So, the formatting for this next section of the story will go as follows: six sections, eight POVs per chapter, two POVs per tribute before the Games. Essentially you will read the Train Rides, Chariots, Training days 1-3, and the interviews from the tributes POV. Honestly, I think I screwed up the canon schedule of events. Oh well.
Anyway, even if your tribute dies in the bloodbath, you will get to see a couple of POVs from them.
Here's where things get fun. Train Rides!
Santana Perez District 1: 18M
Monday Night 8:00PM
Time Until Bloodbath: 6 Days 12hrs
Improvisation, that's what he had to do now. Luckily, Santana was a great improviser. Good musicians and comics knew exactly when the right time was to stray off the beaten path. That time was now for Santana.
He had never been much of a planner. Santana was more of a spur of the moment kind of guy. However, in the leadup to the Hunger Games, he decided to give planning a shot. It could only help him, considering that he could, and probably would, abandon the plan whenever he felt like it.
Now though, his little corner of the world was thrown upside down. Kennedy was supposed to be joining him in the arena, someone he could count on and would count on him. They had an understanding that few district pairs did according to the words of the teachers at the academy.
Instead, he had that bitch Tabitha fucking Gold.
Santana didn't know anyone who was more hated than that girl. She was uptight, entitled, and beyond narrow minded. Santana was perfectly aware of his own vanity, but Tabby was more than vain, she was narcissistic. She considered herself the world's greatest gift.
When they sat at the dinner table, Santana attempted to keep himself composed. He was an excellent liar after all.
He was joined by four others, their two mentors, the escort, and Tabby. The mentors were both approaching middle age, both having more than twice Santana's years.
Tolkien Kirsch, the male mentor, was quite interesting. He was on the smaller side and wore a pair of plastic framed glasses. Apparently, he fancied himself a writer, but Santana had never read any of his work. Santana didn't read much unless he was required to. All in all, Tolkien was far from Santana's type.
The female was rather pretty though. She definitely had a sexy teacher vibe to her. Virtue Lexic was only slightly younger than Tolkien, but she appeared vastly so. Dark hair cascaded down her shoulders like a wonderful waterfall.
"I assume you two want to be mentored together?" Tolkien questioned. "It would only make sense, considering that you will be allies."
Santana hummed thoughtfully to himself. He chewed on an exquisite bite of pork chop and stared at the V in the neck of Virtue's shirt. What bra size did she wear?
"That," Io Venus spoke up. "Would be for the best in all likelihood. Considering that tributes coming from career districts rarely elect to withdraw from the career alliance."
"Sounds good to me," Tabby said. "What do you think Santana?"
Santana continued staring brazenly at Virtue's breasts. He frankly didn't care if his mentor caught him looking. If she castigated him for his actions, it might actually be kind of hot.
"I think you volunteered when you shouldn't have," Santana replied as if he was barely paying attention to the conversation. "Kennedy should be sitting in that seat, not you."
"Come on," Tabby complained. "You know Kennedy was a bitch. I'll be better for sponsors. Besides, I'm the superior combatant anyway."
Santana laughed. It was a hearty genuine laugh, yet full of malice. That was the most outrageous thing he'd heard in years, and it was so damn funny he couldn't help it.
Everyone at the table stared at him. They looked at him like one would look at a little green man from Mars.
Santana pounded the table twice and wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes. Wow, what a thing to say. Maybe Tabby would be more fun than he had first anticipated, especially if she said things like that regularly.
Finally, Santana regained control of himself, taking in and expelling deep breaths.
"I think I'd prefer to be mentored alone," Santana chuckled to himself.
"Alone?" Io questioned.
"Indeed sir," Santana responded, mimicking Io's manner of speaking. "Alone, meaning to be by oneself, detached, isolated."
"No," Tabby shot back. "I won't let you. We're a team representing District 1. We can't show a divided front."
"Please," Santana scoffed. "They won't even know how we're being mentored."
"They'll be able to tell that we aren't working as a unit," Tabby insisted.
"Who cares?"
"You should," Tabby said. "Everything you do reflects back on your district. We have to show them that District 1 is serious about winning this year."
Santana snorted. Tabby just got funnier and funnier.
"A district doesn't win you moron," Santana replied. "A person does, and I don't give two shits what people think about District 1."
"You represent the district," Tabby said. "You are one of the chosen tributes."
"And you're not," Santana answered. "Also, I only represent myself. Fuck District 1."
A more cautious man might have tempered his words around a representative from the Capitol, but Santana didn't really care what Io, or anyone else for that matter, thought of him.
"You ought to show more respect to the place where you were raised," Tabby admonished.
"In case you haven't noticed already, I'm not exactly big on the whole respect thing."
"Fine," Tabby threw up her hands. "Separate it is."
Tolkien stared awkwardly back and forth between Tabby and Santana, seemingly unsure of what to say. He looked just like a confused dog. Huh, are you going to give me something to eat? What an idiot. Santana had no idea how he'd won the Hunger Games.
"Well, I guess that means I'll have Santana, and you'll have Tabby, Tolkien." Virtue spoke for the first time. Her voice was soft and sultry, like lying back against a cloud.
Tolkien nodded slowly, still reeling from the back and forth from earlier. It hadn't even been that intense.
