A/N

Sorry it took a while, no muse for writing as usual. I will try and start the next chapter tonight, so i get it to you soon.

Chapter nine.

I wake up, in a strange room, trying to remember bringing myself here, I scan the room with my eyes a small hanger has a short revealing dress on it, there is a door in the corner, another opposite it, and a chest of draws on the other wall. I remember now, dazing after the parade, I think I remember it being my stylist Mandel bringing me here. I look down to myself, I am wearing pyjamas, and Mandel changed me carefully, taking the paint with the dress, leaving me safe in comfortable clothes.

I stand up out of the bed, walking over to the chest of draws, curious as to what is on top of it, I am relieved to find clothes, a black shirt, black track suit pants and a pair of boots. I slip quickly out of my pyjamas, pulling on the other clothes, obviously laid out for me today. The shirt has a strip of gold across the sleave, with the number seven marked into it. I can tell this is my training shirt, I guess we start right away. I walk over to one of the doors, opening it, annoyed to find a bathroom, not a way out of this room. I walk with purpose over to the other door, opening it, and sticking my head through the opened door. It leads out, so I walk through it.

I walk until I hear noises; I find them in the dining room. Lindon is sitting with a young lady, her face a strange yellow colour, tattoos cover her entire face, I am perplexed as to why anyone would want to look like that. They both look up at me from a quiet conversation when I walk up the stairs and set myself down at the table. The lady, who I presume to be Lindon stylist, looks down, continuing to eat her breakfast silently as Lindon stares at me gently.

Mandel has this thing, about walking in to save me from awkward moments, and so after about twenty seconds of Lindon's glaze, Mandel walks in, pushing Imelda in front of him, she stumbles quickly up the stairs and takes her place at the table. Mandel pulls up a chair next to me, smiling a deadly smile towards Lindon; I can tell they don't really like each other, already.

Imelda is wearing a green dress that looks a lot like a spinach pastry. It is bulging unnaturally, and is a hideously weird green colour that mixes vomit and moss. I look down at my food, not really in the mood for eating much, so I look up again; Imelda pulls a crumpled piece of paper from her purse again. She flattens it out with her fingers before reading from it, "Nine o'clock wake up, Ten o'clock training centre, Lunch will be in the training centre, and then dinner will be here at six." She reads loudly, before stuffing the piece of paper away again. Mandel obviously feels we should know exactly what to do, seeing as Imelda is not doing a particularly warming job at hosting us. "The training centre is where you train for the arena." Mandel says with a tone of authority, looking towards Lindon to confirm he is listening. "Do the survival skills first, and don't do anything you are good at," he says, glaring at Lindon again, knowing that if he says it, Lindon will probably do the opposite.

A bell rings in the apartment, at a quart to ten; I have been sitting in silence, eating slowly at a table of food, but Mandel pulls me to my feet, Lindon stands and follows us, his stylist and Imelda trot along behind us. We walk swiftly towards the elevator, the doors open instantly, as if my some magical device. We all step inside, I don't think it is tradition for our escorts to go to training with us, but I don't really mind.

The doors open as swiftly as they did before, it opens this time into a large room, bigger than any building I have ever seen, it makes the Peace Building look like a matchbox. Each wall is lined with targets, bays of weapons lay scattered about in the room, there is a large glassed over balcony, containing about twenty people. Other tributes start to file in, bringing their escorts with them briefly, before their escorts depart into a different room.

Mandel turns to me, "Don't let them taunt you ok?" he whispers, I nod gently, as he starts walking off, to join Lindon's stylist, and Imelda in the other area. Lindon hovers close to me as they make us form a group, we all stand, muddled against each others bodies as a woman tells us the rules of the training centre. No fighting others, do the recommended exercises, the usual stuff I would have done anyway. The lady dismisses us soon after she has mentioned the rules; I turn to leave when I find a group of people circled around behind me. Seven people are looking at me and Rowan, I didn't think it was quite this fast to form alliances, a blonde girl steps forward, I think I recognise her from district one. She smiles smugly at me; I jus turn and walk in the opposite direction, walking away from an alliance, not really wanting to be paired with any of the starers.

I find my way toward a large net, strung across the wall, it leads up to a higher platform, I have the feeling there is something I should do up there, and it will take a while for the others to follow me up the rope. I grasp the first part sharply, hoisting my way up, until I am about four meters off the ground, the rope net changes style, to a much finer knot, much harder to grab onto. I climb a further few meters, before the net slips off the wall, I am soon upside down, dangling from a thin rope, attached to a wall. I can see everyone from here; it has only taken a few minutes to get everyone settled at a station, and I can carefully peer at each persons work. A girl from district four, a slender young blonde girl, has an array of knives in her hand, pelting them at different walls in turn.

