A/N: It's June 21st. IT'S MY BIRTHDAY! Staying up late to finish this chapter was my birthday gift to all of you, I guess. Here's the first day of training, with POVs from Monita, Bryndle, Edamame, Gray, James, Blu, Turner, and Gaius. This is going to work similarly to Broken, if any of you remember that. Eight tributes POV every day. That way all 24 get a training POV at some point. There aren't any definite alliances yet, just friendships. You'll see which of these interactions lead to alliances and which don't. In the meantime, enjoy :D
Get me with those green eyes, baby,
As the lights go down.
Give me something that'll haunt me,
When you're not around.
'Cause I see sparks fly,
Whenever you smile.
Monita Lidell, 16 / DefoNotAFangirl
District 3 Female
Bernie chews his breakfast slowly, almost grudgingly. I wipe a smear of liquid cheese from the corner of my mouth and then ready my fork for another bite of macaroni and cheese. This is the most normal food I've seen since coming to the Capitol. Pixel made it.
"Wow, this is really good," I say through my mouthful of food. "Thanks."
Pixel puts on the playful and cheery smile that only she can make. "No problem. You two feed yourselves up for training."
The mention of training makes the room drop ten degrees. Pixel wrinkles her forehead and heads to the sink to refill her water glass.
I've been trying my best to keep from worrying. I've been training for years. The unchallenged advice Pixel and Chipson give is to avoid the careers at all costs. I definitely plan on doing that.
"You know what we haven't talked about?" I say. "Allies."
"Ah," Pixel pulls her mouth to one side. "I knew you'd bring that up."
To my right, Bernie remains still and silent. I'm reminded of the way criminals like to stay silent until their lawyer is present. He can get pretty talkative when Chipson is around. From the looks of things, I'm pretty sure he hates Pixel. But I don't bring that up. The last thing I want is for anything to get aggressive.
That's a stupid thought. Things are going to get aggressive: if not now, then in the games.
I'm confident, or at least as confident as an outlier can be. Little fleeting shards of self-doubt try to break me down. I try to stay strong. It's the best I can do to keep powering forward.
"Anyway," I repeat. "Allies."
"That's kind of your prerogative," Pixel says. "To be honest, you're the strongest girl I've mentored in years. I usually wouldn't recommend that you look for allies, but honestly… the training center is your oyster. It's pretty much your call."
"Didn't you have allies?" Bernie pipes up.
Pixel's back straightens, and she flinches as if pricked by a pin. "Yeah."
And she did. She made two alliances that both failed within twenty-four hours. I don't know whether Bernie knows that too, but I decide not to bring it up.
"And didn't that kid from 12 just let the careers kill him or something? Didn't…"
"Bernie!" I hiss. "Salt in the wound much?"
Bernie crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. "Sugar in the wound is worse. Guarantees infection."
There are ten solid seconds of awkward silence.
"Twenty minutes until training!" Pixel exclaims suddenly. "Let's get chopping."
For me, chopping consists of changing into training clothes and brushing my hair. I'm pretty sure Bernie is just sitting on his bed or something, because I don't hear him moving around at all while I get ready. I have no idea what Chipson is up to. I actually haven't seen him since yesterday evening.
The four of us cram into the elevator and then drop down. My stomach leaps throughout the maze of sudden drops and turns. Bernie, who is a lot smaller and lighter than me, almost hits his head on the wall of the elevator. Finally, the doors slide open with a ding.
Pixel blinks hard. "Not exactly my cup of tea."
"Nothing here is my cup of tea," Chipson says miserably.
By the looks of things, we arrived just on time. Four districts are already here: District 1, District 2, District 6, and District 12, if I'm remembering their faces correctly. Part of me is surprised that District 4 isn't here yet. Then I remember they only have one career this year. I wonder if that has to do with anything.
"Welcome, District 3," the head trainer, an intimidating man named Colosseus Bauble grunts. "Monita and Bernie, please seat yourselves. Mentors, you may return to your rooms our stay here to watch your tributes."
I'm pretty sure Chipson wants to leave, but Pixel tugs his sleeve and he eventually gives in.
