Chapter 2: Train


There was no more time to be miserable over leaving her family behind. Riin focused on breathing, in through her nose, out through her mouth; all of her attention needed to be directed towards her upcoming fight for survival. That was the only thing that mattered.

The luxurious pressed-velvet walls of the train car didn't matter. The glittering chandeliers and porcelain vases overflowing with colorful flowers she didn't recognize didn't matter. The towering piles of cakes, steaming bowls of stew and snow-white pilafs of rice - okay those did matter. Riin was too small as it was; she could use some extra weight. The two Victors seated around the table mattered as well; in fact they were the most important feature of the room. Currently, they were engaged in chatter about the upcoming visit to the Capitol, though neither of them mentioned the Games.

Janus's dark gaze briefly met her eyes as she walked into the car hesitantly, sizing her up. She returned the favor.

Up close, it was easy to see him as the Victor of a killing pageant. He held himself with such a cold confidence that it was difficult to imagine him as anything else. His impeccably tailored violet suit contrasted well with his dark skin, and he steepled his fingers under his chin as he observed the incoming tributes. Barnabas, however, didn't pay either of them much attention. Shorter and stockier than his companion, his cheeks were already visibly ruddy as he downed what Riin doubted was his first glass of wine.

Behind her, Karl Taylor entered the main car, his eyes dancing around the room in wonder at the blatant display of wealth. "This is incredible," he breathed, appearing entranced by the decor, nosing around the finer pieces of fabrics and textures. Easily distracted by pretty things, Riin noted. To his credit, he looked like he'd been able to hold back the tears during his goodbyes.

"They want to impress us before they slaughter us," she said nonchalantly. The tribute's face fell instantly, reminded of the reality of his current predicament. Unnerving him boosted her confidence, if only by a small fraction. Her gaze flicked between Taylor and the Victors as she seated herself at the table across from the latter. She filled the plate in front of her with meats and bread as Scilla graced the dining car with her presence, a martini glass in hand. The escort took a seat on one of the plush couches, content to remain quiet; Riin ignored her.

Taylor, on the other hand, glanced at the metallic woman uneasily as he edged around the table and couches, moving towards the end of the car. "Right, where can I…"

Scilla waved a hand in Taylor's direction. "Your quarters are down the hall," she said brusquely.

The train began to move, though Riin barely felt its smooth motion. Riin followed Taylor's departure closely; the second he was out of earshot, she snapped her attention to the Victors. "Tell me how to win."

Janus's eyebrows raised in surprise, and a smile of incredulity twitched on Barnabas's thin lip. Riin glared at them; this was their job, and while they were pretty shit at bringing tributes back alive, both had somehow managed to do so for themselves. Janus inspected her from his seat, steepling his fingers again. "I like your...determination."

Barnabas scoffed. "You can't be serious, Janus. Look at her."

"You didn't answer my question." Riin directed her comment at Janus now.

Janus frowned at her. "Impatient, are we?"

"I'm running on borrowed time." Riin didn't even know what she needed to do, but she should've been doing it as soon as her name was pulled from the reaping bowl. Hell, maybe sooner. That was what Careers did, wasn't it?

"Fine, then." Janus turned to his companion. "I'll mentor this one and you get the boy." Barnabas grunted in assent.

"Taylor isn't here right now," Riin protested. She needed both of them.

Janus chuckled, a grin splitting his face. "That wouldn't be fair, now, would it?"

She scowled. "I don't care."

"You don't get to decide," Barnabas growled, and Riin glared at the heavyset man.

"Now, Barnabas," Janus chided. "You've got the right idea there." He pointed at Riin's full plate. "You'll need the extra pounds." Using her fork, she scooped a chunk of meat onto a slice of bread and dug into her meal in earnest. Janus used the opportunity to regal her with advice. "Your most important task when you're in the arena will be finding water. Everyone else will have to worry about that as well, so be wary of obvious sources of water, as they will attract other tributes."

"Not if they don't know to find water," she pointed out when her mouth wasn't full of food.

"Assume they will. Assume each tribute is a threat and act accordingly."

Riin paused her meal. "Should I not seek allies, then?" Non-Career allies tended to have a better chance of making it to the final eight, at least.

"That remains to be seen." Janus paused, glancing at Barnabas. "You'll want to make allies with the thought of killing them later on in mind."

