Okay, so my original plan was to do something like the last training chapter, and look at all the tributes but that felt a little rushed, and I barely focused on some people. So for the next two chapters, I'm going to split it up, so this chapter has a look at some of the alliance blocks, and the second chapter focuses on the rest of them, just so its a little more in depth and nicer.

Also I wanted to throw in a little bit of Capitol fun, because who doesn't love a Gamemakers sub-plot?

Training Day Two

Ezra turned the knife over and over again in his hand. He couldn't bring himself to throw it, even at a plastic dummy, let alone a real human as he would in the coming days. The more he thought about this year's games, the weirder the whole thing felt. With the exception of maybe Jordan, none of these tributes seemed the killing type, which in the long run would be beneficial to him, he just wondered how the Capitol would deal with having a Games without a bloodbath, or even without death. How long could they go without killing one another before the Capitol stepped in and forced them too? It was a weird concept, the games were renowned for the deaths that it created, imagine being part of the year that they just refused to pick up the weapons. Ezra knew that even if they did all refuse to kill it wouldn't end well for them, he had no doubt that the Capitol would not hesitate in culling them all, but it made a statement, a statement that declared that things didn't have to be the way they were.

He set the knife down. Someone had to start it, didn't they? Someone had to be the first one to throw down their weapon and refuse to pick it up again. There was no one better than Ezra, in this instant. He was well known in District Six, the medical training he had worked so hard on he had funneled into helping the average citizens, instead of the rich ones that the Capitol had proposed. He was trusted, and loved, and powerful. But he couldn't do this alone, he knew that deep down, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise, he needed people on his side, backing him. If he just set down his weapon, it would look like he was quitting, he would become a target, dead within an instant. Slowly he looked around the room, taking in the tributes, a majority of whom had already found their alliance.

The first person his eyes were drawn too was Ronin, perhaps the most gentle person he had ever met. He looked completely lost without the young girl Vivian by his side. Since returning from the private training the day prior, the toddler had taken a swift liking to Luster, and Ezra still wasn't particularly sure that was an entirely good thing.

"Ronin, hey!" Ezra called, signaling the boy over. For a second, Ronin looked confused. The boy was more of a lone ranger here, he rarely made an effort to talk to people and so they repaid him in the same way. There was no hostility, the way Ronin had cared for Vivian was a tribute to his kind nature, but everyone was slowly falling into their alliance, and both Ronin and Ezra were alone. Within moments though, Ronin was walking across the hall, approaching Ezra, with a spear in hand. Ezra froze, his eyes darting between the weapon and the, his heart beginning to pound.

Surely there were some rules against this… they couldn't have a game with only twenty-three tributes. Or could they? This year, Ezra wouldn't put anything past the Capitol.

Confusion coursed through Ronin. At first, Ezra had been the one to call him over, but now he was looking at the boy like he was some sort of murderer. Regardless, he continued walking forward, swearing that he could see drops of sweat etching their way down Ezra's face. He looked down at his hand, things suddenly becoming clearer. The spear. Right. Great. Brilliant. Perfect. The one chance he may have had at a solid ally, he had ruined, by approaching him with a spear, a spear with the sharp end pointing in Ezra's direction. Nice one, Ronin. He always knew there was a reason he stuck to himself. Or befriended young children that abandoned him for some creepy old guy who Ronin was sure had killed a whole bunch of people before. He was being unfair to Luster, he knew he was. The old man was harmless at the end of the day, and everyone knew it. The only reason Luster and Vivian had teamed up was for the sympathy vote. The youngest and oldest in the games coming together- there was no way the Capitol wouldn't fall in love with them.

It sucked for Ronin, though. His whole purpose in the games had been protecting Viv, he could justify killing someone if it meant she was saved, but to kill someone to save his own skin? Ronin wasn't sure he could do that.

