Metamorphosis: The 100th Hunger Games
Training Day Three - Part Two


Russett Gilmour, 29
District 8 Male

One by one, each target that sprints past my vision are disintegrated with every knife I lob towards them, twenty of them in all. I was winded by my fifth, but I continued on anyway.

"That's some Capitol knife throwing, tribute." The trainer complements with a clap to my back. "Where'd you get it from?"

"Honestly?" I reply with a chortle and a slight shrug. "Bars... and growing up in Eight in general."

Darts, knives, it didn't matter. They served as an interesting way of passing time during breaks or after a lengthy shift at work. And the fact that the target on the board was often the Capitol seal, we made sure our throws were in earnest.

"Should I set you up for another go?" she asks.

"Sure thing." I nod.

"Alright, we'll start up again in two."

Once she moves off I sink onto the nearest bench, taking the opportunity to finger my engagement ring to Clarisse and the bracelet she and Gen made me. Glancing up and taking in the gym proper, everyone besides the Careers seems to be more competent in their craft. The guy from Five earns a clap on the back from the Eleven male as he cleaves the head of a dummy right off with a hammer of sorts, Chris immediately joins in with the woman from Snow Island on his tail.

Groups...It always makes my stomach crawl, seeing things like that. They never were my thing, social calls, though I want them to be.

"Miss, I might just take a break from...this." I say to the trainer as she nods. Rising from the bench I make my way to the survival stations, landmarked by a giant oak tree used for climbing.I walk nearby Alana, who happily talks with a gaggle of female trainers, each holding copies of her book and sharpies to boot. Through the throng of admirers we catch eyes as she flashes me a smile, something I return but quickly return to a frown once she's out of sight. Finally making my way to the oak tree, I rest against its base with a deep sigh. Decent knife throwing skills are nothing when you have an author, adult Careersand doctors as your competition.

Janice's squabbling about sponsoring this year plays back in my head. "They say that sponsorship numbers are going to be extravagant this year!" yeah, well how am I supposed to garner a following with this type of competition?

"Would you like some tea?" asks a distant voice.

"I'm sorry?"I reply, perplexed when the young man from Ten drops from the tree and lands before me.

"Would you like some tea?" he asks again, pouring the substance from a canteen into the cup-like lid. "You look a little anxious. This happens to take the edge off for me, so maybe it'll help you."

"Sure, thanks." I accept the cup and take a sip. It's good, ten times better than the bitter stuff found elsewhere. "Tastes great."

"What troubles you exactly...apart from the dying aspect, that is?"

"The interesting competition," I reply. "You can't exactly garner sponsors if everyone else has a more interesting story to tell."

The boy shrugs. "If you ask me, lone wolves perform just fine. All one has to do is look back and count, they add up."

"I guess that's true." I relent. Gwendolyn Faraday, Piper Malveaux, all the victors from Six including the odd girl from last year, plenty of underdogs have taken the crown recently. "But I doubt that's what the Capitol wants this time around."

"Why does it matter?" he counters. "As long as they got their show leading up to the finale, beggars can't be choosers."

I nod in agreement. "I can't offer a rebuttal to that."

"The best things one can do in a situation like this is put on a brave face and endure the storm." He says. "I know it sounds cliché, but 'trying' is all we can do. You have your motivations, and I have mine. Just use it."

"Thanks..." I say with a tentative scratch of the head."Er...good luck out there."

"Likewise, Eight."

Wondr'a Okafor, 30
District 11 Female

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"The trainer presses as he hands me a canteen.

"Yes, I'll be just fine thank you. I'm just feelin' a little poorly," I reply softly, accepting his canteen. "It's probably just nerves..."

"Well, you'd better get those nerves under control." He warns me. "If not..."

I nod. "Yes, I understand."

You see it all the time on the reruns of previous Games. Kids scared out of their minds to the point of throwing up. I suppose I'm just one those tributes. I've been struggling with it for days, and it's all coming to a head now. Being here gives someone so much to think about...

"Also, don't you think you would be best prepared if you moved on to another section?" he asks. "You've been tending to this garden so much you might as well sleep down here."

"No sir, I am very much...happy here." I reply, taking out a...ugly-looking shovel that doubles as a chainsaw. "Besides, I don't think anyone will trifle with me when I have this...thing by my side."

"You'd better hope that arena of yours is the Garden of Eden." He snips with a chuckle. I ignore him and instead return my focus back onto my garden, the only thing in this place that keeps me...happy. It reminds me of Momma, and how I would follow her and watch as she tended to Mother Nature. And here I am now, following in her...stead.

Where tending to this garden makes me happy, it also keeps me...distracted. Distracted from questions like why am I here? Why did I volunteer in the first place?

