Something a bit unconventional here. We had a chapter written so well (and massively) that we decided to split it in half. I know that this type of chapter may not appeal to everyone-but I think it's important to leave in since it's more a psychological (and pyscho) insight into the games.

Sorry for the delays. I wound up in the ER again-twice. (My lips swelled .).

Next update will be on Tuesday (hopefully!)

Training Day 3, Part 1

Lucian Drake (D12 Male)

by JGrayzz

"Monsters are tragic beings; they are born too tall, too strong, too heavy, they are not evil by choice. That is their tragedy…"

—Ishiro Honda

Silence was disturbed by the echoing wail of an infant. It cried and cried through the night, never ceasing, never dying.

Everywhere I turned, everywhere I heard it. I could not plug my ears, it would just get louder.

The piercing cry reminded me of a Banshee-a Banshee wailing in the forest of my District. On quiet nights, locked within my chamber, I used to think I could hear the piercing scream of a Banshee, signaling someone's doom. It was eerie, and because of the wraith, I could not sleep. I could not eat. I could only listen.

My family never believed in mythology, but my family was never like me. They've never felt what it was like to be me…just for a day. They dismissed my complaints as mere symptoms of my…sickness. Mere delusions, simple wild fantasies thought up by a troubled little boy.

On this night, perhaps the wailing was that of the Banshee, finally coming to bring my doom. To end this wickedness, to destroy the beast before it wakes. If Death were intelligent, it would end it right now. I dare it to.

Unfortunately, neither the crying ceased, nor the endless distorted cycle of images flashing in the darkness.

"Welcome, tributes! Welcome, to the 25th annual Hunger Games! This year, the twist has been established, and you have all been voted in to compete in place of the usual drawing. This new establishment is a direct consequence of the deranged actions of a certain tribute in last year's Games. Because of this tribute, we have decided to take precautions to ensure such nonsense should be contained before it spreads. Thus, the Quarter Quell."

All the tributes were dazed, and had just recently woken up at the booming sound of the voice within the chasm. They were quite surprised to see that they had woken up chained to the ground-every single one of them. Some struggled, while others just cried.
"Tributes, if we can ask you just to quiet down just a decibel! The viewers at home need to at least be able to hear the voice of the Capitol! Please, tributes, calm yourselves down or face the consequences. Do not forget that we can directly destroy half of you in mere seconds, do keep this in mind!"

I was an observer, floating around in the sky above all the chained tributes, with the booming voice echoing through the caverns of the demented looking Arena. Swarms of large bats flew through the caverns, shrieking just as loudly, if not more audibly than the cries of the tributes.

The arena platform was chained to the surrounding cave walls, with a large lava pit beneath the large platform. Caves and crevices lined the walls and bridges moved across the walls. The opening above the Arena cavern was an eternal black sky. An abyss above the hellish Arena. Lightning and thunder were the only indications that the blackness was not just mere nothingness.

This place frightens me, it makes my blood turn to ice. It's not because of the arena's theme-but it's more the arena in general. Who could have devised such a hellish, such a cruel and wicked place?

Only one could have done so. Only one demented soul, a soul which was born into a life it never belonged in, and a soul which did not fit in with the ranks of society. An outcast, an oddity, a cancer hidden in the depths of the universe; it spread hatred and chaos in it's path, and affected the lives of innocent creatures out of mere curiosity.

The voice boomed one last time, "Mr. Drake, I do believe they're ready."

And the world came to a standstill.

As I floated around in the sky, observing the tributes chained on the platform, I began to realize that all of the children beneath me could indeed see me. They were crying not of their own cruel imprisonment, not of the wickedness of this arena, but they were frightened of me.

Talk about narrow-minded.

And so I flew, I flew down but I couldn't do anything about it. I tried to stop myself, but I could do nothing. This was one of those rare cases, a case of imprisonment within your own body. My mind was thinking these very thoughts, yes. But my mind was also programmed to attack. I was a predator, and I couldn't do a thing.

I descended near the tributes while their chains were broken by more monstrosities of similar natures. The lava contained serpentine like creatures which rose thousands of feet above the platform and cascaded into the lava again, raining fire on the tributes and melting metal.
Other creatures shrieked and roared as they attacked the tributes. They all tried to flee, but I would not let them. I tried to tell them it wasn't my fault, that I was as just as much a prisoner as they were, but in place of human vocalization came only terrifying roars.

All the mutts and creatures seemed to be inspired by my voice and attacked even harder than before. Lives were strewn away and ended seconds. Entire lives, entire memories, entire individuals were ended like nothing. It was all a joke, that human lives could just be ended like nothing. But I couldn't do anything.

I came at the tributes some more, tearing flesh and cackles of enjoyment emitting from my mouth. This is fun I suppose.

The demons in my head danced with glee, taunting me and laughing at my helplessness. And all the while, the crying never ceased.

I was not the observer, I was the destroyer.

I awoke with a gasp, running my hands through my hair and my face pressed firmly into my hands. I was slightly drenched with sweat and I was breathing quickly and deeply. I made a choked-swallow sound and I quickly tried to piece together my surroundings.

It was so dark I couldn't even make out the shapes in the room. I tried to clear my head before I completely disengaged myself from the soft, silk sheets of the luxurious Capitol bed.

Yes, that's right. Capitol…It all makes sense now. Some nightmares never really end do they?

It seems I'm still trapped within this hell, with all these demons laughing inside me. Taunting me and my pity.