The spear, right, the bloody spear. He was still holding it, now only a few metres from Ezra. Now his own sweat glands were jumping into motion, he didn't know why he was so nervous, all he had to do was drop the bloody thing. But Ronin knew that the second he let go, he was opening himself up to social interaction, something that rarely went well for him. Maybe he should just stab Ezra to avoid it. Or was that too far? Yeah, probably too far.

"I know what this looks like." Ronin spoke shakily, letting the spear drop to the floor. "But I really wasn't going to stab you, I promise. I've just got so used to holding one sort of weapon over the last few days, that it's become a habit. I don't know why I'm even practising though, it's not like I'll ever use it." He confessed, holding his hands up in surrender.

Okay, so perhaps this wasn't the start of an alliance Ezra had been expecting, but in some weird way, it felt promising. "Nice to meet you properly too." Ezra answered, placing his hand on a rather nervous Ronin's shoulder. "I'm going to cut straight to it." He clapped his hands together, his blunt nature coming through. "We can help each other. Until you came at me with a spear, I thought you weren't the type of guy to use weapons."

"I'm not," Ronin cut in, speaking louder than he had expected. "I was only training to help Vivian."

"Okay." He nodded, smiling. "There's no way we'll survive in there alone. So why don't we do this together? If anything, even just to be there for one another, you know, make sure that we're not going into this without any sort of plan?"

Someone wanted Ronin. And despite knowing it was probably because he was just about the only person here without an alliance, it felt good to know that someone wanted him on their side. Ezra seemed like a good guy, he was a doctor after all, weren't the good guys in those TV shows always a doctor? That was a good enough reason for Ronin to trust Ezra. Besides, he had literally nothing to lose. Well, apart from his life, but that's besides the point.

"Okay." He nodded, hesitantly, but knowing he was making the right decision. "But on one condition? We kill no one. We wait it out, we hide, we don't get involved."

"Ronin. I may have just fallen in love with you."

Hypatia had been listening to the boy's love fest. It made her feel sick, how easy people in this place trusted one another. For her, however that was a benefit. Everyone liked Ezra, and Ronin was the guy that protected a five year old, no one could deny that he wasn't a good guy. So Hypatia assumed that the pair would have a relatively easy ride in the games. She could go far getting on their team.

"Room for a little one?" Hypatia walked over to Ezra and Ronin, remembering to set her weapon down before she approached, she had seen how well that had gone down earlier. She noticed the way the pair looked at one another, as if it was some life long friendship she was threatening to break up. It had been literally thirty seconds. This was ridiculous. For a second, she considered just walking away, straight up asking for an alliance was so beneath her. But, desperate times and all that.

Ezra was the first to nod his head, Ronin following shortly after. "I suppose we could use someone with little more…"

"Aggression?" Hypatia filled in the blank, picking up the spear Ronin had set down earlier and swinging it around in the air. Instinctively, the two males stepped backwards, completely ruining the fun she had been having. "Passion? Will to fight? Drive?"

"Something like that…" Ronin and Ezra answered in union, considering what exactly they had just signed themselves up for.

"I like you." Jordan walked up to Salome, who stood alone, painting leaves against her pale skin. "I don't know why but I like you."

"It's the eyes. I have trustworthy eyes, or that's what my mother always told me, at least." Salome replied. She didn't trust this man at all. He was sly and dangerous and unpredictable, but wasn't that something Salome had always longed for in life?

"Kid, trust doesn't mean anything here anymore. I don't trust a single person in this room, and I never will. That's how you die, you trust people. I thought that would be the first thing they taught you." Jordan took a thin paint brush from the table, painting a shaky green splodge on his arm. He held it up to Salome, who tilted her head in confusion. "It's my favourite leaf." Jordan smiled, and Salome found herself grinning back.

