Hey guys!
First of all, I just want to thank all of your for 100 reviews! Honestly, the idea of having that many reviews was completely foreign to me and you guys have made it reality - so thank you! :)
The tributes in this chapter are going to be Athena Mountbatten (D2), Spencer Latier (D3), Ty Coleman (D4), Quinn Albright (D5), Jorgen Hawke (D7), Uritia Rodaleen (D10), Jonah Oppulite (D11) and Rye Mellark (D12)!
This chapter will be written differently to the other training days, so it will be shorter! What I'm going to do is write the tributes' perspectives for their GM sessions, but only the 8 chosen. The scores will be posted in the next chapter, in someone else's POV. But I'm not sure who's perspective to do it in, so please review with some ideas! It could be President Snow, it could be Seneca Crane (yes, he is still alive), Caesar Flickerman, or even one of the mentors or a possible sponsor in the Capitol. Please give me a variety of choices, I want it to be what you guys want!
Whew, okay, enough of that, let's get into the chapter!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.
District 2, Athena Mountbatten, 19
Athena was restless.
District 1 had already gone in, so had Lazarus. She couldn't wait to get in there.
She watched the small clock above the door, desperately willing it to speed up. She huffed, annoyed.
How much longer?
Then a robotic voice sounded, "Athena Mountbatten, District 2. Enter."
She jumped up, and stalked towards the door. Some of the tributes' flinched away and Athena reveled in their fear.
She straightened her posture outside of the door, inhaled deeply and stepped inside.
The Gamemakers all lounged on plush, comfortable seats. All of them looked attentive and some were whispering to each other, eyes glued on Athena.
"You may begin," one said.
She decided on performing hand-to-hand combat first. And, as she made her way over to the station, she noticed how someone had been provided there for a fight. Clearly, they were expecting a lot of good things from her. The guy looked increasingly terrified as it became clear where her first location would be.
She didn't waste any time as she lunged forward, jabbing her hand into his neck and kneeing him in the groin. He doubled over, while Athena smirked.
"Stand up. I'm not done with you," she said, standing tall. The man stood up, eyes wide and scared.
She punched his jaw, hard, then kicked her leg out, sweeping the man off of his feet. She jumped on top of him and pinned his arms down with her legs. She then punched him over and over again until he was out cold.
Athena stood up and ran a hand through her hair, as a medical team came out to retrieve the unlucky man.
Swords next, she thought, jogging over.
She hefted a sword up into her hand and gave a testing swing. She looked to the Gamemakers, who were watching her closely. She gave them a vicious grin before pressing a red button to activate a simulation.
Athena held herself with an air of confidence as she stabbed and impaled everything in her way. She treated it as if it were another training at the academy, but more important. Like this would decide whether she deserved to be the volunteer.
And she knew she did.
Soon enough, she had completed it in record timing and stepped out. Athena walked over and stood in front of the Gamemakers, awaiting dismissal.
"Very good, Athena Mountbatten. You may leave."
She smirked and left the room.
These Games were hers.
District 3, Spencer Latier, 17
Spencer already knew what he would show the Gamemakers.
He would craft an elaborate snare that his father had shown him, and it would be perfect.
So, when his name was called, he stepped through, a smirk on his face.
He would get nothing lower than an 8. He wouldn't accept it.
The Gamemakers looked at him, "Begin."
Spencer simply nodded and made his way to the snares. He selected many various ropes and vines of many lengths. He sat them down in the middle of the room and began to weave and wind and twist them to create his father's invention.
In his mind's eye, it looked a little different than what he thought it would, but it worked none the less. He covered it in leaves and various other natural elements laying around in some of the nature stations and then retrieved a dummy.
Before he made the last step, his eyes connected with Seneca Crane's, who's eyes stayed firmly on Spencer's trap.
He turned back to his creation and through the dummy into the center of it and held his breath.
The trap sprang into action, snatching the dummy out of the air and wrapping itself around it. The snare began squeezing the neck in what would be a suffocating maneuver if it were alive. It squeezed so hard that the head of the dummy actually sprang off and rolled away.
The dummy was discarded of and thrown to the other side of the training room, this would cause confusion if the careers went in search of the person who killed the tribute that was picked up from there. Spencer would have already disappeared.
Some of the Gamemakers were standing, others sitting leaning forward, eyes wide.
"Spencer Latier," Seneca said, "You may leave."
Spencer nodded and slipped out of the room, silently.
Surely that'll get me at least an 8.
District 4, Ty Coleman, 22
They're going to love me, Ty told himself as he strode through the door.
"Ty Coleman, District 4," he introduced himself.
"Begin," one of them spoke. He looked like he was the Head Gamemaker.
"Of course," he grinned widely at them before making his way over to the tridents.
He dragged a single finger along the handle of a gorgeous, silver trident before gently lifting it up. He set a dummy up and, using the camouflage ingredients, painted a red circle where the dummy's heart would be, were it alive.
