Training Day 3

Valentino Ricci
District 10 Male, 18

Some things you just can't change, and you gotta move on with your life.

That's the way I like to go about it. While Addie has loosened up the tough-to-crack exterior a little bit and is decidedly less hostile than when we boarded the train, she's still clearly dealing with stuff.

I'm not one to pressure people into things, so I just let it go. I remember how pissed Alessio would get when I tried prying into his life.

I made sure Addie knows she has a friend in me if ever she needs one.

At the very least, she hasn't escaped District 10's floor without me today, which I see as an absolute win. We walk in silence to the elevators, together.

The constant shuffling of feet of the servants and the slight buzz permeating the air seems less daunting today, and I whistle a little tune as we walk.

Despite my carefree exterior, it's the last day of training and I'm mulling over what Glenn told me. I'm trying my best to not think about it too intently, but the fact of the matter is that the issue of who I'm going to ally with is becoming a pressing one.

I may not be the brightest guy here, but even I see my loner self is in the minority now.

Only a few people left that haven't really found their niche.

I'm not too worried for myself though, and Addie seems to have found a friend in Jessamine, the wiry and energetic girl from District 11.

I mean… I'm sure things will work out. I just need to keep believing it will.

I've actually found that I have quite the knack for swordplay… the trainer said I was a natural, although she might have been exaggerating. I'm nowhere near as skilled as the Careers, but I make up for it with brute strength. Apparently, all it takes is a little concentration and sword angling for me to be able to cut clean through bones with one hit.

That's not nothing, right?

Addie and I cross the doors of the training hall together, and she looks at me.

"I'll see you for supper, alright?"

"Yep," I nod at her, rubbing my chin. "What're you goin' for, today?"

She blushes, while looking around.

"I don't know yet, I'll ask Jessie."

"That's cool. I'll be at the weights, if you need me," I reassure her, leaving her with a friendly hand on the shoulder.

We've gotten to the training hall early, with only a few other trickling in. Some of the kids are yawning, while others are stretching and preparing for the last of what training has to offer. Regardless, no one seems as scared as they were on the first day, which is good.

The tension no longer feels like it's going to burst the brightly lit windows of the hall.

Or maybe it's bad, lulling the little ones into a false sense of security before they're slaughtered. But I don't want to think that way, so I push those grim and dark thoughts aside.

I roll my shoulders and crack my neck, preparing myself for a day of hard work. Not nearly as hard as working on the farm, mind you, but still. I smirk at the thought of Alessio drooling at the prospect of having to train all day, without having to worry about the animals and taking care of the farm.

Not worth the probable death warrant that's been signed and is dangled over your head daily, though.

I know we're not allowed to start at the stations yet, but I approach the weights regardless and test them out. Like, what are they going to do… kill me? At worst, they'll tell me to stop if they are so inclined. I hoist up a particularly heavy-looking bag filled with something grainy.

Even the largest ones aren't as big of a challenge as I expected them to be. Again, a good sign if any.

Suddenly, I hear an insistent cough behind me.

As I turn around, I find myself face to face with a lot of wild black and decidedly very curly hair. Just a few inches below is the face of the girl from Three. Disconcertingly close, with a complete disregard for my personal space.

"I'm Salamandra Mitch," the girl says by way of introduction, and I smile at her. I sure as hell can't do anything else, with her hovering so close.

She has her arms crossed defiantly on her chest, her clavicles jutting out starkly underneath her dark green tank top. I realize her wildly abundant hair is held back by a bandana, to stop it from going into her expressive eyes.

"I'm Val," I answer back neutrally, hefting the large and weighted bag on my shoulder. Her eyes momentarily trail my arm, but after two days of literal undressing by absolute strangers, it doesn't faze me anymore.

"I've been watching you for a while now," Salamandra says, and I catch the imperceptible wince. I almost laugh, because I guess she didn't intend it to sound as creepy as it did.

I keep a straight face, letting her continue.

"I was wondering if you'd be interested in allying with me," she concludes, uncrossing her arms and setting her hands on her hips.

"That's…really nice of you, but I still don't really know what I'm doing, if I'm being honest," I tell her.

