Here it is at last, the long awaited first day of training. I'm honestly super excited for this phase of the story. There's so much to explore here, and I really can't wait.
Mila Arkwright District 8: 13F
Wednesday Morning 8:00AM
Time Until Bloodbath: 5 Days
The elevator doors slid shut with a gentle hiss. Mila was prepared to start her training, but not too early, and not too late. She would enter the training room at just the time she was requested to. No extra training was necessary, and Mila certainly didn't want to be late. It wasn't because she thought it so necessary to arrive at the appropriate hour. Rather, Mila wanted to ensure she wouldn't face any repercussions from the peacekeepers in the training center.
Her district partner however, did not have similar concerns. Scott Winston lay in bed, sound asleep while Mila stood in the elevator, awaiting her arrival on the bottom floor. He seemed not to understand exactly the nature of his situation, but that wasn't Mila's problem.
Scott wasn't someone she could help, whose life she could improve. His issues were attributable only to himself, and not to outside influences upon him.
The elevator slid to a stop gently on the fifth floor, then opened a moment later to reveal the two tributes from district five, Eira Carielle, a girl of average height with a thin angular face and dark hair, and Edison Oswald, a short young boy with a mop of curly hair atop his head.
"Oh hey," Eira said. "I guess you're going to the training room too huh?"
Mila nodded but remained silent. Talking had never come easy to her. She was never really sure what to say.
"You're Mila right?" Eira questioned. "From District 8?"
Mila nodded again.
"I'm Eira," She said, extending a hand. "Nice to meet you."
Mila shook her hand awkwardly. Interactions like these weren't exactly her strong suit and never hand been. She just didn't get other people. They didn't make sense, the complicated, subtle gestures and hidden meanings all seemed to fall away. Mila was left simply with a face speaking words to her, not knowing the true importance behind those words.
Mila shrunk back to the corner of the elevator while Eira looked at her sympathetically.
The elevator slid to a stop, binging as the doors opened. At the bottom, she was greeted by the sight of the lobby, constructed of lavish marble and glass, was quite the beautiful structure, yet it had a sort of emptiness to it, the same sort of emptiness Mila felt.
Immediately to the right of the elevators was a set of double doors leading directly into the large training room.
Seeing the room for the first time almost made Mila nervous, almost. But Mila never felt nervous.
Inside, nearly all the tributes were gathered. They stood in their own little pockets separated from each other. Only Scott Winston was missing.
Off to the left of the entrance, the career group sat at the lunch tables. They conversed naturally, as if there was nothing strange about their circumstances, apart from the girl from four, Eydis, Mila recalled. The short girl sat apart from her compatriots wringing her hands again and again. Mila could almost feel the nervous energy radiating off her skin. She was surprised. She hadn't expected to find any of the careers lacking in confidence.
Meanwhile, the others in their group appeared to be debating something with the tributes from District 2 forming one side, the boy from one forming another side, and the girl from one making up the final party, while the boy from four tried desperately to get his allies to behave politely.
Mila's eyes roved over the remaining tributes. The girl from three was speaking quietly to her district partner, who leaned casually against the wall with his eyes closed. Eira and Edison stood alongside Mila, taking in the sights just as she was. The tributes from six were split up. Mila found the girl, Liz, sitting with her back to the wall and the boy pacing back and forth while glancing around randomly. The Scotch's from eleven held hands with Tessa hanging off Matt's arm.
Suddenly, the boy from one stood, leaving his allies to their discussion while they stared after him. Santana walked purposefully towards the boy with the weird name from District 10. As he walked by he stopped just in front of Mila, looking down on her.
"Don't look so sad," he said cheerfully, ruffling her hair. "It'll all be over soon."
Mila met the manic black eyes of Santana Perez and raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"What will be over soon?" Mila asked.
Santana seemed stunned for a moment. Mila wasn't sure why, or what she had done to shock him. He blinked multiple times, breaking eye contact for a moment, then reclaiming it a moment later.
"You've got spunk kid," Santana smirked. "I like that."
"No one in my life has ever said I have spunk," Mila deadpanned. "I am the least spunky person you'll ever meet."