"What do you mean taught me? How do you know I've been trained for this?" She glanced down at the pattern covering her own arm. It wasn't perfect, and Salome knew in the games it wouldn't fool anyone, but it was a darn sight better than the mess on Jordan's arm. It was almost like everyone here worshiped him and aside from the few that were willing to stand up to him, most agreed with what he said. Jordan had some sort of granted authority, that none of them dared challenge. To Salome, being better than him at something boosted her confidence greatly, even if it was at something as impractical as painting. Jordan was quickly becoming the one to beat, and at this round, Salome had won.

"Don't think I don't know who your daddy is." Jordan hissed in a tone that sent shivers down Salome's spine. "But don't worry kid, your secret's safe with me." He slapped his palm against her back, wiping off the mess on his arm and walking off towards the climbing wall. Just as Salome let herself relax, he turned round once more. "As I said, I like you, Salome." He repeated once more, the whole conversation only serving to make Salome more wary of the boy than she had been before.

She glanced around the centre, looking at the way Jordan seemed to own the place. People avoided him, and she didn't blame them, but Salome knew that the minute he called on them, they would all be by his side. She wondered what it would be like to have power like that. Her mother had the same effect on people. Celeste could walk into a room and command it, without even saying a word. Salome hated that her mother had exactly the same power over here. No matter how much Salome protested her mother's control over her in her own mind, the second the woman walked in, all thoughts of this were forgotten. As much as Salome knew the pure manipulation that this took, she couldn't deny the way she, in part, admired her mother.

Jordan allowed himself to look back one last time, onticing the way Salome's gaze was still on him. It might be nice to have someone like her on his side, someone who was clearly trained, but who didn't seem to be afraid of betraying allies. That would be exciting, wouldn't it? Living in fear that you could be stabbed in the night by the only person you were supposed to be getting along with. That was the kind of fun Jordan was looking for in these games. Whether or not he was cruel enough to put a young girl through the same, was a different question.

"So, when did you find out Santa wasn't real?" Lana walked through the compound with Aila close by her side. It had only been a day but the pair had become inseparable. Lana hadn't expected to walk into this place and find someone she got along with, let alone someone she was beginning to consider a friend. It hurt her heart to think about the fact that only one of them could make it out alive. Lana had had her heart set on winning the games, doing everything she could to get the money she needed to save her brother's life. He hadn't considered that the one thing that stood in her way was the fact that she actually liked the people that she met here. D'ante and Nautilus represented everything that was good about the Districts, the very best of life was inside of them, and Lana just wished she would grow into 1% of the people they were. Nothing would make her happier. And Aila, where did she start with that girl? She was gentle and kind and special and Lana knew that in the real world, she could easily fall for her. Not in here though, here it was strictly business. They were friends solely because it helped both of their chances of getting home, nothing more. Or, that's what Lana told herself at least.

"Wait?" Aila stopped dead in her tracks, placing her hand onto Lana's upper arm. "Santa's not real? What's the bloody point in it all them, I might as well just lay down here and let you stab me." Without warning, Aila did just that. She lay straight down in the middle of the training centre, receiving a collection of strange looks from her fellow tributes. It was cool on the ground, and it reminded Aila of home, of the hours and hours she spent on the floor, caring for the children. She missed it, more than she could ever explain. She missed having people that relied on her, a duty and a purpose. But a very small part of the girl felt happy to be free from all the responsibilities, to be able to just live everyday, without worrying who it would affect. She liked being able to lie down on the floor of a random room and be herself without worrying she was letting someone down in the process.

At first, Lana was embarrassed. Everyone was staring at her weird allie, she was becoming the centre of attention, making her uncomfortable. Then it hit her. How many more times like this would she get? To just be an idiot and mess around with the closest thing she would get to a friend. Moments like this in her life were few and far between, and Lana had always vowed to savour them everytime they appeared.
And so she followed Aila's lead, she sat down on the ground, resting the girls head into her lap, and stroking her hair gently. "Oh Aila, I'm so sorry." Lana played along with the charade, noticing Nautilus and D'ante making their way over from the other side of the room. They lowered themselves to the floor, the group forming a circle around Aila.