"Cassia Green" a small voice calls out, it is a mans voice, I can tell, but I don't know where exactly it came from. A little freaked out, I quickly scan the floor around me for anyone who might be calling for me; I see no prying eyes as I dangle, so I quickly scurry up the last few metres of rope to the platform. My hands feel slightly abused when I finally scrape the floor of the platform. I find the platform has a range of different tactic stuff on it, some not on the ground floor, which makes it slightly exclusive. "Cassia…" the voice whispers again, I spin around frantically, I find a boy, probably my age, dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a quiet smile on his face, looking at me. He is sitting next to a hole in the floor, legs dangling down it. "I'm surprised you didn't notice the stairs." He says, sarcastically, tugging at a rope dangling from the hole, I notice now that it is a rope ladder, I almost slap myself in the face. There was a ladder, to get onto the platform, oh, and I am sure I would have missed the stairs too, but I am thankful there are none. I feel really stupid, as I raise myself up to be standing, the boy stands too, hoisting the ladder up quickly, so that no one else can climb up. He turns to me once he is done with the rope, "Kiran" he says, offering me his hand to shake, "Cassie" I whisper quietly, taking his hand and shaking it softly. He smiles and retracts his hand quickly, looking around to see if we are alone. "I watched your reaping, when I was on the train." He mutters quietly, "It looked awful." He whispers. I smile gently at him, nodding before walking away from yet another person who thinks they know what is going on.

I walk over and find myself a bow, never having used one before, as I line it up, I notice something. There are no guides up here, no teachers, no one. I think this is the place to go it you don't really like talking to other people; I think it shall be my hideout. I line up my arrow on the nook in the bow, pulling back to string to its full capacity. I release the tension, the arrow flies to a target, implanting it into the dummies hand. I sigh; my aim will be skew as long as I think someone is watching me. I turn around, to glare at the boy; he is sitting on a bench, with a knife staring at me. He looks down when he notices I am looking at him, I turn back, breathing slowly, I visualise the target, just that little red dot that I want. The arrow cuts through it like a knife through butter, taking out the red bull's eye, like there is nothing to it. I place the bow back in its bracket as I walk over to where the boy is sitting, placing myself down next to him, he looks up, curious.

"So Kiran… What did you plan on doing up here?" I ask, looking down at the knife he is holding. He laughs lightly, flicking the knife over gently, "I'm not really sure, I have never done any of this stuff before." He whispers, he looks like one of those intelligent people who never really get to do anything for themselves. "Why haven't you done anything like this?" I ask, just trying to figure out this kid. "District five." He mutters, I know the one, Industrial Power is its function, and they create all of the power for Panem. Most people have jobs in the factories. There is very little space in the district; I can't imagine any of them learning to throw knives as children there. I nod, indicating to him that I understand why, I take them knife from his hand, weigh it gently in my own as I stand up.

I turn to the first dummy near be, swing my body around, flicking my wrist quickly, imbedding the knife into the chest of the doll, a death blow with no doubt. I stand in my position for a few seconds, before turning around to see Kiran's face. He is shocked; definitely scared too, I just want to scare him enough that he leaves me alone. I walk swiftly over to the dummy, dragging the knife from its chest, turning to face the boy again. "If you don't know what you're doing, maybe you should find a teacher." I pull the knife up, as though aiming at him, I see his eyes widen, and he holds his breath, "One that doesn't want to kill you." I hiss, this has the desired affect, he stands abruptly, walking while looking over his shoulder, he goes to the hole, letting the ladder fall down again, and climbing quickly down it. I can tell there will be rumours around later, I mean, the sweet, innocent, desirable girl, suddenly turns into a sharp throw, with no fear. I shrug it off, wondering if it could get any better.

I throw a range of knives for about half an hour, getting slowly bored at the ease of this task, I wish move on, this platform has knives, and bows to use, but there is another platform I can see. It is connected to this one with a single rope, strung from floor to floor; I know it is my way of getting there.

I leave an array of knives in the dummies, I lie on the floor next to the rope, inching my way across to the edge. My fingers grip onto the rope, it is rough, but graspable. I lock my grasp onto it, swinging my legs across the platform, into the abyss between platforms. I dangle by my fingers, above most of the training equipment; I can see the boy from one, a sword in hand, locked in a deadly duel with a trainer. Many other tributes are scattered around in battle, I spot the boy I threatened earlier, and he is trying to start a fire, unsuccessfully.