"I'm looking forward to spending some time with you Ms. Lexic," Santana spoke suggestively. "I'd really appreciate your instruction."
Santana picked a grape and popped it into his mouth. He raised his eyebrows, smiling at Virtue flirtatiously.
He was going to have a great time with his mentor.
Scott Winston District 8: 16M
Monday Night 9:15PM
Time Until Bloodbath: 6 Days 10hrs 45mins
Scott almost laughed watching Lollipop eating her dinner. The escort with the giant head daintily pushed her fork into a green bean. It was like she was afraid she was going to hurt her food or break her fork.
He had devoured four plates of dinner so far. Feeling full, Scott elected to sit back in his chair and watch everyone else. He had to decide on nicknames for his new companions for the next week, mainly for the two mentors.
Scott recognized the female mentor as Anaiah Logan, a fairly recent winner of the Games if he remembered correctly. She also had a reputation as a junkie. Anaiah always looked exhausted, too much time spent strung out on drugs. Apparently, she was too weak-minded to get over the pain she'd experienced in the past.
The nickname for her was obvious: Needle.
The other mentor, he didn't actually recognize. He was an old man with a drooping face and a halo of hair surrounding his bald scalp. He looked angry, almost perpetually. His face was scrunched up from far too much time spent glaring at people.
Scott called him Fossil.
To his left, Corpse, the little girl who was reaped alongside him, looked shockingly calm. There was an almost dead look in her eyes, like she really didn't care what happened to her at all. That was mildly disconcerting.
Scott didn't exactly know what to expect to come out of all this. He wasn't stupid enough to think that it was likely he would win. His odds were probably fairly low, though they were higher than Corpse's. Maybe there was something he could do to boost his chances?
Ah, whatever. Scott tossed that thought aside. If he was going to make it, then he probably didn't need to think about boosting his odds anyway. He preferred to let things come to him. It was a much easier way to live.
"I think I'm heading off to bed," Corpse interrupted Scott's musing.
Needle smiled sympathetically while Fossil maintained a straight face.
"Today has been quite the whirlwind for you I'm sure," Lollipop replied. "Do sleep well."
"Thank you," Corpse said, sounding as though her mind was a million miles away from the train.
The young girl turned from the group and quietly shut the door to her own room. Scott imagined she'd be crying her eyes out in just a few minutes. That look on her face didn't exactly say, 'look how badass I am'.
"I think I'm going to indulge in a bit more wine," Lollipop said with a wide smile on her face. "Can I get anyone anything?"
"Whiskey," Needle answered nearly instantly. Her voice sounded hoarse and rough.
Lollipop nodded and walked off to fetch the drinks.
"I guess that's the closest you can get to hard drugs until you get back home," Scott sneered.
He wasn't sure why he said that. He just did. It was who he was. Scott had to say those sorts of things. Without the jokes, he wouldn't know who he was anymore.
In the past people had told him the jokes were cruel, malicious, but Scott ignored those people. They were just weak, incapable of laughing at themselves.
"Yep," Needle responded, barely acknowledging the harmful intention of Scott's comment. "But I've got a supplier in the Capitol. I won't be lacking for drugs for too long."
"Anaiah, you really need to kick that habit," Fossil said. "It's dangerous."
"I've survived worse," Needle said.
Scott certainly hadn't expected that response from Needle. It was like she didn't even care what he said. He wasn't sure whether to admire her for that or hate her for it.
"When you were in the Games you mean?" Scott asked, trying to get any sort of reaction out of Needle.
She hummed affirmingly, but there seemed to be a slight hint of rage lurking beneath the surface.
"Scott," Fossil said sounding vaguely threatening. "Perhaps it would be best if you gave Anaiah some space."
"What do you mean?" Scott asked, feigning ignorance. "I did something wrong?"
"Don't play coy with me boy."
"I'm not," Scott said, putting on his most innocent voice.
"It's fine Nico," Needle interrupted. "He can say whatever he wants. I don't care."
"You sound like you do," Scott prodded again.
Needle just rolled her eyes and stood, snatching the whiskey bottle from Lollipop's hand. She stalked off to her own room tipping her head back, drinking from the bottle. The door slammed with considerable force.
"That was cruel Scott," Fossil admonished. "Anaiah doesn't deserve that. She's been through a lot."
"Well I don't deserve to be here either do I?" Scott questioned aggressively.
"I'll have you know being a tribute in the Hunger Games is quite an honor," Lollipop interjected.
"Whatever Lollipop."
"W-What did you call me?"
"Lollipop," Scott answered. "Because your head looks like a damn lollipop. It's about three sizes too big."
Lollipop gasped, placed her wine glass on the table, and raised a hand to her head reflexively.
"Scott, antagonizing the people meant to help you won't do any good," Fossil said.
"How would you know Fossil?"
He sighed and shook his head, appearing almost sad.
"Don't expect me to help you then," Fossil continued. "If you don't want my help, I'm perfectly happy to ignore you. But, if Anaiah makes you her responsibility, then you have no right to treat her that way. If I hear you doing such things again, then we'll have a serious problem."
"What are you going to do?" Scott provoked. "You can't hurt me. I'm under the protection of the Capitol."