"What the hell did you do to her?" Dory approached the weird quartet, taking a seat next to Nautilus, and resting her head against his shoulder.

"She just found out Santa wasn't real, she's having a hard time dealing with it." Lana joked, receiving a playful slap on the arm from Aila, who was slowly beginning to sit up.

"Santa's not real?" Dory wailed, for real this time, and Nautilus stretched out his arm, pulling her into his lap. The girl was bloody thirteen, the group had just assumed she had known. To Dory, however, this was life shattering news. She had grown up loving stories. Her parents had told her about mermaids and sirens and sea monsters and she had believed every inch of them. The girl longed to live in a world that was more than just this. A world where there was magic and adventure and purpose. She had never been given any reason not to believe in Santa, and so she had never stopped.

"It's okay, Dory." Nautilus calmed the girl, slapping D'ante on the arm as he began to laugh. This wasn't exactly the training they had been expecting, but it was a bloody great bonding exercise. Nautilus was so thankful that Dory had chosen to stick with him, for his own sanity, mostly. The older man wasn't sure how he would cope in the games, knowing that she was out there and not being able to protect her. At least here, they were all together, and they had Aila and Lana. He owed his life to the girls, not literally, but he was sure that that would come soon. They had had every opportunity to abandon D'ante and Nautilus but here they were, a fact he knew he would never get over.

Anyone on the outside would never have put this group together. D'ante himself wasn't even quite sure why they worked so well. But some part of him deep down knew that whatever happened in the games, they would have each other's backs. No matter how much Lana tried to convince herself that she was in this alone, or no matter how much Nautilus had believed that these people would kill him the minute he got into the games, or how much D'ante had tried to tell the girls to leave him, they were a group. Whatever was thrown at them, they would overcome together.

"Okay." Locke had shut himself in the throwing chamber with Doug. Almost a hundred knives lay on the floor, every single one missing the target. It had taken a lot of convincing, but Salome had finally beaten him down, and Locke had decided to train Doug for a few hours, a task that was seeming more impossible by the second. It wasn't like Locke hadn't dealt with hopeless cases before. He had met kids that took years of training to even be able shoot a bow and arrow in vaguely the right direction, kids like Doug. But they didn't have years now, they had a matter of minutes, especially now that Locke was close to losing his temper. "Just focus more, Doug. Picture the knife hitting the target and sinking in. If you can imagine it, you can do it." Locke massaged the bridge of his nose with his index fingers, cursing himself for giving in to the demands of his daughter. He didn't have time for this, to be sneaking around and training kids. He needed to be with his daughter, discussing plans and figuring out just how they were going to do this thing.
Locke knew that he was going to sacrifice himself. He would get them down to the last two, then he would swallow a poisonous berry. The plan was pretty faultless, between the two of them there was no doubt that they would go far, and if most of the other tributes were like Doug, as he assumed they were, this thing would be a breeze. The only problem was Salome. His daughter was principled, she had clear morals, something he blamed her mother for. Before the Leveau's had divorced, his wife Celeste had always lectured Locke on his rather callous nature. He always swore that should he ever be in the games he would kill, he knew he was more than capable of that, a trait that he would have hoped he passed onto Salome. Such a thing had not happened, and throughout all the years of his daughter's training, she had vowed never to use her skills, that killing someone was just too far. He loved how passionate she was about it, a quality she had gained from him, but he just wished that now of all times she understood that going against her morals was for the best.

"I'm imagining it. I can see it." Doug repeated over and over again, interrupting the plans spinning in Locke's minds. "I can see it." He screamed, hurling the knife through the air. It made contact, with the centre of the dummy before bouncing off and falling to the ground. Doug was thankful for Salome, but when he gave her the speech about making him an unforgettable tribute, this wasn't exactly what he had been expecting. He was expecting some sort of character assasination, of breaking down and telling him everything he was doing wrong, not standing in a sealed chamber with her father, hidden from everyone else. He wasn't going to give it up, though. When Salome had revealed that Locke was in fact one of the most qualified people for the games in all of Panem, he knew it was an opportunity he couldn't refuse.