Yes, these demons are awfully loud nowadays.

I sigh and reach for the bedside clock; it is electronic, and very expensive-looking. I want to smash it, for reasons unbeknownst to me. But I refrain at the moment, but only because it's 4:00 AM. This is probably one of the only nights I was able to sleep. And it's ironic that every time I do sleep, some blasted nightmare has to prevent me from doing so in the first place.

I get out of bed to go turn the lamp on, it's touch activated, which means all I have to do is touch the lamp. The technology doesn't fascinate me much, anything man-made or synthetic is probably the reason for the destruction of the Old World in the first place. The Capitol's need for computers to do the job for them will only get them so far. In 50 years or so, I don't expect the Capitol to last that much longer. It's probably going to be overrun by some corrupt president, and he's going to be overthrown by some teenagers or something. That's something to expect for the future generation, a whole lot of nonsense. Some old coot to take over, only to be overthrown like an ignoramus. It is not even a "what-if" scenario, it is bound to happen. With the corrupt government that Panem has fallen under, nothing lasts forever. All it takes is one loony and the fist comes crashing down in the end. I only wonder if District 12 will be the one to do it…

It's a pity really, to have seen the fall of a powerful government. Already, a District had been destroyed in the past. 13 was it? Yes, it was District 13. It was a bit drastic really, to destroy a nation which develops nuclear warheads. The Capitol needs support, they need defenses, and they destroyed their source. What is the Capitol going to do if Panem is attacked? Send out mutts to wipe out opposing colonies?

But, I digress. I realize now I've been staring at a lamp far too long, and it's now 4:17 AM. Have I grown bored too soon? I've always had a problem controlling my boredom. And it's probably that exact reason why I decided to cause such a hassle in District 12. I didn't exactly mean anything I did there. When I threatened to set the Justice Building on fire, I didn't actually mean it. When I continuously stole goods from the Markets, I didn't really mean it.

I did enjoy starting fires though, everybody was panicking despite how small the fires were. I found it entertaining to be honest. Thievery was humorous in the beginning, but of course I got bored. I came to the conclusion that thievery was for cowards anyway. But I kept it up, and I terrorized all sorts of people.

I wasn't doing anything bad, and I barely harmed anyone. It was all for a good cause, it was for the right cause. I wouldn't have gotten voted if I hadn't done those things, because no one would have noticed me. I was taking my pills regularly during those acts as well, which means I didn't really mean them.

I was even a little lethargic at times. Off the pill, I probably would have embraced those things. I'm more impulsive when I'm…off the pill. It comes with the curse. To be honest, I don't know what happens when I'm off the pill. I've never allowed myself that pleasure these days. I do know that I get these anxiety attacks, and then…I don't know. Something happens, but I can't seem to remember at the moment. Cyrus never really told me in detail, he was too busy always smuggling my pills. I've rarely been a week without them.

I relax on the bed in a lazy position, pondering the days previous. I believe it was on the First Training Day that I made sure to make a good impression, and I made sure to make an impression with everyone who talked to me. I spoke different from how I normally spoke, which I must admit I excelled very well in. I made sure I was as charismatic and charming as possible, which has always helped me stay out of trouble with the Peacekeepers and Mayor in District 12. They respected me because of my maturity, and they learned to trust me despite my…intimidating appearance.

And that's what I've done here, that's the skill I'm using to convince these people. I can be as friendly as long as possible and as long as it takes. Even if I have to use this tactic all the way to the Games-then so be it. I'm prepared to do anything to achieve my goal, and my destiny. I will do anything to win…

It really was thrilling, putting on a show for everyone, lying to everyone I talked to. Every time I lie I just have to laugh. It's quite thrilling, and humorous looking at people's reactions. I can't say I've never been honest-because I have, many times. I'm just a little different from others when it comes to telling the truth. I call it caution; I don't trust very many people anyway, but I like to make people trust me. It's a hypocritical little fact about myself, but I'm a walking contradiction. I'm unpredictable, and perhaps there are those who can't handle it.

I made sure on the first Training Day, that I was alone with tributes before I talked to them. I watched carefully, ever so slowly. When I saw an opportunity present itself for a conversation, then I did so. Every person I spoke to, saw me and me alone. Perhaps there are some moments where others were in the nearest vicinity, and of course I couldn't help the Capitolites which stood near almost every station. The majority, however, stood alone.

I call these little one on one moments, "reservations". I reserved spots for the ones I wanted to speak to, or ask questions to be more specific. At most, these little reservations lasted 3-6 minutes. I was to the point with my declamations, I wasn't trying to hold lengthy conversations with these children. My reasoning for such reservations was to pinpoint their weaknesses. I was always skilled with deductions and observations, my sister appointed me with the title of Detective when I was younger because of how aware I was of my surroundings. Without these skills, I wouldn't have made it far bringing animals to the traders.

Now, these skills can be put to the ultimate test, and indeed they have been. I can remember a particular moment on the first day where I acted like an imbecile; I asked a tribute how to best execute a sword swing. The reaction was comical, as was the demonstration, because they appeared to be just as absent-minded as myself, which already presented me a weakness. I made sure to memorize every detail, I do need to work on names though.

The difficult part is trying to discern if they are pretending as well, and I wouldn't doubt if they are. Many of these tributes appear to be as just intelligent if not more intelligent than even myself. However, the likelihood of the latter is disputable. My intelligence was estimated to be quite high by Cyrus himself.

