Chariot time!
Tessa Scotch District 11: 18F
Tuesday Afternoon 12:00PM
Time Until Bloodbath: 5 Days 20hrs
A whole squad of peacekeepers escorted them through the streets. Cameras flashed, disorienting her and sending her head spinning. Tessa wondered what the people back home thought of her walking the street like this.
She could barely even stand on her own, leaning heavily against Matt for support. Despite her frustration and anger with her husband, Tessa was glad he was here. She thought she could have done this alone, but she didn't want to imagine how it would feel without Matt.
The steps of the peacekeepers sounded together, trampling her eardrums. Those same steps were the ones that echoed outside the doors of people who tried to open their own businesses without Capitol consent. Those were the steps that kept the citizens of Panem in the dirt.
The head peacekeeper turned back towards their group, eyeing Matt and Tessa each individually.
"This is where you part ways," he said gruffly. "You'll each be led to your stylists. Mentors, you can meet your tributes back in the apartment. Understood?"
Tessa leaned closer to Matt, while Echo sent a nod their way. Ophelia followed the older mentor as they split off from the group.
"Come on," The head peacekeeper ordered. "The husband's with me."
Matt turned toward Tessa who clung to him like her life depended on it.
"I'll see you soon," he whispered lowly.
Tessa nodded nervously as Matt broke away and followed after the head peacekeeper. A second peacekeeper jerked her head, signaling for Tessa to follow her. Tessa obeyed, doing her best to appear strong in the face of the cameras flashing around her.
A set of automatic doors slid open to admit them into the building. The peacekeeper pointed to a door to her immediate left without a word. Tessa understood the meaning behind the gesture though: 'go in that door or I'll pound your face in.'
Tessa opened the door to find a decently sized room. The walls were a comforting green color with yellow accents. Five drains were evenly spaced in a circle around a central steel plate.
From the other side of the room, four outrageous looking Capitolites emerged out of an opposite door. There were three women and one man.
"Stand on the circle in the middle for me dear," The oldest woman said. "We've got to get you cleaned up. My goodness!"
Tessa didn't think she was terribly unclean, but she wouldn't be surprised if the Capitolites viewed her as dirty simply because she came from one of the districts.
Tessa complied with the demands, knowing it was pointless to resist. Not only was she outnumbered, but it could be potentially dangerous to her chances in the Games if she was to act contrarian.
"Remove your clothes now," The same woman spoke again.
Tessa nervously stripped down, tossing her clothes aside, then covering herself with her hands. She didn't want to be seen this way.
"Relax. I promise it's easier that way."
Over the next few minutes Tessa endured one of the strangest and most painful experiences of her life. She was blasted with scalding hot water that sizzled against her skin. Then, the odd-looking Capitolites proceeded to cover her body in powdery chemicals that burned even more. They scrubbed at her skin with brushes until she bled. Then, once again she was soaked with the boiling water.
Tessa wanted to hide away from the world. Her body shook with pain and her eyes squeezed tightly shut against the horror. But it wasn't just the shower of pain, it was also the knowledge of what was really happening.
She was being prepped for battle. They wanted her to look her best as her head was severed from her shoulders. It was some sort of sick desire to make death into a reality TV show.
Gradually the steaming water and the brushes lifted from her skin. Then, she was immediately drenched in soap. Her eyes stung, and she struggled to remove the sensation with her fingers.
"Hang on," A younger female voice said. "Hold still."
Tessa clenched her jaw, fighting the pain with everything she had. She was determined to remain still.
Hot water slammed into her skin again, rinsing the soap from her body. White suds piled around the drains in the floor while air dryers blew hard against her.
"That's much better," The old woman said. "You look nicer already."
Tessa barely paid attention to the actions of the aides as the attended to her hair, nails, and makeup. Her thoughts were only on Matt. She wished they were together, and for the first time she was glad he had volunteered to be with her.
She thought she could face this alone, but she didn't want to. The upcoming days would be bad enough, even with Matt at her side, but without him…
Tessa didn't want to imagine a world like that.
Cassie Dawson District 2: 17F
Tuesday Afternoon 12:15PM
Time Until Bloodbath: 5 Days 19hrs 45mins
She walked into the preparation chamber with her head held high. Cassie refused to bow to the whims of the Capitolites as if she was beneath them. Plus, there was the benefit of appearing strong and formidable. Not that she had to try hard to appear as such.
Cassie rolled her shoulders back as the preparation team entered. Their skins sparkled in silver and gold, and their hair shone like the sun. The artificial light made her squint her eyes slightly.
"My my, you look like a strong one," A man said. "District 2 is lucky to have you."
"I know," Cassie replied, already untying her shoes.