Santana's head cocked slightly to the side and his mouth lolled open.
"Well nice talking to you," Santana replied, slipping his mask on easily, then skipping off towards the boy from ten.
Mila watched him go, only mildly interested. She could tell that very little about Santana was real, and it hadn't even taken this meeting to tell her that.
Only moments later, a group of men and women clad in white uniforms entered the room through a set of automatic doors on the opposite wall. A woman with long blonde hair and of average height led them. There was a steel in her gaze that made Santana look like a kitten.
"Welcome tributes," she said in a powerful alto. "My name is Naomi Weidman, but you can call me ma'am, and by can I mean will."
Weidman eyed the tributes sternly.
"Line up shoulder to shoulder," Weidman ordered.
Some tributes were quicker than others to comply with her orders. Mila was among the first, seeing very quickly that dissent would cause more trouble than it was worth. The boy from three was the last to join the line, lazily dragging his feet.
"Valdes!" Weidman barked. "Hurry it up next time! Thirty pushups now!"
Tesler Valdes stood calmly meeting Weidman's eyes.
"No," he said flatly.
"Now Valdes!" Weidman ordered. "This is a warning, next time I won't be so kind."
Tesler smirked but remained standing stock still. Every tribute seemed to tense up. Mila realized she wasn't the only one who was holding her breath.
"Last chance…" Weidman said lowly.
"Just do what she says Tesler," Ayla, his district partner whispered. "It's not worth it."
Weidman and Tesler's stare down lasted for almost five more seconds. Mila's muscles tensed, prepared to dash off the second things went south.
"The pushups Valdes," Weidman reminded.
With a tremendous sigh, Tesler brought his feet together and his hand to his eyebrow in the gesture of a salute.
"Yes ma'am," Tesler said sarcastically, then dropped to his belly and began the set of pushups.
His form was rather good, Mila observed.
"Now that's settled," Weidman said. "Is everyone present and accounted for?"
"No ma'am," one of the male trainers with long dark hair answered. "Winston from District 8 is missing."
Weidman groaned, then signaled with her hand for two of her compatriots to retrieve Scott.
Next to Mila, the girl from District 9, Tanya, tentatively raised her hand.
"Ma'am," she said. "Is it mandatory for him to attend training? If he misses, isn't that his own fault?"
"In addition to individual training time, there are required group exercises," Weidman said. "Everyone must attend the group exercises to ensure you have at least some training before you enter the arena."
There were some grumbles at her answer to the question, but no open protests after the display with Tesler, who had just stood from his set of pushups, looking surprisingly unbothered by the physical activity.
"I hope you learned your lesson Valdes," Weidman commented idly.
"Of course ma'am," Tesler smirked confidently.
Mila wasn't sure his mannerisms were exactly advisable, given the circumstances.
It was a few minutes before the two men returned, each holding one of Scott's wrists.
"What's the big deal," Scott complained. "Can't a guy get a little extra rest?"
"Winston!" Weidman snapped. "Get in line!"
Scott looked at Weidman like she'd sprouted a second head.
"Or what Princess?" Scott asked.
"In this room you will refer to me as ma'am," Weidman said. "Now form up! Otherwise you'll spend the rest of the day with a fifty pound weight strapped to your back!"
Scott shrunk back at the harshness of Weidman's words, then fell into line with the rest of them.
"I expect you to be on time tomorrow," Weidman said. "Next time I won't be so forgiving."
Mila watched as Scott gulped at the end of the line. He nodded his head nervously.
"Good! Now let's get going!" Weidman shouted. "Now form up! Three rows of eight!"
Mila followed the order without a complaint. She was not excited to be the third person to piss Weidman off. Whoever had the misfortune of being that person, Mila pitied them.
Nebraska Wilmington District 6: 16M
Wednesday Morning 9:00AM
Time Until Bloodbath: 4 Days 23hrs
Nebraska felt as if his arms were about to fall off. Those group exercises were no joke.
"Alright!" Weidman called. "We're done for now. Take a quick break. You're free to work on whatever you choose until lunch. Dismissed!"