"It's funny, because I've got it all figured out to the smallest detail," Salamandra says while examining her bitten and dirty nails, as though she has the fanciest manicure this side of the Great Pacifica.

"That's awesome. I just … don't really know you," I admit. I glance around, and see that almost everyone is already here. The Careers are assembled in one corner, discussing something of utmost importance from the way their faces adopt the same serious and focused expression.

They don't look our way even once, even though it helps that we are obscured in large part by the parkour and workout installations on this side of the training hall.

"I know that, and you have no reason to trust me, but riddle me this," Salamandra circles me, adopting a snakelike conspiratorial tone. "What do you think will happen to the solo people who just roam around aimlessly without a purpose?"

I humor her, letting her continue without interrupting.

"They die," she proceeds melodramatically. "We need to make something interesting happen, and I think that with my brain," I chuckle under my breath, "and your strength, we could really give that Career shipwreck a run for its money."

Sounds like a bunch of pile of horse manure that's been left to stink for a week, but I don't comment that out loud. Salamandra seems to be enjoying hearing herself talk, and who am I to deny her God-given right to do so?

"That seems all sound and reasonable, but I'm really not the planning type," I respond lightly, not wanting to anger her. I don't want her to think it's personal, I just… really don't like committing to something I have no idea about. I usually just go with the flow.

"That's fine, I ain't forcing you into anything," Salamandra backs off, lifting up her hands in a defensive manner and smiling haughtily. Oddly enough, as she does this, our farm cat comes to my mind, its tail twitching in annoyance while it keeps an otherwise calm disposition.

I chuckle to myself again and shake my head, and Salamandra whips her gaze back at me, momentarily distracted by the Careers loudly arguing over something. The sound echoes across the training hall.

"What're you laughing about?" she asks a little too defensively, jutting her chin out. Just like Alessio. Just like Addie. For all her conspiring and sneaky attitude, she's still just a kid.

"Ah… Just stuck in my own brain, I guess," I respond, trying to convey that I wasn't laughing at her. "Lots of funny things to think about, in this day n' age."

"Well, if I can get a few minutes of your time, maybe I can convince you," she crouches, tying up her shoelaces in double knots.

I look her up and down.

She's very skinny, almost to the point of it looking unhealthy. But her arms ripple with corded muscle. A few faint scars can traced down near her elbows, and one large one at the junction between her upper limb and shoulder.

She sees me staring and I discretely look away.

"Was stabbed, you got a problem with that?" she asks, threatening smile all for me.

I raise my arms up, mirroring her defensive move from before.

"Never knew life was so tough where you come from," I joke, deflecting a little. Some small part of me wants to piss her off, if only slightly, for thinking she can show up here and buy me into her alliance.

Instead of scowling like I thought she would, she straightens up, with something almost like pride emanating from her entire being. She's taller than I initially thought.

"If you think this is what tough looks like, you should see how I fight," Salamandra boasts. "Let's just say that if you hear me out, I might have more to offer than you realize."

She cocks her hip a little bit, tapping her finger on her chin as though the cameras are already on her.

"I really don't know why I'm the one begging here, but the fact of the matter is that I can't execute my plan without some help, as sad as that might be."

Her eyes flash arrogantly.

I want to tell her that the fact of the matter is that I'm just not getting good vibes from her, but I decide to give her something to work with.

"You're right, there's no harm in hearing out what you have to say."

She flashes me a victorious smile, and climbs up the metallic structure near the weights with which I was planning on working with today.

"Come on, don't be so gloomy. We'll play it by ear," Salamandra sneers, proceeding to hang from the handlebars upside down, as though that's the most natural thing in the world.

After a few seconds, she gracefully lands back on the ground, stretching her ankles and approaches the thirty-foot bouldering wall that I've admittedly wanted to try out.

"We'll play it by ear, then," I echo Salamandra's words as she hoists herself up on the scaling wall with lightning speed. She just never stops moving, does she?

My gut is telling me that this is leading somewhere I don't want it going, but my only other option is alienating myself from the only person here who has seen value in my skills and I'd be an idiot to let that go to waste.

Bexley Ward
District 8 Female, 17

Whoever thought that three days of training was enough is a fucking idiot. I mean, either drop the pretenses and don't give us training at all, or give us three weeks to all become competent at whacking someone's head off.