She nodded; it was cold, but nothing less than what she expected. Allies were useful until they were competition. Speaking of, she didn't even know who her competition was yet. The other reaping ceremonies must have concluded by now, and should be available for her viewing soon. She tried not to let the flutter of fear in her stomach at the thought of her competitors overtake her mind.

Janus's advice also brought up the question that Riin had been wanting to avoid: would she be able to kill someone, given the chance? The idea gnawed at her; how bendable were her morals? What would it feel like, to take someone's life? She would find out soon enough. Though, the more she thought about it, the idea of killing someone scared her less than the possibility that she would be morally unable to do so.

And worse yet, the thought of dying at another tribute's hands… The temperature of the room seemed to drop a few degrees. Riin took a sip of water to clear her head.

Janus continued his lecture. "I want you to watch the other districts' reapings tonight and see who fits those criteria and who to avoid at all costs. It should go without saying to stay away from the Careers."

Riin scoffed. "Obviously." She finished her piece of bread and prepared herself another.

That narrowed down about a third of the tributes, all of whom would most likely still be alive after the initial Bloodbath. Eight tributes that would hopefully kill themselves before Riin had to worry about them.

Starting after the Second Rebellion, District Three had begun providing the annual Hunger Games with fully-trained Career tributes, usually more clever and quick-witted than those from One, Two, and Four. Supposedly, the agreement had come as a reward for District Three's loyalty to the Capitol during the rebellion, sustaining their forces with high-tech weapons that easily crushed the rebels. Rebels which had primarily originated within her own district, District Twelve, and the fully-revived District Thirteen. Their efforts had been for nothing; almost a hundred years later, the Hunger Games continued and Panem reigned stronger than ever.

"Tell me, Thariin," Janus said. "Do you have any particular talent with weapons of any sort?"

That, Riin thought, was one of the biggest things running against her. "Not yet," she admitted.

Janus hummed in disappointment. "A shame."

Riin wasn't going to be dismissed that easily. She doubted that either Janus or Barnabas had trained before their Games, and they still won. With a cloth napkin, Riin cleaned off the knife she had been using to cut her meat. "Teach me how to throw these."

Barnabas barked a laugh. "You've got training sessions for that, girl. You really think you can learn properly in a single night?"

"You really think I can learn properly in three days?" Riin shot back, rising from her seat.

Janus glanced at Barnabas in amusement. "She's got a point there." He picked up his own steak knife, drawing Scilla's attention to the proceedings.

"Don't hit the vases; they came out of my paycheck."

Janus saluted the metallic-skinned escort with the knife, turning to Riin. "Step over here, away from the table." She followed him to the row of couches across from Scilla, the plush furnishings standing between them and the wall. "No targets yet, focus on getting it to stick first." He showed her how to find the balance of the knife, then how to grip it properly. "There are many types of grips, but I find this to be the easiest. There, good. And throw it like this." He demonstrated with a flick of his wrist, sending the knife point-first into the soft, velvet wall.

That didn't look too difficult. Riin copied his movements; her knife spun towards the wall, hitting with the shaft first and recoiling backwards, skittering on the floor. She glared at it resentfully, and Scilla chuckled behind her.

"Don't worry, that was only your first try," Janus said reassuringly. "You released a bit too soon. Try again." He passed her another knife from the table and she gripped it how he had shown her before. Positioning herself, she squared her shoulders and threw the knife, waiting an extra half-heartbeat before releasing it. It stuck this time, though only about a foot from the ground. "Better. Again."

She grabbed the remaining two knives from the table, snatching one from Barnabas's hand and, ignoring his indignant grunt, wiped them clean. Following the same motions, she flung them both at the wall; the first landed closer to Janus's knife. The second blade clattered to the floor.

"Not bad. Go pick them up; I want to tell you something."

She did so obediently, plucking the three from the wall and gathering the two from the floor. She returned them to Janus, who held one up for her to see.

"They won't tell you this in training, so listen carefully." As if she hadn't been already. "If you manage to get your hands on a knife, don't forget to grab the sheath too. There are many ways to conceal a knife, but without the sheath, it will be more difficult to hide your weapons from enemies and allies if needed."

Riin untied the indigo sash from her dress. "Could this work if I don't?"