Over the course of the next five minutes, the tributes fill the gymnasium. First District 8, then District 5, then District 11, then District 4, then District 10, then District 7, and then District 11.
"Welcome to your first day of training, tributes," Colosseus says. "Listen carefully, because these are your three days to hone your skills and impress the gamemakers. In my not-so-humble opinion, you should be more concerned about a positive appearance here than even your interview. I want to let you go as soon as I can, so I'll keep this short. Don't count out the survival stations. The victor of a twelve day-long Hunger Games spends a total of only about two hours in combat. Everything else is just a game of survival. My other piece of advice: pay close attention to the other tributes. Weak tributes (you know who you are) pay especially close attention to everyone stronger than you. Note their weaknesses. They could well save your life in the arena."
Silence envelops the room.
"That's all I have to say. I'll be at the swordplay station today and Day 3 if you need me for some reason. Other than that, this is all for Colosseus Bauble. You are dismissed."
For about five seconds, nobody moves. Then the boy from 1 jumps toward the spear station, and we start rising one by one. When I stand up, the boy from 5 and the girl from 12 follow my lead. The smallest tributes, the girls from 6 and 8, are the last tributes up.
This place is huge. At first I have no idea where to start. Then I see the girl from 10 alone at the climbing wall station. She looks strong enough. I decide to head in her direction.
News was bad on Upland Avenue,
Metuchen mourn our loss.
Sons rebelled, while fathers yelled,
And mothers clutched the cross.
Bryndle Greer, 16 / luluthefox
District 10 Female
I came to a conclusion last night. Arien had gone to bed and Steer was at a dinner party, already trying to gather sponsors for the two of us. I was alone with Larke in the living room sector of the suite on floor 10.
"I'm going to be completely honest with you, and please don't take offense to this," she said. "Your odds of victory are near zero if you go in alone."
"Why?"
"You aren't weak, but you don't think before you act. You're too jumpy and sudden. You need somebody else to keep you in control, keep you from doing anything stupid. You need an ally."
I don't like listening to people, but I know I should listen to her. As weird as her games were, she's one of the few 10 girls who has ever entered the games and lived to tell the tale. I should take her advice to heart as best I can.
"Struggling?" someone asks.
I'm too exhausted to even look down. I'm only about a fourth of the way up the climbing wall, but I'm already breaking a sweat. My legs are melting. My bones are lead. Ugh.
"Yeah. I'm struggling," I stammer, gasping between each syllable.
"Here. I'll help you."
The girl, whoever she is, scrambles up the wall and grabs strong hold of my leg. "Push up," she says. "I'll help you find a place to set your foot."
It all runs through surprisingly smoothly. I pull my foot upward with an exhausting tug. A strong wrist grabs around my hand, and she pulls it about two feet to the right. I never would have seen that foothold there.
"Thanks," I say. "What's your name?"
"Monita Lidell. District 3."
"Bryndle… Greer. District 10," I say.
"I'd shake your hand," Monita says. "But, you know."
"Maybe when we get back to the ground."
"Sure."
I take another step up. I feel a little guilty making Monita help me up the wall when I'm not helping her at all myself, so I grab her hand and pull her upward a few times.
The height starts to make me dizzy. We're both strapped in, and there are medical teams waiting to rush in at a moment's notice. There's no way this could hurt me. But I start to panic nonetheless. I hate heights.
Deep breaths, Bryndle. At least you aren't wearing a fancy dress.
"Have you ever done this before?" Monita asks.
I want to say something about how it's not the time for conversing. That sounds like something I might say, but Monita is just too nice. "No." My parents were too rich and sophisticated to give us time for anything rough-and-tumble.
Monita and I are both groaning with effort by the time we reach the top of the climbing wall. There's a small platform at the top that we're allowed to sit on for a few minutes, just to relax and get our energy back.
"Aw, that feels good." I can see the whole gymnasium from here: Bernie at the fire-starting station, the careers on the gauntlet, the pair from 7 sifting through plastic bugs.
"That does," Monita agrees. "Wanna be buddies? Go around the stations together?"