"There are plenty of nonphysical ways to hurt you. Now, if you'd both excuse me. I'm going to retire as well. I can't deal with this shit anymore."
As the old man turned his back and disappeared Scott called cheerily after him.
"See you Fossil!"
Matt Scotch District 11: 18M
Monday Night 9:30PM
Time Until Bloodbath: 6 Days 10hrs 30mins
Tessa's heavy sigh filtered right into his own skin. His arms wrapped around his wife tighter, pulling her close. The more he considered their circumstances, the more he grew increasingly nervous. Matt would not see his wife die, could not see his wife die.
His world would be destroyed completely. There would be practically nothing for him to live for. Jonas would be the only thing tying him to the world any longer.
"Are you okay?" Tessa whispered softly.
She took his hand in hers and rubbed her thumb gently up and down his knuckle.
"I'm fine," Matt lied, kissing her shoulder.
"No you're not," Tessa turned back towards him, repositioning herself so she could better look him in the face. "I can tell. You're way too quiet."
"I am?" Matt asked with a smirk on his face.
"You're pretty talkative you know," Tessa replied. "And you were barely breathing."
Matt said nothing, only considering his next statement. He needed to phrase his doubts and concerns in a manner that made sense. He knew that this situation was partially his fault. Sure, Tessa's reaping wasn't his fault, but Matt had definitely exacerbated the problem by volunteering.
"I guess I finally realized the gravity of the situation," Matt said. "I really could die. Jonas would be left alone without us there for him. I volunteered because I wanted you to make it back, but I think it's finally hitting me that it won't be so simple as trading my life for yours. It's trading my life and twenty-two other lives for yours."
"Hey, it'll be okay Matt. You did what you thought was right. You can't expect yourself to go through every single possibility in just the few seconds between the time that I was reaped and you volunteered. What you did Matt, it really was heroic. I think the fact that you're willing to risk everything just so I don't go in alone is really beautiful."
"So, you're not mad that I left Jonas?"
"I'm still pissed," Tessa answered bluntly. "But it's not like there's anything we can do about it now, and being angry only makes things worse. We need to work together for at least one of us to make it back."
Matt thanked whatever gods were out there that his wife had a good sense of her priorities. A lesser person might have been caught up in petty personal vendettas, but not Tessa. She was too smart and too wise to let such ridiculous concerns affect her judgment.
There certainly was a time for personal judgments, but that time was not now. They had to set aside their feelings for the moment to act as a perfectly cohesive unit. Thankfully though, Matt doubted they would have much trouble with that. After two years of settling marital disputes and raising a baby, Matt and Tessa had both learned the importance of setting priorities.
It was quite simple. Ensuring survival in the Hunger Games came first, and personal frustrations came second.
"You hear that?" Tessa asked, propping herself up on her elbow and craning her neck towards the door.
They retired to their room relatively early in an attempt to keep a decent sleep schedule before the events of the Games. The one good thing Matt could say about all this was that the amenities were excellent. The food was the best he'd ever eaten, and the bed was more comfortable than he ever would've imagined.
"Hear what?" Matt replied.
"The TV," Tessa said. "I think Echo's still taking notes."
"Well that's nice of him," Matt commented. "I think he might actually like us."
Tessa snorted briefly and shook her head.
Echo Tiller, one of the two mentors travelling with them, had been watching reaping reruns all night. Ever since they first boarded the train, he had the TV running the reaping on repeat. During dinner, Echo elected to sit in front of the TV with his food, jotting down everything he noticed about the tributes, while the junior mentor attempted to help them as much as possible.
Her name was Ophelia Charleston, and she was only seventeen years old. Ophelia was the winner of last year's Hunger Games, and still struggled with her mental faculties it seemed. Matt could still see her internal turmoil and fear written across her face.
The girl had taken a liking to Tessa instantly, practically clinging to her for emotional support. There were four living victors from District 11. Who the hell thought it was a good idea to send the recently traumatized Ophelia as a mentor? That was just cruel.
"I'm glad he cares," Tessa said softly, laying back in Matt's arms again.
"Who, Echo?" Matt asked.
"Yeah," Tessa said. "He's going through all this trouble to help us. I really appreciate it, you know?"
"Better than having someone who didn't care I guess," Matt joked.
He could practically see Tessa's eyeroll through the back of her head. Matt kissed her shoulder lovingly.
"We do eventually have to go to sleep," Tessa admonished lightly. "Otherwise, there was no point in going to bed early."
"Right, right…" Matt said, pretending that he had never thought of that.
He kissed her neck this time, gently massaging her with his lips.
"Matt…" Tessa warned lowly.
"Sorry," Matt chuckled, unable to help himself.
Murchad McNamara District 4: 18M
Monday Night 11:00PM
Time Until Bloodbath: 6 Days 9hrs
The countryside whipped by as Murchad stared. It was sort of odd to think that he was now on his way to the Capitol after so many years of training for this very time of his life. The culmination of all his goals was at hand.
He had always longed to be a victor of the Hunger Games, but now that it was almost over, Murchad was sort of sad. What would he do when he won? What would his next goal be?
His family certainly wouldn't lack for money any longer, but he would need to do something with himself. Murchad wasn't the type of guy who could sit around drinking mojitos on the beach. That was a pointless existence.