Back to the topic at hand, I made up to 10 of my reservations during the First Training Day. I wanted to make sure no one else occupied my or their time while I spoke to them, so I even led some of them astray to different stations. I do think a pat on the back is in order for all my troubles.

I did well, I must admit. I made much progress on the first day even if I didn't exactly "train" like the majority.

I detract from my pondering to turn over to the bedside clock. The clock now reads 4:45...damn. Not enough time wasted. The clock has an array of other buttons on the top of it. One reads "Radio", so I go ahead and press it. Like it implies, various music stations are able to played on the clock. I've never had the pleasure of being able to listen to music, let alone watch any cable television. The televisions in District 12 are only programmed to play Capitol TV, as well as the News. Apparently, here in the Capitol, there are over hundreds of channels.

The majority of the music played on this device is horrid. I fail to understand how anyone can bear listening to all this nonsense. If this is the trash the Capitol listens to, then I really wasn't missing out in 12. Nearly every song is fast-paced and futuristic, as if they were made by extraterrestrials or something. I eventually come across a station that I can bear hearing. The music sounds…beautiful. It sounds like an orchestra of some sort, I can detect a piano and some violins. It emits the feeling of something ancient, yet tasteful. I can definitely relax to something like this.

I sit down upon the fancy bedding once more to think about earlier occurrence. Training Day 2 was relatively uneventful, actually, nothing of any importance happened on that day at all. While all the other tributes were preoccupied with their petty problems and wasteful training, I found myself sitting near the knot-tying station. Yes, you heard right. I sat upon the ground, and I tied complex knots the entire couple hours. You could say I definitely wasted an entire precious day of training, and I have to agree.

Physical training was never my forte, but I excel in particular weapons if you recall. I had practiced with knives, a broadsword, and even a sword-axe hybrid back in District 12. I even recall an axe as well, which I always seemed to have trouble swinging around with one hand. I'm a scrawny kid, and I am physically unable to overcome any larger predator. What makes things worse, is that I'm not the least experienced in projectile weapons, which would have made up for my physicality. Truth is, I never had a bow and arrow lying around my house, and knife-throwing is just not something I'm very adapted to.

I'm good with close-quarters combat, and all of hell shall be unleashed upon the victim. I didn't see a Khopesh in the Training Center, I doubt it's still around. I saw Sickles, and some morning stars but nothing of any interest. Perhaps the Capitol holds a surprise for Mr. Drake.

Unfortunately, I did not train physically. Training Day 2 was a day for mental processing, and I pondered everything. I observed everything. Nothing of significance happened on this day in relation to my training. It's a taboo thing, to completely ignore such a useful opportunity, but I do not wish to conform. I was training with a weapon much more dangerous than anything the Arena has ever seen. What makes up for my physical weaknesses is my complex mind. I was training mentally, and that's all that really matters. I suppose I'm just a little different, that's all.

The most interesting of my Capitol journey was on the first day. One instance has struck me as the most peculiar. There are all sorts of peculiar things in the Games, and the tributes are no exception. I found great joy in talking and observing these children on yesterday and the day before. But it was on the first day that something I never expected to happened, did indeed happen.

I had come across a moment of realization whilst at the knife throwing station. I was there for pure entertainment, watching some tributes attempt to hit the red circles on the dummies. It was very interesting, and I managed to draw out a few weaknesses or two. But there was only one particular moment that continues to haunt me still. For reasons beyond me, I had decided to grab a throwing knife and attempt to hit the target in vain. It was one of my more impulsive moments, and it had been almost three days since the last pill. The idea wasn't a horrible one, though. Even if I had horribly missed a target, it wouldn't have made that much of a difference. I was honestly an amateur at knife throwing, and it would provide other tributes with an indication of my skill. They would have dismissed me as a usual District 12.

Fate didn't appear to be at my side that moment, and my grip on the knife was loose, and it fell out of my hands, with the handle aiming directly downwards and the blade right near my skin. It was the worst thing that could have occurred, because it would have caused a scene. The knife station was a popular spot at the time, and many tributes were sparring. I didn't mind the pain, but it was just the wound in general.

I remember distinctly that I had become literally entranced in the scarlet liquid that dripped down my palm. I couldn't move, and everything else around me was insignificant. The only focus on my mind was the blood. It wasn't much, not much at all. I had dealt with buckets of it trying to gut animals back at the district. But, the cut seemed to have sparked some sort of memory. And I still don't know what happened. Just that it did, and just that I had bled.

I'm not obsessed with the stuff, such an admittance would be on the verge of insanity. No, I am not obsessed. More like…intrigued. It was just that single moment in time-if I were to sustain such an injury now, I wouldn't be as affected.

Would I?

Eventually, I had snapped back to reality when I heard a voice dangerously near me. I was not to be conversed with unless I instigated it. I had to make reservations on that certain day, any other day would be fine, but on that particular day, I couldn't have any of it. It would be bad for my plans, and one misstep would ruin everything. The voice repeated itself once more, and then I had a chance to look up and see the person.

It was a girl, and I recognized her…it was a Career. That little episode I pulled had just turned dangerous. I made a rule to myself on the way to the Capitol: I would not communicate in any form with a single Career. I could only observe, and that was what I had been doing for the first hour. That commandment had just been broken, and it was too late for forgiveness.