She removed her shirt and pants dropping them on the ground at her feet. Even standing completely naked she lost none of her previous confidence. Cassie was quite proud of her physique. She knew she wasn't the most beautiful girl, but she certainly wasn't some street whore either.
Without prompt from any of the Capitolites, Cassie stood on the steel plate at the center of the room, feet shoulder width apart and chin high. Her stance exuded confidence and pride. Cassie would not allow them to view her as anything less than she was.
Cassie received no warning before being blasted with scalding hot water. She wanted to shrink back from the pain, hide herself away, but she didn't. Cassie would not be weak. She could not be weak. Cassie hissed and clenched her teeth, fighting the pain.
Cassie felt blood trickle down her right leg as the prep team assaulted her with brushes. There was no way this wasn't classified as assault. If she hadn't agreed to be treated this way in her pursuit of Hunger Games victory, she would've been angry, but considering that she had agreed, Cassie faced the pain head on.
Red liquid trickled its way off her legs and ran along the floor and down the drains. She could barely hear over the roar of the water firing into her skin.
The prep team then thoroughly washed her down with soap and more water, or more accurately, they stood back while the machines did the work.
The water stopped suddenly, and the room was eerily silent. Blood water plunked against the floor, creating an almost hypnotic sound. Then, quickly, Cassie was slammed with hot air. She was forced to close her eyes against the sensation of the wind cutting her corneas.
"Let's get you looking presentable for your stylist," The lead man said. "Though, you are better than most of the tributes that come through here, even for a career."
Most careers would have swelled with pride, but Cassie was infuriated by the statement. These people believed themselves above everyone else because they had weird skin and smelled of too much perfume.
There was something truly disingenuous about the Capitol. No one meant what they said to another Capitolite. Life was about appearances, attending parties, wearing nice dresses, false politeness to people you hated. It was disconnected from reality.
In real life, people didn't wear perfumes that cost more than houses. They saved all the money they had to provide for their families. Yet, Cassie was somehow certain that none of the Capitolites were happy.
She recalled the fake smiles plastered on the faces of the photographers she passed on the way to the preparation chamber. The members of the prep team held the same looks on their faces. There was nothing real happening beneath the surface façade on display.
While the team attended to her hair and makeup, Cassie's mind wandered to a question that had always occurred to her: why live this way? What made people want to live false lives? Why didn't they pursue anything truly meaningful?
It didn't make sense to her, and it never had. Cassie wondered if it ever would.
She had always been linked to the world, completely capable of finding the answers to all her questions. It was like the understanding of what was important and meaningful was deeply ingrained in her soul. Cassie always knew what she wanted and always knew what to do to get there, but she knew there were people who didn't know these things.
Cassie doubted she would ever be able to understand the draw of the Capitol lifestyle simply because her natural state of being was so antithetical to it.
"Wow," A female voice said. "You actually look quite decent. I'm impressed."
Cassie's eyes shot up to see a tall powerfully built woman in her mid-twenties enter the room. Her presence oozed confidence and power. Her hair was raven black and her eyes seemed to scorn everything her gaze touched.
"I always look quite decent," Cassie replied in a slightly mocking tone.
"I'm sure."
The woman smiled at her disarmingly, then turned to the four members of the prep team who stood meekly before her staring at the ground.
"I think you've all done enough," she said.
At the sound of her powerful alto voice, the prep team practically scattered like they were afraid of her.
"So you're my stylist?" Cassie asked, already knowing the answer.
"Indeed," The stylist answered. "I'm Victoria, pleased to meet you, Cassie."
Cassie almost said, 'wish I could say the same', but for reasons unknown to her, she held her tongue.
"I'm sure you know it's my job to make sure you always appear the best you possibly can," Victoria continued.
"I look fine," Cassie said.
"That you do, but we can't exactly send you out there naked can we?" Victoria winked at her.
Cassie narrowed her eyes in confusion. She didn't understand Victoria's actions. Was the stylist flirting with her? Or was she just being friendly?
Cassie was always firmly sure she was only into guys. But, if she were into girls, Cassie had no doubt that Victoria would be exactly her type.
Shockingly to her, Cassie concluded that she liked Victoria. She hadn't expected to like any Capitolites she met.
"I guess not," Cassie replied, maintaining firm eye-contact with Victoria.
"Right, so we need something that shows your strength…" Victoria spoke to herself. "I think I have just the thing for you. Your District partner's the duelist, right?"
"Uhh…yeah," Cassie spoke slowly and still confused. She had no idea how Victoria had known that.
"Great," Victoria said. "You two are going to blow them away."
Cassie liked the sound of that.
William Young District 9: 18M
Tuesday Afternoon 12:25PM
Time Until Bloodbath: 5 Days 19hrs 35mins
William felt quite nervous when faced down with the stylist's intense stare. She was short with glimmering silver hair and matching silver eyes. William shrunk back slightly as her eyes raked their way up and down his body, observing every detail, every imperfection.