Three fucking days, and I feel like I've learned nothing. That's the point though, isn't it? To dangle these skills in front of us, just out of our reach.

Show us what we could have been.

It's all moronic, if you ask me.

Like, who the hell is going to be facing down an opponent and remembering the three-step-easy-to-do parrying blows they're teaching us here? I don't know about everyone else, but I'm pretty sure that I'll be shitting myself and trying my best to stick the asshole attacking me with the pointy end, logic be damned.

I don't even have some stuck-up mentor breathing down my neck, forcing me to do this. I don't really know why I'm trying at this point, but it feels wrong to just give up.

I know for a fact I'll do my best in the arena, and learning even the tiniest stupid little tidbit in training might make the difference in the long run. I know that, objectively, but it doesn't make this whole process any less infuriating.

For a lack of better ideas, I head towards the electrical rewiring station. It's the only one I haven't given a quick shot, and I'd be cursing myself if we ended up in some electrical hellscape of an arena and that was the only thing I overlooked.

A trainer is there, silently observing the boy from District 3 who is currently tinkering with a highly-specialized-looking piece of equipment.

I sit down on the floor next to him, looking up at the trainer.

"I ain't some kind of genius like this kid over here, I'll need a proper tutorial," I say gruffly, jerking my thumb at the kid.

The trainer first lays out the different components used for rewiring a car battery. I zone out a little bit at the basics, but snap back to attention fairly quickly when the monotone sound of the trainer's voice falters for a few seconds.

"Well done," he interrupts himself, praising the boy from Three.

"Cassius, right?" I ask him, while looking at the box in his hands. Many wires spill out sloppily from the sides, but whatever it is supposed to do, the trainer definitely seems to be of the opinion that it works. I ain't about to argue with that.

"Yeah, from District 3," the boy says, confirming my guess from before.

I don't push any further, and the trainer resumes his explanations directed at my apparently very unknowledgeable ass.

Every few minutes, a small burst of light appears at the periphery of my vision. Every time it happens, Cassius' toothy grin confirms my suspicions that he's enjoying this a little too much.

Hell, he probably grew up with wires as playthings, considering his District of origin.

Thirty minutes later, and I'm still on the same stupid fucking challenge, while Cassius has already completed all of the extra activities.

To be completely honest, I'm not sure even what the trainer looks more stressed out by: the fact that I can't successfully learn a single thing or that Cassius is flying through his challenges with scary ease.

All I seem to be able to do is produce melted rubber, to the disappointment of the trainer.

"You seem to have a problem with your circuit," the lizard of a man in front of me comments, a little too snidely for my liking.

"It's not… goddamn… working," I hiss back at him vehemently, wanting the throw the dumb wires right back into his condescending face.

"Hey, just remember that parallel and in series circuits work differently. It might be easier if I show you on paper," Cassius chimes in.

I turn on him violently, ready to tell him to mind his own damn business, but I stop myself just in time. It's not his fault I'm absolutely garbage at this, and he's got a functional brain that allows him to process this kind of information, while I'm here burning wires left and right.

He takes the wires gently from me.

"We'll start with the basics I guess, but stop me if it's not useful, yeah?" he asks me, uncertain.

I bite my lip, feeling absolutely moronic. I nod at him though, much happier to be listening to someone who actually wants to help. I throw a quick toxic look at the trainer, who is too busy brushing his pencil thin moustache to care. Slime ball.

"See, if you have things strung in series, meaning they're one after the other, all the electricity goes through, so if one fails," Cassius emphasizes his point by untwisting one small light off slightly, "the whole circuit stops because you've just opened it up."

"But if you've got stuff in parallel, like this," Cassius undoes the original circuit with ease, his nimble fingers flying by in front of my face as he works, "You've got components that will stay lit, even if you screw one up."

I nod. That's easy enough.

He keeps talking, about transistors, resistors and eventually shifts his focus to actually applicable stuff. The boy really has a way of explaining things, gesticulating with his arms as though his life depends on it. Funnily enough, for the first time in days, I don't feel like ripping my hair out.