I shake my head, wiping my forehead and caring less about the soil smudge. It's better to be here and die than continue to be worked to death at a desk doing something I hate. It's better to be like Momma, a free spirit, than Dad and my brothers, cold and...on one track.

My mind drifts off to Otel Sharpes, but I quickly return to tending the field. He's young. It would never work between us anyway and I'd be a damn fool to think otherwise.

"You've been working pretty hard Wondr'a."

"Hmm?" looking up, the man and woman from Six stand over me. The man, like his reaping, looks very kind with soft eyes while the woman on the other hand looks...blank as she adjusts her glasses. They, alongside myself and the Five woman make up the doctors swept up in this year's Games. I can't help but wonder how many people are affected by their reaping. Paisley and Octavia implored that I make the effort to partner up. But like Linden, they would just end up leaving rather than being hitched to a scatterbrain like me.

"We've been watching you." He says again, his eyes going over my handiwork. "You're a real whiz when it comes to this stuff. What are you, an agricultural doctor? I'm Theilian by the way, and this is Zahira."

I offer a small smile. "I'm...Wond'ra...And no, I am a doctor of technology...Though my Momma's guidance prompted me to take to this—" I gesture to the soiled ground "—Pretty quickly."

Zahira raises an eyebrow as a scoff comes from out her lips. "You're a doctor of technology in a place like District 11?"

"You're stero...ty..." I find myself grimacing as I face another brain crash. They too – like everyone else – look at me with worried...looks. "You're assuming!" I finally manage to say with a smile. "Machines are very important everywhere...even with food making."

Thelian steps forward. "Do you mind if you teach two city kids a thing or two about survival?"

"Of course!" I chirp with a smile. It's not like it makes a difference to me anyway, giving them a better chance. If I could say I helped at least one person before I passed, volunteering would be worth it even more.

"You don't peg me as a lover of mortal combat, Wondr'a." says Zahria as she sits down. "Why did you volunteer?"

"Disabled tribute aside...Someone with your background would be reluctant to just give it all up like that...myself included unfortunately." Thelian adds as Zahria nods in agreement.

"Oh well..." I shrug, raising a hand to rub my shoulder. Maybe I'm tired of being worked like a dog until sickness by a selfish father supported by an uncaring family..."Maybe I lived a...nice enough life already."

The two Sixers exchange weary looks before returning to their work. They're nice folk, as I come to find out. Both of them have kids and practice out of the same clinic, even went to the same school. Must be nice, having someone familiar to endure all this with.

"Why do you speak like that?" Zahira mentions out of the blue. It prompts me to slowly turn towards the two, frowning.

Sighing, I gently navigate through my plant-like hair, revealing the scar I received from my...accident. They didn't bother asking any more questions and to be fair, I think I preferred it that way too. Any more talk about it, I'd throw myself in front of the boy from Two who continues to practice with a bow.

Surprisingly, for a bunch of city folk they manage well with plant identification, cooking and cleaning meat and basic gardening. I reckon it's because they're...professionals – rather than scared children.

"We all know what nightlock looks like, pitch-black blueberries basically," I say while swiping through the various vegetation one could find in an arena. "Basically...stay away from any odd-coloured or patterned fruits. When in doubt, cut one open, place it on a leaf and the juice will eat right through it."

Thelian places a gentle hand on my shoulder, his facial expression reflecting the gesture. "Thank you, Wondr'a. How someone could know so much is beyond me."

"No problem." I reply with a warm smile. "I love helping folks out."

"Why not continue to help us out?" asks Zahira. "Let's ally up. Something tells me we'd make a good team."

As the two Sixers stand up, Thelian offers me a hand with that smile of his. When I don't take it, his smile falters. Even Zahira, with her...not caring looks, looks confused as I give them both a sad smile.

"Thank you, but no thank you." I say. "I wish y'all the best of luck though. I truly mean it."

They trade looks, Theilian looking sadder than Zahira who nods off in another direction. "Alright uh...it was nice meeting you, Wondr'a. Good luck out there."

Offering a slight wave, I watch them turn to leave. And as they do this, part of me wants to cry out and tell them to wait up. But I'm no good to them, I know it.

I'm not even good to myself.

Nautia Novakova, 29
District 4 Female

The Training Center's pool serves as my only place of refuge and clarity. Like the beaches in Four or the open seas in the Gulf, it was just me and the cool water as I effortlessly maneuvered through. Well...almost effortless, as a trainer decided to make the pool simulate a body of water found in an arena. By the eighth lap, I was focused enough to brave on the rest of the day. My partner on the other hand, business-executive-now-tribute Aurelia Baudelaire is frayed down to the last strand. She sits poolside a holopad in her hand as she studies strategy guides. She glances up from her datapad with relief in her eyes.