He jogged to the opposite end of the room and pealed off his shirt, rolling it up and wrapping it around his eyes, effectively blocking his vision. He could hear some gasps from the Gamemakers and he guessed that they liked the view.
Next, he picked up his spear and steadied himself, choosing the approximate angle he guessed the dummy would be. He inhaled deeply and pulled his arm back.
Exhaling, he pitched it with all the strength he could muster straight across the room. He heard a sound of impact and guessed he had made it.
Ty removed his shirt from his eyes and looked straight at the dummy. The trident wasn't in the red circle.
The trident had gone through the red circle and stuck to the wall behind it.
His face broke into a victorious grin as he waited for the Gamemakers dismissal.
"You can leave now."
Ty nodded.
District 5, Quinn Albright, 23
Quinn entered the view of the Gamemakers with a fierce dedication.
She was going to be the one to come home, because she had to. She needed to be there for her family, and Lexie.
She wasted no time and began walking to the throwing knives station before remembering she needed to wait for the Gamemaker's approval.
"You may begin," one spoke and Quinn guessed that it was Seneca Crane.
She nodded her head and made her way over to the knives. She wanted to be remembered and, to do that, she had to go out of your comfort zone.
That's what made Quinn pick up 6 knives. In each hand. She gulped, nerves beginning to resurface in her mind.
"You got this," she whispered under her breath.
She pressed a small green button and the targets began moving. Now Quinn was sweating, but she held her posture straight, acting confident. Then she began throwing the knives, one at a time, at each target.
She got mostly bullseyes, which she was proud of, but there were a few throws that only missed the target by an inch.
Pretty good, she thought to herself, but you've done better.
"Thank you, Quinn Albright. You may go."
She exited the room.
District 7, Jorgen Hawke, 15
He studied the other tributes while he waited for the electronic voice to call his name.
They seemed either weary and tired or determined and strong. Either way, Jorgen was starting to get impatient.
"Jorgen Hawke, District 7. Enter."
He stalked into the room and glared at the Gamemakers before making his way over to the axe station. He knew full well that he was supposed to wait for approval, but he didn't care.
No one did.
They were sending kids to slaughter for entertainment. He wouldn't expect them to care.
Jorgen chose a large axe that looked more decorative than deadly, but he didn't mind. It was still an axe, either way. A weapon of death. Or a tool for the trees. It just depended what kind of a situation you were in.
He walked over to the dummies and began hacking into them, pouring all his anger, all his madness, into every action.
He kind of zoned out because, the next thing he knew, his breathing was coming out in fast, ragged breaths and his hair was at wild angles.
He looked down to see the dummies, but was greeted by only pieces of material that once made up his targets.
He stood up and walked over to the Gamemakers, his breathing had slowed down and he straightened himself.
"You can go now," one of them spoke.
Jorgen spat on the ground and made his way to the exit.
District 10, Uritia Rodaleen, 21
She put on a smile and bounded through the door.
As soon as the Gamemakers saw her, she did three backflips in a row as a substitute for walking.
Some of the Gamemakers clapped and Seneca grins, "Begin."
She beams, "Of course, Seneca."
Uritia set her course to the archery station, and decided to stretch a little first.
She picked the bow up in her hands and then gave a small shake of her head, almost in disapproval. She noticed some of the Gamemakers whisper at that, likely confused.
Just they wait, she thought before contorting herself in such a strange and unique way that all the Gamemakers stood up to better look at her.
She took the bow in her bare feet and steadied the arrow in it. Her body lay on the ground, while her legs and lower body were above her, as she pulled the arrow back and aimed carefully with her toes.
She released it and it sailed straight into the bullseye.
She stood up and shook herself out, "Apologies, everyone. I just needed to stretch the bow."
The Gamemakers grinned and laughed.
"No apologies needed. Please continue," Seneca said, seriously, but a smile crept onto his face.
She then quickly whipped around and fired 3 more arrows in one, swift movement. All dug into the necks of the dummy, a fatal wound. She then launched another 7 arrows into the heads of other dummies, easily.
Then, she had another thought.
"Hey Seneca," she said, smiling cheerily, "Do you think you could send some trainers out? With armor, of course."
"Of course," he said and two men strode out.
Uritia couldn't help but think that there should be some more female trainers, as she hadn't even seen one over the last couple of days. Except for Atala, who had began the first training session.
The two men began their charge and they came at her, quickly.
They were faster than what Uritia had originally anticipated, but she adjusted well, as she fired an arrow at the closest. It lodged itself into the armor surrounding his heart. He stopped running, as he would be dead if he were a tribute in the arena.
The other man drew nearer, though, during her momentary distraction.
Uritia ran closer, then did a backflip to the side. She landed neatly in the splits and her last arrow propelled towards the last man. It stuck in the back of his neck.
She stood up, pleased with her performance, and gave a deep bow to the Gamemakers. The two men returned to their places.