At her directions, the other trainers dispersed. The tributes went their own ways, but most plopped down at the lunch tables, panting hard.
Nebraska felt about the same as most of them. He was used to running back home in District 6. He'd been chased by angry gangsters, peacekeepers, and meth heads. His cardio was fairly decent thanks to all that running.
His district partner Liz looked exhausted, far more than Nebraska was. She didn't look like she got out too much.
Nebraska's eyes tentatively flicked to the careers, all of whom looked very well put together after the hard workout. They were probably used to training like that. They probably did it every day.
It was intimidating, seeing those older, fitter, meaner careers. Nebraska liked to consider himself as fairly realistic. He knew himself quite well, and he knew his limitations intimately. Among them, was fighting these careers. He wouldn't last a second against even one career, let alone two or three.
Nebraska sat alongside Liz, not terribly sure why.
Neither of them seemed to have any interest in working as a team. She was a loner. He was a loner. What would be the point of working together? It would only disadvantage both of them, taking them out of their element.
Liz had said as much to their mentors, and though Nebraska hadn't said the same. He certainly agreed with his younger would-be companion.
"What do you want Nebraska?" Liz questioned sharply.
"Just sitting," Nebraska replied innocently. "That was one hell of a workout. I need to rest for a minute."
"Well you can waste your time doing that," Liz said. "I'm going to start training."
"We just trained for an hour. Don't you want a break?"
"Breaks are for quitters. If you want to lose take a break when you could be working to give yourself an advantage. And you and I need all the advantages we can get."
Nebraska couldn't fault her logic, even if he himself was going to take a break. The body needed a chance to rest. Overtraining wouldn't do him any good.
Liz propelled herself to her feet, staggering slightly from exertion. She wobbled slightly, stumbling to regain her balance.
Nebraska quickly followed her to his feet, grabbing hold of her upper arm, holding her steady. Liz's eyes whipped towards Nebraska, locking on his face with fury.
"Don't touch me Nebraska," Liz hissed, swatting his hands away.
"I'm just trying to help you."
"I don't need your help!"
She stomped away in frustration, heading straight for the edible plants exercise. It was large board with many squares to select, but there was a trainer there as well, though she looked substantially less intimidating than many of her compatriots.
Nebraska let her go. He didn't need to force her into anything, especially not into working with him. Nebraska wasn't sure he wanted to ally with her anyway.
He returned to his seat, giving himself a few minutes to recuperate. Most of the other tributes wandered off to find other exercises to work on.
Scott Winston, the kid who'd been dragged in by the peacekeepers after sleeping in late, lay on top of one of the tables, his chest expanding and contracting rapidly. He didn't look like he'd ever worked out this hard in his life.
The careers promptly rushed off, with the boy from one going to speak with the District 10 tributes. The girl from one joined the boy from two and the boy from four at the weapons training area, while the girls from two and four made for the fire-starting station.
Nebraska supposed he should probably get some form of training in, but he didn't want to go to any station with other tributes.
Then, his eyes lit on the obstacle course. It currently went unused, and he figured he'd be pretty good at running the gauntlet.
Nebraska stood at the start line, surveying the course, but he didn't want to take too much time planning out his route. It would defeat the purpose of the exercise. If Nebraska was in the arena running from careers, he wouldn't have time to plan a route.
He dashed ahead tossing the thoughts from his mind. There was no need for thought or feeling. There was only the wind blowing through his hair and the next step on his path.
Nebraska leapt nimbly from platform to platform, sliding beneath a tight gap and quickly jumping to a rope hanging over a large pit. There was no fear. Another person might have allowed the overwhelming thought of falling to conquer them, but not Nebraska. He had mastered the art of turning off his mind and simply reacting.
He landed smoothly on the ground again, then used one foot against the wall to launch himself across another wide gap. Nebraska landed and rolled, continuing smoothly.
He was free flowing, like a leaf in the wind, being pulled along to whatever destination he would be, and he didn't fight the pull. Nebraska rode along with it, allowing that undefinable force to be his guide.