Roulla was her name, and she had asked me if I was alright. I was in disbelief, I didn't show it, but I felt a sense of weakness. I did not like showing weakness, and I had found myself kneeling on the floor, staring at my injured hand. I remember quickly rising to my feet, and seeing what appeared to be genuine concern. It was strange. It was strange in the fact that she was a Career, and because she actually cared. I dismissed her concern with a nod and hid my hand within my pocket. Nobody else seemed to notice the interaction, including the other Careers, who appeared to be busy elsewhere.

Long story short, my plans had almost been ruined. I made no other mistakes that day, but what's happened, happened. I will never understand what had happened to me, and I never will. Roulla's motherly sort of attitude really stumped me, and in other moments she appeared to be very hardened to the world, and quite robotic in her actions. She's a typical Career, but that little trick she pulled put me on edge, and I didn't like it. She invaded my boundaries and violated my commandments. I can't let this go, and I will never let it go. If push comes to shove, she will have to be killed, as soon as possible, but in that moment when she showed genuine concern, I've found her weakness.

Speaking of weaknesses…

I got up off the bed, and went to my clothing drawer. I took out my uncle's journal from the bottom of the pile of clothe, and flipped to the back pages which were now becoming filled with lists and words. Yes, this little book will be completed when this is all over, and the final page will be within my grasp in the end.

As of this moment, my journal entries are combined with Alistair's and the story has continued once more. This account of the Quarter Quell will become history, and it will be treasured for years.

I flip to a page which says at the top, "Tribute Notes". On this page, contains a list of every single tribute in the Quarter Quell, except myself. I made a mental note of everyone, their weaknesses, and recorded them within this journal. When I get a chance to look at the training scores, I'll be sure to bring this book with me and record those as well. Naturally, I bolded all of the Careers, which include the districts of 1, 2, and 4. It's usually the same every year, and it's always good to be prepared.

There are others I'm concerned about though, and I italicized them. I call this worrisome group of tributes, "The Serpents." They are hazardous, and have the potential to be poisonous. You can't trust them, and they have the tongues of a snake. They are just as dangerous as the Careers. In particular, this little group consists of Atalanta, Juniper, Brennadon, and Erik. I've seen what they can do, and I don't like it.
Besides the Careers, these tributes could prove to be some of the most dangerous this year. They've got strong personalities, but they are skilled. If I meet these tributes face to face, I'm done for. I have no defenses, and the majority of the Serpents seem to excel in projectile weapons, with the exception of Brennadon, who I'm not exactly sure what he favors.

I don't anticipate meeting them, however. The Careers most likely have got their eyes on them as well. If the Careers were smart, they would want to track down and eliminate the most dangerous at the beginning. If the Careers were smart, they would be just as wary of these tributes as I am. In the initial bloodbath, these tributes are going to be hunted down like rodents.

In the unlikely case that I have a meeting with any of the Serpents, I would prey on their weaknesses. I have little chance of physically dominating them if I can't get up close, but I have to prey on their faults and fears, and eventually, a battle a wills has to ensue. Physically, I can never hold anything against them. Mentally, however, I can bring them to their knees.

There are others on my list, but I appointed them with a star. The starred tributes are what I like to call the Rats. A very unappealing name, but snakes eat rats, and the Careers, are just the Careers. I'm just trying to get everything organized here.

The Rats, are simply little rodents. However, they are my lab rats. They are test subjects that I can potentially use to my advantage against any prey. They have claws, and they've got the wit and cleverness to back it up, but in the end, they are soft, and they will either die quickly or become bait. The Rats consist of Bastian, who I find to be of similar intellectual status with. He's a smart man, and he'll get far. It's his sensitive nature that will be his downfall, and I've seen him at Training. He's quiet, and trains just to stall time. He doesn't seem to know much about weapons, but it could all just be a ruse.

It's a game of chance when it comes to the Games, and I'm prepared for the unexpected just as everyone else should do likewise. Damian is of a similar nature, and he's quick too. He's clever, and he looks like a survivor. He'll make it far, but unfortunately, I might not be able to use him. He's too independent, and he looks agile enough to make it quite well on his own.

I move my finger down to the next starred name, Londyn. This girl could prove useful, but it's also a big game of chance, because she also has a very obvious weakness. She happens just so happens to be blind, and it was one of the first weaknesses I was able to spot. She slowly made her way to the knife throwing station on the first day, and from what little I saw of her abilities, she's definitely got skill. She couldn't exactly pinpoint the targets, but when she threw, it always hit where her hand directed it. It never strayed from its path, and I could have sworn they were like bullets.

But alas, her obsidian-black eyes are just that-gem-filled eyes.

I could utilize this very weakness to my uses, and it will only take one swipe of a blade, just a little threat or two. She'll have to listen to everything I say, or it will cost her everything. Her life will be just as expressionless as the black orbs within her eyes. She's too precious of a tribute to be used as bait, she's too useful for something like that. Her skill with projectiles could have had her placed in the Snakes if it wasn't for her ailment.

She would be a good huntress.

Next, and potentially the most useful, is Alexis. If there were going to definitely be any lab rats, it would certainly be her. Alexis entertains me the most, and I sorted through many advantages and possibilities to her usefulness most of yesterday. Her little stint on the first day proved to me that she is entirely capable of being my follower. The Peacekeepers were extremely wary of her on the second day, which I thought was interesting. I happened to notice that she stayed away from any sort of physical weapon, such as axes, swords, or knives. I have come to the assumption that she fears these weapons. Whatever the reason is beyond me, but that flash of terror and rage could prove instrumental during the Games.