"So that's really the basics, but as long as you understand the theory, you could really do anything," Cassius ends his monologue, excitedly. He glances at the car battery on the table. "Even rewiring that is possible!"

You'd think he was talking about something a lot more interesting than electricity, but I can't help but smile at his enthusiasm. It's so refreshing to talk to a genuine human being.

"Hey, thanks dude," I say in earnest, feeling a lot better than I did an hour ago.

"It's ah- no problem," Cassie mumbles, eyes cast down in embarrassment. It's definitely the hysteria or the madness, but I just have the unreasonable desire to ruffle the shit out of his hair, just like I did with Renzo back home.

Instead, I shove that deep down, and start practicing building simple circuits with him. It's a lot harder than he made it sound, but it doesn't feel as dauntingly impossible either. I slide in a comment once in a while, trying to make that original enthusiasm resurface.

At first, he's really shy. I mean… he seems quite young, from the way he behaves and holds himself. But after a while, I'm actually honest-to-god delighted to see him open up a little.

We even make some progress, as I make parallel strings of lights turn on, able to use a switch to alternate between the two separate loops I've managed to build.

Cassius grins in delight.

"See? You've totally got it! Damn, you know what sucks? That it's the last day… I coulda' shown you so much more," he trails off, suddenly embarrassed again.

"Shoulda' snagged you earlier as an ally, then you could've shown me more where that came from," I joke, not fully realizing what I just said until it leaves my lips.

The weird thing is I don't regret saying it. Not even in the slightest. Cassius' eyes twinkle happily.

"You really mean that?"

His entire face lights up brighter than the tiny lightbulbs did. My heart aches, as he is momentarily replaced by my kids back home, yearning and hoping to have me back. There's so much hope in these kids. I wish I shared that with them, but I had to grow up too fucking fast.

"Yeah, what the hell, why not?" I answer cheekily, smiling at Cassius. "Allies."

We shake hands comically and burst out laughing in synchrony.

"I mean, that's if you don't mind me frying half the arena with my awesome skills," I joke wryly, and Cassie scoots closer to me.

"By the way, you can call me Cass or Cassie… please? If you want? It's just so weird when it's formal," he giggles, and I laugh too.

"Sounds good, Cassie."

Who would have thought I'm going to end up saddled with this little genius for this ordeal? Not me, that's for sure.

At this point though, I'm pretty used to things not working out according to plan, and in this case, I ain't exactly mad about it. Pretty sure everyone had me pegged to ally with someone bigger and stronger, but maybe that isn't the way. A little part of me thinks that my kids at home would be proud of me, and who knows, maybe my instinct is right, and this is exactly the way to fly under the radar. To make this work out.

I picture my kids at home, rooting for me and look back at Cassie. He's a good kid.

Old habits die hard, I guess.

Mona Tillery
District 9 Female, 13

Three days alone kinda sucks really bad, if you ask me.

It's not even the isolation, I don't think… I wish I could just show off all the progress I've made.

If my siblings were around, I'm sure we would have already gotten into a thousand fights over who wielded what better.

Even as I'm acquiring new skills that I would have never dreamed of otherwise, I'm imagining what Barric would have been up to. He wouldn't be trying to mess up the order of things, that's for sure. He'd probably be at the stations which require the most brainwork.

Georgina though, she would have loved it here, I think darkly. Every opportunity to rub it in my face about how much stronger and more agile she is. I'm judging her too harshly, but I can't bring myself to stop. Not when I'm stuck here, and my whole family is back in District 9, already mourning my probable upcoming death.

I shared all of this with Momo yesterday, once again unable to sleep. I think it'll finally catch up with me today, since my eyes droop and I can't seem to stem the constant outpour of yawns. But even with the debilitating tiredness, I can't seem to get a moment of peaceful rest.

I can't even seem to focus on the images flying by in front of my eyes, let alone the short text descriptions. I ain't a great reader to start with, and paired with two sleepless nights, it's definitely not a great combination. To put it nicely, I'm a little bit of a mess at the moment.

I doubt Momo understood what I was talking about, but he wasn't having a panic episode either, so that's a good sign. Just kind of sat there, his legs tucked into another set of pyjamas. Cartoon crocodiles this time around, printed on the soft fabric.