"Better." Locke nodded, collecting the fallen knives, holding seven in his hand. "You just need to put some more power behind it." He threw the knives, just as Doug had been doing, but unlike the boy, they all embedded themselves in the dummy, less than an inch from one another. "Like that." He let out a long breath, taking in the shock on Doug's face. This was exactly the type of attention Locke was trying to avoid, he had instructed Salome to fly under the radar until they got into the games, and here he was, showing off his talents to a boy he barely knew, all because his daughter had asked him to. It wasn't so much of a big deal, are least, that's what Locke told himself. Doug was completely harmless, as demonstrated by his lack of talent, but that didn't mean there wasn't some secret alliance that he was feeding information too. This was far from Locke's original ambition, he had wanted to form a group, a careers pack of sorts, all the best tributes to go far in the games. Then, of course, he would kill them all and them himself. That wasn't the way things had worked out though, there were very few people here that Locke considered skilled enough to be in such an alliance. The ones that were, Jordan and Hypatia, he didn't trust for a second.

"You're a strong boy, Doug." Locke walked round the boy, taking in the way his skin was stretched across his broad shoulders, the way his arm muscles bulged against the cloth of his T-Shirt. "Put some of that into the throwing."

He had it this time. He had to. There was only a few minutes left before the end of today's session, and Doug had promised himself that he would land at least one throw. He may have been strong, but that all came from manual labour, from working for his father. Never had he had to use it for something as physical yet precise as this. From the outside, anyone would think that Doug would be a clear contender for winner, but when it came down to it, he was probably just as useless as Vivian. He had no skills, unless there happened to be a tractor in the arena that needed rewiring, and he had no will to develop these skills.
Doug grasped the knife that Locke held out to him, his last shot of the day. He could do it. He thought about his uncle, and the way he had hugged him and told him to win, he thought about his aunt and how she had cursed the very existence of the Capitol. But mostly, he thought about Poppy, his cousin, his best friends, the person that had convinced him that life was worth it, who was there for him in his lowest moments, and built him up in his highest. A person who he would never see again unless he learnt to land this shot.
Doug closed his eyes. And then opened them again, he couldn't hit the target with his eyes open, there was no way he could do it with them closed. He gripped the handle of the knife tighter, until his knuckles turned white. Then he launched it. For the few milliseconds that it flew through the air, Doug was sure he missed the dummy by a mile. But, much to Doug, and more Locke's surprise, it hit. Not the dummy, but the handle of the knife that Locke had thrown mere moments before. It stuck there, embedded in the wooden grip, once again penetrating the heart of the dummy.

"Holy shit." Locke stammered, walking towards their victim, and attempting to retrieve Doug's knife. He pulled at it, with all his strength but it refused to budge. "Holy shit." He repeated again, louder, as he circled back round to Doug offering his hand to the male. "Well, I'm bloody glad Salome picked you to be on our team."

Gamemakers

"I have an idea for the arena." Mox drummed her fingers against Clem's bare chest, his arm fastened lightly around her shoulders. They lay in bed, a real life bed, in a real life house, a luxury for the pair, who usually spent their time running round the office, catching each other whenever they could, taking power naps between meetings. This was almost the closest they got to going on a real date.

"Wow. Way to ruin the mood." Clem replied, forcing himself to sit up, knowing that in a few moments both of them would be whisked back to the world of work. He had wanted to savour those last few moments of bliss, but he knew that was too good to be true. He knew Mox never stopped thinking about work and the Hunger Games, it was her one true love, he could never compete. "And besides, the arena's already set, we can't change it now."