I swing my legs up onto the rope, as to let myself hang here longer; I inch my way in the direction of the second platform. It's the girl from four who notices first, her head snaps upwards, my fingers slip. I am dangling by my legs, ten metres from the floor; she raises her hand, pointing directly at me, I am sprung now. I have to do something dangerous, and good to get them to think they should leave me alone.

I could shuffle onto the next platform, but I fear they would then, try to follow me onto it, I am hanging, soon to slip. The guy from one walks over to the girl from four, looking up at me. A few others put down their weapons, gazing up in shock at me. I have to do something now, feeling like a trapped rat.

I smile gently, making up my mind about what I am going to do, it will be hell ass bad if I get it wrong, usually I have Rowan to catch me, but I will free fall to injury if this goes wrong. I swing myself, using my stomach, so my hands are back onto the rope. I lift my feet off the rope, holding them in the air. I bring my legs slowly onto one side of the rope, positioning my hands, so one is on either side of my legs. I hang like this briefly, fearing the next part of my manoeuvre.

I use all of my strength, slinging myself over the other side of the rope, swing once, twice around it, using my strength I fling myself off the rope. I fly through the air, adrenalin pumping to my ears; I do a single somersault, landing in a crouch, about five meters away from the group of careers. I stand swiftly, walking to an empty area, to learn everything it has to offer. The trainer had been watching me, quickly shuffled back into the area to teach me. I quickly find out that this area is about knot tying. I know a little bit about this, but I am an effectively quick learn. I am tying nooses within a few minutes of sitting down. "You certainly know what to do with rope." Says the trainer jokingly. I smile my own little deadly smile, leaving the noose on his desk as he dismisses me.

I walk around, admiring every station I know I shouldn't go to. I now skip the archery, knives, sling shots, and other projectiles that I have the feeling I am already good with. I settle at a snare making station, working carefully on the fiddly trap that I already know how to do, I figure people shouldn't care if I can eat and trap their ankle, but they would care if they knew I could cut their head off.

I finish snare after snare, leaving them disguised in bushes as I move onto the next. I am working on a particularly complicated one when a boy comes and kneels down beside me. He has curly blond hair, sea blue eyes, and a dark tan. I can immediately tell he is from district four, as I saw him at the parade. He starts a snare of his own, awfully close to mine, working at the fiddly knots.

"You are good with rope." He says, noting the quick slurry of movements I am doing with my hands, I look at him, knowing it is the careers trying to pry information from me, I decide to play along. "Yeah, rope is fun to play with" I whisper, trying to conceal a note of sarcasm in my voice. I finish a particularly complicated snare as he works on the fiddly knots. I move my snare away from me slightly, pulling his gently towards me; he lets me, staring at the pieces of wire. I drag it a little bit closer; he shuffles over to view my fiddly hands. I finish his snare for him, as he watches intently.

"So how do you feel about that alliance?" he whispers, rocking back so he is almost kneeling upwards. I use my eyes to question him; he gets a little frustrated, shifting in his spot again. The sickening cracking of bones sounds, I stand quickly, as he falls to the ground. The boy from four just put his foot in one of my other snares; I stumble backwards as the trainer at this station rushes over. I leave the scene quietly, hoping I don't alert anyone else to the accident of my snare, though I guess I was right about their ability to break ankles.

As I make my way to a different station, the trainers call lunch, I walk slowly, letting everyone in front of me, I take a tray of lunch, sitting at a lone table, leaving everyone well enough alone.

All the careers sit at a single table, six of them talk loudly together, and the boy from four comes in after about fifteen minutes, not even a limp to show for his troubles. As soon as he sits down, a hush falls over the room, a few hissed whispers come from around the room; I can feel several sets of eyes are locked onto me. I try and look enthusiastic about my stew, so they might leave me alone.

The scrapping of a tray indicates that someone has come to sit with me, Lindon kicks me under the table, I don't think I know anyone who could be quite as blunt. I look up him, putting on a sarcastic smile. "I thought your stylist was worried about me making a spectacle of myself." He whispers, obviously angry. "Well it didn't all go to plan." I hiss in return, glaring at him. "Yeah, a somersault from a ten metre high rope, and then whatever you did to that guy's leg!" he hisses, fury swelling up in his hushed words.

I simply raise my eyebrows at him, before continuing to eat my food in silence. He goes to eating too, the tension in the room defusing somewhat, people start eating, and the careers continue their loud conversation that was ongoing from earlier. After a long, drawn out hour, the bell rings again, indicating that we are allowed to continue what we like, in the training centre. I start with survival skills, time flashes past quickly, before I know it, the day is over, and I am lying in my soft bed again, waiting for morning to come.