I told him he should sent me a real crocodile with big teeth in the arena, to protect me. He smiled at me when I said that.

The fact still stands that I've been here three days, fluttering around like some lost butterfly with zero direction.

I mean, on the bright side, I've done my fair share of observing and I know who to stay clear of.

Everyone, really, to 'err on the side of caution', or however the expression goes. Arla always used to say it, and I seem to be using it right, but I can never be sure. It's not like I'm going to ask one of the arrogant trainers here.

Don't need to be reinforcing my status as the stupid little girl that can't even speak right, from the poor disgusting lower-end district. Enough of that.

Yesterday, I felt like I was going to go mad from boredom and almost approached random people, just to get any feedback. It really stung when Scout left me on that first day of training, and then I saw him hanging out with that other boy, Roizer. I know I could have approached them, but some vindictive part of me just couldn't stoop down to that level. I don't want to seem that desperate.

The reality of the matter is that never in a thousand years I would have thought that people wouldn't just approach me. I've always thought of myself as decently likable at school or in the fields. I always managed to make friends wherever I went.

That is probably the most counterintuitive thing of it all. I can't seem to connect with a single soul out here.

Ever since he founded his little boy band, Geoff has held his distance, and … Momo is Momo.

Ma' wasn't all that present, working and all, but my sisters always told me how annoyingly cloying I could be. They said I could come off as clingy, but I think that it offered me the opportunity to really connect with people. And now I can't seem to connect with anyone, perhaps out of fear, or perhaps because no one here thinks me worthy of their time.

Even negative interactions are something, in my books. But nope. Literally nothing is happening, and I'm still stuck here. Lonely.

It's just so boring doing it all alone, you know?

It almost feels like it's not worth it… learning all these things and for what?

With these thoughts jumbling around in my head, I miss four out of the ten questions on the practice quiz, and curse internally as I get a measly passing grade on the different comestible plants that are found growing in continental climate, whatever that means.

Swallowing my pride, I bite my lip and go get a trainer. The woman towers over me, and her sleek uniform with a leaf symbol that designates her as the plants expert somehow inspires some kind of primal fear within me.

I can't even explain it.

I instinctively hunch down to make myself smaller.

"Excuse me, could you please explain to me again the differences between uh…" I hesitate, "actually, can we just go over everything?"

The trainer appraises me with a stern inscrutable look.

"Can't you read? It's all written in the electronic guide at your disposal."

My eyes nervously flit over the tablet I'm holding.

I don't want to admit to her that I can't read too well. It's just something I'm embarrassed by, especially since my ma' always put extra emphasis on all of us Tillery's being literate and all.

I mean, I can read, if I try really hard… just not well enough and not for long. It just feels like it's frying my brain.

"I know that, but I think it would be better if you explained it to me."

My cheeks must be completely red from the way my face burns, and I try to refrain from scowling. The trainers are literally paid to help us, so why the hell is she making it seem like it's taking some kind of herculean effort to explain something that is literally written down?

It shocks me to my core that I'm sent off to my death, and she still can't afford me the tiniest amount of sympathy…

I've been informed by District 9's escort, offhandedly of course, that during the interviews, we're going to be asked something about 'cultural shock'. About something that surprised us the most when we came to the Capitol from the districts, or in that spirit.

Well I know what I'm saying… it's the lack of humanity and sympathy, hands down.

I mean, I don't know what I expected but it certainly wasn't as bad as this. It wasn't the cold disaffected glances my way, when I'm just trying my best to fit in and play the game. It's not my fault I'm younger and smaller. It doesn't mean they can just count me out like that…

The trainer goes over the edible plants, mentioning fiddleheads and oxeye daisies, all plants I've seen often enough around District 9. My older sister Arla taught us quite a bit about the stuff we could eat and the stuff we should avoid, so as the familiar explanations wash over me like a wave, I really don't know why I struggled on the quiz as much as I did. It's probably just because I'm tired, still disoriented and struggling to keep everything together.

I mean, our family was never rich, and we often lived off of the wild mushrooms and roots we gathered ourselves. I just needed someone to explain it to me, and even though this trainer isn't nearly as patient as Arla, the knowledge still sticks better with her around.