He sighed and turned to look back at the empty train car. Murchad was the only one still awake. It was lonely in the night hours, even if it wasn't that late. It had been a long day though. Murchad supposed that his companions needed some rest.
Murchad himself could not rest. Sleep had never come easily to him. He couldn't calm down, and never could really. Energy flooded from every pore of his body constantly, and there wasn't anything he could do to stop it.
Already bored of sitting, Murchad left the comfort of the couch and began a set of push-ups. As the numbers climbed, Murchad's arms grew weary, but he continued, nonetheless. What was a little pain in the moment compared to the payoff when the work was complete?
With his body type, exercises like these were quite easy. Murchad was relatively small, with not an ounce of fat on his body. Muscles made up every inch of his body. It wasn't like he was some muscle-bound freak though. He had no doubt that the other male careers would be far more muscular than he was, but thanks to his weight bodyweight exercises were comically easy.
"Doing a little midnight workout?"
Murchad stopped at the top of push-up number one-hundred-two and looked up. Leaning casually against the wall at the edge of the hallway was Eydis Agnarsson.
She wore only a bathrobe which only hung down to her mid-thigh. The robe was a cream white color with dark red stitching along the collar and wrists. Her auburn hair spilled lightly over her shoulders, seeming like silk in the artificial light of the train.
"Couldn't sleep," Murchad responded.
He stood up, wiping sweat from his forehead and sat down on the couch again. Just moments later, he felt the surface of the couch shift beneath him. He looked over his shoulder to see that Eydis had taken a seat next to him. She tucked her legs beneath her and rested her arm along the back of the couch.
"Me neither," Eydis said.
Murchad nodded slightly and turned back towards Eydis. She met his gaze almost uncertainly, wide round eyes full of compassion.
He couldn't help but stare at Eydis. Most men would have looked at the line between the thigh and the robe, but not Murchad. It wasn't that he didn't find her openly displayed thighs hot as hell, it was simply that her face was just too beautiful to look away from.
Every line and contour of her face seemed to be created by a master sculptor. Murchad could barely believe that Eydis had been created simply by genetic chance. Her nose was neatly upturned, and her jaw took the shape of a perfect diamond. Even her eyebrows were beautiful.
Murchad barely noticed the silence between them, finding himself lost in her eyes. He wondered how Eydis could have such a dramatic effect on him. Why did one person affect him so dramatically? Not that he was complaining. Murchad loved the feeling he got when Eydis was around him.
Then, seemingly as if connected in their minds, Eydis and Murchad realized they were staring. They both looked away awkwardly, blushing heavily. Eydis cleared her throat.
"How do you feel about all this?" She asked.
Murchad was instantly confused. He knew she was simply looking for something to say to fight off the awkwardness of the moment, but he didn't know what she meant. Was she asking how he felt about her?
"About the Games I mean," Eydis continued.
Murchad breathed a sigh of relief. His heart pounded against his ribcage. He felt certain that Eydis could hear the sound.
"I'm not really sure," Murchad answered, speaking quickly. "But the food's good, that's for sure."
Eydis laughed. God, Murchad loved that sound. It was so beautiful, so effortless, and it felt so right. It felt so right for him to make her laugh.
"You and your food," Eydis chided. "Promise me you won't gain too much weight before the Games, okay?"
Then, it was Murchad's turn to laugh, and it felt just as right for her to make him laugh. How was she so perfect?
"I'm just preparing for the possibility that there won't be much food available in the arena," Murchad joked.
Eydis rolled her eyes, smiling widely.
"I hope for your sake there will be plenty of food in the arena," Eydis jabbed lightly. "We'd be in real trouble if you couldn't find something to eat."
"Are you saying I get hangry?" Murchad questioned.
"You seem like the type to get hangry."
The next few hours flew by. Murchad barely even noticed the time, not finding it to be relevant in the slightest.
They turned on the TV showing the reaping reruns, sharing their thoughts on the other tributes and on what the arena might look like. Though, they were quite often distracted by the appeal of playful banter.
Murchad couldn't help but feel completed in the moment. It was like his life was perfect, and while they watched the reaping on TV, Murchad all but forgot about the upcoming ordeal. None of that mattered. All that did matter right now was Eydis.
They stayed awake until the early hours of the morning. Too tired to think, Murchad barely noticed as Eydis fell asleep in his arms, her head resting against his chest, and the sound of her calm breathing gently rocked him to sleep.
Kendra Shogana District 12: 18F
Tuesday Morning 8:00AM
Time Until Bloodbath: 6 Days
Kendra woke to the smooth whirring of the train travelling over the tracks. It was something spectacular that an object so large and so heavy could move nearly silently. Yet, as Kendra understood it, the same trains had been used for over one-hundred years. She didn't know whether that was a testament to the durability of the trains or to the lack of innovation in Panem. Perhaps it was both.
She stood and removed the extremely comfortable complimentary pajamas from her body. Kendra entered the bathroom attached to her bedroom for the first time. It was huge, way bigger than anything Kendra could have contemplated of.
Compared to the size of her own bathroom back home, this was gargantuan, and this was just the bathroom on the train. She wasn't even in the Capitol yet, and the bathroom was this huge. It was genuinely unbelievable.
