don't stand a chance"
I sigh. "Oh, Victoria, you don't get it, do you? I'm not planning on fighting any Careers, I'm going to be one"
She rolls her eyes. "Yeah sure, whatever. Keep telling yourself that"
I don't bother persisting, she won't believe me. But why should she? I guess she kinda has a point; District Five boys are nothings compared to Careers. No, they're nothings anyway. People don't talk excitedly about 'that boy from District Five', it's always 'wow, how strong is that Career boy?' or 'did you see what that boy from District One did?'. The same words keep coming up: Career, One, Two, Four. Never anything else. Never Five. So what makes me think that I can be a somebody? Will power. That's what I have. I have the mental ability to set myself a task and my physical strength is just an added bonus. I wasn't born strong, I learnt. I taught myself. And today I'm here to prove it.
"Raymond Periwinkle" The overhead speaker echoes.
I stand up, ready to go.
"Have fun, Raymond" Victoria calls after me, as I head up to the doors.
I turn my head round. "Will do, Vicky. Oh, and please, call me Ray"
"Not if you call me Vicky" She shouts back.
There's no time to reply, as the doors are open and I'm stepping inside.
Gamemakers, here I come.
The room is dim, darker than I expected. But as I walk in deeper, small strips of illuminated panels come into view, lighting the edges of the rooms and the main stations. It looks pretty awesome actually, all dramatic and exciting. Exactly how I hope my performance will be.
The Gamemakers are all talking between themselves, but they quickly stop as I clear my throat sharply.
"My name is Raymond Periwinkle, District Five" I state, giving them time to digest my appearance.
I've made sure to pull my shirt tight across my chest, that way I can show that I have a lot of muscle. I want them to know that I'm well trained, even if I'm not a Career. Yet.
"Well, Raymond, you may start" One of the Gamemakers tells me.
I step back and look around the room. The wall at the back is lined with all kinds of weapons and equipment, ranging from a penknife to an axe. There are plenty of other stations set up; a running track; some climbing equipment and lots and lots of dummies and targets. I head over to the back wall, straight to the weights. I think I'll warm up by lobbing a few heavy things, then move onto some combat.
Analysing the weights, I go for a level five. There are seven levels in total, so five is pretty heavy. I grip the handle on the top and pull it from the rack. Once it's firmly in my grasp, I carry it over to one of the tracks. It's not a running track, but the floor is marked with thick red lines that kind of look like a sprinting section. Standing on the 'x', I twist my body to the side. I swing the weight a few times, building power for my throw. This has got to be good; I'm aiming for around four-ish metres, maybe five. It doesn't sound like far, but it really is when you're flinging a massive weight that seems to weigh more than twice of you.
The weight swings a fourth time. I tense my arms further, I'm throwing it in the next swing. I bring my arms back, bending on my back leg. Biting hard onto my lip, I push the my body forwards, bringing the weight with me. As soon as my arms rise, I release my grip and watch as the weight moves through the air and comes dropping back to the ground about four metres away from my standing position.
I walk over to it, checking how far I threw. It measures 4.56m. Yes.
As I walk back over to the weapon racks, I look to the Gamemakers. They begin to clap a little, appreciating my good shot. Well, I was hoping for a little more enthusiasm, seeing that it was a goddamned good throw. But, I can't complain. At least they're clapping.
At the weapon rack, I take out a hefty sword and swagger over to a group of standing dummies. The sword is the biggest they had and from the facial expressions on the Gamemakers, they seem intrigued. So they should be. It's a big sword for a non-Career.
I brandish the sword, just like I would at home. My first swing is a little off, slicing the dummy's shoulder instead of the neck I was aiming for. I shake it off. Probably just nerves. Or I haven't warmed into it yet.
Another swing, cutting across the top of the chest, by the collar bone. Better than the first, but not quite where I wanted. I keep my face looking cool, but inside I'm feeling like a bowl of jelly. Why can't I do this right? What's happened to me, Ray, the future leader of Careers? I feel like I'm losing my cool, losing my grip. I can't be doing this. What would my brother, Jake, say about this? He'd most likely laugh at me, keen to get his own back.
That's it.
Imagine that the dummy is Jake. Imagine his thin arms, barely any muscle. His rounded face with that hint of failure in his eyes. His hand, clutching at his sword that's really a stick. His little confidence in me. How he thinks I'm too arrogant to win this thing. How he doesn't believe in me.
I swing the sword.
A head hits the floor.
The feeling of success fills my mind. Before I know what I'm doing, I'm hacking at dummies, dicing them up as if they're vegetables in a stew. And it's great. I'm great.
So great that I'm going to get my ten.
Guthrie Zython, District 8 POV
"So, what are you going to show the Gamemakers?" My district partner, Annabeth, asks.
I shrug in reply.
"You've got to do something" She insists. "You can't just go in there and stand around doing nothing"
"Why not?" I say, sarcastically. "I thought the Gamemakers would love to see my posture; they'd probably give me a twelve"
Annabeth gives a little huff and looks away. "Sorry, I was just asking. There's no need to be sarky"
I sigh, rubbing my face over with my hands. "Look, I'm sorry for snapping at you. I'm just a little nervous, that's all"
She turns her head back to face me and takes my hands in hers. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be great. If you show them anything I've seen you do, then you're sure to get a high score"
"Thanks" I say, giving her small hands a little squeeze. "You too"
She smiles warmly back and pulls her hands away, placing them on her lap. Although it may seem so, there's nothing romantic between me and Annabeth. It's not that I don't like her or anything; she's pretty and really lovely once you get her talking, but we're more like good friends. We hit it off pretty much straight away, as if we were old friends, even though we'd never spoken before. And in training, we often went around with each other. But we never thought of each other as anything more than a friend, well I know I didn't. Besides, she's in love with her best friend back in Eight, Will. And me? Nah, there's no big crush at home. But that's not to say that there isn't one at all...