"You may go now, Uritia Rodaleen," Seneca said.
"Give me a good score, hey?" she said, smiling and waving, before walking out the door.
District 11, Jonah Oppulite, 20
Jonah was scared.
He didn't want to kill anyone. He didn't want to be killed. He didn't want to see death. He had already had as much as he wanted of it in his life.
Oh, Bailey, help me out here.
"Jonah Oppulite, District 11. Enter."
He obeyed and stepped through the doors. The Gamemakers seemed disinterested in him and didn't pay close attention. Except Seneca. He watched.
"Begin."
Jonah nodded and walked over to the trainer at the hand-to-hand combat.
He hesitantly tested out a soft punch on the trainer and the trainer scoffed. He lost any attention he had from the Gamemakers with that, except for Seneca again. He still watched.
It kind of bugged Jonah, because he didn't know why.
Maybe he thinks I murdered Lara, as well.
He shivered at the memory. Jonah knew he needed to do well in this for a good training score and to get some sponsors, but he couldn't bring it in himself to full on try and beat the trainer up.
"Don't hold back," Seneca's voice sounded and some of the other Gamemakers looked up again.
Jonah took a deep breath and, before he could make a move, the trainer lunged at him. Jonah deflected it and side-stepped, playing defensive instead of offensive. The trainer continued trying to force Jonah to attack him by making moves, but Jonah stuck to the defensive, still. The trainer never even managed to lay a hand on Jonah, though.
Then the trainer spoke under his breath, "I did a little research," he paused and swung another punch. Jonah blocked it again. "It seems like your sister didn't win the Games after all."
Jonah remembered back to that day when his usually soft personality went wild. He needed to do that here, he knew he did, and the trainer was trying to help him. But he couldn't find it in himself.
But the trainer was persistent.
"Well, she did. But you weren't strong enough to convince her to live."
Jonah's eyes widened.
"You heard me. You weren't there for her. You killed her."
His mind detached from his body.
He wasn't in control anymore.
He watched himself lay a punch to the trainer's gut and then added a vicious uppercut. He slammed the trainer against the wall and punched him across the face.
Jonah's mind was screaming at him to stop. To look at himself. He was hurting someone! But his body wouldn't listen.
Jonah started screaming, terrified of himself, as he kept on going with his fierce punches.
Then he wrapped his hands around the man's throat and held him in the air, effectively suffocating him.
His mind went crazy. His thoughts mixed together. His eyes swam with tears. Everything over-lapped. He couldn't make sense of anything. Then, one clear thought entered his head.
You're killing him.
Jonah gasped as he finally saw the man in his hands turning blue and dropped him to the ground. He took a step back and stared at his hands. They had splatters of blood on them and his mind flashed back to Lara and Bailey.
He collapsed in a fit of screams and horror. His head was in his hands and sobs racked his body.
A pair of guards had to escort him out of the room.
District 12, Rye Mellark, 21
Peeta knew his brother only wanted the best for him, but every muscle in his body ached.
His brother trained him during the night and told him to train more at the training days and pay extra close attention to every other tribute.
Katniss approved of the alliance him and Colette were in and he trusted her judgement.
Rye had trained constantly with knives at and after training and also gathered some useful information on hand-to-hand combat from Jonah.
He remembered all of this and his knowledge from past Games as he walked into the room, leaving Colette behind.
"Begin," Seneca nodded to him.
First, he went to the knives. He picked a light one up and threw it, quickly. His arms became a blur as he picked more knives up and threw them with increasing speed. He was a little sloppy at the end, but he was still pretty accurate.
Next, he decided to do some hand-to-hand combat.
The trainer stationed there looked out of place, terrified even, and Rye noticed some something smeared on the floor. It looked like someone had attempted to clean up blood.
He shivered, wondering which career had beat the trainer to a bloody pulp. Then he pushed the thought from his mind. He'd rather not know.
He fought equally with the trainer, overcoming him at point and doing well with it.
After that, he decided to show off the edible plants knowledge that Katniss had spent the night before the Reaping telling him about. He aced it.
Rye then decided to put his brother's camouflage lessons to the test and made his ankle look like it was just part of a bush. It wasn't as good as his brother's, but it was likely better than the other tributes.
He decided he was done and walked back over to the right spot, awaiting dismissal.
The Gamemakers looked disappointed as Seneca said, "You may leave now, Rye Mellark."
He nodded and left the room.
Okay, so I know this chapter is a lot shorter than the other trainings, but the Gamemaker sessions never go for very long, usually around 20 minutes. Anyway!
If you didn't read the top part, I will be presenting the scores in the next chapter, but I need ideas on who's pov to do it in! Again, it could be a sponsor, a mentor, Caesar Flickerman, Coriolanus Snow - it could be Seneca Crane deciding on the scores, too! It's all up to you guys :)
Have a good day/night everyone, I'll try and update as soon as I figure out the pov for next chapter!