"Interesting," she spoke to herself. "Interesting."
He didn't like the way she spoke, like he was an object. It was an odd sensation to be treated as barely more than a rock on the side of the road.
"What's your name?" The stylist asked.
"William," he answered. "What's yours?"
"Selena," she said absently.
Selena continued staring at him contemplatively. Silence held between them for a good few minutes while each of them stood stock still.
"I'll freely admit this is my first time working with District 9," Selena said, still staring. "My partner is working with your district partner. He's a bit more of a traditionalist, but I want to make a statement. I want to come up with something shocking, something incredible. Have any ideas?"
Frankly, William had no ideas. Not to mention the fact that he'd never expected to be asked for his opinion. He couldn't imagine that it was normal for stylists to ask for the opinions of tributes.
"Not really," William responded quietly.
"Any plants or animals you particularly like?" Selena asked. "That's always a good place to start."
William did like birds. He'd always imagined what it would be like to be one, to fly through the sky with the wind in his face.
"I like birds," William said. "I've always wondered what it would be like to be a bird."
Selena nodded slowly, then more vigorously.
"I think that just might work," Selena said. "There are plenty of birds in District 9. Which one is your favorite?"
"The raven," William answered. "Yeah…the raven."
"Great," Selena said. "Sit tight. I'm going to make you look fabulous."
William did just that. Thankfully, the prep team provided him with a pair of underwear to keep him moderately warm and at least somewhat presentable.
A short while later, Selena returned with something that shocked William. She held in her hands a suit made entirely of shiny black feathers. Shorter slightly lighter feathers made up the body of the suit, while longer darker feathers made up the arms. The pants too were made of feathers, and there was an outstanding pair of boots with quills across the surface.
He had no clue what to say.
"Put it on," Selena encouraged.
Once again, William followed Selena's directions and donned the proffered suit of feathers. It itched like hell, but William was mildly surprised by his appearance. He actually looked pretty good.
Selena guided him towards a full-length mirror where William observed how the feathers acted just as any fabric would. He had no idea how they made this suit, but he was glad he wouldn't look just like every other District 9 tribute. Usually, they appeared as some form of grain, corn or wheat. William was set apart from the others just by his appearance.
They spent a few more minutes cleaning up his hair and face before William was sent to wait by his chariot.
He was the fourth tribute to finish with the stylists. William saw the pair from District 1 looking quite intimidating, but also strangely human. He had always seen the careers as aliens, more other worldly creatures than people.
The boy was standing atop the chariot, fiddling with some wires. It looked like the wires were hooked up to speakers. In fact, as William continued to stare, he saw that the chariot was constructed entirely of speakers. He hadn't seen anything like that before.
The girl stood on the ground in an elegant dark dress with gold tinges of paint tracing down her arms and over her eyelids. Her arms were crossed, and she stared up at the boy with the blood red hair. If it weren't for the look on her face, William would have thought her quite pretty.
The third tribute outside other than William was his district partner Tanya. She, unlike him, was not dressed uniquely. Just like most other District 9 tributes, Tanya's outfit was the husk on an ear of corn. He felt bad for her.
"Hey," William greeted.
Tanya simply glared at him.
"Sorry about your getup," William said.
"Not like you're much better," Tanya replied testily. "Birdman."
William smiled.
"At least I don't look like an ear of corn."
Tanya groaned.
"This is ridiculous," she said. "I can't believe they dress us like this."
"Could be worse I guess," William replied.
"How?" Tanya asked.
William remained silent, thinking of how it could be worse while the girl from one glared at her district partner. He, atop the chariot, was singing some song William didn't know.
"See," Tanya said. "Can't answer the question. That's what I thought."
Tabby Gold District 1: 18F
Tuesday Afternoon 12:40PM
Time Until Bloodbath 5 Days 19hrs 15mins
Tabby was just about tired of Santana's bullshit. She hadn't expected him to hate her so severely either. At the reaping, Tabby was quite confident that she and Santana would get along swimmingly, but it seemed that was not to be. Santana viewed her as an enemy rather than an ally.
Everything was simply falling apart in front of her eyes. She had never imagined that her trip to the Capitol for the Hunger Games would go like this. Even the stylists' decisions had been atrocious.
They dressed her in a black dress that was far too plain for her taste. Sure, it was pretty, but it wasn't stunning or shocking. At least her makeup was well-done. The stylists said she was supposed to look like a medieval noblewoman, but Tabby wasn't entirely sure the crowd would pick up on that.
Meanwhile, the stylists acted as enablers to Santana's exuberance. They gave him a long red and black cape and a neat vest and button up. He was supposed to be a vampire.
Then, Santana just made things worse. He insisted that he be allowed to take a guitar on the chariot with him.