Yes, I could definitely use that one. Her self-destruct mechanism could really make a dent if I use her against the opposition.

I also find Anya humorous to watch, but that would be the only reason for any possible use. I predict a short life for that girl, she seems a tad too…lazy.

Speaking of death…

I run my finger down the page until at stops at the name, "Maeve". Yes, I've seen what this girl is capable of. I listened in on her antics, whether they were true or not is anyone's guess. I almost wanted to approach her myself, but I didn't really much care to hear of my own demise.

For me, if it ends, then it ends. But I will end it on my own terms.

I hold interest for her talent, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to find her after the bloodbath, if she remains alive of course. She's as thin and frail as a twig, and surely she can run quickly enough to avoid her own doom. The most hulking problem will be locating her afterwards; because unless she sets up a fortune-telling booth of some sort, then I will have to find her myself. I do not want to do that.

I haven't found most of their weaknesses yet, and I will have to do some more observations today in order to get a better idea. I suppose I will just have to run down the list in any case. I look at a page in the journal, which featured my great plan. I laugh audibly at the page, and my eyes scan over the text. This single page is a concise and structured organization. It is a page which consists of the path that I have chosen to undertake. Of course, this is only plan A. I'll make it a surprise.

I sigh and snap shut the journal, and put it beneath all the clothes in the dresser. I look at the clock-radio once more, it reads 5:22 AM. The radio is playing a particularly gloomy piece of music at the moment, so I turn it up. I look out the gold embroidered, silk curtains, and the early sun is threatened by a large blanket of grey and even black nimbus clouds. It looks like it's going to storm, and bad. Lightning flashes miles away from here, and the clouds move ever so slowly. If it storms, it will be a couple hours from now. It is impossible to open the window, which would prevent any sort of escape or self-demise. District 12 is the highest floor level anyways, and my escape wouldn't be a pretty one.

I'm still concerned about some things, and he most recurring thought is the fact that I hadn't made myself less known to the Careers. I am very disappointed with myself, because I broke a commandment, and I broke a promise. I haven't really thought about this fact before, and I feel I mentally have to punch myself because it would be disastrous if they had considered me as dangerous. Canicus had made it audibly clear that the Careers would strictly consist of Districts 1, 2, and 4. His reasons are beyond me, but I could only assume it would cause him more trouble and worry if he had more people in his group.

I do recall a year in which the Careers had been so large, the Capitol had to send mutated bears after the group. Over 5 of them perished, which limited the group significantly. Even so, despite the usual size of the Careers this year, it doesn't matter if I was with them or not. They had taken long glances at me, and this is something I hate to admit. I do not like this fact, and yesterday they either seemed to take great interest in me, or saw great danger in me. I made sure that my charisma was only to be seen with one tribute at a time…I was almost sure that I had spoken low enough.

This would not do.

I unconsciously began pacing around the room, which is something I do to help me think. I need to consider my plans; I made sure not to do anything of importance on the first or second Training days. Did the Careers see me talking? Was I too loud? Had people questioned my motives?

I had wanted to pretend to be somewhat adequate with weapons, but nothing that would have labeled me as dangerous. It is necessary that I surprise these people, but not in a…firework sort of way. Rather…a match. Yes, a match. The firework will go off in the end, and you will be prepared for that. But a match? It's the danger that was there all along.

Yes-a match in the forest! You knew it was burning, you knew it was spreading through the trees. Perhaps there could have been a way to prevent the destruction, but I didn't see any steps taken to cease it while it was still small, while it wasn't a danger. It wouldn't have been such a hazard if there had been steps taken to prevent such a disaster. Now it's consumed half the forest, and still going. It's a hot, and humid day out-which makes it much worse.

So now you have a predicament on your hands; you can attempt to put it out, but there is miles and miles of it and spreading, and you might suffocate if you go too far in. And if you're a dimwit, you might even get burned. So what is there to do? You can't put it all out, and you can't throw water on all of it. What can be done?

Nothing. Simply, nothing. The only thing to do is wait. That would be the wise course of action; hope for the best while witnessing the worst. Perhaps you could even pray to the gods. Challenge fate; flip a coin, maybe a game of rock paper scissors?

No, you had your chance. Now you must wait. You saw the match, it was there the whole time, and it was burning. But did you stop it?

I continued pacing through my room, smirking at my other thoughts. Allowing any fleeting thought to pass through my mind and consume my desires. My desires have been testing my patience, and I can only wonder why that is. For the last several minutes, I've been feeling the need to do something drastic, something to quell this dull waiting time. I don't normally feel this way, because I can better control it.

I came to the Games to feel stimulated, to feel that rush of adrenaline and excitement, but most of all to relish in my desires and live the fantasies I cannot seem to relinquish out of my desensitized mind. There had been numerous occasions in my young life, where I could not feel this stimulation. And because I had not felt it, I had to take drastic measures to make sure I felt this certain excitement. Some of my more dangerous of times had occurred in these moments, and I could never really hold back against these urges.

Right now, I do not feel stimulated. Yes, I sound animalistic, and it may seem as such that I may even be an animal, only submitting to instinct. Which is ironic, because that is exactly what the Games is doing. It's causing us children to become little animals, ignoring human evolution and sending all of us down the chain. We're turning into primates once more, and it almost sickens me. This is the reason humankind may have been better suited to go extinct than to have survived the destruction of the Old World.