"For God's sake, Clem. You're the bloody Head Gamemaker, you can do whatever you want." Mox shot up, grabbing her blouse from where it lay a few meters away. Well, the romance was certainly over now. "And to be honest, you haven't exactly put much thought into making it special. A field, some woods, a desert and a mountain range, very impressive, that's never been done before." Mox yawned and Clem couldn't tell if it was some sort of dig at him or the fact they hadn't exactly got much sleep the night before…

"I'm combining the arena's from previous Quells. It's genius." Clem shook his head, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and pulling on his trousers. The house didn't feel like his. He spent so little time here he had barely recognised his own front door the night before when the car had pulled up outside it. Clem knew that Gamemakers were supposed to continue for years, but he couldn't wait to give it all up. He had reached his glory, his peak, the position he had always aimed for, and it was nothing like he had been anticipating. And so he was done, when these games were over, Clem would quit it all, he had decided over the last few days, leave and become a farmer or something. That seemed like a lot less effort. Hell, he would fake his own death if it came down to it, run off into the sunset with Mox and start a family. Mox. She was the problem, she would never leave all this behind, she loved it too much and Clem wasn't sure she would survive without playing a role in the games. "Don't you ever wish this wasn't our lives? Don't you wish we were just some normal family, with a dog and a garden, and a hot pot of coffee on the table every morning?" Clem took his chances, the worst she could say was no.

"You chose this life, we both did. You could have had the dog and the garden and the coffee, but you decided on this. Most people never even get to see the walls of the Capitol, you should be thankful for what you have." Mox lent across the bed, planting a kiss on Clem's cheek. "If you had that life, you never would have met me. Anyway," She swiftly changed the subject. "This idea, what if the only water source is next to the Cornucopia? It forces the tributes to come together and kill each other, even if they don't want to."

"Yeah, that's a great idea." Clem smiled, with no happiness behind it, broken that Mox had waved his question away. "Draft up a proposal, and I'll sign it, and we'll get it in motion."

It was a good idea, and something he knew the audience would love. If Clem was merely watching it, he would be so excited to see it. But he wasn't, he knew these tributes, and he knew that now, protecting them would be just that little be harder.

Ahhhh we are getting closer to the start of the Games! I'm so excited. So I've been thinking more and more about what I can do to show my support to the people who regularly review Atonement, and because I'm not setting up a sponsor scheme thing, I've decided on something else. For the private sessions, I was planning on writing it all from the Gamemakers point of view, a summary of sorts and not discuss much about what the tributes actually did, just scores and stuff, and whilst something like that will still happen, I've decided to write the individual sessions for the people that submitted tributes have reviewed Atonement!

So, the tributes getting a private session full writing are

-Salome and Locke (Andii99)

-Jordan and Lana (SerKayofArda)

-Alfred (petrificustotaloos)

-Flynt and Lilac (anonymouse)

-Florence and Ezra (vandenburgs)

-Doug, Lya and Nautilus (SchroedingersKneazle)

-Ronin (Revenant12)

And, to thebartonsrule, as you have no tribute in the games, but still continue to leave beautiful reviews that always make me smile, you can chose which of the tributes not mentioned above that you would like to see a private sessions of!

I hope this demonstrates to you just a little bit of my appreciation of you all. This story is the only thing keeping me sane and busy during this time, and to know that there are people that enjoy it makes me so happy.

To recap, then, the current alliances at the end of Day Two are:

1. Salome and Locke (and Doug, and Jordan being a weirdo.)

2. Ezra, Ronin an Hypatia

3. Luster and Vivian

4. Dina, Newton, Alfred and Diva

5. Nautilus, Dory, Aila, Lana and D'ante

6. Florence, Lya, Flynt and Lilac

7. Cassia and Arbor

In this chapter, we looked at alliance blocks 1, 2 and 5 so during day three, we'll look at the remaining groups

As always, stay safe and well!

Until next time,

Alice xxx