Thinking of that makes an idea burgeon in my brain as the trainer finishes up and asks me if I need any clarifications and if I understood.

"Yeah, I did! Thanks a lot," I reply hastily, not wanting to get on her bad side. "Say, you don't just do plants…you're the toxin lady too, right?"

The trainer smirks and nods. "Yeah, I guess you could say I'm the … toxin lady."

"So, you know everything about deadly mushrooms?"

She nods again.

"Teach me please," I ask her timidly, but my heart starts beating a little faster. I might actually have an idea. Even if I'm grasping at straws now.

Something in my head that sounds like Arla's voice beckons me. I know it's not my sister, because it's all in my head and besides, she'd never have that kind of evil predisposition.

I already know quite a bit about edible mushrooms found in District 9, the delicious orange chanterelles and the slimy slippery jacks that my ma' managed to grow in our garden after disseminating their spores around a few years in a row in the hopes of them eventually taking root near our house. We ate them with vinegar and wild onions.

But there's some bad ones, the ones that paralyze or make you vomit blood. Arla always glossed over the details of what exactly happened… just told us to never ever eat them or give them to anyone under any circumstance. That's not what Arla's voice is telling me now.

I am positive the real Arla wouldn't ever condone me to resorting to violence, but this is an extenuating circumstance and I will take responsibility for what I'll do, if I'm ever given the opportunity. It's not like I really stand a chance with a weapon.

Even the girl from District 6 could hack me in half.

But with this… I might be able to…

Not that there's any guarantee I'll find anything in the arena.

But there's always a chance, and I'd be a fool to let my time in training go to waste.

I smile innocently at the trainer as she starts another lesson, with three hours on the clock until training concludes.

It has to be enough time.

Ambrox Linden
District 1 Male, 18

I remember that when I was a few years younger, I always thought that the training days leading up to the Hunger Games were a formality. For us Careers, at least. Nothing you couldn't have learned in the past six years. I vaguely remember my dad saying something similar at the dinner table a couple of times… maybe that's why I had that impression in the first place.

That idea was promptly thrown out the window approximately thirty minutes in, when our alliance formed, and Orla decided to join. Not so much a formality now, when I have to actively stop myself from punching her through the skull. I guess somewhere there's a lesson to be learned in patience, or some bullshit like that.

It's no secret that I hate her guts. I'm pretty sure everyone is annoyed with her, but I openly, vehemently and relentlessly hate her.

There was a moment, and I'll admit to this, where I thought the girl was honest-to-god just trolling us. Trolling us to hell and back, dragging us through the mud, and one morning she would just show up, apologize and leave us the hell alone. Maybe die of exposure a few days into the Games like a good tribute.

At this point, I wouldn't even be angry.

I'd go so far as to pour one out for her, if I got back home, because that's some hardcore method acting if I've ever seen any. I mean, the level of commitment to incessantly grate on everyone's nerves… that's commendable.

But of course, that hasn't happened, has it?

Instead, she's still her insufferable self and I'm counting down the minutes until the end of training, throwing spear after spear with Morgana, Seeva, Cira and Luther.

Not Orla, mind you. She's sitting on the bench, sipping specially requested sparkling water because she's above practicing with the rest of us. Throwing a few misplaced punches at the dummies was enough of a workout as is. It's not like she even tried to do anything remotely out of her comfort zone. We went climbing, and yet again she lagged behind. Luther even tried riling her up, but she just explained how she was afraid of heights, and that was that.

As though that's the kind of information you give up willingly like that to a bunch of people that in the Hunger Games. It's not like anyone would ever use that against her, least of all me.

Not like she needs the training, when the rest of our alliance are sweating our asses… of course not. Not that her acerbic comments about the other tributes don't reach us. No one here could dare to reach her level of competency and motivation to win.

Apparently, all you have to do to survive a situation is to believe.

Her words, not mine. It's fucking unbelievable.

I mean, who wouldn't drop dead when you've got a person like Orla strutting around like she owns the place? I've literally admitted to the fact that I would saw off my own left hand if that meant that Orla disappeared in a puff of acrid smoke.