Kendra peered inside the shower, bewildered by all the buttons and switches on the wall. She slapped a button at random and was quite surprised to see water spurt from the showerhead. What were the odds that she hit the right switch, given all the available options?
She waited for a moment while the water heated. Kendra shivered with pleasure as the warm water touched her hand. Having a warm shower was an unbelievable blessing.
Kendra stepped inside and practically collapsed. Her knees shook and her eyes rolled back in her skull. She had never felt anything so good.
The water pulled the dirt from her pale white skin and hair. Like a warm river, it slowly trickled its way down her spine and dribbled onto the floor beneath her. Kendra stood beneath the life-giving substance luxuriating in the feeling the water gave her.
She slapped another one of the buttons without looking. Instantly a pink soap sprayed from the showerhead. Suds filled her hair and covered her body. Kendra squeezed her eyes shut, preventing the soap from stinging her retinas.
After nearly an hour of standing and washing in the shower, Kendra finally exited and dried herself off with a towel. Once she was clothed again Kendra left the solitude provided by her room.
She was immediately walloped by the scent of food already laid out on the table. Her companions already sat at the table eating their own breakfasts. Peter animatedly spoke to Yew, the young mentor who won the one-hundredth Hunger Games.
"I really think it depends on what you think," Peter said. "If you think it's half-empty, then it's half-empty, but if you think it's half-full, then it's half-full."
Kendra had learned last night of Peter's love of conversation. He could turn even the simplest small talk into a debate. Kendra found it amusing, though not particularly helpful.
Yew nodded to himself chewing his own food slowly. Courtney Daimon and Ezekiel Shinto, mentor and escort respectively, intentionally ignored the conversation between Yew and Peter. Ezekiel rubbed at his forehead and squeezed his eyes tight against whatever pain he felt. He was probably hungover again.
"Have you ever wondered if half-full and half-empty are actually the same thing?" Yew questioned with a light smirk on his face.
Peter froze with his fork midway to his mouth, seemingly in shock.
"Ah, good morning Kendra," Courtney greeted politely, noticing the appearance of the older tribute.
"Hi," Kendra replied shyly as she took the last open seat at the table.
"Did you sleep well?" Courtney asked.
Kendra shrugged, "Could've been worse."
"I'm glad you're awake though Kendra, I wanted to talk to you," Peter said. "I have a plan for the Games, and I want to know what you think."
Kendra wondered briefly why Peter even cared for her opinion. It wasn't as if they were trusted confidants of each other, but they were district partners. Maybe that meant something. Plus, Peter was on the younger side for a tribute. Sure, he wasn't a little kid, but he wasn't going to be physically capable of defending himself from the more threatening tributes in the arena. Kendra couldn't just leave him out to dry with no one to help him.
"I had this idea," Peter continued. "I don't know if it will work. It's never been tried before, but I think there's a chance it could change everything for us."
"What's your brilliant idea kid?" Yew asked. "Stop hyping it up and tell us."
Kendra smiled slightly at Yew's banter with Peter. The mentor obviously had taken a liking to the teen. She took a couple of sausages from a pan on the table and poured a large amount of gravy over them.
The food really was heavenly. Kendra closed her eyes a sighed contentedly while Peter continued speaking.
"I was wondering what would happen if all the outer district tributes banded together to take out the careers," Peter said.
Instantaneously, the table dropped into dead silence. Kendra wasn't sure what she'd been expecting Peter to say, but it wasn't that. He was right though, no one had ever tried to come together to face off against the careers during the bloodbath. Kendra could see the logic of the idea.
"Think about it," Peter said. "There's three times as many of us as there are of them. Even if most outer district tributes can't fight well, just because of numbers we have a chance."
"How would you convince the other tributes to join you?" Yew asked.
"Talk to them," Peter answered. "Just like I'm talking to you right now. I'm good at convincing people."
"What happens after you kill all the careers?" Yew questioned further.
"I don't know," Peter said. "I kind of thought we could all go our separate ways."
"You are aware the Capitol will not be pleased with this," Ezekiel said.
He didn't sound angry. The escort was simply stating a fact and nothing more.
"I'm not so sure," Peter replied. "I think it would add some intrigue to the Games."
"The Capitolites don't like it when the Games end too quickly Peter," Yew cautioned.
"I know, but this is the best chance we have to win," Peter said. "What do you think Kendra?"
Kendra sat in silence for a moment. Talking wasn't really her thing.
"I think we should go for it," Kendra answered resolutely.
"I guess this means the two of you want to be mentored together," Courtney commented.
"That would be helpful, especially since we're going to be working together," Peter added. "This is really good. We're actually making a plan now."
"Yeah," Ezekiel said cynically. "All you have to do is execute it."
Butch Pelt District 10: 18F
Tuesday Morning: 9:00AM
Time Until Bloodbath: 5 Days 23hrs
Butch was honestly glad Rel Imperatore slept in during breakfast. She had no interest in being around him at all for any reason whatsoever. She hated that guy with every fiber of her being and wouldn't mind killing him in the Hunger Games. Anyone else, and she figured it would be more difficult or mentally damaging, but she would be happy to take Rel out.
According to the escort Emerald Tinkle, it would be at least three more hours before the train arrived at the Capitol. Butch was left fairly bored with nothing to do.