I find myself saying yes without really thinking about it. "Buddies" isn't as much of a commitment as "allies". And I don't want to go around making commitments this early on.
Cry me a river.
Go on and just,
Cry me a river.
Baby, go on and just,
Cry me a river.
Edamame Stanton, 15 / 2017tnt
District 11 Male
"The next frenzy begins in two minutes. Please ready yourselves."
Dock, Turner, Gary, and I sit in a circle around the center of the station: a small patch of dirt and grass in a small metal box near the edge of the gymnasium. We each have our parts supplied: matches, tinder, kindling, and everything upwards of that.
"The rules are simple," the trainer says. "Your task is to assemble a fire that can burn for five minutes. You earn one point for lasting five minutes, and one point for each minute afterward that you do not add any new fuel. Begin in 3… 2… 1… go."
I hurriedly snatch some tinder, a few dried pine needles, out of the nearest bucket and form them into some kind of pile. Gary and Turner proceed similarly. Dock tries to skip tinder entirely: he grabs a few dry leaves and sticks and tries to light them straight on fire.
That's not smart—that doesn't give the flame any kind of core—but I don't say anything.
The first thirty seconds of the competition are pretty uneventful. My first match breaks. I mutter a curse and scramble for another. Turner has the first spark, but Dock is surprisingly the first to get a large flame going. He's seemingly abandoned the leaf idea and gone for a more traditional cone of pine needles as his base.
"Struggling, 11?" Dock mocks.
I don't respond. By this point, I have a slight smolder going.
There are trainers standing behind each of us, holding timers. As soon as the first flame dances over my fire, a timer starts with a click. We're allowed to add more fuel until the five minute mark, so I keep piling on small bits of fuel in places where the fire starts to die.
At first, I'm worried about adding too much fuel and smothering the flames, but that doesn't prove to be much trouble. This fuel is too dry to keep any oxygen out for very long.
Turner blows on his fire, and it momentarily bursts to life. I try the same thing, but nothing happens, and Dock looks me over scornfully.
"Five minutes up!" I pull my hands away from the fire and wait for the results to come in.
Dock takes first place, keeping his fuel alive for a total of eight minutes. Turner manages seven minutes and twelve seconds. I come in third, with seven minutes and one second. Gary only lasts for five minutes and sixteen seconds.
I don't trust any of them yet, and we definitely aren't allies, but we've been staying more-or-less together as we move around the training center for the past hour. Dock is short even for a twelve-year-old, but he has lots of muscle on him and I can imagine quite a few sponsors will be on his side. Turner looks weird without his notebook. He reminds me of a mouse: moving quickly, pausing, thinking, maybe quivering a little bit. And Gary's curly hair and smile is really hard to take seriously. He's about the same height as Turner, but he stands up a lot straighter. And his positive energy just makes him seem a lot bigger.
I'd like to know what the other tributes, and especially the gamemakers, think of me. They don't see me as Edamame Stanton. They see me as 11, and as they critically stare down at me from the loft it's hard not to feel extremely dehumanized.
"The frenzy is over," a trainer says. "You may choose to leave or stay and merge with the next group."
I try to slip away as discreetly as possible. I might try to get back with the group in a little while, but for now I just need some time to myself.
Never gave a thought to an honorable living,
Always had sense enough to lie.
It's getting hard to keep pretending,
I'm worth your time.
Gray Golas, 16 / Tyquavis
District 9 Male
I try to keep on the lookout for allies as the hours tick past. I expect some sort of conversation to come naturally; I guess I'm kind of hoping for some other tribute to approach me. When I can't decide what station to go to, I head over to the sickles. I figure that if somebody wants to talk to me, they will.
The weird Capitol sickles take a long time for my hand to get used to. I've been using the same exact sickle for the past two years, so it makes sense that this one feels different.
The first holographic rabbit leaps out of the wall before I'm ready. I hurriedly try to cut it in half or at least hit it, but it bounds past and dissolves into thin air before I can touch it.
Weirdly, I don't think I've ever used a sickle for anything other than cutting grain. I certainly haven't killed anything with it. This is certainly a… new experience.