I am of a higher status however, and I feel as such that I should be treated with respect. I have gotten little of it from these Capitolites, and the only way to truly control this inner turmoil and monstrosity…

…oh.

Yes, there is a way. And the fix is currently in my boot, which I had strictly prohibited the Capitolites from fondling with. My boots are not to be touched, no exceptions. For particular reasons of course…

I've just realized I've been shaking, and horribly at that. I must have been shaking since I woke up, because it's worse than I imagine. The only thing that has been distracting me is my thoughts, and my thoughts are being plagued by unfulfilled desires. I'm beginning to think about things I shouldn't.

I know that if I take a pill, it will only "cure" me for 2-3 days, I'm surprised I'm still able to think straight without a pill. I've never fully lasted the fourth day, even in in District 12. Which is why I was frequently locked in my bedchamber, which to this day makes me wonder. What would I have done if I wasn't? I'm definitely "seeing red" by day 5 at the most. It's…what? Been almost four days now?

It can't possibly have been that long…

There's a catch to this whole "cure" thing, and this certain catch will either make me or break me in the Arena. This certain catch is what I need to make it far, and this certain catch will allow everyone to see just who Lucian Drake is.

You see, in order to truly relish in my victories, in order to fulfill my destiny, I must feel death in my natural state. This is a commandment that cannot possibly be broken, and I can't allow myself to miss this single chance. I can only play the Games once, and if I lose, then it's lights out. I will not get a second chance, this is it. If I mess everything up, then I'll have been born for nothing. Fate put me here for a reason, and I have a purpose.

My purpose was whispered to me in the night, within my chamber. I listened, and I was certainly skeptical. I knew from a young age, that these desires, these sick manifestations, they needed to be fulfilled. And I was given a chance.

I'm too numbed with these damn pills.

In this absent-minded, pill induced state that I'm always fogged in, I can barely feel or understand anything of true importance. I hate to take any more, and maybe perhaps I can wait just a few more hours. I can probably halt these desires, and disguise my shaking for some odd hours more. It shouldn't be that bad, I've even hid my symptoms in front of the Mayor before.

As soon as the thought passes, my legs buckle and I literally fall to the marble floor, shaking horrendously.

What the hell?

I almost enter a state of panic, because this has never happened to me before. I'm literally shivering, as if I was left outside in minus degree weather for an hour. I've never shook this much before, as a matter of fact, I've never exactly fallen right on my ass because of it either.

I try to get up, but my hands are too unsteady, and I'm feeling very lightheaded. I wasn't standing stiff or anything, I don't understand these bloody shivers.

I basically just remain sitting on the floor, because there's no way in hell I'm getting up without support. I'm all the way over by the window, and of course there are no sills. The bed is over 10 feet away and…

…whatever.

I never understood it myself-why I shake…It's just something I can't explain. There's no word for it, this just happens every time. I've looked in the books, I asked Cyrus, and I even asked that stupid doctor. The only thing I could come up with is some sort of anxiety attack, maybe even withdrawal symptoms. This is something that traces all the way back to my childhood though, before I even had my hands on pills.

I've recently concluded that it could be some sort of subconscious defense mechanism, but to me, it's a warning. It's a siren. And when it's as bad as it is now, it's code red.

I need a pill.

If anyone sees me in this state, they'll think I'm insane. I'm not insane, and never have been. I'm level-headed when I need to be, and I even freed myself of all emotional delusions. I'm of a higher mental status than most of society; it's only coincidence that fate granted me the ability to whisk it all away. I don't find happiness nor sadness necessary, mostly because I cannot comprehend them. Truth be told, human emotion confuses me, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel slight fear once in awhile, but I've never felt love or anything. Cyrus told me I'm just confused, and that love will find me one day.

Hell, I don't even understand how someone can cry because they see someone else crying. Grief? Pity? For what? Because they're sad, or because you need something to feel sad about?

Obviously, empathy is something I've never really picked up over the years. As a child, I never cried because I felt "sad", I cried because I desired something. My needs have to be fulfilled, because my needs are important. Knowledge is necessary, but emotions? I learned how to emulate and notice them from reading Psychology books back in District 12, but I'm still trying to learn more about them. It's something that cannot be helped.

Despite my…distance from "normalcy", I make an effort to not appear as insane as people believe me to be. Immature children at home used to call me "crazy", or "wacko", apparently word got around that I was being locked up because of my "problems". Those things occurred to me as early as age 12, and I've been paranoid about it ever since.

I wish to maintain an anonymous quality, to fit in a little bit with the crowd. I've grown quite a bit, and now self control is becoming a hassle. Too much of a bother. I dislike having to hide the urges and fantasies from everyone-and I've never even told Cyrus. For a long time now, I've had the smallest urges, to witness and control fate. To…be able to control death.

Is that a bad thing?

Of course not. I'm sure plenty of people have received the same urges once or twice in their lifetime. Why wouldn't they? Capitol can do it, and if they can do it, can't I do it too? The only reason I admire them is because of this ability-the ability to inflict death.

I found out about the Games at age 6. Stumbled into the television room while my guardians were bickering. Was fascinated ever since.

And so here I am, after tearing my own body apart in my chamber day in and day out, trying to train myself to resist large amounts of pain, training myself in the field of pure willpower and mentality. Not to mention I excelled with the weapons I had available.