"There you are." She says tiredly."I thought you'd never come up."

"What can I say," I shrug, accepting the towel she offers me. "Swimming works wonders."

"Yes, well, can we go train for real now?" she snaps nervously. "We don't have long until the private sessions."

I frown. "You could've trained on without me, you know. I'd find you."

"No, no that wouldn't do." She replies with a quick shake of the head. "What would the others think?"

"They wouldn't think anything at all, not since you shooed them all away..." I mutter while following her lead into the change room. When we do get back onto the gym floor, I find myself glancing over at the man from Seven and his collection of allies that outman the Careers two to one. The woman from Snow Island, Donna, cradles the girl from Ten, Laelia, by the elbow over to Chris and their allies. They exchange words as Chris makes a playful wave toward the sheepish Laelia.

"Sure thing, the more the merrier, am I right?" I hear the jovial lumberjack bellow as he claps her on the back. Just feet away from us under the giant tree, the girl from Three quickly puts her head down just as I shoot a curious glance her way. I can't help feel myself twinge with disappointment. I mean, at first I was okay with her dismissing the Twelve girl – nothing good ever comes from them – but declining Seven was a little much. I had half a mind to leave Aurelia but that wouldn't be fair. How would I feel if she up and left me? Then again, that alliance seems full enough as it is and who knows if it'll bide the tides of the arena...Then again, who's to say we could?

She taps me on the shoulder. "Nautia, we're going over to the weapons now."

"We just got here, Aurelia." I reply, gesturing to my lit fire. The gym and all its contents were like Career training notched up to eleven, not to mention naval recruit training. I know the basics and a little beyond that, It'd be nice to settle down someplace instead of hopping from station to station like Aurelia seems to like.

"It's the last day. We have to absorb everything." She explains, watching as I douse the flames. "Surely bits and pieces will stick."

"I don't think retention works like that...at least not for me." I reply, quirking a brow as she frowns deeply. I find myself sighing, giving in once more. "But okay...if you say so, more for you than me."

We saunter over to the it being the last day, every tribute seemed to be jamming in what knowledge they three days of casual observation, I could see the improvements everyone was making. The guy from Five with that mace of his, the pair from Six fending off a much bigger trainer, the Careers no longer casually observing but actively making a show of their skills. I can't help but feel hesitant. We aren't a bunch of kids this time around. We have much more at stake, which means they –like me – are desperate to stay alive by any means necessary.

I turn my attention back to Aurelia and watch as she selects a poniard – the daggers sophisticated sibling. The trainer asks for my selection, but I politely decline. If there's one thing I could thank my parents for, is their persistent drilling of Career ethos into me. Picking up a weapon and swinging it around for a few hours would be redundant in my case. Watching as Aurelia stumbles around with the armor-clad trainer, I could see why her nerves were frayed.

"And you said you were trained?"I inquire, trying to stifle a chuckle as she fends off her opponent with shoves and menacing movements. It's as if she was fending off an animal rather than a human. It's so odd, watching a tribute from One with minimal skill like hers. When was the last time One had someone like her?

"Not by the academy...but a tutor."She pants, shoving the trainer backward as she thrusts towards him with her poniard. "...For the past...three months."

"Right..." I reply dryly, my inner career beginning to bubble over while continuing to watch this display. "Maybe you should go with a spear or something similar? It'd really suit your fighting style and –"

Her head twists my way, the poniard jutted towards me. "I'm quite fine where I am, thank you."

The more I watch her stumble around, the more I grow...annoyed. I find myself again glancing around at the various alliances formed. You can't help but compare and exactly does she bring to the alliance? Her weapons skills are subpar, as well as her survival skills...Clearly there's an imbalance with our relationship. Are her intentions genuine? Am I just a stepping stone?

I wince when Aurelia gets checked to the ground by the trainer. I wouldn't put it past her to give up right then and there. But after a second of locking eyes, the businesswoman from One is quickly back on her feet and on the attack once more.

I shake my head. I can't be too harsh. That's what an alliance is, a stepping stone. A stepping stone to victory. She needs me more than I need her.

Verona Kinsley, 63
District 7 Female

Leveling another ax, I lob it towards the dummy that stands feet away. It sinks itself into the stomach area. Not bad, the other previous tries landed in the shoulder and chest respectively. Overall, I'm just glad I can hit the target consistently. You can't fight it. Almost everything revolves around an ax in seven. Fast chops, slow chops, axe throwing for 'fun', by the time your twelve, you know your way around one fairly well. You never forget, really.