The stylists, of course, thought that was a spectacular idea. They even made last-minute changes to the chariot, covering it in speakers so that Santana's guitar could be heard across the city.
She hated that Santana was the one of them who was catered to by the Capitolites. This was wrong. Tabby Gold was meant to be the beloved tribute of the Games, not Santana Perez.
While Tabby was comforting herself by laughing at the outfits of the District 9 tributes, the next set of tributes exited the preparation building. She didn't remember them, but they went to stand next to the District 12 chariot, so Tabby had a decent idea of who they were.
The boy was in some sort of black bodysuit that left coal dust on the ground where he walked. The girl was dressed as a miner with a hardhat and a pickax.
Over the next few minutes, more tributes emerged from the building, among them were the tributes from Districts 2 and 4.
The tributes from two seemed threatening, just as most of their predecessors were. She was rather struck by their costumes though. They both wore large feathered caps, leather bracers, and black boots over silk doublets. As far as Tabby was aware, this outfit had never been tried before.
The tributes from four looked more typical, tough but not a challenge for someone of Tabby's skill level. Their outfits too were fairly simple. The girl was dressed in a blue bikini with touches of blue makeup on her face and shell bracelets around her ankle and wrist respectively. The boy meanwhile was dressed in some sort of toga that left plenty of his physique out in the open. He was quite attractive actually, even if he was on the shorter side.
It was the girl from two who greeted Tabby and initiated the conversation. She tipped her cap and smiled.
"You're Tabby right?" She asked.
"That's me," Tabby said, trying to put on a more cheerful expression. "You're…"
"Cassie," she filled in for her. "It's okay. Names are hard sometimes."
"Yeah…" Tabby trailed off.
Cassie seemed pretty friendly, a nice enough person, but Tabby wasn't sure she liked her. Her stunt at the reaping showed Tabby that Cassie wasn't particularly mature or intelligent. Were she smarter, she would have kept her feelings to herself, or better yet would've known that the Capitolites weren't her enemies.
"What's up guys?" The boy from two strode over with an easy smile on his face. "I'm Murchad, nice to meet you."
"Cassie. Good to meet you too Murchad," Cassie replied, shaking Murchad's hand.
Introductions were passed around with Santana hopping down from the chariot to speak with the others after playing an obnoxiously loud lick on his guitar. The girl from four seemed shy and reserved, preferring to let her district partner speak for her. The boy from two spoke infrequently, but his eyes roved around dangerously, like a computer constantly calculating potential outcomes.
"Everybody looks great this year," Santana spoke smoothly. "Even you Jason. You're not exactly my type, but you're pretty hot too, in a terminator sort of way. Well, I should say everyone looks great except Tabby."
Tabby gave Santana a side-eyed glare while a few of the others laughed.
"We should talk about leadership," Tabby said, mostly ignoring Santana's comments. "We need to elect someone the leader."
"We could always go with whoever scores the highest," Murchad supplied. "It's a good way to avoid conflict."
"I think I'd be a good candidate personally," Tabby replied. "I'm smart, strategic, and I can hold my own in a fight."
"Right…" Cassie said. "Good to know…"
Tabby didn't say anything, remaining tactful for now. Cassie's condescending comment bothered her though.
"I think it should be me," Santana jumped in, an easy smile on his face.
If the damn blood fiend took her rightful position from her with his false charms, Tabby would be pissed.
"Well-" Jason started.
"Holy shit, look at him!" Santana exclaimed.
Tabby turned to see just what Santana was talking about. There, striding confidently towards his chariot was a tall muscular boy wearing a red cape and a snazzy black hat. He looked like a matador. Tabby thought she remembered him as the bullfighter, but she couldn't remember his name.
Santana dashed off like a madman, and promptly stood right in front of the bullfighter.
"Is he okay?" Eydis asked. "He seems a little crazy."
"Tell me about it," Tabby returned.
"Anyways, back to what I was saying before," Jason grumbled in frustration. "I'm not sure we need a leader."
"What?" Tabby questioned incredulously. "There's always a leader."
"But do we need one?" Jason asked. "I don't think so. I say let's give everyone a say in decisions and let everyone do whatever the hell they want when we end up in fights."
"I'm not sure that's going to work man," Murchad said. "I like that you're thinking outside the box, but we need someone to make decisions. We could vote for the leader at the end of training too."
"That's tyranny of the majority," Jason said. "We can't do that. It seems to me if we let everyone make their own choices, we'd be better off and more would get done."
"No, people would just run around like idiots," Tabby asserted.
"I'm with Jason on this one," Cassie added. "We're in a situation where we all know we have to contribute. I don't think it'll end up like that Tabby."
"W-" Tabby was immediately cut off by an announcement from the sound system.