Triumphantly, Nebraska vaulted over the final wall of the course, finding himself right back where he'd started, barely even breathing hard.
A few of the tributes looked on him with some surprise, but most were focused intently on their own tasks. That was good, Nebraska would prefer to go unnoticed.
He smiled and closed his eyes, once again returning to reality, and the wind passing through him faded away.
Edison Oswald District 5: 13M
Wednesday Morning 9:30AM
Time Until Bloodbath: 4 Days 22hrs 30mins
Edison considered himself a fast learner. It was probably one of the reasons his father had pushed him so hard, because he saw Edison's talent and wouldn't accept mediocre from his son.
Now, kneeling on the ground at the knot tying station, Edison applied his natural talent for gaining knowledge quickly. He had already memorized three different knots and become rather adept at tying them, and there was no telling just how helpful knowing those knots could be.
He slowly performed the steps of his fourth knot. The path to learning to perform a task at speed was to first do it slowly, then gradually pick up the pace, ensuring that the task would become merely muscle memory. Edison tied the knot again, this time slightly faster. This time it was tighter too.
"Mind if I join you?" A soft feminine voice spoke from behind him.
Edison slowly turned his head to see a pale girl, her hair a pure snow white that seemed to take on the color of the lights overhead. He remembered her name as Kendra. She was older but didn't seem to hold the same intimidating presence as most of the other tributes, especially the careers.
"Sure," Edison answered, gesturing with an open hand to the spot next to him.
"Thanks," Kendra said with a smile. "Figured I should probably learn how to tie some knots, seeing as you have to know how to build shelters and all."
"Depends on what shelter you're going for. You can build a lean-to. You don't need to tie knots to build one of those."
Edison's fingers nimbly tied his knot again. He was getting better and better at this one.
"Who wants to sleep in a lean-to though?" Kendra questioned jokingly. "There's not much room in one, especially if you have any allies."
Edison shrugged in acceptance of Kendra's comment. She was certainly entitled to whatever opinions she wanted to be. But she wasn't wrong.
"You're pretty good at this you know," Kendra commented idly.
"I'm not that good," Edison shrugged off the compliment.
He looked up to see Kendra struggling to tie her own knot, a much simpler one than Edison's.
"That goes on the other side," Edison said, trying to be helpful. "Then thread it through."
Kendra stopped and stared at the rope in her hands for a moment, then her mouth opened in an O. She quickly retraced her path and correctly tied the knot this time.
"There you go," Edison encouraged. "See, it's not too hard."
"I see what you did there," Kendra chuckled. "Knot too hard."
Edison smiled at his own accidental pun. It wasn't even a good joke, but any jokes that could be made under these circumstances were good jokes.
"Hey," Kendra said more seriously, instantly drawing Edison's attention. "My district partner Peter wants all the non-careers to meet him on our floor tonight."
"All the non-careers?" Edison asked. "On floor twelve?"
"Yes, he's got this idea. I don't want to spoil it for you. He'd probably explain it better than I could anyway. He's a lot like you actually, now that I think about it."
Edison wondered how Kendra thought she knew anything about him, but he ignored the thought. He couldn't tell if she considered Peter favorably or not. Maybe it was meant to be a jab at Edison's expense?
"What do you mean?"
"You're younger, smaller, but you're obviously super smart," Kendra said. "You've got a good chance just because of your brain."
Edison blushed heavily at the compliment. He wasn't used to being treated kindly. Between the bullies and his father, Edison's life in District 5 hadn't exactly been kind.
"Seriously," Kendra continued. "Look at those knots you're tying, and you're from District 5. My guess is you didn't know how to tie any knots half-an-hour ago."
Edison bowed his head, unable to meet Kendra's eyes. She was right in every way, and he didn't feel worthy of her praise.
"Am I right?"
"You're right," Edison responded sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.
They remained silent for a moment, and that moment stretched into many moments. It wasn't necessarily uncomfortable, the silence. Edison didn't mind silence, and never had. He'd rather things stay quiet. Quiet meant he wasn't being insulted or bullied.