Hermia chortles out a low whistle. "Those are some pretty decent hits."

"Ehh...I'm too slow." I grumble, adding "Which will most likely be the death of me."

Though the mind is willing, the body isn't as much. And with these kiddies running around, I don't think it'll be enough. Shave off twenty years off my current age though and I'd be a real Johanna Mason.

Hermia offers to give my hand a squeeze, something I return in earnest. I appreciate the gesture, but it's true. I couldn't imagine going toe-to-toe with any of the people in this room. Taking my mind off of my almost certain death, I nod off to her dummy, which is nicked with various knives and even a hatchet. "Someone's a jack of all trades..."

"My elder siblings were cadets at the academy back in Two." Hermia explains. "They were good with knives, hatchets and the like...taught me a thing or two – nothing serious – just for fun. Then the War happened."

I nod. For the Rebel side, it really was a 'make-do' war. "Pick up anything you could get—"

Hermia mirrors my gesture. "—Practicality is k—exactly."

"Check out at Tobias Odair over there..." I snort, lightly jabbing Hermia's side.

Tobias, armed with a trident, goes through the motions of using the weapon under the tutelage of a trainer, who looks less than amused as the older gentleman bleats out war cries and exaggerates his movements. The fool was having too much fun if you asked me.

Hermia smirks while slowly shaking her head with disbelief. "Tobi...what are you still doing with that thing?"

"What? You guys need to stop buying into stereotypes..."Tobias replies with a shrug."What, would you prefer my weapon of choice to be my brain or something...as if it already isn't." he adds with a rueful smile.

"All you've done is twirl it around like it's a toy..." I reply tiredly. Although I couldn't help but retain my smile, Tobias was a child at heart through and through.

"It's a comfort thing." He shoots back playfully, making a show of caressing the weapon. "And given how adept our competition is with weapons like these, a little comfort wouldn't hurt anybody."

Tobias isn't wrong. They may not be Careers, but the other normal tributes from what I see are performing well with their weapons of choice. Every day, everyone seems to be performing better than the last. Knives just might not cut it this time around.

"What's wrong?" Hermia asks, jostling her head to and fro with a slight smile as she adds "Besides the obvious?"

"I'm just trying to remember what you said before. What exactly are we 'working towards' again?" I ask her. She had mentioned that when we'd met during the chariots. That as long as we were together, we could 'work' towards something. What was it?

She replies with a suppressed sigh. I narrow my eyes at her. "Don't give me that...sure we're together, but we're not exactly spring chickens either."

The last thing I could give a hoot about is the opinion of a rainbow, but all one has to do is turn on a HV. We're older, which means were undesirable both in ability and what our generation represents. We're basically filler, supporting pieces for the main character – the 'victor' – to ascend their throne.

If I know one thing for certain, it's that I'm not going to be their 'piece'. I want to make my own show.

"...Survival?" she answers, her tone obvious that even she doesn't know for certain.

"That's nice and all, but do you honestly think we'll 'survive'? There has to be more than just coasting from day to day." I retort back. "What would they do with a middle-aged former rebel as their victor? When they have so many young faces to choose from?"

Will they even let us live past the first night? The Capitol is a fickle mistress, and will be eager to make an example out of any rebel...even if they were just lowly grunts like us. In a hushed voice I add "You've seen the Avoxes during the ceremonies, the various riots across the country. If now was the time to make a difference, now is the time!"

"You said it yourself, we're not spring chickens. The time to 'act' is over, at least for us." Hermia seethes. "Leave the bigger picture to those on the outside. Besides, I have a family to protect. What about your family?"

"Seven is my family. My father and I have spent our entire lives taking care of its downtrodden and forgotten."I retort back. "And I know for a fact that they would want me to make it known how they feel about this 'twist'."

I've worked too hard and too long just to toss my reputation away and cower in the dirt. And with the spotlight on us, it'd be waste to just 'conform' instead of standing up for what is right.

"All we can do at the moment is roll with the punches, work within our parameters." She says with a hand placed on my shoulder. "Right Tobi?"

"Hmm? Oh, sure...I'm just observing our enigmatic tribute from Twelve do her thing..." Tobias nods, jutting his head off towards one of the mats.

Armed with a rapier, the young woman from District 12 goes head-to-head with an armored trainer. She was nowhere near the skill of a Career tribute, but still carried confidence in her technique. With Twelve's population consisting mainly of Panem's 'undesirables', I wouldn't be surprised if she dabbled in some form of 'training'. Her volunteering all but confirms that.