"All tributes, board your chariots, the parade begins in sixty seconds," the voice said.
"Shit, well I guess we'll have to continue this later," Cassie said. "Meet tomorrow morning in the training center at nine?"
"Sounds great," Murchad said jovially. "See ya'll then. Come on Eydis."
He grabbed his district partner by the wrist and pulled her towards their chariot with a spring in his step. Eydis stumbled after him, trying not to fall.
Cassie turned and ascended the steps to her chariot, while Jason tipped his cap then followed.
Tabby stood at the edge of her own chariot, prepared to live the life she'd always dreamt of. She was going to be a Hunger Games champion, and they were going to love her.
Then, Santana bounded up the steps and slung his red guitar over his shoulder just as the chariot set off.
The crowd roared as they appeared from the tunnel, and Tabby waved with a wide smile on her face. It was surreal.
Everything was ruined the second Santana touched that damn guitar. At the first note he played the crowd noise became deafening. Santana closed his eyes, lost in the music he played, and the crowd loved it.
Tabby groaned and glared at Santana. Why did he have to ruin everything for her?
Eydis Agnarsson District 4: 17F
Tuesday Afternoon 1:15PM
Time Until Bloodbath: 5 Days 18hrs 45mins
The cheers surrounded her, closing in like a vice on her mind. Eydis gripped the rail tightly, feeling lightheaded. At any moment, Eydis was afraid she would fall and embarrass herself in front of everyone. She would look just like the failure she was.
Some faces in the crowd stared at her, some looked at the chariots in front, but most of them stared right at the District 1 chariot, screaming for Santana and his guitar. Based on what Eydis had seen from the red-haired lunatic, he was probably loving the attention, and Tabby was probably hating that Santana was receiving it instead of her.
Thinking about the other tributes helped calm her down. It kept her mind off her own insecurities, of which there were many.
Next to her, Murchad was enjoying himself considerably. He was waving, smiling, and pointing down to people in the crowd, particularly the women.
Without knowing why, Eydis found herself feeling considerably jealous. Murchad was just waving at random women, why should she care? But every time she saw him single out one of them, Eydis felt a small rage building in her heart.
Eydis clenched her jaw and the rail in front of her simultaneously. Her knuckles turned white, and her hands started to cramp up as she squeezed. Yet, Eydis kept her eyes forward. All of this was just overwhelming. She wanted nothing more than to just get to her apartment, out of the limelight, and rest.
"You okay?" Murchad asked.
She could barely hear him and almost felt his question.
Eydis looked up at Murchad, who she found looking back at her. Somehow, he sensed her discomfort, though it was probably obvious to everyone who looked at her.
She didn't know what to say, or how to react to his question. Eydis was frozen in place. She didn't know what to do. Everyone stared at her, judging her, evaluating her.
"I'm fine," she said, the words eventually escaping her mouth.
She looked up to him, and shockingly, he smiled back down at her. That easy self-assured smile brought some small sense of solace to her troubled mind. Every time he smiled at her like that, she felt her worries ease. Eydis briefly wondered why she felt that way when Murchad looked at her. She quickly concluded it was just because someone was providing her with positive encouragement rather than putting her down as Roman would do.
While distracted, Eydis's eyes wandered forward and back, taking note of the costumes worn by each district. Santana, with his black cape, looked like a vampire with a guitar. Tabby wore a neat black dress with a high collar and a few pieces of jewelry. Eydis thought that Tabby was supposed to look like the victim of Santana's bite, a young princess in the wrong place or something.
District 2's outfits were much better in her opinion. They reminded her of The Three Musketeers with their feathered caps, doublets, and sabers. The pair from District 3 was minimally clothed and practically painted gray. They moved sort of robotically, giving Eydis the impression that they were supposed to be robots.
District 5 wore some weird checkered robes with bright halogen halos shining above their heads. Eydis wasn't entirely sure what they were supposed to be. District 6 was – shockingly – dressed with a train theme. The boy had some box over his head, painted to look like a train. His face wasn't even visible. The girl wore an incredibly baggy conductor's outfit. Eydis felt bad for her. She looked like she was suffocating.
Then there was District 7, and they looked typically terrible. They couldn't move, stuck in place by their costumes, which looked like cherry blossom trees. The height difference between the boy and the girl was almost comical. Next to her district partner, the girl looked like a bonsai tree. The District 8 tributes were seemingly unrelated to each other in every conceivable way. The boy had a long robe of many different colors and the girl had a white dress marked with a red cross.
District 9 meanwhile looked fairly poor. The boy was dressed in a bird suit while the girl looked like an ear of corn. The girl from District 10 wore jeans and overalls, in keeping with the general style of the district, while the boy was cleanly dressed in a black hat and a red cape.