Janus held out his hand and she passed him the sash. He inspected it thoroughly, stretching it and testing its durability. "It's not ideal; the knife could cut right through it. But it's better than nothing." The fabric was almost wide enough to cover the length of the blade; Janus wrapped it twice around the knife and pulled back his sleeve, securing the sash and knife around his wrist with the handle pointing outwards. Replacing his sleeve, Janus moved his arm, rotating his wrist to test the mechanism's comfort. Satisfied, he grabbed the knife with lightning speed and flung it at the wall. "Not bad," he appraised, though with the removal of the knife, the makeshift sheath had come undone. Janus removed the sash from his wrist; thankfully, it was undamaged by the drawing of the blade. He handed it back to Riin, instructing her how to wrap the knife and tie the sheath to her own wrist.

"What if I can't get to a knife?" she asked. A very real possibility; Riin wasn't foolish enough to think she'd get the pick of the weapons at the Cornucopia.

"Keep practicing while we talk," Janus commanded. Riin threw another knife; it bounced uselessly off the wall. "Too soon. Your best hope would be to find a sharp rock or stick, or collect one from another tribute's corpse. Or you could strangle them with the sash."

Riin nodded, sending another blade spinning towards the wall. It stuck, as did the following one, though they were at least a foot and a half apart. "Will they let me bring it in?"

"Good, and I will have to convince them," Janus admitted. Riin hoped they would. She didn't have anything else from home.

"How much do you know about poisonous plants or insects? In the right hands, they can prove as deadly as any blade."

"Not much," Riin said, releasing her last knife. It stuck poorly, landing about an inch from the crease between the floor and the wall. "Not many plants in the city, and the only bug I worry about is the Widow." She picked her way around the couches toward the target wall, gathering the steak knives, taking her place next to Janus and facing the wall.

"Judging by the sash, you're quite good at worrying about Widows," he quipped. "I'd recommend learning about the others, if only so you don't accidentally make a meal of nightlock berries." She raised a skeptical eyebrow at Janus; every child in Panem knew about nightlock berries and the role they played in the Second Rebellion. The Capitol hadn't included them in any arena since. "Just testing you," Janus said, pleased that she had caught on.

Aiming for one of the rips in the wall from Janus's knives, Riin threw another. It landed closer than she expected, about six inches away. She allowed herself a pleased smile. "So knives and plants when I get to the training sessions," she stated.

"You'll want to focus on hand-to-hand as well, and close-in fighting with a knife," he said. "Concealing your skills only works when you have them. You need to learn, not show off."

Riin glowered at Janus, annoyed because he was right. Her previous lifestyle, while comfortable compared to many in her district and others, put her at a severe disadvantage. The bustling city streets and textile factories contributed nothing to the survival skills necessary in the arena. She'd never had to forage for food, or build her own shelter, or even start a fire with anything but matches. She was fortunate in never having to handle muggers or other miscreants in the darker parts of the city. Her mother had made sure she and Iden had taken self-defense classes, but that was years ago; whatever skill she'd possessed had no doubt waned from disuse. She was fast enough to earn herself a place on her school's track team and nimble enough to combat the Indigo Widows plaguing her family's apartment, but that was about it. "And survival skills?" she asked, ignoring Janus's jibe.

"Know them like the back of your hand," he affirmed. "Why have you stopped throwing knives? I thought you wanted to learn."

Riin brought her attention back to the four remaining knives in her hand. Concentrating on the one that was already in the wall, she threw them in quick succession. Only one stuck relatively close; a second landed a good couple feet away while the others ricocheted off the velvet.

Janus glided back to his seat next to Barnabas as Riin recovered the knives. "Keep practicing. I'll be having a drink with Barnabas." He was entitled to that, she supposed.

She threw the first knife decently; it landed close enough to the target she had been aiming for. Deciding to change things up a bit, Riin switched the next knife to her left hand, sending it at the wall with slightly less confidence. It stuck well enough, and Riin kept up the change, rotating out hands so she got practice with both. Four out of the five stuck this time, and she gathered the knives to set herself up again.