The Capitol is not District 9, I have to remind myself. This is a weapon for killing, not a tool for chopping plants.
I'm more prepared for the next rabbit. It comes bounding out of the wall at top speed. I manage to hit it with an accuracy that surprises me. It shatters into a thousand small cubes and then dissolves.
I weather the first minute of the challenge with relative ease, I guess. I do miss a few rabbits, but most of them explode at the touch of the curved weapon blade.
It's when things start to pick up in difficulty that I really hope the gamemakers aren't watching. Six of them bound past before I can react. At least thirty must pass, but I only manage to take down two of them. I turn the difficulty setting down by three entire ticks and decide to work my way up from there.
A hand suddenly grabs the wheel and turns it up to the highest difficulty setting.
I slowly turn my head around, peeved, and it takes all of my self-control to keep from screaming. It's the career pack: all five of them, every one of them taller and stronger than me. They all have bulging muscles, even the girls.
Instinct tells me to drop everything and run for my life.
I take a deep breath. Just keep doing what you're doing. Don't show them you're afraid.
"Would you mind turning it back down?" I ask, trying not to sound strained.
"Yes, I would mind," Midas says scornfully. "We don't need training wheels like you do. Now scram."
Kennedy and Vista are already cutting down rabbits: not only swinging their sickles, but tossing them too. I'll admit that they're both extremely talented. Gaius, Jade, and Midas stand around me in a triangle, enclosing me. I'm instantly reminded of a snake's crushing death grip.
I take another deep breath. I will not panic.
My feet shake, so I stamp them slightly as though they're dirty.
"I said, fuck off," Midas repeats.
"That means leave," Jade says.
Gaius gives me a hand gesture that I don't need to know sign language to understand.
"I was here first. Can't we just do our own thing? Just pretend we like each other for a few minutes?"
"Pretending to like you would take quite a few acting skills," Jade says. She isn't a crazy cat lady anymore. She's a cold-hearted killer. I've always been surprised by how quickly the careers' personalities can change.
I can practically hear my family screaming at their televisions. I decide it's time to leave. I don't want to anger them any more than I have to.
"Alright, I've leave. But you didn't have to be so rude about it."
I turn around and try not to run too quickly.
"Let's just kill him in the bloodbath," Kennedy mutters.
In this farewell,
There's no blood, there's no alibi.
'Cause I've drawn regret,
From the truth of a thousand lies.
So let mercy come and wash away,
What I've done.
James Smith, 17 / TheProtectorOfHim
District 7 Male
Johanna and Aspen are both still here when lunch is called. I guess I was expecting them to watch us for a few minutes and then leave. Either they love watching us or they can't trust us to be left alone, but they decide to stick around.
The peacekeeper's whistle is earsplitting. The entire room goes quiet instantly, the thirty-odd people instantly falling silent. "Seat yourselves immediately at the table labeled with your district number! We will call you up by district to collect your lunch! Go!"
We all stampede toward the twelve tables crowded into the corner of the large training room.
"Couldn't they give us just a little more space?" I mutter as Trixana shoves me against the wall to make room for Johanna.
"I guess they don't think eating is important," Trixana says. "It's the training that matters."
District 1 is called up. The three people at the District 1 table, the two tributes and Noble, leave the room and return with plates piled high with Capitol food. I can't tell what it is, but the aroma is disgustingly sweet. It makes my eyes water.
I run my finger along the edge of the wooden lunch table as the districts are called up one by one. This table was probably assembled in District 7. Someone I know might have cut down the tree that it's made out of. It's unlikely, but not impossible. Thinking of District 7, I'm transported back in time. Toes curling in sponge-like moss. The soft tinkling of a butterfly wind chime. My mother's lullaby.
Down in the valley, the valley so low. Hang your head over, hear the wind blow. Roses love sunshine, violets love dew. Angels in heaven know I love you.
"What are you humming?" Aspen asks.
"A really old song. By mom used to sing it to me."
"Sing it again. I think I know it."
"I do to," Johanna says. "There are more verses, aren't there?"
In a few seconds, everybody at the table has joined in the valley song, even Trixana. Johanna doesn't seem like the type to casually sing a lullaby, but she has a surprisingly clear voice, even for her age.