But sometimes, I feel as if I just can't wait anymore. Sometimes, back at home I used to feel like beginning my own little Games. It would have been so simple to burn down the Justice Building, then cause mass mayhem while I set every Peacekeeper on fire. I swear that if I hadn't taken my pills regularly, bad things would have happened. I would have relented to my desires, I swear on it. Even if my family had to deal with my consequences, I wouldn't care. To hell with them all anyway.

Right now, I feel these urges very strongly. I'm currently fantasizing to go to every level I can while I slaughter every tribute with an axe from the Center. It shouldn't be too difficult, but it's unrealistic. I wouldn't make it past the 1st level, the Peacekeepers would be on me before I even got out of the elevator. If I can somehow influence the Capitolites that these children are possessed by a higher power, and that they desire to rebel against the Capitol, then I have a chance. Then no one would stop me. I can do it! I just simply need to rise on my feet!

What the hell am I thinking? I need a pill…

My thoughts aren't exactly starting to make sense, and I need to get to the bathroom. I'm able to get up regularly again, but I'm still shaking just as bad. I almost run to the bathroom. I've already taken the pills from my boot and have the small bottle placed on the sink. I'm breathing very deeply, and I need to calm down before anyone wakes up.

I take the pill bottle and shakily pop open the lid before firmly placing it on the sink. I take a few calming breaths but they barely help me. I'm already feeling a headache coming on. I take a glance in the mirror to note my reflection, to judge my normalcy.

I don't see normal when I look at myself, all I see is a monstrosity. A beast that needs to be chained within a dungeon and never let back out. I run my hands over my pale face, beginning to admire the deadly reflection I see. I must admit, although my stature is less than intimidating, my icy glare and gloomy complexion make up for it. If eyes could induce tragedy, then mine would do so.

In the Arena, I will be feared. They will be sure who to look out for in the wilderness. Perhaps a few specks of blood on my face would do, make me look even more deadly while out there. I will have to work on that. I note the smile I'm giving myself in the mirror, another unconscious act that I don't remember initiating. I quickly frown at the complexion, and take note of the swarm of more delusional thoughts flying around my mind.

I can not have this!

I smack myself in the face, hoping some sort of small pain would detract from the small urges and subconscious thoughts and fantasies, perhaps I could even make the shaking stop for awhile. The smack doesn't even make a mark on my face, and I scowl at my reflection even more.

There is a distinct throbbing in my head now that I cannot pinpoint, and synchronized with the throbbing is the sound of another beat-my heart. It's like the ticking of a clock, combined with the deep pain within my temples. It's causing everything to go in slow-motion, and I don't know if I'm just hallucinating anymore. I can't even lift my head past my shoulders, not to mention I'm shaking like a rabid dog.

Too much confusion…

I impulsively bash my head against the mirror, shards of glass fall down into the sink and cracks now line the remaining pieces. With what little I can see in the cracked shards, blood is now dripping down a cut in my forehead, and I don't know what to make of my now demented looking appearance.

I harshly whisper words out loud to myself, "Get a hold of yourself, Lucian. G-get a grip, alright? Did you hear what I said? CALM YOURSELF DOWN!"

I fall to the floor, clutching my head in my hands, trying to make the throbbing and the ticking noise go away. I shakily, albeit clumsily, reach for the bottle of pills on the sink while on the floor. I struggle to grasp hold of the entire bottle and it falls to join me, sending pills flying everywhere. I grab one of the fallen, blue tablets and quickly swallow it.

I lose my balance trying to climb back to my feet and only end up falling to my knees again. I simply just lay there now on the bathroom floor, allowing myself a moments of rest, waiting for the pill to take its effects.

As if things couldn't get any worse, there is a rapid knock at the door. Thank the gods that I had locked the damn thing.

What the hell? Who would be knocking right now?

Another knock. I really don't feel like answering that right now, whoever's knocking will just have to wait until this pill has taken its effect. I'm incredibly dangerous right about now. Apparently they couldn't wait, because I hear a sigh from outside the door and a muffled voice call from behind it. Luckily, it's my district partner and not clown-face.

"Lucian…if you're in there…Or if you're even awake. Training is in 30 minutes, so if you can, pleas-"

I hear another voice from outside the door, most likely clown-face lecturing her or something. I hear another loud sigh and Galla continues.

"Try to hurry it up a little, please? Our escort is giving me crap because you're late, so um…Just, yeah…"

I call out from in the bathroom, just to give her some reassurance that I'm not dead, "Ye-yes! Every…Everything is fine! I just…fell. Yes, the floor…is awfully wet! I'll be out in a minute!"

Well, she doesn't give an answer, but she didn't sigh either, which is always good. I mentally smack myself for not sounding convincing enough, but right now I'm teetering on the edge of a crow and a dove, and the dove is still far away.

I'm still out of breath and just now trying to calm myself down, the pill has barely taken effect but I'm already feeling that wash of familiar calm spread over me. I touch my hand to my forehead and feel warm liquid dripping down.

Clown-face is going to give me hell for this.

I finally find the strength to get up, and I find the pill bottle that fell on the floor, along with all the scattered blue tablets as well. I examine the bottle and scrutinize the label. The only thing it reads is "For L".

There is a moment of critical debate as I contemplate the usefulness of these pills. While I fail to understand the nonsense that had just occurred earlier, it does feel satisfying to be "numbed" again. The Games is but a couple days away, and if I continue to take these pills throughout them, I will have broken one of my commandments. These commandments aren't just something I can break, I've written them in my own blood. I've cut them into my skin, and I breathe these very commandments. I've already broken one, and if I break anymore I will fail to bring honor to the Drake lineage. The Games have been a war ground for the Drakes, and I want people to shake in their boots when the surname Drake is uttered in the Capitol…

This is everything I have ever wanted, participating in the Games and fulfilling my destiny. Why should I be under the influence? Why should I limit my true potential?