Edison wondered what exactly Peter Vogel was so interested in discussing with the other tributes. Given that the careers weren't invited, he figured it had to be some sort of plan to take them out and remove them from the Games. How exactly that would work, eluded Edison.
He tied his knot again, fingers now moving at substantial speed. The knot was easy to perform now. Edison would not forget the pattern required to construct this particular knot. That was now four different shapes he could construct assuming he had a rope to tie them with.
At least he had knowledge of one useful skill to possess in the arena. Now understanding how quickly he learned to tie different knots, Edison considered how quickly he could learn to perform other tasks, wielding knives, swinging swords, or shooting bows. Maybe, like Kendra said, his mental abilities would give him a chance after all.
Tyto Winter District 7: 18M
Wednesday Morning 11:30AM
Time Until Bloodbath: 4 Days 20hrs 30mins
Boredom easily affected Tyto. He regularly found himself with nothing to do, or more accurately with nothing interesting to do.
He wanted to do something that required his body's exertion. Tyto threw down the stick he was using in an attempt to start a small fire and stood. He walked straight toward the weapons training station where a few of the careers already trained.
Tyto watched as the boy from four, Morton or something, dismantled his opponent with a trident in his hands. He twirled it like it was weightless, easily parrying and deflecting the strikes of the opposing man's spear.
The girl from one and the boy from two stood by watching the combat with detached interest. They both looked strong, particularly Jason, from District 2.
Tyto approached them with an easy smile on his face. Communication had always come easy to him. He normally did pretty well with people, having fun and all.
"You mind if I go next?" Tyto questioned.
Tabby sent a glare in his direction. She quite obviously didn't like him very much. Jason though looked more contemplative and substantially less readable.
"The other arena's open," Jason said with a shrug.
"Yeah, knock yourself out," Tabby added with a smirk.
"Unlikely I think," Tyto replied confidently.
Tyto called for one of the trainers to spar with him. He took two small training axes off the wall, while the trainer took a spear. They stepped into the arena, the training guard flexing his muscles and trying to look tough. Tyto laughed, flipping one of the axes in his hand.
Tyto attacked first, and he attacked with vicious intent. He swung with his left hand as his opponent raised the spear to protect himself. Tyto followed up with his right, striking beneath the guard of his opponent.
The trainer grunted in pain and stumbled back slightly. He raised his spear again, prepared to push back against Tyto's assault.
Tyto gave him no time to rest however, as he attacked again, using both axes simultaneously this time. The trainer smacked Tyto's axes aside with a well-timed parry and followed with a thrust with the tip of the spear.
Tyto quickly redirected his left ax and trapped the shaft of the spear beneath the blade of the ax. He dragged the spear to the side, avoiding the thrust, and promptly bashed the trainer in the head with the butt end of his right ax.
He stumbled back again, hand to his head and teeth gritted. Tyto smiled confidently and advanced yet again.
His opponent clumsily parried away Tyto's first attack, then followed up with an even more uncoordinated slash which Tyto easily dodged.
Tyto struck the trainer on the back as the spear passed harmlessly by. Then, with a kick to the trainer's ass, Tyto sent him flopping on the ground with a heavy grunt.
"Thanks for the practice buddy," Tyto bowed his head slightly and extended a hand to the trainer, helping him to his feet.
The trainer just shook his head at Tyto and left the ax wielding boy to himself.
As he returned his practice weapons to the rack on the wall, Tyto found Jason, Tabby, and Maxwell – maybe – looking at him with differing expressions on their faces. Tabby was doing her best not to look impressed, Mordecai gave Tyto a genuine round of applause, while Jason merely continued his calculating stare.
"You're pretty good," Mason complimented. "Nice work."
"Thanks," Tyto replied. "But, I'm sure there's still plenty of improvement to be done. I'm not much of a fighter to be honest. I only know how to swing axes because that was my job back home."
"You haven't sparred before?" Jason questioned, his tone of voice still unnervingly calm.
"Not really. I mean, I've done it with my friends for fun, but never anything like that."
"Man you're a natural Tyto," Malik said with a large smile as he vaulted over the barrier around his arena. "I'm Murchad, nice to meet you."
