Chapter 11: "Choose Your Career Path"

July 4

Training Facility for the Tributes

"You know, America, you could probably do some of these stations by yourself," Billy muttered as the older girl tried to steer him toward the stations she thought would best help him.

"I could," she agreed, giving him her best glare. "But someone volunteered his stupid self, so guess where I am today?"

Billy let out a long sigh. He'd been stuck with America as a shadow for the whole time they'd been in the Capitol, and while he appreciated what she was trying to do, he really did, he also could have used some space. He knew he was better for things like plants, traps — he was excited about the pressure points Logan had promised to teach them that night. Stuff that he could memorize — that stuff he could do.

He had to admit, though, that it was nice having America around, because anyone who looked at him sideways very quickly regretted their decision, as America had absolutely no problems getting in anyone's face.

Today's offender was none other than the huge guy from Ten, who didn't so much look at Billy sideways as he just sort of stood in Billy's way as they were walking between stations, and that was all America needed to stand up on her toes and reach as far as she could to stick her finger in his face and read him the riot act.

She was actually drawing a bit of a crowd for that one.

"Um… America?" Billy called out as she went on about how many teeth she could fit down Arkady's throat at once. "It's fine, really, let's just go."

She turned his way for a moment with fire in her gaze, but then she shook her head the slightest bit, scoffed Ten's way, and then grabbed Billy by the arm. "Come on, Billy. Let's find somewhere more civilized to be," she sniffed, dragging him off toward the plants station just because it was the closest one — though he wasn't complaining, since he was actually pretty good at that.

America wasn't the only one who was shepherding her fellow tribute — Scott seemed to be trying to do the same for Alex. It was the last day of training, and Alex really hadn't done much except discover how much he loved the wave pool, challenging a few people to swimming matches instead of actually getting anything done.

"Brothers, right?" Betsy said from behind Scott's shoulder. "Mine won't look at anything but what he already knows."

Scott spun in a bit of surprise to find Betsy there before he shook his head. "Older or younger?" he asked without saying anything about Alex's stupid decisions — which in itself was a great act of will, since the kid was again swimming. This time with the pickpocket from Eight.

"In this case, he's the older one — but it's a little different when it's brother and sister, admittedly." Betsy gave him a muted smile and shrugged to herself.

"I wouldn't really know," Scott said, still guardedly. He didn't really know why a Career would be talking to him — besides Jean — and Betsy was a model to boot. So he really didn't know why she'd be talking to him.

"I hope you don't have plans to kill me already," she said as she hugged herself loosely around the middle.

"Not unless we meet up in the arena," he said.

"Really? I didn't think you were the murderer type," she said, stepping a bit away from him.

He let out the slightest breath on seeing her wariness. "I'm not," he admitted. "But I'm not going to be an easy target for anyone either," he added quickly — because she was still a Career.

"I don't think we've met," she said. "Officially anyhow. I'm Betsy. Ex-model and never been in a fight." She put her hand out to say hello, hoping he'd be nice. "And between you and me, I don't want to be around the rest of the 'Careers'. They're all cutthroat."

Scott had to smile the slightest bit as he took her hand. "Scott Summers," he said. "And yeah — that seems to be a running theme this year."

"More than you know," she said, leaning a bit closer. "Watch out for the girl from One. She's a lot nastier than she lets on. She'll get in your head."

"She seemed alright to me," Scott said with a frown.

"I thought so too at first," Betsy said. "But I've seen her a little more than you guys have. Just be careful, okay?"

"I'm always careful," he said with an encouraging smile. He shook his head as he reevaluated her. If she'd never been in a fight — and she did really seem put out by the idea of killing anyone — then she was alright, by his estimation. "If you hate it so much, I'd say you're the one who should be on the lookout with those Careers."

"Oh, we're not going to stay with them," she said. "Though I probably shouldn't tell you that."

Scott raised both eyebrows. "That…. That's also a running theme this year, it seems," he muttered almost to himself. "Ditching your assigned partners, that is," he added quickly, though he couldn't quite stop the glance at the redhead from One.

"I don't know," Betsy said, looking around the room warily. "I just thought you should know, and I don't know that I'll get a chance to talk to you before all the horrible stuff starts. So just ... don't trust the Careers. And I know … I'm technically one .. but … don't do that to yourself."

"I'll… keep that in mind," he said, his head tipped to one side. "And if you really do ditch the Careers…"

"I don't expect anyone to welcome us," she said with a distressed look on her face. "I wouldn't either if I were in their shoes. It's okay." She gave him a little smile. "But it would have been nice to meet you under better circumstances."

"Good luck with your brother," he said with a little smirk.