Quite creatively, the husband and wife from District 11 were dressed as the bride and groom. The boy from twelve was dressed in a black body suit, spewing coal dust from the sleeves. The girl looked like a miner, only her shorts were too short and her top too tight.
Eydis felt bad for most of them. At least she and Murchad were given a good concept, Amphitrite and Poseidon, the god and goddess of the sea.
She gasped as she was brought back from her reverie by Murchad. He grabbed her hand and thrust their hands high in the air. He roared to the crowd while they cheered them on.
Eydis found herself smiling, growing calmer and happier. Santana's music slowed dramatically, taking on an almost epic tone. Along with Murchad, she waved to the crowd, trying hard to appear as more than a weak and scared little girl. That wasn't her. She didn't want that to be her.
Oddly, it was Murchad who gave her that feeling, like she could do anything and be great. She caught his gaze and, for the first time since she stepped onto the chariot, Eydis smiled brightly.
Rel Imperatore District 10: 18M
Tuesday Afternoon 4:00PM
Time Until Bloodbath: 5 Days 16hrs
Rel sighed in unbelievable relief. All the fanfare of the day was finally over. Rel didn't exactly mind the fanfare when it was happening, in fact, he rather enjoyed it. He loved it when the Capitolites focused all their attention on him. It was fun and exciting, thrilling even, but it was also inevitably exhausting. After hours upon hours of standing in that admittedly quite cool matador outfit Rel was happy to rest for the remaining hours of the day.
He wandered about his room, investigating what would be his home for the next several days. Thankfully, he would at least get a chance to live a life of the utmost luxury before he descended into the depths of hell. Rel didn't think he was going to die. He was too damn tough to die, but he would probably hurt like hell.
The room was sizeable, far large than his own room back home with Toto. It was even bigger than most of the rooms in Leonder's mansion. Decorations lined the walls and the dresser opposite his lavish bed. The sheets were white cotton and softer than he would've ever imagined possible.
There were two potted plants on either side of a flatscreen TV, which rested across from his bed. They were almost too green, giving them a sickly appearance.
On the walls were two paintings, both depictions of previous District 10 victors. He didn't recognize either of them by their faces, meaning they must've been older than Rel could remember.
There was even a balcony with a sign bolted on the wall that read, Jumping is strictly prohibited. He found it ironic how simple suicide seemed from the perspective of the Capitol when it was simplified to a single statement of warning.
Rel found the whole area to his liking. It was nice and comfortable, if slightly soulless. More accurately, he liked everything except for the potted plants. Looking at those disturbingly green plants made him want to vomit.
He snatched one plant up in each hand and made a beeline for the balcony. With a cry of primal rage, Rel sent one plant hurtling over the edge. It shattered against what looked like nothing. Some sort of protective field surrounded the building, probably to keep tributes from committing suicide.
The shards then toppled from their position and smashed against the ground. A crash resounded as Rel chucked the second plant.
Rel laughed loudly and happily while the wind whipped through his hair, gently pushing it back and forth. As he turned back to the room, his eyes lit on a familiar face. The male mentor, cowboy Wayne Erikson, watched him with a silent smirk.
"What?" Rel questioned provocatively. "I didn't like the way they looked."
"I understand how ya feel kid," Wayne said. "Yer upset yer in this position, and now yer lashin' out in whatever way ya can. I promise it don't do any good."
"I chose to be here so my scumbag father wouldn't send my little brother to die," Rel replied.
"Leonder Imperatore is yer father?" Wayne questioned. "I thought ya were his nephew or somethin'."
Rel cringed. He hadn't meant to say that, but in the moment it just sort of came out of him. His family wasn't something he talked about often, especially not his status as part of the direct mayoral family.
"Yeah," Rel said. "He's my father, and I hate it. He wanted me to be his successor. I guess Leonder saw more potential in me than he saw in Leotor, but he couldn't just make me his successor when Leotor was around, so he made sure Leotor would be reaped."
Wayne hummed and nodded slowly, "And ya know all this how?"
Rel huffed, "I just do. It's exactly the sort of thing Leonder would do, plus he talked to me about that the day before the reaping. It's way too coincidental that Leotor was reaped right after we talked."
"It could've been just coincidence. Maybe it was just bad luck."
"It wasn't."
Wayne gave him an exasperated look.
"Either way ya did a good thing," Wayne said. "Ya saved…yer brother?"
"Half-brother," Rel answered.
"Right, ya saved his life," Wayne continued. "And from what I understand, he wasn't in the best condition, certainly not good enough to fight in the Hunger Games."
Rel sighed. He knew Wayne was right about that. The old cowboy had that aged wisdom which made him seem to always be right.
"If only Butch saw it that way," Rel said frustrated.
"Don't worry about her," Wayne said. "There's still plenty of folks to ally with."
"I suppose."