Tyto shook his hand, Murchad's hand, he would have to remember that. What a strange name.
"I'd definitely like to see you spar some more," Murchad continued excitedly. "I wish I could spar you myself, but we can't really do that here unfortunately."
"Don't worry about it too much," Tyto said with a small smirk. "I'm sure we'll get the chance in a few days."
Murchad's smile instantly fell.
"Yeah…"
"Ah," Tyto quickly tried to backtrack his statement. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I know not everyone's a fan of dark humor."
"What about that was funny?" Tabby asked. "You were right Tyson, or whatever your name is."
"Tyto," it seemed forgetting names was a common occurrence today.
Tabby snorted, like she was thinking much the same as Tyto had when he learned Murchad's name. Only, he expected that her thoughts were not nearly as forgiving or kind.
"What's life like back home then?" Murchad asked. "I'm guessing you're probably a lumberjack."
"You'd be right," Tyto returned. "Then again, pretty much everyone in District 7 is a lumberjack, so it's not like that's unusual or anything. But I like the job. It's good work."
"Sounds like it, especially if it taught you to swing an ax like I just saw you do. Even if it was a bad job, it would've been worth it to give yourself a better chance in the Games."
"You're not wrong," Tyto said.
A ringing bell suddenly interrupted the flow of conversation, drawing their attention toward the lunch tables.
"Lunch is served!" A grouchy male voice called. "Come get your food before it gets cold!"
Tyto turned back to the careers as most of the tributes walked tiredly in the direction of the lunch tables.
"Guess I'll be seeing you guys around then," Tyto said. "It was good talking with you all."
"See you later Tyto," Murchad responded cheerily.
Tabby merely grunted, and Jason said nothing at all.
Tyto spun on his heel and had only taken two steps when Jason did speak up.
"Say Tyto," he said. "Why don't you sit at lunch with us? I want to talk to you about something."
Tyto blinked once, then turned back to Jason in surprise.
"What?" Tabby asked with a mixture of anger and confusion. "He's not a career. He can't sit with us."
"Sure he can," Jason said. "He can sit wherever he wants."
Tabby grumbled to herself and rolled her eyes, then made her own way to the lunch tables.
"Are you sure?" Tyto asked.
Jason nodded, looking at Tyto as if he was stupid for even asking if Jason was unsure of anything he said.
"Alright!" Murchad cheered. "Come on brother. Let's get some lunch huh?"
Tyto followed behind the two careers, only slightly confused as to what was happening.
Tesler Valdes District 3: 18M
Wednesday Afternoon 12:00PM
Time Until Bloodbath: 4 Days 20hrs
The plate clattered lightly as Tesler placed it down on the table. The food here appeared just as delectable as the food upstairs in his apartment or the food back on the train. It was perfectly seasoned chicken thighs with some unknown – but wonderful tasting – sauce. Then there were the also perfectly roasted vegetables. The whole plate was wonderful, scrumptious, and all the other adjectives that Tesler couldn't come up with.
He chewed his food slowly, eyeing the other tributes as they collected their plates of lunch. Tesler was the first to sit down because he was the only one who never even left the tables, and he didn't plan to.
Tesler watched silently while most of the tributes sat with their district partners, though a few did cross lines to sit with other districts. The careers sat together, along with Tyto Winter from District 7. Tesler wasn't exactly sure why, but he could assume they were speaking to the lumberjack about joining their alliance. The tributes from District 5 sat with the ones from twelve speaking rather happily.
Across from him, Ayla slid into her seat with her own plate of food. Her luminous green eyes seemed unfocused, but not quite staring off into space. It was like she was looking at something that wasn't there.
Tesler turned to view the spot Ayla stared at, and just as he thought, it was completely empty. Yet, her expression indicated that she saw something. Tesler shook aside his thoughts of confusion and returned his gaze to Ayla, who still stared at the wall in the distance.
"What'd you find out?" Tesler asked, taking a chunk off a chicken thigh.
Ayla blinked a few times, then looked straight at Tesler like she had just noticed him.