Five throws, then retrieve the knives, then throw again, and retrieve. Adjust grip so they stick more often, throw, retrieve. Switch hands, throw, switch again, retrieve. The pattern was easy to fall into; Riin's focus was concentrated only on the task, not the other tributes, or the Capitol, or even the Games themselves. She hardly noticed the Victors or Scilla moving about behind her, chatting or eating. She threw a knife, and it stuck. Changing targets, she threw another one; it stuck as well, though not exactly at the target. From watching past Hunger Games all her life, Riin had seen people throw knives before. There was a sort of cross-body motion she seemed to remember, and she tried that out, unsuccessfully at first, but she was determined. The knives stuck a few times, and Riin retrieved them and tried again, this time switching up the way she threw them. Throw and retrieve, throw and retrieve. This time, all the blades stuck, varying distances from her target. The next time, not so much. She picked them up again; the poor velvet wall was more tattered than her mother's old reaping dress.

The lighting in the train car changed to a more artificial glow, and Riin realized the sun must've set already. The sound of knives hitting the wall blended with the background conversation between Scilla and the Victors. She kept throwing, hoping to work on her accuracy this time around.

Riin continued changing between targets, throws, and hands, interspersed by retrieving the knives. She was so entranced by her task that she hardly noticed Janus calling for her attention.

"Thariin. Thariin, would you please join us for dinner? You've been hard at work; you can pause for a few minutes."

Riin had one more knife in her hands. "Of course," she said, pegging it at the wall. The blade joined its fellows sticking into the wall, and Riin yanked them out with satisfaction, depositing them at the table.

Her plate from before was gone, as were the platters of cakes and meats; they had been replaced with an even larger selection of delicacies, stews, and even an entire roasted duck. She cut herself a large chunk of the bird, spooning rice and vegetable stew onto her plate as well. A single bite of the decadent meal made her realize just how hungry she was. With as much dignity as she could manage, Riin shoveled the whole dish down her throat, reaching for seconds when she was finished. She didn't worry about stealing someone else's portion; there was more than enough for the whole train to take thirds.

"You've done quite well, Thariin," Janus commented. "It seems knife-throwing comes to you quite naturally."

Riin frowned, pausing between bites. "I missed more than half of them," she argued. "Not nearly good enough."

Janus waved a hand dismissively. "That's to be expected, you're just starting. There's plenty of time to practice during training."

"Don't lie to me to make me feel better."

"I have no need to lie to you, Thariin." Maybe his words were true, but underneath the false gentleness in his tone ran a current of steel, his eyes hard as flint, a reminder of who was more likely to be alive in the coming weeks. Janus lost nothing by ignoring her; he had no stake in her survival while she had everything to lose. She needed him on her side. It was best not to antagonize him.

Taylor chose the perfect moment to rejoin them for dinner; he entered the train car looking freshly showered and perked up at the sight of still-steaming platters. "Oh, wonderful," he said, pulling out a chair next to Riin and filling a plate with everything he could see. They ate in silence for the next few minutes, before Taylor noticed the shredded velvet wall on the far side of the car. "What happened there?" he asked, pointing at the destroyed lining with his fork.

Scilla and the Victors said nothing; it was up to Riin then. "How am I supposed to know," she snapped, and Taylor frowned. Neither Barnabas nor Janus revealed her, the latter catching her eye knowingly.

Scilla snickered and took a drink from her martini. "Ah, I love my job," she sighed.

"Did I miss something?" Taylor whispered aside to Riin. She shrugged innocently. She wasn't planning on telling him. "So," he said to the table. "How are we supposed to win this thing?"

"You're a little late to that one, kid," Barnabas said grumpily, jutting his chin at Riin.

"So you've questioned them already," Taylor acknowledged. He didn't seem offended; the opposite in fact. "You're pretty on top of things. Should we stick together, then?"

Riin's fork paused on its way to her mouth. So he wanted an alliance. Was this a good idea? She didn't know how easily she'd be able to kill him, maybe if she cut his throat while he was sleeping… Then again, it would be easier still to accept now and then desert him as soon as the starting gong went off. "That's fine by me," she said, meeting Janus's eyes again. His expression was unreadable; this decision was hers. "Have you seen the other reapings yet?" Taylor shook his head. "Can we put them on here?" The question was directed at the adults.

"Of course," Janus said evenly. "Scilla, if you would?"

The chrome-skinned woman produced a remote device from somewhere Riin couldn't see and hit a button; a projector on the far side of the wall lit up with the seal of Panem, the nation's anthem sounding within the train.