"District 7!"
I try my best not to bump into anybody as I weave between the tables. I'm pretty sure I stumble into the boy from 5 at one point, but I'm in too much of a hurry to apologize. The peacekeeper's eyes bore into the back of my neck as I follow Trixana out of the room.
I find a plate of apple slices, coated with a crusty covering of thick, crunchy sugar. Then I pick up a thick blue soup that smells like the ocean.
"That's all?" Aspen says.
"Yeah. I'm not that hungry."
We all sit back down at the table. As District 8 is called up, I notice Trixana wringing her hands. I can tell she's thinking about her father. I'm not sure how much Aspen and Johanna know about it, so I don't bring it up.
I try to eat my lunch as slowly as I can, just so that I don't finish early. I end up having to rush toward the end to finish my soup in time.
"Training resumes in fifteen minutes!" the peacekeeper calls. "If you need to relax or take a bathroom break, now is the time!"
I figure the bathroom line will be long, so I stay back in the training room with Trixana. Everything about her, her face, her fidgety movements, displays her worry. I would feel bad for her if I wasn't so nervous myself. I can't feel pity, only camaraderie.
"How are you holding up?" I ask.
Trixana pulls her mouth to one side. "Alright, I guess. But it's getting hard to keep myself together."
"I know," I say. "I know you were worried about the survival stations, but we got most of those done this morning. Let's go on to weapons. Maybe we can do shelter building or fire starting tomorrow."
Trixana doesn't respond. I get the feeling I'm trying too hard, so I stop talking to her.
Never forget how strong you are, my mother once murmured to me as she stirred a pot of hot vegetable soup with a wooden spoon. Always keep trying, my little sapling.
I won't give up. I'll try as hard as I can to force my way out of that arena, even when it hurts.
But high above or down below,
When you are too in love to let it show.
Oh, but if you never try, you'll never know,
Just what you're worth.
Blu Vixen, 16 / Professor R.J. Lupin1
District 8 Female
The cold wind of last night still roars in my ears. I can't keep still. Adrenaline is my new addiction. It's the knife that lets me cut through the net that's been holding me captive for five years.
The obstacle course is extremely daunting. It has three phases: a net running from the floor to the ceiling, a set of monkey bars, and a weird wheel attached to a bar running uphill. I have no idea what the third phase is, but I guess I'll find out.
A stupid smile seats itself deep on my face as I grab onto the net. I could never have done this two days ago.
The net is immediately difficult. I pull myself a few feet upward, and the sides of the net pull inward. The entire unit tries to tip me off, and my own weight pries a few of my fingers off the net. About a fifth of the way upward, I'm dangling by my hands.
Blood rushes to my center as I lift my feet up, feeling around for the net. I fit my left foot into one of the holes and then climb another few feet upward, finding a place for my other foot.
I'm at least a third of the way up before I manage to flip the entire net right-side up.
Someone chuckles below me. It's the careers. Not all of them: just the boy from 1 and the girl from 4. I try to ignore them as I move farther up the moving net. I glance downward once. A shudder jolts my body when I realize my sheer height. It gives me the energy I need to reach the top.
My hands close around the platform, which hangs from the ceiling by a chain. It's the rest area between phase one and phase two, but I know I can't stay here long.
It takes me at least thirty seconds to pull myself on. My core is shaking and beads of hot sweat dot my face. When I finally collapse, I can hardly breathe.
I take a deep breath and try to calm my shuddering limbs. The two careers are still watching, analyzing my every movement in a scornful way.
Now for the monkey bars. I could climb on top of them or hang underneath. My resolve falters as I realize the distance across the bar course. Too late to turn back.
I don't have much trouble with the first half of the course. This is clearly the most simple phase, and I manage to reach the other side within two minutes. I'm sweating harder now. My heart pounds.
I want to give up, but I remember the noise of the roaring wind.
The careers aren't the only ones watching. A shorter girl stands underneath me, watching enviously. The girl from 5… Gweneth? Gwyneth.