"Good luck with yours," she said as she gave his arm a little squeeze. She tried for another smile and zipped off, her purple ponytail swinging behind her as she headed to the shelter-making station where her brother looked irritated that she'd spoken to Scott at all. Scott could hear him trying to keep his voice down as he asked 'why would you warn him?' — and that had Scott smirking to himself and shaking his head.

It was hard to figure out who to trust in these Games, but one thing was for sure — the Careers weren't nearly as stable as they thought they were. And Scott was pretty sure he could use that. Peel them off, ally with one of the non-Career Careers...

"Nope!" Jessica said loudly as she dragged Bucky away from Amora. The blonde from Four looked as if Jessica had just walked off with her favorite shiny object. "You don't need whatever she's peddling, big guy. I doubt they give shots for that kind of trouble."

Bucky tried to get his collar free from her grasp as he muttered, "I wasn't even doing anything, Jessica. She just came up to me."

"Yeah, well. I'm sure it's no coincidence that she just 'came up' to nearly every guy in here, right? Check yourself. And shower. She's nasty," Jessica's drawl went flat as she dragged her district partner along.

"Did you shower after One's guy creeped on you? Because he's been hitting all the girls."

"I did. And I took an internal bath of alcohol to deal with the creep factor too," she said with a raised eyebrow. "Just in case."

"Seems like the Careers are just chock full of creeps this year."

"Well as long as they keep their VD to their side of the line, I really don't care."

"Then why do you care when it's me getting creeped on? I know how to take internal alcohol baths."

"Because you're too stupid to see that it's a bad idea to let her creep on you like that," she said before she flashed him a very fake, very wide smile. "She's one of those give 'em an inch and they'll take the whole football stadium."

"Don't do that. That's the most terrifying smile I've seen all day," he teased.

"Great, I'll use it in the interviews. Maybe let Tivan wet his pants — it'll be historic."

"Steal all the glory before I even get there; I see how it is."

"You'll have plenty of time in the spotlight when you win, Bucky." She popped the 'B' every single time she said his name just because it irritated him. And she knew it.

He rolled his eyes her way. "Got it all planned out, huh?"

"Look at your competition," she said, gesturing around them. "It only makes sense. I mean. The creepy Career pack is going to implode. Then the jackwagon in Ten will run everyone down. You already had the guy in Six crying over his oatmeal when you utterly humiliated him with your show of manliness at the gym," she had a fake breathless tone as she continued. "So it only stands to reason that the sweetie pies will just … probably die from exposure or Ten. It's all you."

"You should take up creative writing, Jones."

"Don't be hateful because I'm right," she said before she cracked him in the chest with the back of her hand. She was surprisingly strong for her size. "You'll see. Just make sure you thank me for making it as far as you do — protecting your virtue from the harpy in Four."

"Sure you're not going to win instead?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Jessica Jones: victor from Five. She let everyone else kill each other and strolled out of the arena without a scratch."

"Doubtful," she said with a little sigh. "My anger issues won't let me just stroll anywhere," she added before she pulled the small bottle of amber fluid from her hoodie pocket and snuck a drink. "It's more of a stomp, really."

"Sorry — I meant to say strut," he said with a little smirk, pointedly ignoring the bottle until he could sneak some too.

"That is accurate then." She looked around at the available stations and raised her voice just enough that she was sure that the kids from Six and Eleven could hear her properly. "Come on, Bucky. Let's go find out how to sharpen our knives on the bones of our enemies. That's got to be a specialty around here somewhere, right?"

He laughed at her and shook his head. "What did I tell you. Strutting."

"Umm, there's no bone-sharpening course, right? I didn't miss anything?" Miles muttered to Kamala as the two of them were working at the traps station. They were both pretty good at it, too, their nets and knots sturdy enough to hold anything the instructor could throw their way.

"I don't think bone-sharpening is an actual thing," she said as she tried to finish tying the last knot on the sheet.

"It had better not be, because I don't want to have to worry about that on top of everything else. And from Five. What the heck — I thought that was not one of the crazy districts."

"Every district has their outliers. I mean, I'm from Six," Kamala pointed out with a little smile.

"Yeah, but you don't count," Miles said, waving a hand. "You're too nice for… any of this stuff."

She couldn't help but grin at that and let out a little laugh. "Don't go telling people that, now."

"Oh, no way. No, no, if anyone asks, Kamala Khan is a lean, mean fighting machine," he agreed, his eyes wide and serious before he broke into a laugh that he just couldn't stop, and she crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"I could toss you across the room," she threatened.

"I know you could — but then you'd get in trouble for fighting," he countered, still grinning. "Besides, you're not a bone-sharpener."

"That's really not a thing."

"It is now. It's what the crazy people in these Games do, apparently," Miles shot back, looking over his net with a little nod of approval. "What do you think?" He held it up for inspection. "Think I'll catch anything?"