But unfortunately, that's not something that happens in this nice realistic universe or ours. So, I'm stuck trying to commandeer a team of admittedly competent-enough people and an absolute asshole who just likes stirring up a shitstorm at every opportunity.

It's bloody ridiculous, we all know it, and yet we're tiptoeing around it like a flock of geese.

Something has to be done about this.

"Tributes, your third and last day of training is officially over. Please put down your tools, weapons or any material that belongs in this room, and head to your sleeping quarters."

The message resonates loud and clear throughout the hall.

Weapons clatter to the floor and the dragging of multiple pairs of feet is heard as the tributes file out of the training complex.

Some people look almost disappointed that this is over, but a wave of relief washes over me as I walk towards the exit. No more of this bullshit.

If I had any dignity left, I'd walk with the rest of my alliance, but I make my escape, cowardice be damned, and practically sprint towards the elevator and push the button aggressively.

"Hold the door please!"

No such luck.

I have to suppress the urge to roll my eyes as a well-intentioned Cira runs up to the elevator, and diligently holds the door as the other Careers get on.

No one else dares take this elevator, waiting timidly for the next ride. Nonetheless, six people in an elevator is just this side of uncomfortable.

For once, Orla doesn't make any inappropriate comments. She stands all the way in front, impatiently tapping her foot against the gold and glitter floor of the elevator.

I look into Cira's eyes behind her back, and she understands my intention almost immediately.

She does not get off on our floor, the doors opening and closing awkwardly.

"We want to go exploring the roof," I say casually, by way of explanation. "I haven't gone there yet, and I thought tonight would be the ideal time, considering we'll be too riled up tomorrow night for that."

I punctuate my sentence with a pleasant and relaxed smile and a wiggle of the eyebrows, looking directly at Seeva.

The elevator speeds past the second floor.

"Cira and I have been so busy with training and getting enough sleep that we haven't had time to go there yet. It was always a dream of mine as a boy," I jerk my head back lazily to get my hair out of my eyes at the same time as I prop up my arm against the wall, "to see the Capitol from a bird's eye view. Something about the freedom of being so high up…"

Orla physically recoils. Huh.

Didn't think her fear of heights was as bad as that. Good to know.

I see the gears turning in Orla's head as she hesitates, and then jams her finger into the button labelled with a 4.

"I'll be turning in, see you all tomorrow," she says but there's a flatness to her voice. For the first time since I've had the displeasure of meeting Orla, I think she senses something is off about the situation.

The doors open, and she strides out of the elevator without any further comment.

Morgana makes a move to press the button corresponding to the seventh floor, but Seeva stops her by blocking her hand gently. She's not a Career yet, I want to say but I bite down on the comment and remain silent.

I didn't particularly want her there at our impromptu meeting, but I don't say anything. I already have enough conflict on my plate, so I file away a mental note to talk to Seeva about this later. We just have a lot of things to clarify. It sounds petty even to me, but it's all Orla's fault we haven't as of yet.

I lied to Orla when I said I hadn't visited the balcony. In truth, I went there alone yesterday, staying up for the better half of the night. I love watching the city buzz with life, and Jasmyn found me in the early hours of the morning. She loves it too, and it was nice to just sit there. All responsibilities and stress shoved aside in favor of just… observing this behemoth of an organism, made up of millions of people and machines.

When we arrive to the appropriate floor, we exit, shuffling along the spacious corridor.

I fling the door open, and we are met with a pleasant and cold breeze. Involuntarily, I release a satisfied sigh.

I hear a whistle behind me.

"This is goddamn majestic," Seeva says, and I turn around to see her crossing her arms across her chest, but her eyes shine with wonder. Morgana imitates her pose, hiding her awe only slightly better.

Luther and Cira race to the railing in unison and I almost laugh at the excitement emanating from them if I hadn't felt the same rush the day before when I discovered this place.

"As beautiful as this admittedly is," I start, "we need to talk about the situation."

"The situation," Luther echoes my words and laughs.

"I mean, what is there to talk about?" Seeva sighs tiredly, sitting down directly on the floor. Her eyes trail the horizon which is peppered with neon-colored buildings with huge billboards. Advertisements of various products and past victors flash past. Sunhdit of District 7 smiles proudly from a pedestal. All for show. She is replaced quickly by an anti-aging cream with some nanoparticle technology involved.