The last phase is perplexing. An angled metal bar runs from my location to the ceiling. A circular object, like a wheel, hangs from a chain on the bar. Two handles stick out of the wheel.
True exhaustion starts to set in, like daggers inside my body. I grab onto the wheel and realize I have to swing my legs to pull myself up the chain.
The entire journey is intensely grueling. There's one moment where I almost think I'm going to fall, and Gwyneth moves away so I don't land on her. But I power forward, ignoring the screaming exhaustion in every part of my body, ignoring the bleeding rashes on my hands. I drop down at the end of the obstacle course and let the tears of pain come.
I've never pushed myself to the point of pain before. But it's so, so worth it.
The boy from 1 nods, clearly flustered. He and the girl from 4 back away.
I drop down the floor. "Good job," Gwyneth whispers.
I try to thank her, but I can't open my mouth. The trainer tells me I need to rest, and I sit down on the nearest bench, thinking about how far I've come.
Fall is here, hear the yell,
Back to school, ring the bell.
Brand new shoes, walking blues,
Climb the fence, books and pens.
I can tell that we are gonna be friends.
Turner Willard, 13 / CragmiteBlaster
District 12 Male
I decide to revisit the fire-starting station one more time before returning to the hotel room. I don't know why I like it so much. Maybe because it's quiet and out of the way. I think fire starting is kind of satisfying, but not in the way Bernie from 3 thinks. I smell the faint smoky aroma and remember home and think things might just be okay after all.
A few of the tributes have already left. Besides Heather and I, only ten or eleven tributes are still here. The five members of the career pack are huddled in one corner, sipping water from paper cups. They're probably waiting to do the tumble tower, the most daunting obstacle course in the training center. No tribute besides a career has made it to the top since the fourth Quarter Quell the year I was born. They don't call it the tumble tower for no reason.
I slowly gather dried pine needles and form them into a bunch. I don't want to pack them so tightly that oxygen can't flow through, just tight enough that they won't fall apart after the first few sparks.
The last time I was here, I used a match to start my flame. This time, I want to try using the classic flint and steel.
It takes forever. I try not to get frustrated, but I find myself huffing and puffing after the thirtieth spark that fizzles out and disappears. After what must be at least fifteen minutes, a thin flame appears on one of the pine needles.
I move my body to block the artificial wind. Then I wait.
It's a surprisingly complicated game. I have to make minor adjustments every few seconds to keep the fire strong, and even then it almost dies on me multiple times.
I start to add leaves and sticks when the flames get high. I don't think I'll ever get it big enough to add real logs, but I pull the bucket of logs inward just in case. I don't end up needing them. The flame begins to die about two minutes later. I watch as the blue tips of the flames lower. Then there's only red fuel, then only black dust.
The training center is quiet now. Heather and I are the only ones here other than the careers. The five of them have gathered around the base of the tumble tower. I make eye contact with Heather over at the edible bugs station. She shrugs and walks toward me.
"Should we stay and watch them?" she asks.
"I don't think we should go back to the room without Arnold." I whisper.
"So stay?"
"Sure."
I let out a resounding sigh and take a seat, ready to watch the show.
I tremble,
They're gonna eat me alive.
If I stumble,
They're gonna eat me alive.
Can you hear my heart, beating like a hammer,
Beating like a hammer.
Gaius Alabaster, 18 / Writer207
District 2 Male
"Welcome to the tumble tower," Colosseus says. "I normally train at the sword station, but I have taken some time out of my schedule to moderate this event. It's my job to make sure nothing gets messy."
I stand in the center of the group. Jade and Kennedy stand to my left, and Midas and Vista stand to my right. I have the largest physical size, so I have the most strength to pull myself up the tower, but I know physical strength isn't the only thing the tumble tower puts to the test. Midas is thin and swift, which makes for quick movements. Jade has the fastest reflexes, Kennedy is the most agile, and Vista has the fastest-working mind.
"On your way up the tower, you will come across a multitude of objects to help you on your way up. Once one of you has grabbed an object, it is yours. Anyone who tries to steal it from you will be disqualified."