And if there's one thing I know about District 12, it's that they are nothing but trouble. The way she strutted up to that stage in that miner's uniform without a single word screamed trouble. What was she planning to do with her notoriety, I wonder?

They seemed to have paused with their practicing. The Twelve girl removes her helmet, flipping her strawberry blonde hair as her deep blue eyes catch ours. She's been eyeballing us ever since the chariot rides. While moving towards the exits, she gestures with her head as if she wants us to follow along.

That impish grin spreads across Tobi's lips again. "A rendezvous with a mysterious young lady...what could go wrong?"

I hook my hands in the crook of their elbows. "Things are about to get a tad more interesting."

It may not be us who gets the ball rolling again, but at least we can help.

Hermia Rhodes 52,
District Nine Female

On HV, the Junkies won't shut up about Reaping Day till now, she's received Career-level adoration. "The elusive girl from District 12" they call her. Since she refrained from declaring her name after her volunteering, they've resorted to taking bets guessing what it was. When I first laid eyes on the girl on the train ride here, the defeatist in me wanted to scoff out loud. Certainly any strains of stubbornness have been culled out of our gene pool? But the more I see, the more intrigued I get.

We meet outside the gym, a concrete hallway with a set of washrooms and a fountain – for the staff I suppose. We all still when two Peacekeepers march out from the men's. The same two who were guarding the exit we came from.

"What are you guys doing?" One of them growls. "Tribute-designated bathrooms are inside the facility."

"Oh settle down, buckethead." Verona scoffs with a wave of a hand. "We were just about to engage in lucrative discussion, one that's sure to keep the audience on the edges of their seats. So if you boys could run along...?"

Even though they were lowly privates, judging by the single chevrons on their shoulder pads, I half expected him to take his baton and cave her head in right there. Instead, the PK mutters something about "five minutes" and returns inside. All of us can't help but smirk.

"You have quite a way with words, miss." Twelve trills. I can't help but be taken aback by her accent. It's prim and proper, Capitol without the Capitol. No twang like most Twelvers I see on HV.

Verona lays a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Sweetie, I'm far beyond caring. I think you understand." She nods.

"So, Twelve," Tobias begins with that smile of his."You gonna let us in on the methods to your madness?"

"That's been my plan since day one." She replies with a just as wide smile. "However as you might've noticed, I'm hesitant to show my cards so early."

"Oh we've noticed." Tobias replies slyly. I can't help but bristle slightly at the admission. Our eyes turn toward the gym entrance as Ricardo from Snow Island stomps into our gaggle. Where Tobias is slightly portly and us women naturally petite, Ricardo towers over us. He was a Peacekeeper once, and it shows with his chiseled jaw pocked with scars and an eye that appears slightly lazy. You'd think he'd be hobnobbing with the Careers but he's been acting the opposite since we've gotten here.

Twelve gestures to us. "Mr. Marcenas, we have new friends joining us."

"Little Miss Anonymous here inspired you too?" chides Tobi, prodding the side of an amused Twelve with his elbow.

"You could say that." Ricardo replies. His voice was deep yet rich like many Snow Island denizens.

I extend a hand forward. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ricardo."

Verona claps him on the back. "Anyone with the chutzpah to do what you did is a friend of mine."

He lets out a warm chuckle that envelops the hallway, enveloping my hand into his as he pumps it like he's reconnected with an old friend."Likewise...Hermia is it?" he turns to Verona now. "I don't see the need to willfully engage in these 'festivities'. I'm simply responding to it like any sane person would."

"Not many sane people these days..." mutters Tobias, in which Ricardo replies with a headshake and a shrug.

"I'm glad we're all getting along...as friendly as tributes can be. It warms my heart." Twelve begins, her eyes meeting each one of ours. "I think we know why we're all here?"

"No, no we don't." I reply with a smirk. As nice as this prospect is, I don't like going in blind.

Tobias seems to agree, smirking as he says "Ehhh...I'd be nice if you could explain...Y'know, peace of mind and all that."

"Certainly. I am requesting an alliance of capable tributes by my side-"

"Why aren't you with the Careers?" I interject. It's obvious. Twelve is kill on sight for them ever since HG 76. How Ainsley Tisdayle still breathes boggles me till this day.

"Or any tribute under fifty years old, which there are many..." says Verona.

"I prefer those with...?" Twelve taps her lip with her finger. "Comparable morals..."

"Are we cushions for you?" I ask. Felicity and Esther are like water, easy to read and see though. They were even easier when they were her age. But missy here...

"No, not at all," she beams. "I'd imagine that if this alliance were to falter, anyone here is exceptional enough to survive alone. I just prefer to collaborate with those of the same mindedness. I prefer to leave it at that. So, what do you say?"