"Well, for one, we can talk about our actual strategy, since we haven't had a single minute of uninterrupted peace."

"I don't know, I mean, we can just… wing it," Luther offers, and I try not to facepalm.

"We can't," I interject, "because we've got an unpredictable and frankly handicapping variable that stands in our way."

"I agree that Orla's annoying, but we can't do anything about it right now," Seeva ponders slowly, and Luther crouches next to her.

"I mean, we could," I argue. Morgana remains silent. I kind of wish she'd say something now, make her presence here justified, if only for me to have a reason to download all my doubts on my allies.

"Come on, you guys have to agree with me."

"As far as we're concerned, we're not doing anything until the Games. Then, it's fair game, but she's definitely not our priority. There's bigger fish to fry, Ambrox," Seeva explains and stretches her ankles, as if preparing to leave the conversation at that.

We sit in silence, only the distant wail of some emergency vehicle breaking up the serenity. I don't exactly know how long we sit there together. Without Orla here, it almost feels natural. I don't trust any of them, not by a mile, but that was never bound to happen in a place like this.

I can see in their eyes that they're not taking me seriously, though. They don't understand how deeply unsettling it is for me to have to interact with a person who from one minute to another can cause some unpredictable problem. They might not have those reservations, or maybe they just don't have that kind of forethought, but I do and it's going to drive me crazy.

After a while, Luther gets antsy. I can see his knees jerking up and down, and some unspoken message passes between him and Seeva because she gets up slowly, still looking on pensively ahead.

I get up with them mechanically, because the height difference makes me uncomfortable. Always try to be level with your opponent to avoid being incapacitated on the ground. That's the rule of thumb.

Luther turns around, as if to leave. Impulsively, I grab his arm and Seeva stops almost instantly. I can see the imperceptible shift in her shoulders.

She's well-trained, I'll give her that.

Always en-garde, ready to attack or defend, depending on the scenario. Even though she would tower over Jasmyn, she's still got a similar poised stance which is hammered into trainee recruits.

"Wait, you guys can't be serious," I hiss, incredulous, breaking the comfortable silence. "We're not even going to talk about it?"

The tension is back, washing over us in waves. Morgana looks like she's about to side with me, but still keeps her lips firmly shut.

"I mean, it's not polite," Seeva chuckles, and I'm not sure if she's sarcastic but I'm at wit's end, so I don't handle it well.

"It's true, we can wait a few days and maybe she can just leave on her own," Cira tries to offer, as a solution.

"Oh, cut the crap," I interject, letting anger tint my words. Cira shies back. I didn't mean to be rude with her, and I file away an apology for later.

We're no closer to a consensus than before, but that's just teamwork for you.

"Look, Ambrox, what do you want us to say? We're not hurting her before the Games. It's not happening," Luther says, and he sounds only incrementally disappointed.

"I'm not saying we should! I just want… for fuck's sake, I just want a clear plan and the reassurance from you guys that she's not going to a permanent burden," I deflate as I finish this sentence.

Cira slides up closer to me, putting a hand on my arm. Her eyes search my face.

"I think we're all tired, let's just go and we can talk this through another time," she says, and I put an arm around her, on autopilot. Seeva and Luther immediately look incredibly uncomfortable. District differences on physical contact, and all that.

"I think that's a good idea," Morgana pipes in, and I acquiesce regretfully.

We all say our goodbyes, wishing each other a restful sleep, and before long, Cira and I are on our floor. I understand now that we're never getting this resolved, unless someone takes drastic action.

Why can't it just be simple?

Lounging on the couch, Jasmyn greets us, smug as a leopard who just caught prey in its jaws.

I go directly to bed, having no energy to deal with her games today.

Notes: Thanks for your patience once again. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! As you probably noticed, updates are coming a little slower. I am dealing with a lot of stuff coming from all spheres of life, but I always love coming back to writing this story. January is a hectic month, but I'll try to post another chapter at the very least before it's over.

Now that we are thankfully finished with training, we'll kick off a few chapters with Gamemaker sessions, scores and interviews, before the night-before chapter. And then it's off to the races!