"You will be strapped in," he continues. "However, if you ever lose your grip on the tower, you will be thrown outward and thrown free of your harness. The cushions on the ground are ten feet thick, and we can guarantee you will not be hurt. Winner gets bragging rights. Any questions?"
I couldn't ask any questions if I wanted to, but I don't have any and neither do the others. We all want to get this started as quickly as possible.
Five trainers rush in from all sides and strap us in. Every buckle is on the back of the harness: the entire thing is meant to throw us free in a single instant if we fall. The only job of the harness is to throw us away from the tower before we fall, so we don't hit anything on the way down.
"At your stations!"
We rush into place. I gaze upward and see a maze of challenges: rickety wooden bridges, complex jungle gyms, chests holding useful supplies.
"3, 2, 1… Go!"
The horn sounds. Without looking at the others, I leap onto the ladder and scramble up to the first obstacle, a sea of rubbery objects hanging from above. They're slippery and extremely hard to keep a grip on. I notice Vista nearly fall, but she grabs one of the objects just in time and steadies herself.
I take a few deep breaths and then leap off of the ladder, using my initial momentum to bring me a bit of extra distance. I hear footsteps from the platform above me: one career has already passed the rubber course.
I notice a small metal object attached to one of the handholds: a bracelet covered in spikes. I can't imagine what it would be useful for, but I know it's here for a reason, so I stuff it in my pocket and continue on.
I drag myself onto the next ladder. The ladder leads upward to a wooden platform jutting out of the tower. It rattles and shakes, and I nearly lose my balance multiple times. Midas is already here, fumbling with a ring of keys.
"I think we have to find the right key to unlock that gate," he explains, his voice rattling.
Midas tries to put a key into the lock, but the platform is rattling too hard.
"Gaius, can you stop it from shaking somehow?"
I look around, struggling as much as ever to keep from falling off of the tower. Where the platform meets the tower, there's a space of at least half a foot for it to wiggle. I pull off my shoe and shove it into the gap. The platform slowly stops shaking.
Just as Midas fits a key into the gate, Vista's screams ring from underneath us. I peer over the side of the platform. She has two of the rubber handholds gripped tightly—they must have come undone from the tower. She lands on the cushioned ground, and two avoxes rush in to retrieve her.
Midas and I split apart after that. This next part of the tower is made entirely of wood. I notice small holes cut into the wood: handholds. I grab onto the nearest one and pull myself up the climbing wall, finding places to rest my feet. The tower begins to spin, and I notice Jade's thin body flying away from the tower and then downward into the cushion. Only three of us are left.
The spiked bracelet, I remember. I pull it out of my pocket and fit it onto my wrist, which is easier said than done given the speed of the spinning tower. Using the spikes like the claws of a cat, I'm able to use the flat wall itself as a gripping point to hoist myself farther and farther upward.
I'm drenched with sweat by this point. I haven't seen anything from Kennedy thus far: she's either far below us or far above us. It's three more obstacles (a jungle gym, a maze of mirrors, and a ladder made of a brittle material that breaks as I climb it) before Kennedy falls. The ladder breaks underneath her, and her harness puffs out, throwing her fifteen feet away from the tower. It's a scarily long fall.
Several minutes pass as Midas and I vie for victory. I can feel myself losing strength with every passing second, and I know my body will reach its limit soon. Midas looks similarly exhausted. I'm hoping I can tire him out somehow, but then my sweaty hands slip from the handlebars of the second jungle gym, and I feel myself being blown outward.
I try to remain solitary as I tumble thirty feet to the ground. Air rushes past me, roaring in my ears, and my body seizes up as the ground zooms closer. The fall is too fast to scare me for real. In less than two seconds, I hit the cushion. It doesn't hurt, but it comes as a hard blow.
The trumpets sound, and Midas grabs onto some kind of zip line, riding it down to the ground with a grin of victory.
The avoxes help me to my feet, and I stagger off of the mat to join the other careers. Vista looks pretty grumpy from placing last. Jade and Kennedy just look exhausted.
"You all did extremely well," Colosseus says. "Congratulations to Mr. Sinthra on his victory. Curfew is in ten minutes, so I recommend you return to your rooms. Your mentors are expecting you."