She wondered how her family was feeling now. What would they do with her gone? Who would take her grandfather's place if she died?
She doubted that anyone would.
Butch couldn't help but feel as if she had been wronged. She hadn't done anything so deeply wrong in her life that she deserved to be punished like this. But she wasn't being punished. It wasn't like this event was sensible and that she deserved this. In the Capitol's view, Butch was being punished for the sins of her ancestors, not for anything she herself had done. It was wrong. The death was senseless.
There wasn't anything she could do to stop it though. Butch was not in a position to do anything about the way Panem was run.
With a sigh she collapsed on the leather seat in front of the TV, hoping to find some time to herself. She grabbed the remote and switched the TV on. It only showed one channel. Two brightly clothed bronze skinned Capitolites discussed the tributes, speculating as to what their skills might be and who would make it the farthest.
The one sitting on the left seemed fixated by the boy from District 1, Santana Perez, who Butch thought looked absolutely ridiculous. His all-red aesthetic really wasn't doing it for her. The anchor was fascinated by Santana though. She found his effortless charm and charisma irresistible. To be fair to Santana though, he did look quite threatening.
Meanwhile, The District 2 boy, Jason Green, attracted the attention of the right anchor. He quite obviously thought that Jason had a natural predatory confidence that, in his mind, indicated strength. Of the two, Butch thought Jason would be the more dangerous one to face in combat.
Both anchors were quite interested by the girl from District 9, Tanya Mills. They claimed that she would be one of the more dangerous outer district tributes of this year's Games. They even mentioned Butch and Rel as strong contenders, saying that if the tributes from District 10 allied themselves, they would be a force to be reckoned with.
Neither anchor was particularly impressed by the rebellious girl from District 2 or the rebellious boy from District 3. They found the husband-and-wife duo from District 11 to be the most adorable thing imaginable.
All in all, there was nothing really unexpected that was said by the anchors. Butch left the TV on, but barely paid attention as her gaze drifted out the window to the countryside.
Currently they passed through District 2, approaching the Capitol quickly, but not quickly enough for Butch. She didn't want to be on this train any longer, even if it meant that she would be even closer to the time of trauma ahead. Butch just wanted time to rest.
Everything since the reaping had passed like a whirling tornado. Butch felt as though she was still trying to catch up with all the events that had taken place.
"Where is everyone else?" A raspy voice spoke from over her shoulder.
Butch turned to see that Rel Imperatore had finally exited his room. His hair was matted down from his time spent in bed and his eyes looked weary from travel.
"Don't know," Butch answered curtly.
Rel nodded silently while Butch turned her head back towards the TV she hadn't been paying attention to in the first place.
"You seem to be in a fine mood this morning," Rel snarked.
"Like you are," Butch replied.
"You know I'm not sure why you hate me so much," Rel said. "Did I do something to offend you?"
His tone still held the same snark and condescension, despite the seemingly kind nature of the question.
"You killed animals for sport for one," Butch said.
"You do know that those bulls go straight to the butcher's shop after they're killed, right?"
Butch hadn't known that, but she didn't feel that the use of the meat justified the means by which the bulls were killed.
"You don't kill them for the meat though," Butch shot back.
"Whatever," Rel waved a hand and turned away.
Butch looked out the window once again, deciding to ignore Rel for the remainder of the train ride.
Ayla Ithico District 3: 17F
Tuesday Morning 10:30AM
Time Until Bloodbath: 5 Days 21hrs 30mins
Ayla wasn't terribly sure how to feel now. In the aftermath of her decision to volunteer, Ayla hadn't seen death once. She hadn't felt his presence at all. As weird as it was, she felt almost lonely without his shadow constantly at her back.
There was very little to do until they arrived in the Capitol. They hadn't really achieved anything so far either. Last night during dinner, Tesler hadn't even spoken to anyone. He had shoveled some food down his throat, then promptly disappeared into his room as if he didn't want to be bothered by anyone.
This morning, he hadn't spoke either, making it a bit difficult to decide whether they would work as a team or not. Ayla was inclined to go it alone.
She knew the problems of becoming attached and was hoping to avoid those feelings during the Games. It seemed Tesler was much the same, a lone wolf like her.
Ayla's attention locked on her district partner. His attention was set out the window, despite the fact that the TV blared in front of him. It was like his mind was a million miles away from the train.
"Are you even watching?" Ayla questioned, not expecting a response.
She wondered whether he was in shock and couldn't handle the knowledge that his death might be fast approaching. Those thoughts were dashed the instant Tesler spoke.
"I already know everything I need to," he said. "The dude from District 1 is nuts, and the girl thinks an awful lot of herself. The girl from District 2 is passionate, probably dangerous; the guy looks like a real threat. District 4 looks okay. They'll probably be decent. The guy from District 7 could be a problem, so could the girl from nine, and as for the others I'm not really sure. I think I probably have fairly decent odds, all things considered."
His tone made it obvious that he was not down on his luck. That tone belonged to a man who refused to let anyone stop him in his goals. Tesler's quietness the previous night and most of this morning wasn't because he was afraid. It was because he was strategizing, thinking ahead, and planning.
"So you're going it alone too?" Ayla asked, noticing that he mentioned himself singularly.
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that," Tesler replied. "I had an idea that you might be amenable to."