District One played first, unsurprisingly. Two volunteers, both built like bricks. Could easily snap Riin's neck with one hand. Careers, obviously. Wonderful. District Two was much of the same, no doubt dangerous, but unsurprising in their aggressive demeanor. Hopefully they would be predictable. Predictable people were easy to manipulate.

The volunteers from Three were more wiry, but looked just as vicious. They were likely to be the brains of the pack, and just as likely to turn on them first. Riin wondered if they could be convinced to do so sooner, eliminating either themselves or some of the other Careers. A thought to keep in mind.

District Four's Careers volunteered just as quickly, and Taylor let out a nervous breath. "There's so many of them." No one responded, watching silently as the tributes shook hands with confident grins on their faces.

The reaping ceremony of District Five was a much more miserable show, both tributes crying as they stood on stage, the weight of their imminent deaths threatening to crush them. District Six was much more interesting; the female tribute - a pale, bald girl of maybe fifteen or sixteen with dark tattoos covering her arms and skull - gazed out at the crowd with an angry sort of snarl. An ally, maybe? Or just another enemy… Either way, Riin knew she wouldn't go down without a brutal fight. Glancing at Janus, Riin saw him silently appraising the tribute; was he wondering the same thing she was? She made a note to ask him later.

District Seven's reaping was a sad affair; the Peacekeepers had to hold back a large family of small children from chasing after their brother. Then Riin was watching her own. Taylor was called first, and Riin noticed his tightened jaw as he sat next to her, staring at himself on the projector screen. Then Scilla called her own name, and Riin watched her slim form part the crowd and make her way to the stage. Her face was cold and unreadable. Riin was relieved; the other tributes no doubt watching the reaping recaps would see only the weakness in her frame. Hopefully that would be enough to make the stronger ones ignore her.

The ceremonies for Nine and Ten proceeded the same as they usually did, crying tributes, wailing parents, the whole nine yards. Riin wondered how she would fare in a fight against either of them, and then she wondered how that could be improved with a knife in hand.

District Eleven's male tribute looked about her size; small enough that Riin figured she could handle him up close. The girl, though, looked more determined, her chin held high as she glared at her escort and then the cameras. Riin would keep an eye on her.

The screen changed to District Twelve's reaping, and Riin wondered if she'd be able to find allies among these tributes. Twelve's secondary industry in medicine had begun after the Second Rebellion, and their tributes tended to reflect these skills, providing invaluable assets to any tribute, even the Career pack in some cases. Or they could be utterly useless, with none of the skills required to keep themselves alive, let alone anyone else. Riin couldn't tell just by looking at the two dark-haired kids on the stage; she would have to wait until she could interact with them to find out.

The last set of tributes from Thirteen were a rather odd bunch; they looked joined at the hip, despite the male tribute's confused expression. His name stood out like a sore thumb: Victor. The poor kid seemed like anything but. It was arrogant, really, the kind of name Riin might expect to see in District Two. Meanwhile, this kid - teenager, actually - looked as if he had gotten lost and somehow wandered up onto the reaping stage, and neither of the tributes protested at being led away by Peacekeepers. The seal of Panem replaced their screen as an upbeat rendition of the anthem played again, switching gears to a talk-show stream featuring the official Hunger Games announcer rattling on about how excited they were.

There was a pause before Janus requested that Scilla turn the screen off.

"I'm watching it," she snapped.

"Mute it and put on the damn subtitles," Barnabas grumbled. "I can't stand that announcer's voice."

Taylor turned to Riin. "What do you think?"

All of the tributes, with few exceptions, were larger than her and older. In fact, thanks to the Capitol's helpful sidebar stats on each tribute, Riin had noticed that she was the youngest one. The boy from Eleven was fifteen, small for his age, but he still had a whole year on her. She didn't know if Taylor had caught on to that, but she didn't point it out. Instead, she focused on the more obvious problem. "We need to figure out how to get rid of the Careers."

Taylor's face turned slightly green at the mention of them. "Is it too much to hope they'll just kill each other first?"

"One is easier to deal with than eight, but we'll still have to avoid them."

"And their hunting parties," Taylor added nervously. Riin wished he hid his apprehension better; it put a sinking feeling in her stomach. She picked at the grains of rice on her plate.