"Guthrie Zython" The announcement rings through the air.
My stomach twists, sending butterflies flapping down my body. I don't think I'm ready for this. Not yet. The few hours have gone way too fast. They can't be up to me already, can they?
I look to my left and see a row of empty chairs. Everyone before me has gone. Had their go. Over and done with. Now I'm at the front of the queue and it's my turn.
Annabeth prods my shoulder. "Guthrie, go on. You can't sit here all day"
I take a deep breath and release it slowly. She's right. I can't just sit here.
I stand up.
"Right, here I go" I say, nodding. "Let's get this thing done"
"That's the attitude! Now go and do District Eight proud" Annabeth smiles, urging me forwards.
I start to walk forward.
"Wish me luck"
"Good luck"
I reach the double doors. They slide open. Gulping in the air like a goldfish in a toilet, I try to fill my head with happy thoughts as I walk into the assessment room. Thinking about what Annabeth said: You'll be great. Sure to get a high score. Right now, I hope she's right.
The room is pretty much how I expected it. Just like a smaller, tightly packed, version of the main training room. Four main stations: combat, target, agility and survival skills. I bet hardly anyone has gone near the survival station, the Gamemakers are more interested in fighting skills more than how fast you can make a fire or whether you can name every plant. Which I suppose is great if you're a keen fighter, but maybe not so much if you're not. Luckily, I fit right in the middle; I'm quite knowledgeable on edible plants and I'm fairly handy with a sword. Not to be modest.
By the time I reach the spot in front of the Gamemakers' booth, no-one seems to notice that I've even entered. They're all chatting, whilst stuffing their faces with all kinds of fancy foods. Not a single one of them acknowledges me.
I give a muffled cough.
A few of them hear and glance over, then just turn back to their plates, blanking me entirely.
I stare at them for a while, gob smacked. I can't believe they're so ignorant. They're supposed to be Gamemakers; they're meant to judge us. How can they do that when they're not even watching you?
I cough louder.
More eating.
I cough sharply, even louder than before.
They all look up and turn towards me, their eyes glaring through my skull. They stare, impatient looks in their eyes.
"Ahem, Guthrie Zython. District Eight" I say slowly.
A few of them nod briefly and I turn on my heels and make my way over to the back of the room to choose a weapon to train with. As I'm walking, I glance over my shoulder to see that all the Gamemakers have gone back to their food and chatter. I feel like turning and yelling at them for attention, but I know I need to keep cool. I can play this game too.
Taking my time, as no-one's really interested, I ponder over the swords and finally choose one. It's a long sword, fairly light with a crusted handle. It sits nicely in my hand and all of a sudden I feel taller, bigger.
Strolling over to the dummies, sword in hand, I look to the Gamemakers again. Just as before, they're not paying much attention. I don't really understand why; sure, they've watched fourteen other people before me, but they've still got plenty more. Why switch off when you're around halfway? They must have very short attention spans.
I stand amongst some dummies, debating on what to do. Do I start hacking at them like a wild man, in the hope of gaining attention? Or do I craft something more clever than that?
I think the second choice sounds more fun.
I turn the sword in my palm, grinning. Yes, this will be a lot more interesting. For both me and the Gamemakers. And, better for them, they don't even have to watch.
I spend the rest of my assessment carefully sculpturing into the dummies, carving their bodies with the edge of my sword. By the time my session is over, I've made a nice little display for the Gamemakers. I step back to admire my handiwork. I'm quite pleased with it actually, I did a good job. Well, I've always been a crafty, artistic type of boy and I have been known to do the odd little art project here and there with the scraps my Mom throws out.
Then, I return the sword and walk back to the booth. No-one turns to dismiss me as I take a short bow.
"Thank you for your time"
I then turn and head straight for the door, leaving my life-sized sculpture behind. I can only wish to be a fly-on-the-wall when the Gamemakers see what I've left them.
A/N- Ok, so there are the private sessions! What did you think, did anything surprise you?
So, did you think Brooklyn will beat Kelvin, or not? What are your thoughts about Bryn and her hate for Brooklyn, is she being harsh? And Raymond, do you think he will get his ten and get in with the Careers? And last of all, Guthrie, how well do you think his little 'surprise' will go with the Gamemakers?
Let me know all your thoughts! And thanks to all who submitted!
Thanks, FireflyLlama xxx
Oh, and here are all their total scores. Let me know what you think about them. I think I've done them fairly, but let me know if you're not happy with any :D
SCORES.
District One Ren Elmwood: 10 Brooklyn Virgona: 11
District Two Kelvin Galloway: 11 Bryn Rosella: 10
District Three Fickle Fletch: 2 Inva Reinhardt: 8
District Four Tal Fontaine: 10 Layla Roberts: 7
District Five Raymond Periwinkle: 10 Victoria Buchegger: 7
District Six Jacob Finney: 8 Harper Sanders: 6
District Seven Phosphorus Vox: 4 Arya Firestone: 8
District Eight Guthrie Zython: 8 Annabeth Rylie: 7
District Nine Zephyr Torelli: 9 Elodie Torelli: 3
District Ten Horacio Francis: 1 Rhea Blakemore: 8
District Eleven Brandon Thessien: 10 Luna Damion: 7
District Twelve Kay Grinestone: 8 Heidi Fitzherbit: 6