Ayla was intrigued, but she was not interested in attaching herself to anyone else, especially if her death was inevitable.
"I'm really not that interested in personal attachment," Ayla said. "Also, I'm not sure I like you all that much, no offense."
Tesler didn't seem to mind her comment in the slightest.
"Not the first time I've heard that," Tesler said.
"Regardless, I'm not really looking for friends."
"I know," Tesler returned. "And I'm not either. That's why I think my plan could work."
"I don't think you're listening to me," Ayla said. "I don't want any friends."
"We don't have to be friends to be allies. Think about it like a business partnership. We work together long enough to last until…say the top ten or so, then we go our separate ways. No hard feelings between us."
As Tesler articulated his idea, Ayla became more and more interested. Tesler's plan would give Ayla all the benefits she was looking for in an alliance and none of the downsides.
"A contractual relationship is better anyway. We both want to win, and neither of us is under the illusion that we'll both make it. That never happens. That means that it's in my best interest to work with you and your best interest to work with me. Working in small groups drastically increases chances of survival, especially if we get in a fight."
Ayla strode across the room and sat in the recliner adjacent to the couch Tesler lay on.
"Tell me more," Ayla said. "I'm interested."
"I thought you might be," Tesler returned with a confident smirk. "You struck me as intelligent. What'd you do back in three?"
"I built computer chips," Ayla answered. "And went to school."
"School…" Tesler chuckled to himself but said nothing more on the subject. "Anyway, we work together because we both get something we want out of the deal. Make sense?"
Ayla considered herself excellent at spotting bullshit, and Tesler Valdes was most certainly not bullshitting her. In fact, he seemed like the most fundamentally honest person she had ever met.
"Why should I trust you?" Ayla asked. "It seems like you're only in this for yourself."
"I am only in it for myself," Tesler answered, showing his honesty once again. "But you should trust me because I never break my word, and I never lie."
"Never?" Ayla asked skeptically.
"Never."
Ayla sighed, wondering just what she was getting herself into. Her base instincts and her feelings told her to trust no one, but her mind told her otherwise. Reasoning it out, everything Tesler said seemed to make sense.
"Alright, I'm in," Ayla said.
"Good, I'll write up a contract once we get to the Capitol," Tesler said.
"Do we really need that?" Ayla asked.
"I just told you that I wouldn't go back on my word," Tesler returned. "Is that enough for you?"
"No."
"It isn't for me either. Now, to ensure the best results I think we need one more ally. Three is a good number."
"Why three?" Ayla questioned. "I have enough reservations about working with just you Tesler."
"Three keeps us all accountable to each other," Tesler explained. "With two you can have an irreversible difference of opinion. With more than three you risk splitting the group into factions. Three is a nice stable number. Think about it like a triangle. The triangle is the most structurally sound shape for construction because every vertex is connected to every other vertex. With three people, disagreements can be resolved and our odds of getting something good from the cornucopia increase too."
"So we just ask someone to join us on the first day of training?"
"No. We need to find someone like-minded, someone rational and competent, not some idiot who'll get us into bad situations. Too bad that guy from two's a career. He'd be great."
Ayla wondered how Tesler thought he could recognize rationality like that.
"What about the guy from seven?" Ayla asked. "He looks like he'd be good in a fight."
"Too impulsive, plus he looks like the loud type. If we need to hide that could be a problem. I was thinking maybe the girl from nine."
"The young girl from six looks fierce."
"This isn't a charity," Tesler replied. "I'm not trying to help young tributes survive. I want someone capable enough to watch my back."
"Maybe the girl from five then? She's a bit bigger and looks pretty tough."
"Still too young."
"We aren't going to find the perfect candidate, you know. Plus, we don't even know these people. Maybe it would be better to decide once we get to the Capitol and meet the other tributes. We could conduct interviews or something, try to decide the best fit."
Tesler stroked the soul patch on his chin thoughtfully.
"That's not a bad idea, and you're probably right that we won't find an ideal third ally. We need to make a short list of the best fits so far, and we need to make a list of the skills we have so we can find someone who can do things we can't."
The planning continued thusly for another hour. Ayla felt strangely calm and comfortable with Tesler. Despite his comments about sacrifice and his open acknowledgement of his selfishness, he wasn't a bad guy, and he was damn smart too.
She already felt better about her chances of winning the Games with Tesler as her ally though most of it. If only she knew that victory was an option that wouldn't cause herself and her mother suffering and eventual death.
Eira Carielle District 5: 15F
Tuesday Morning 11:30AM
Time Until Bloodbath: 5 Days 20hrs 30mins
"Not long until we make it there now," Katarina Jackson, their female mentor, said, turning her attention to Eira and Edison.
"Indeed, the hour you dread is not as far away as you imagine it to be," Hana Mystic added mysteriously.
"Knock it off you old hag," Hank Park, the other mentor, admonished. "Give us some space will you."
"My presence causes you worry? Good. You should be worried, for neither of you is long for this world," Hana said.
"You're supposed to be helping us," Eira commented. "It doesn't exactly sound to me like you're helping."
"Perhaps that is because your narrow mind cannot accept the reality of the supernatural beyond your understanding."
Eira scoffed. Her understanding of reality was fine. She was perfectly capable of understanding everything she came across, given enough time to think.