Verona glances around before shrugging. "Why the hell not?"

"I could use some more friends." Adds Tobi while making a show of snaking his arms around my and Verona's waist. "Not that you two aren't great."

As her eyes meet mine, I nod. More people equals more security. "Of course."

Upon returning to the Gym, it felt like senior year all over again with all the inquisitive eyes darting our way. Regardless of our overall situation, this newly-brokered alliance was spirit-booster for sure. As we sit down for lunch, I take in the groups of tributes huddled around various booths and tables. It's all coming together now. The battlefield was set. All we needed to do was wait.

"Say Twelve?" asks Tobi, prompting the young woman to glance up from her lunch. "What possessed you to put your neck out like you did?"

She shrugs. "The dream of being a victor of significance?"

"You sound like a Two." I jest.

She smiles. "Not that type of significance, I'm hoping for something far better."

"I see." I nod. There's definitely something more there. Exactly what is what interests me.

Hearing shuffling, I turn to see Alana Oskoii with a cheery grin on her lips and a plate of food in her hands.

"Seat for one more?"

"Please..." I say, dragging the chair out for her.

The girl's face lights up with glee. "Miss Oskoii! I see you've taken up my request?"

"Yes, yes I have." Alana nods, sighing deeply. "You're very much right in regards to our talk."

"Glad to have ya," Verona says while pumping hands with the author. "I loved Songbird's Cry so very much."

Smiling sadly, Alana leaves a lasting hand over Verona's. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"My heart twitters over our group falling into place." Says Twelve while placing her hands together. Her eyes drift past the table entirely. "Perhaps later this evening we could—"

"You have a starin' problem, Twelve?" a feminine, deep District 2 accent growls. I follow Twelve's eyes to see Sarissa Levesque bearing down on her with a hard leer.

"...No, I—"

"I see you've recruited some useful idiots..." she jeers hotly, her leer shifting from her to the table entirely. "Typical..."

"The last time I checked – in my humble opinion – this wasn't a high school." I reply tersely, my arms folded before me. "So, could you kindly move on?"

Her brows quirked with astonishment, the edges of her lips twitch into a grin. She waggles a finger at me. "...You're right...Talk is for the weak..." nodding, she turns to walk away before adding "Actions speak louder than words."

A collective sigh was audible around the table, besides Ricardo who continues to glare down Levesque as if he were going to take up the incursion. A gentle tap on the shoulder by yours truly is enough to calm him down, just barely.

"I'll take you up on that evening invite..." Tobi says. I follow his gaze toward the Career table, who eye us like mutts to a wounded tribute. "Something tells me we'll need the extra deliberation."

Silent, I continue to sip my tea. At least now I'm moving towards something – survival. Nothing about this was going to be easy. Tobi, I and Verona on our own were just cushioning ourselves. But with these two, we could make serious progress...even if our apparent leader is a dubious one.

Aurelia Baudelaire, 31
District One Female,

"—One hundred and ninety-nine, two hundred." And this time, when I skewer the dummy I leave the poniard in its gut as I clutch my knees and regain my bearings with deep, shallow though the trainers gave their seals of approval here and with the other stations, I feel like I've gained absolutely nothing these past three days. I begin to think of my little Satin and what he might be up to. Hmph, my little Satin. Does he even know I'm his or vice versa? Will he remember me?

My thoughts are interrupted by a pair of boots. "Aurelia?"

Waiting at least a twenty more seconds before acknowledging her, I glance upward, meeting Nautia's eyes as I scowl. For the past three months, I've gotten that look from all manners of people. I'm sick and tired of it.

"Don't look at me like that." I snap.

"Like what?" she replies, perplexed.

"Like you pity me." I reply listlessly, avoiding her gaze.

"You missed lunch, Aurelia." She says to me, her tone soft. "Why did you up and leave like that?"

"It's not like dinner will be served shortly..." I reply dryly. Not sparing her another glance, I turn my attention back to the dummy, ripping my poniard out...alongside part of its digestive track as it plops onto the floor with a wet smack.

"Learning about knives is a great way to start, but have you thought about expanding maybe?" Nautia asks. "Using a spear would be perfect for-"

"I'm fine, thank you." I fume, using my hands for extra empathies.

"That's an odd way of showing it." She snips in reply. "Let me help you—"

"I said I'm fine!" I snap, softening my features when Nautia frowns."It's fine...I'll just bear through the next few days and hope for a quick death...maybe the pedestals or something."

She begins to extend a hand toward me. "Aurelia..."

I ignore her. Instead I begin sauntering over to the pedestal in which Claudia Floris occupies. The other tributes do this too, forming a semi circle around the head trainer.