"It'd catch a spider man?"

"I was hoping for something a little bigger," he said with a grin. "I mean, I'm a great catch and all, but I'm the kind you keep, not the kind you — you know. Gakh." He mimed a stabbing motion and then pulled a horrible face.

"Yeah, I'm not doing that," she agreed. "The … stabbing. Thing. No."

"Don't think you'll have to, considering you've got both Sevens wrapped around your finger. How'd you do that, anyway?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Right place at the right time I guess," she said with a shrug.

"Well, I'm sure glad you did, anyway," he told her with a reassuring smile. "Otherwise, I'd've never been invited up, and I'd be missing out on the cool kids' club."

"I'm glad you're there," she said with a growing smile. "We need more jokes."

"Yeah, your two Seven buddies seem a little… serious. Or maybe that's just me?"

"Scott's just … an organizer, I think. And Clara…. I … don't know how much she can relax when she's half waiting for her brother to pop up."

Miles winced. "Yeah, that's the worst kind of surprise. Poof! Victor Creed!" he mimed popping his head up with little claws.

She giggled a little and shook her head. "She's really good at handling him. At least... that's what Scott said."

"She'd sort of have to be," Miles pointed out, leaning back in his chair as two of the legs came up off the floor. "I mean ... it's got to be a survival instinct at this point, right?" He dropped back down so that all four legs of his chair were on the floor. "We should team up in the arena," he said seriously.

"Yes. We should," she agreed with a nod.

He let out a breath of relief on hearing it and grinned her way. "Oh, good. I was worried you'd say no, and then I'd be stuck solo spider-ing and begging Gwen to let me tag along."

"I think our group is pretty open as long as it's not a 'kill you as soon as you turn your back' thought," she said with a frown.

Miles put a hand over his heart. "I swear, I'm not gonna kill you, Kamala."

At that, Kamala just grinned down at her net, unsure what to say, and the two of them went back to work, this time with Miles moving on to running commentary about what the other tributes were up to when Kamala wasn't giving him much in the way of conversation — not sure what to do with her fun new spider friend.

Night of July 4

Rooftop of the Capitol Building

The traditional meeting of Careers always had the tributes from One, Two, and Four, though this year, the tributes from Three had been invited to the club. No one said out loud that it was because the Ones and Fours thought that the Braddocks were poor excuses for Careers, but it was definitely implied in looks and backward glances — especially when the two of them were the last to arrive on the roof for the meeting.

"Good of you to join us," Giuletta drawled as Brian and Betsy sat down across from her.

"I'm sure you're not too concerned with our presence," Betsy replied with a raised eyebrow. "Either way."

"Not really," Giuletta responded in a bored tone.

"Come now, ladies, can't we get along until after the claxon bell and the killing?" Kilgrave tutted, shaking his head at them both.

"She's not hiding her intentions," Betsy said, sounding totally unconcerned. "He'd like to be sure all the sponsor money is handled before she tries to kill me."

"Well, that is the way the game is played," Kilgrave pointed out with a light sigh.

"Then why fake the cordial tone?" Betsy asked him flatly.

"Because a lie is easier when practiced." Kilgrave gave her his best smile — and it was entirely off-putting to the ex-model.

"Then I guess it's time to hear what you've been rehearsing," Betsy replied with a far more polished smile.

"Yes, let's get this over with," Amora agreed. "I have better things to do than listen to posturing. Shall we just skip to the part where we agree on who to kill and pretend that the rest of the members of this little group aren't on our own private lists?"

"That would probably be for the best," Brian said as he watched her with a frown.

"Lovely." She flashed him a brilliant smile before she leaned forward. "So. Five had a tribute in the final fight last year, and his best friend is in it this year. But separate him from his little handler of a district partner, and he's really no trouble at all."

"You have an in?" Giuletta asked, straightening up a bit.

Amora smiled sweetly at her. "My dear, he is your typical troglodyte. He'll be easy enough."

"And what about you, Kilgrave?" Jean prompted. "All those girls you've been chatting with. Did even one of them manage not to smack you for your troubles?" She looked overly smug as she assessed him, knowing that he wasn't nearly as charming as he liked to think he was.

"Just who you'd expect. The youngest are feckless and fidgety — though we will have a fight on our hands with Twelve's girl," he said, his hand drifting almost unconsciously down to his arm, which Jean knew the girl from Twelve had twisted behind him when he tried to touch her.

"You're simply not her type," Betsy said with a smirk.

"And you are," Jean said with a small smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Perhaps you could take one for the team."

"I'm not sure if that's a note of jealousy or not," Betsy said, shaking her head, which only had Jean's eyes flashing her way.