"Hana please give us some space," Katarina said politely.
The old woman hmphed and stood, disappearing into a side room down the corridor.
"I don't know how you deal with her year after year," Hank said.
"I don't either to be honest," Katarina replied.
Hank was an older man in his fifties, but he still possessed a full head of hair and a youngish face. He was a bit of a cynic and maybe a little too serious occasionally, but he wasn't a bad person. Katarina on the other hand was extremely kind, almost too kind. She was compassionate and caring, but it shouldn't have been possible for anyone to care as much as she did.
Eira suspected it could be an act, but she wasn't sure.
"Now, we are arriving in the Capitol in less than an hour," Katarina said. "You have to be ready. It won't be like anything you have ever seen before, and you may see things that surprise you, but no matter what don't look disapproving of what you see. Every camera around will have its lens on you."
"You can gawk if you want. The Capitolites like that sort of thing," Hank added.
"Do your best to compose yourselves," Katarina continued. "We need to try to draw as many sponsors as possible. If we can convince them that you are worth sponsoring, then we might have a chance."
"Are you saying we don't have a chance?" Edison asked quietly.
Instantly, the atmosphere darkened and the room went quiet.
Eira was pleasantly surprised by Edison's observance. He hadn't spoken much thus far, and when he had, he seemed rather fearful. He still did look scared, but his intelligent comment surprised her. Despite his age, her district partner could be quite the ally. He wasn't particularly assertive, which was fine for Eira. She wasn't particularly assertive herself, but she didn't mind leading if it was necessary.
"No of course not Edison," Katarina said. "I'm saying that with all those careers running around things could be pretty difficult. You're both on the younger side, and young tributes have traditionally fared poorly."
"Some young tributes win," Edison said. "Gavin Hackney from District 9 was only fifteen when he won. Eira's fifteen. She could have a good chance."
"You could too kid," Hank said, eyeing Katarina. "Just listen to me, okay? You've got to find some older kids to help you out. You'll have trouble fighting larger tributes. The bigger the numbers the better. Get yourself into the biggest alliance you can. They can help protect you, but you've got to make yourself useful. That means time at the survival stations. Learn about edible plants, starting fires, fishing, whatever you can."
"Hank's right," Katarina said. "The best chance for each of you is if you join an alliance, preferably with more than three people."
"Are we even working together though?" Edison asked. "We haven't even talked about that."
The boy's eyes turned to Eira, gaze pleading. She didn't think she had the heart to turn him down, but she wanted to keep her options open. A better opportunity could come along, and chaining herself to Edison now could be problematic later.
"I don't know," Eira said.
Edison's gaze dropped along with his head, his sadness apparent.
"You're nice Eira," he said. "Smart too. I think we could help each other."
He was probably right, but what if some older tributes didn't want to take in a kid like Edison. They wouldn't see what she saw in him. Edison was a smart kid, smarter than Eira had given him credit for. She thought he had the potential to make it far. They could do it together.
"Yeah," Eira said softly. She doubted anyone else could hear her.
The idea was tempting. If they stuck together with a large group of tributes, then they could make it far, maybe all the way.
"Fine," Eira said. "We can work together."
"Sweet!" Edison exclaimed, wrapping his arms around her.
Despite her natural unaffectionate tendencies, Eira found herself unable to resist Edison. He was just a regular kid, nothing cruel or suspicious about him. His innocence almost made her sad, knowing that if he didn't die, then his innocence certainly would.
Their discussion continued until, eventually, the Capitol loomed into view. It was by far the most impressive, ornate, splendid, breathtaking, thing she had ever seen. Tall buildings of glass and metal rose into the sky, while low lying white marble constructions stood powerful and imposing. Eira almost couldn't believe such a place could exist. It was so far beyond anything she ever imagined to be possible.
The inside of the train went dark as they entered a white bricked tunnel. The air inside whistled as the train zoomed towards the station. Even that building was imposing.
Gradually the train slowed to a stop. It hissed slightly as the engines disengaged and the wheels ceased to turn.
Eira felt her heartrate double its pace. It was time.
"Come on," Katarina encouraged. "Keep your composure. A group of peacekeepers is going to lead us to the chariot preparation building. Look strong."
Katarina laid a comforting hand on the shoulder of both Eira and Edison.
"I believe in both of you," she said. "You can do this."
Edison looked to Eira and nodded determinedly. The expression was almost cute on his face.
They stood and stood ready at the doors. Edison exhaled heavily. Eira followed suit, taking a fortifying breath just as the doors hissed open.
Alright! Check that out. The train rides are complete. Some interesting stuff happened in this one. Some district pairs obviously will not jive well, and others might surprisingly work? Who knows really?
Anyway, I do hope you enjoyed this one. I had a great time writing this one. My passion for this story has returned with the new section, and I think my writing improved as a result.
Here's some questions for you to answer if you'd like. Do you think the relationships between the characters in this chapter will hold up or will they change? Who's perspective on alliances is correct, Tesler's self-interest contract theory or Katarina and Hank's big numbers theory? Will Peter's big plan work out? What song does your favorite tribute bring to mind? And, what in god's name is going on with President Viktor in the Capitol?
Hope ya'll enjoyed. Thanks for reading.