"Did ya see anyone ya thought would make a good ally?"
Rel thought back to his time waiting to climb aboard his chariot. Some of the tributes looked tough, but none of them really stood out, except one. The District 1 boy, what was his name? The one with the red hair and the guitar. He came over and introduced himself to Rel and practically every other tribute, complimenting most of them in an almost creepy way. Yet, there was something enticing about that crazy vampire guitarist. Santana. That was his name.
"Not yet, but I'll let you know if something changes," Rel said.
"Good, ya don't want to go in there without someone to watch yer back," Wayne said. "In my Games my district partner and I went it alone."
"What happened?" Rel asked.
"I made it. She didn't."
Wayne said nothing further on the subject of the Hunger Games. He glanced around Rel's room briefly with only mild interest.
"It does look better in here without them plants," he said. "I might throw mine out the window too."
Brooke Fisher District 7: 13F
Tuesday Night 6:00PM
Time Until Bloodbath: 5 Days 14hrs
They were served dinner by a pair of avoxes. Brooke pitied them greatly. Those two poor souls were doomed to serve others for the rest of their lives. That was no way to live. The avoxes had no ability to pursue their own hopes and dreams.
Both of them were older than Brooke, but they looked around Tyto's age. Both were girls with hair somewhere between brunette and red. They were so remarkably similar Booke could've mistaken one for the other. She wished she knew their names so that wouldn't happen.
Steaming steaks were placed on the table in front of them, and the two avox girls bowed politely then retreated. Brooke bowed clumsily in return. The avox girls giggled at her motion.
"Did I do something wrong?" Brooke asked in slight confusion.
The twin girls just giggled some more and made their way toward the elevator, probably off to service someone else. Brooke whirled back around to face the others at the table.
"I didn't do anything wrong did I?" Brooke asked.
"You didn't do anything wrong," Twain Henson said, her voice silky and soft. "I promise."
Brooke greatly appreciated the middle-aged mentor. She was always kind and understanding, ready to help Brooke whenever she asked. Brooke genuinely couldn't have asked for a better mentor, though she could've done with a better district partner.
Tyto Winter wasn't cruel or mean, but he did decline Brooke's desire to ally with him. He stated that he didn't want to work with a young tribute, and that he didn't mean any offense to Brooke, hoping that she would do well.
Words were all well and good, but they were just that, words. They didn't mean anything unless actions backed them up, and if Tyto really wanted to see Brooke do well, he would've allied with her himself.
"Why were they laughing then?" Brooke asked.
"They laughed because no one ever treats them with any respect," Ivan Barnett answered. "Nobody treats them like real humans."
"Why not?"
"They're slaves Brooke," Tyto said.
"That's not fair," Brooke replied. "How is that okay?"
"It's not okay," Ivan said. "And it never was, but there's not much we can do."
"We have to be able to do something," Brooke insisted. "What do you think Tyto?"
"I think we're being watched every second and we should probably stop talking about this, or we'll wind up in some black hole that we'll never get out of."
"Tyto's right Brooke," Ivan said. "It's best we didn't discuss this. You two need to focus on the Games and getting home alive."
Ivan's comment instantly sobered the mood. Brooke didn't want to think about the Games. The future wasn't something that greatly enticed her.
In all honesty, Brooke was scared. She knew that she could perform decently well, maybe well enough to have a chance to win, but even if she did survive, Brooke wasn't sure she could handle the pain that was to come.
"This steak is excellent," Twain said, trying to break the awkward silence.
"It is," Ivan agreed with a nod of his head. "I love a good steak."
"Maybe we can have fish tomorrow night?" Brooke brought up hopefully.
"Maybe so," Twain said. "Do you like fish?"
"I love fish. My parents run a fishing business and I help them out every day."
"That's impressive," Twain replied. "Most kids your age don't do that."
Brooke glowed with pride at Twain's compliment.
"How do you help?" Ivan asked, though he sounded serious, like he was searching for answers.
"I catch fish with my rod, and I dive for muscles," Brooke said eagerly. "I'm a really good swimmer."
"That could be helpful," Ivan said. "If you have the opportunity, you should try to stay around a river where you can catch fish. That way you don't have to hunt."
"Hey, I thought you were my mentor," Tyto complained jokingly.
"Doesn't mean I can't help both of you."
"Seriously though Brooke, I think you could do some real damage if you hide out in the water," Tyto advised. "You could lure them in then take them out."
Brooke blinked in shock. She hadn't even thought of using her skills in that way. But she supposed people did need water, and if they came to close, she could actually be a threat. Yet, Brooke really didn't want to think about the possibility of ending the life of another human, even if it was for the sake of her own survival.
"That's not a bad idea," Ivan said. "That's how crocodiles hunt their prey. They wait in the water, then when the prey bends down to drink, they snap their jaws shut and drown them."