"Either way, she will be an issue. She's not afraid of any of us — not even Ten's latest entries into the insanity competition they seem to be in with themselves," Amora pointed out.

"She has a weakness — that little boy she's been protecting," Giuletta said. "She'd fall on her sword in an instant if she thought it would save him."

"That's true of just about everyone under age fifteen in this shindig," Trevor said, speaking up for the first time — and it wasn't the usual, airy accented speech the Braddocks were used to hearing from him. "All of the little ones in the outlier districts have protectors, friends, allies. They're easy enough to get close to, and the others will come when the little ones start screaming."

Both Betsy and Brian did a fine job hiding any shock that they had at Trevor's assessment — and at the total change in his tone and personality — though all it really did was seal it for the two of them: run. Far from this pack of wolves.

"You're all overlooking the pair of Sevens," Jean said quietly, though she looked rather smug as the others glanced her way. "They have the newest victor, not to mention sponsor interest with the family dramas — both with her brother and his. And believe it or not, they can fight. The Creed is dangerous, but even the skinny boy is amazingly good with knives."

"That's fairly typical of Seven though, isn't it?" Betsy said with a slightly disinterested expression.

"The lumberjack types with the brute strength?" Giuletta made a face. "Pretty much."

"These two are smart, and they have the backing to keep up," Jean insisted before a wide smile spread over her face. "But he trusts me."

"Well that's it, then," Amora said with a light shrug. "Get one, and you'll be able to get the other — isn't that what we've been saying?"

Giuletta broke into a smile as she nodded her agreement. "And don't worry — I can make sure their partners hear them once we get started. They'll come running to us so fast we'll be down to the pack of us by Day Three."

"So, no creative deviations off of the norm then?" Betsy asked, trying to redirect the conversation from torture to tactics. "Simply take and defend the weaponry and supplies once the klaxon rings?"

"Why mess with what works?" Trevor asked lazily.

"Unless you have a better idea?" Amora challenged.

"I'm not entirely sure," Betsy said with a frown. "For all the plotting and planning, are any of you competent with weapons?"

Amora let out a 'tsk,' and Skurge actually chuckled the slightest bit. "You're talking to a warrior of Four," she said haughtily.

"I am aware. I was directing the question more to those that think themselves the brains of the operation." Betsy gave her a cold smile. "But it's nice to know how sensitive you are about it."

"Don't worry too much about that," Giuletta said with a little smirk.

"As barbaric as the methods are, we were trained at the Academy," Kilgrave sniffed. "I can if I must use weaponry."

"And really, isn't it more about keeping the weapons from others who would use them?" Jean pointed out.

"That only goes so far," Betsy said, turning toward both of them fully. "Especially on the heels of the victor that made his own weapons. I'm sure that struck some inspiration."

"Skurge will cut down any meager handmade weapons," Amora said with a lazy wave as Skurge grinned at her promise. "You have not seen him wield an axe."

"I'm sure he's as elegant as the trolls that bore him," Betsy said with a smile.

"Elegance doesn't matter," she laughed. "As long as the head is separated from the body."

"As must be the theme from Four this year," Betsy said with her nose in the air a bit.

Amora's eyes flashed, and she sniffed self-importantly before she simply stood up to leave. "Then if there is no alteration in the usual plan — and we know those who pose the greatest threat to us… I see no point in continuing to act as if we like each other."

"Yes, rush off to get your beauty sleep in, dear," Jean said with a little laugh.

"At least there's still hope for me," Amora shot Jean's way.

"Only with a team of stylists," Betsy added.

Amora glared at her before she swept off of the roof, with Skurge in her wake, before Trevor started to chuckle quietly. "That was beautiful, Braddock."

"She's horrible. And full of herself with no basis," Betsy said, though she looked a bit irritated at the girl still. "She hides behind her bodyguard."

"She'll come crashing down in her own time," Giuletta said with a shrug.

"Let's make sure not to be close to her when it happens," Brian muttered to Betsy.

"Do you have anything else to discuss?" Betsy asked the rest of them at large.

"Just a question," Kilgrave said, looking over both of them. "When it comes time to kill them, will you hesitate?"

"Of course not. Would you?" Betsy asked.

"Not in the least," he replied. He even broke into a little smile. "We'll have to see what happens when that bell rings, won't we?"

"We know what will happen when the bloodbath starts," Brian said. "My question is: who are you going for? So I can be sure to pick someone else."

Kilgrave licked his lips. "The girl from Five or the one from Twelve. Whoever I can get closest to."

"I want to hear the scores first," Betsy said. "No one's crossed me personally yet."

"Smart," Giuletta said with a little smirk. "Then we'll stay out of your way of whoever gets the highest score."

"We'll see how it goes," Betsy said with a matching smirk before she and Brian headed out.