If I'm sick in the head, which I highly doubt, then so be it. There is nothing else to it. If this sickness can be cured through inflicting pain and death…then so be it. I'm obsessed, and I hate it. I hate it so damn much. I hate that I relish in the sins of humankind, but I was born this way, and I shall fight this way.

I shall die this way.

I hastily pick up all the blue tablets save for one, which I had embedded into my journal, and held them in my fist. I stood before the toilet and flushed the pills down.

I apologize, Cyrus, but this was meant to be. And now it has come to be.

I take a shower and wash the blood from my forehead, ignoring the mess I made in the bathroom. I put on some loose clothing, and finally head to the door. I adjust my collar and hair, now calmed and fresh from the earlier episode and breathe deeply as I open the door.

I open the door to Galla, my district partner. She has the most obvious look of irritation I've ever seen, and she's biting her nails as she waits in the hallway.

"Is something the matter?" I ask her in my most elegant of tones, hoping to calm her a little.

Galla doesn't seem to care or notice and simply raises her eyebrow and peers inside the room. "Um, what's with the music?"

I sigh and go back in the room to turn the radio off, which is still on the classical and instrumental station that I've grown fond of in the past couple hours.

"Sorry about that, it's a very nice piece," I say sheepishly.

Galla nods with an odd look on her face and we continue down to the dining hall.

"What took you so long?" she asked quietly.

I cringe at the incident I had in the bathroom, "Well, you know, shower is a bit hard to operate; it was difficult trying to even turn the water off. For some reason, the Capitol found it necessary to make the "On" button an entirely different one from the "Off" button-and they chose to hide it as well."

"Did…were you able to make any alliances yesterday?" she looks at me with an almost quiet anticipation.

I shake my head with disappointment, and Galla sighs. She continues to look at me though, and has to do a double-take.

"What happened here…your forehead?" Galla gestures toward the small cut on my forehead from the glass.

She is utterly bothersome, with her questions flying here and there. I'm beginning to wonder if she's inquiring me in genuine concern, or if she's trying to stall the inevitable awkwardness that surrounds us whenever we meet.

I'm about to plague her with questions of my own but a certain clown-face named Karina steps in our way, arms crossed and caked with the brightest make-up I've ever seen. Almost enough light to illuminate the entirety of District 12.

Karina clears her throat in an attempt to appear intimidating but I simply stare at her. Galla fidgets impatiently at my side, searching for a watch that doesn't exist.

"And you, mister. Where do you think you're going?" Karina shrieks.

I clench my teeth and force a smirk, "Off to explore the wilderness! You coming along?"

Galla rolls her eyes and stares at another nonexistent clock.

Karina doesn't find my remark humorous and clears her throat again. "Not today, Mr. Drake. Instead, you're going to train! Hm? Yes, train. For at least a little while at least!"

I cover her obnoxious and ear-destroying voice with a cough. "Certainly, Klown-excuse me, Karina."

"Yesterday, a little blue bird told me that a certain someone…hadn't been training like he should have."

"Well I can assure you Karina, birds cannot speak, and if this a daily occurrence, then I would suggest consulting with a professio-"

"-Lucian, you're going to train, darling! I really want you to train, alright? I would not wish to see my adorable little tributes meet their doom! This is only my second year and I've already had to see my last ones go!"

Karina plays with Galla's cheeks like a baby and Galla near backs up into the wall with fear, eyes wide and hands going up in defense.

It takes a great deal of effort to hold in my laughter, but the district stylists at the table snort out most of their breakfast from their amusement.

A stylist with longer hair and an oddly normal and gruff appearance has his feet on the table, laughing with fury. He raises his hand, "Leave the poor children be, Karina. If it helps you kids any, I'd be willing to escort you both! Jus' lemme' get a chicken leg or two. You kids care for some chicken?"

Galla looks at the stylist and escort with disgust and has that look of familiar annoyance on her face. "Actually, I think I would much rather just walk down there on my own."

Karina calls after me again, "Lucian, don't forget! Train, train, train! Get some meat on your bones!"

I grab a shiny, red apple from the fruit bowl at the table. I ignore Karina's shrieks and smell a bouquet of flowers inside the vase.

"Mmm, they smell lovely. What kind are these?" I ask one of the stylists.

"Ah, those are lovely aren't they? They're a type of Sagittaria, an aqueous plant, mostly known as a katniss… they're quite frequent around the ponds of District 12."

"Such beautiful flowers, these katniss. Beautiful name too. I'll have to remember to take a few with me into the Arena…could be good luck."

As I head over to the elevator, I give clown-face a hint of feigned reassurance and even a little wink to go along with it.

"Not to worry, Karina. I'll be sure to work extra hard today."

I walk to the elevator right before the doors close, stopping them from shutting with my foot. Galla narrows her eyes from inside as I stop the elevator. The doors can only open with a button from the inside-my partner won't be able to escape me that easily.

"Please?"

Galla sighs and relents, pressing a button from within to open the doors.

I quickly get inside before she decides to change her mind again, and the elevator descends. I've been meaning to talk with Galla privately for quite some time, and right about now, I see no better opportunity than this.

This is my only chance…

To be continued...