"Alright," Twain interrupted. "That's enough of that talk for tonight. Let's try to enjoy ourselves without worrying about the Hunger Games for once."
"Yes ma'am," Tyto spoke in a mocking voice.
Brooke giggled while Ivan sent a small smirk in her direction. The bald man rolled his heterochromatic eyes.
"So why don't you tell us about your life Tyto?" Twain requested. "Brooke shared her story already."
"There's not much to tell to be honest," Tyto said. "I cut down trees, which you already knew. I like hitting the bar with my friends. I have a couple little brothers…"
"What are they like?"
"They aren't even old enough to be reaped yet. They're cute though."
"I'm sure," Twain said.
Tyto took a large bite of his steak, chewing and swallowing loudly.
"Please don't eat like that," Twain said.
"Please don't eat like that," Tyto mocked.
They all laughed heartily, content to enjoy each other's company for the moment.
Liz Adler District 6: 14F
Tuesday Night 7:30PM
Time Until Bloodbath: 5 Days 13hrs 30mins
Liz found all this more interesting than terrifying. Sure, she was potentially less than a week from her death, but Liz was not afraid. Liz didn't get scared. She had nothing to fear. Everyone died eventually.
She only wished she had a better idea of what was to come. There was still so much up in the air, the next few days of training, the interviews, and even the arena itself. It would probably be some sort of forest like usual. If so, Liz would need to learn as much as possible about her environment. There weren't many forests in District 6.
At least she had some sort of plan together, unlike Nebraska. Her district partner seemed perpetually terrified. Liz could certainly understand why he would be. It wasn't like the Hunger Games were terribly exciting for anyone who had half a brain.
She remembered his appearance on the stage in those prison rags. Liz still didn't know how he'd gotten there, but it couldn't have been pretty. He always looked scared, eyes darting around like a hunted deer.
But that wasn't Liz's problem. She had no desire to work with him. It wasn't that Nebraska was a bad person or anything, but Liz simply didn't trust him. Actually, she wasn't sure she trusted any of the tributes after looking over their faces on TV and in real life for the past two days.
They all fell into one of two categories, unreliable or overly dangerous. The careers, save the girl from District 2, all fell into the overly dangerous category, while the two girl was deemed unreliable due to her lack of discipline showed amply during the reaping.
Most of the other tributes were unreliable, whether due to their age or just a feeling Liz got when looking at them. Only the girl from nine and the boy from three fell into the dangerous category. Though, the nine girl held a sort of protector vibe to her that the boy from three did not.
Then, there was the fact that Liz simply worked better alone. She always had done so, and always would. She didn't need anyone's help, and she didn't want it either.
What was there to do then? How could she train?
The obvious answer was to learn some basic survival strategies. Considering that she would be on her own, Liz wouldn't have anyone to rely on for help. Learning to provide for herself in a hostile environment would be priority number one. That meant figuring out what foods she could eat, how to set traps to catch smaller animals, and how to purify water.
It also meant learning how to avoid older stronger tributes. She was a decently capable fighter, thanks to training required by her father, but she was certainly not on the level of the careers. Plus, her small stature did put her at a disadvantage against older tributes.
Unfortunately, older tributes comprised nearly all of the twenty four slots. There were only three tributes younger than her, and only two fifteen-year-olds. Everyone else was at least sixteen and probably quite a bit stronger than Liz.
What weapon to pick though? A bow and arrow could be the most useful tool available to her. She could use it to kill larger animals and to defend herself from older tributes. It could keep them at bay, and most importantly, allow her to hit them when they couldn't hit her.
But, bows were rare, not often appearing in the cornucopia. Liz knew she would be better off spending her time learning to use a knife. Learning to sneak through the woods, then surprise attack other tributes could be a huge help.
Nonetheless, Liz figured she would be best off spending some time practicing with the bow, just in case. If given the opportunity she would snatch one up in a heartbeat.
Liz laid back on her bed with a heavy sigh. Was this to be her fate for the upcoming weeks? Was she to spend all her time alone in the woods looking for edible berries and eating small rodents, occasionally running from her life from gangs of older kids looking to kill her?
As much as Liz disliked that future, it seemed to be inevitable, unless she decided to ally with some other tributes, which she wasn't going to do. There was one thing she was sure of: the future was bleak. There wasn't much she was going to be able to do to avoid that pain.
There it is finally, the completed Chariot ride chapter!
We finally got a little taste of tribute interactions, and I'm super excited to see more of those. Get ready for a few twists and turns over the next couple days in the story. I think there are quite a few things that ya'll won't expect.
Anyway, some questions. What do you think of Santana and Tabby's tenuous relationship? Will Liz's planning serve her well? Finally, the most important question, what do you think the arena will look like?
Thanks for reading guys.