"Did you spot any potential allies?" Janus inquired.

Riin considered the ceremonies she had just seen before answering. "The pair from Twelve, if they have knowledge of healing," she said finally. "Possibly the girl from Six. She looks dangerous. And the girl from Eleven."

Taylor cocked his head. "What about Thirteen? They looked...interesting."

Riin sniffed a laugh. "Are you kidding? They're bound to be bad luck. Nothing good can come from a tribute named 'Victor.' They look like they'll wander straight into a Career's path anyways, and I won't be there when they do."

"They were quite a unique pair," Janus commented. "They could be hiding something, which you won't find out unless you speak with them."

Perhaps she'd judged them too harshly; then again, you could say that about every tribute. "Fair point," she conceded.

Janus stood from his seat. "Riin, if you'll come with me. You haven't seen your room yet."

Riin didn't care about her room, and she highly doubted that Janus did either. He wanted to tell her something privately.

She followed him obediently, ignoring Taylor's confused look. He led her out of the dining car and down the corridor, nothing she couldn't have found for herself. The door to her room slid open, and Janus stepped back, allowing her to enter first.

Riin had lived rather comfortably in District Eight, but she'd never seen anything like this. The entire room bled of luxury. There were more pillows on that bed than in her entire house. Even by normal standards, the space was large; it was hard to believe it all fit into a train. Two other doors decorated the walls, likely concealing a closet and bathroom. She began to move towards one, then stopped, remembering her company. Janus has brought her here to talk. The room wasn't important; his words, however, were.

"You'll want to consider choosing the weakest allies, like the boy from Eleven, or those from Nine, Ten, or Five," he said softly. Riin's look of confusion must've prompted further explanation. "Gain their trust, and foster a dependence on yourself. Seeking them out will give them hope. It will draw them to yourself, and they'll be that much easier to eliminate."

Riin wasn't sure if she could pull that off. It was complicated, but the more she thought about it, the more the idea made sense. Assuming they wouldn't all get killed in the initial Bloodbath. She nodded in agreement.

"Good. Now what do you plan on doing with your District partner?"

She was still wondering that herself. "I don't want him to see me as an enemy," she said. "I was going to play along until the Games started, and then get as far as I can from him."

Janus considered her plan thoughtfully. "You'll run into problems if he's still alive," he pointed out.

That was true enough. Riin thought for a minute. "If I can convince him to try and grab something from the Cornucopia, he'd probably get killed in the Bloodbath. And if not, now we'll have supplies."

"Very clever," Janus praised. "And your allies? They will think of Karl as an ally as well."

"Not necessarily a bad thing," Riin said, considering Taylor. "He's large and trusting. I can keep an eye on him and make sure he dies early."

She could tell that Janus wasn't exactly pleased with this plan, but he didn't argue. "We should discuss the image you want to portray," he said, changing the topic. "Unfortunately, this will be influenced by what your stylist has planned for the tribute parade, and I have no knowledge of their plans."

"I don't want to stand out too much," she said, apprehensive. District Eight's stylist tended to be a hit or miss.

"No, but you don't want the sponsors to forget about you. It's a delicate balance." He continued, "Somehow I doubt you can pull off the 'innocent little girl' angle."

"Why not?" Riin said, affronted.

Janus chuckled. "You're not nice. You already looked ready to kill poor Karl at the reaping ceremony."

She glared at him. "Fine." He wasn't exactly wrong.

"We can finish this conversation later," Janus said, dismissing himself. "I'll have an Avox send you some knives to practice." She nodded and he took his leave. Five minutes later a knock sounded on her door, and, as promised, a servant stood in the frame, holding a tray of five knives. Snatching up the blades, she thanked the servant and resolved to practice for the rest of the night.

Fiddling with the remote controls on the bedside table, she set the reaping ceremonies to project onto the wall for background noise, using the images of her fellow tributes as targets. She managed about two and a half rewatches through before she had to stop and crawl under the covers to sleep. At least she'd tired herself out enough not to dwell on the sense of impending dread.


Chapter song: Mirtazapine by IAMX


A/N: Meant to post this yesterday, but alas.. maybe I'll post ch 3 later today ! I'd love to know what you guys think of Riin and Janus so far, btw ! Any predictions about the reapings? :0