"So," Claudia begins. "That's it, three whole days of training in various aspects in which you as a tribute may enact or encounter. Like I stated on day one, twenty-six of you stand here today, chances are only one of you will be coming out. From what we see, you've heeded our words to some extent. All that matters now is your application. You are hereby dismissed until you report in for individual assessments. I suggest you focus on a core application you think you've excelled at while showcasing other skills that may prove useful. You're all old enough and have witnessed enough Games to get the gist of tomorrow's festivities. You've been a good roster. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

As per the usual for the past four or so days, living here on One's floor is nothing short of a social disaster. Rather than the living space it was supposed to be, it was instead a makeshift office, with multiple phone lines constantly ringing while One's escort Rouge Peakes or Serena Westenfluss' assistant, Erin Stenway, answering with their sickly sweet voices as they juggle multiple calls.

"This is the Training Center, District One Residence? Yes, Kaiser is available. Please hold."

"This is the Training Center, District One Residence? Ms. Westenfluss is currently busy, please call again soon."

Though Thames is subject to multiple giddy updates about his status with sponsors at large, I've yet to receive such news. It's funny, we have five living Victors yet none of them have spoken to me since we've gotten here. I'd think I was invisible if Rouge didn't try to include me.

Being engorged in business since I was a tween, I'd think I'd be used to an environment like this, but being out of the loop – with no control – I can't help but seethe as everyone – including Thames – buzz about the floor with purpose. Even though I'm not one of their coveted 'Careers' Rouge insists that many sponsors are eager to help me through the Games.

"In fact," she chirps giddily. "One man from the Ministry of Commerce called requesting a sizable share within your company! That seems like a perfectly good cushion if the worst happens...n-not saying that it will most definitely happen of course...!"

It gets even more awkward when the calls slow and we settle down for dinner. I make a show of twiddling with the silver bullet they left me following Father and Mother's 'Incident'. None of them – and I mean none of them – dare look my way as we eat through the various courses presented to us.

"So...Thames," Begins Kaiser while he pats down his lips with a serviette. "Any final reports to offer up?"

"The Twelve girl has mustered up a decent crew." Thames offers. "There's another significant group of non-Career males. Also, when the others interact, they seem pretty...cordial."

"Keep an eye out for that," warns Glisten with a pointed finger. "You don't want to get swamped when the gong goes off."

"If you can, bump some off with outlying gear." Savera grumbles with a mouthful of potato still in her mouth, which earns a scornful gaze from Rouge.

"The Twelve girl should go first." Cessna adds while doting over a bowl of peas and a glass of water. This earns grumbles of opinion.

"Yeah, but she's a source of 'entertainment'." Glisten snorts in reply. "They'll probably place her somewhere safe."

Thames points to him, swallowing his food. "Don't forget, she has muscle in the form of the Snow Island man."

After that, the table devolves into heated debate pertaining to how Thames and his group should tackle this issue – that and the private sessions – all while I continue to be left out. Letting out an audible exhale, I hold onto the silverware in my hands for dear life. Noticing this, Rouge's grey eyes meet mine from across the way as her lips curl into a smile.

"So, Ms. Baudelaire," she says aloud, earning startled stares from the rest of the table. "How did your three days go?"

"Oh gee, thank you for asking!"I chirp, my tone and movements equally as exaggerated. "I spent them scraping along, learning as I go. Although, I would fare much better if I had mentors who actually cared about my wellbeing!"

My eyes wander, meeting each and every one of their faces. Snow knows they haven't acknowledged me since my name was selected. I revel as they squirm, their eyes facing towards me but never meeting mine. They're all pathetic, choosing to supply and bolster a deathmatch rather than improve the lives of their fellow man. Glancing past Thames, who frowns sadly, my vision focuses squarely on Serene Westenfluss, who absentmindedly eats away at her dinner.

The Avoxes have all but fled from the dining room. Cessna's Chihuahua whimpers. In the living room 'office' Serene's shadow Erin keeps a watchful eye on all parties whist filing her nails. I swear there's a small smirk on her thin lips.

"Ms. Baudelaire," Rouge inquires with a shaky finger. "Arguments aren't good for group cohesion. If you have an issue you'd like resolved...perhaps—"

My hand waves lazily toward her direction. "Haven't you anything to say, 'Governor'!?"

She raises an eyebrow, her face quirked with 'confusion'. "...I'm sorry?"

"Ha, you'd think after what you've done you'd at least offer me a guided tour to my grave," I shoot off an exaggerated shrug. "But then again, given the situation, I would go about it the same way you guys are...You wouldn't want me to come back, right?!"

"...I'm sorry. I'm confused as to what you mean." She replies with a dry scoff. She glances either which way to her fellow Victors but their eyes remained fixed on their plates. "If you're talking about your father, I apologize about what happened...'62 was a rough year for both sides."

"Spare me the 'playing dumb' routine." I seethe. "Hopefully what they say about victors' wellbeings is true, because I don't know how any of you sleep soundly at night."

They know I'm right, because they continue to say nothing except stare at me like the Avoxes who served us our dinner. I place my napkin on the chair, and glide off towards the elevator. "Please excuse me."

Moments later, I find myself on the roof of the Training Center's center tower, overlooking the Capitol and its neon lights at large. I may be dead in a matter of days, but at least my conscious is marginally clear.

The elevator hisses and the click of heels follow. I don't bother looking back, as I already know who it is.

Rouge's hand gently taps my shoulder. "Ms. Baudelaire...?"

I sigh. She's just an intermediary, no use being upset at the girl. "Please Rouge, call me Aurelia." I say, my eyes continuing to gaze out towards the City Circle.

"Aurelia," she repeats firmly. "I'm terribly sorry about your treatment so far. As you might know, I'm quite keen on the interviews and the pomp side of things. Starting immediately after your private sessions, I'll make you the best you can be! . . . Not that you aren't good enough."

I offer a smile. At least she's trying. "Thank you, Rouge. You're very kind."

"Although I'm not...'combat-oriented'..." she goes on, "I consider myself a gal who can get things done if need be. So I spoke to Claudia and some others and..."

Clutching my shoulders, she spins me towards the elevator and I'm genuinely surprised. Nautia stands idly by with two spears in her hand alongside some modest equipment from the gymnasium. I turn to thank Rouge but the escort is already entering the elevator.

I take a step forward. "Hello Nautia."

"Your escort told me enough." She offers a single nod with a knowing grin. "So I said...why not, although we don't have much time. I don't blame you,

I shake my head. Growing up, I was always told to never let anyone see you bleed. Keep your cards to your chest. It doesn't feel right taking the helping hand, but if I don't..."You don't have to do this..."

"I know." She shrugs. "It just seems like the right thing to do? I mean, if it's the last thing – Gods forbid – then helping you is a nice note to end on."

She tosses me a spear and I catch it, affirming my grip. "Okay, I'm yours to teach."


Alliances for the 100th Hunger Games:

Alliance 1: Sarissa, Thames, Warren and Solomon "Sol"
Alliance 2: Ricardo, Vera, Verona, Hermia, Tobias, Alana
Alliance 3: Thelian, Zahira,
Alliance 4: Donna, Laelia, Linden , Chris, Gio,
Alliance 6: Aurelia and Nautia
Solo: Maia Clear, Russett, Emmanuel, Wondr'a, Kavi, Tuesday, Lars

I have a poll regarding Victors that you like within my universe. I'd love it if you answered it. As it pertains to upcoming (very upcoming) content, and I'd like your opinion. (Although the website is outdated in concerns to headcanon for my victors, choose anyway. What appears on the website may be far different from what you will see very soon.)

If you type in "the lucky few hunger games" in google or use the link on the profile, you'll see all of them. I excluded people who won pre HG 75. I may just use some that *I*enjoy the most, but I value your opinion. Select as many as you like.

A/N: Why split day three? Because putting you through 12-14k words is a little much especially after a month or so hiatus.

I apologize for being slow...Again. But were all grown adults now...so I doubt you guys are on the edge of your seats for me. Like I've stated previously, I went for cigarettes for 2 years in my previous story, but I came back and finished it. I'm always working on this in the background, as I always say.

To explain my 'absence' I have a couple of questions for you.

1. You've just field stripped your rifle, what do you do next?

2. How does one identify unexploded ordinance?

3. What are the key tenants of Marxist Criminology?

4. What are the 12 logical fallacies?

...I've been doing many things, I'm sorry. But hey, the Coronavirus is wracking our planet so I get to stay in for a couple of weeks! Why is everyone suddenly interested in toilet paper? The store that I work at is all out of canned food and HAND SANITIZER, I SWEAR TO GOD IF SOMEONE ASKS ME FOR LYSOL OR ANY OTHER CLEANING PRODUCT...

Also, they haven't called me out for any army duties, yet. So basically I'm free to write. We're over the hump now, and onto 'lighter' material (Private Sessions, Interviews...plus world-building goodies) so things should take so long to kick off. Expect the private sessions this week most likely. Although I have some essays to complete, the interviews should be coming soon too.

Further possible...impediments to updates include: More training on a full-time basis this summer, which is about a month long. After that, this guy is a free bird.