"Uh…" she stammered. "Well, I think I have a few candidates for the last member of our alliance, but I'm not sure any of them are exactly what we're looking for."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I think Eira's a good candidate, but, as you can see, she's already found allies," Ayla gestured over her shoulder to the girl from five eating and laughing with her district partner and the tributes from twelve. "There's Tanya too, but she seems a little erratic. Maybe Butch from District 10, but I didn't get a chance to talk to her for very long."
Tesler chewed contemplatively, nodding slowly.
"Say Tesler," Ayla continued. "Why am I the only one doing any work? All you did was sit around. Do you expect me to do all the work and still report to you for directions. You can only lead so long as you're pulling your weight."
Tesler sighed in frustration and placed his fork back on his plate, sitting back in his chair. He took a calming breath, reminding himself that Ayla had every right to question Tesler, especially considering that he hadn't exactly told her what he was doing all morning.
"I wasn't just sitting around," Tesler replied. "I was observing, trying to see the skills of the other tributes, strengths weaknesses. I want to be able to predict their behavior in their arena."
"Are you sure that's going to work?" Ayla asked. "I mean, you can't say for sure what anyone's going to do. People can always surprise you."
"True, but wouldn't you rather have some idea of our opposition?"
Ayla remained silent for a moment, thinking over Tesler's words. Her face contorted, while Tesler waited patiently for her response.
"I suppose I would," Ayla said. "But you need to have some idea of how to survive in the arena. I can't be carrying you around, telling you what you can and can't eat and starting fires for you."
"I don't want you to, believe me," Tesler said. "But there's plenty of time for me to figure those things out."
"You only have two-and-a-half days now."
"That's more than enough," Tesler returned confidently. "Tell you what, just for you. I'll spend the rest of the day training. Sound fair?"
"It would make me feel a lot better if you trained as much as possible over the next few days," Ayla said. "The whole point of this alliance was to ensure we ended up with competent allies. You aren't very competent if you don't train."
"I'm a fast learner."
"Are you?" Ayla replied skeptically. "Well you'd better be, because we don't have long before we're thrown into the arena of doom."
Tesler smirked confidently. He knew his mannerisms were off-putting to Ayla, and they weren't helping ease her mind. That wasn't his problem though. Tesler would follow through on his promises. He was quite aware of his own capabilities, and he had no doubt he could master the survival aspects in a relatively short time.
"I'll train with you for the rest of the day," Tesler said. "And most of tomorrow when we aren't interviewing candidates."
Ayla gave Tesler a small smile, "Thank you. I appreciate that you're willing to work with me. It shows you care about making this alliance work."
"It shows that I don't want to die," Tesler returned with a chuckle.
Ayla laughed lightly. It was a slightly uncomfortable sound, likely borne of the fact that she still wasn't comfortable around Tesler.
Then, her eyes grew far away again, focusing on the distant wall. Tesler turned to see the wall for a second time, ensuring he wasn't blind. It turned out he wasn't. There was still nothing there, and Eira was still looking at nothing.
"Are you okay?" Tesler asked, delving deeper into the problem.
Ayla's gaze remained on the wall, her pupils slowly tracking to the left. Now Tesler was really confused. He had no idea what was going on inside her head.
"Ayla," he spoke more forcefully, reaching out to touch her hand on the table. "Are you okay?"
Ayla gasped and shot backwards in her seat. She was breathing hard, and she was holding her own hand protectively.
"Don't touch me," Ayla hissed.
"Relax," Tesler raised his hands placatingly. "I don't swing that way. I wasn't making a move or anything. What's really going on Ayla?"
Ayla's eyes narrowed for a moment, almost annoyed that Tesler had seen through her ruse.
"Nothing," Ayla said after a long pause. "I'm fine."
Now it was Tesler's turn to narrow his eyes, though for a completely different reason. She obviously wasn't telling the truth. Lies were not a good basis for a burgeoning partnership. Tesler had to get to the bottom of this.
Jason Green District 2: 18M
Wednesday Afternoon 2:00PM
Time Until Bloodbath: 4 Days 18hrs
In all honesty, Jason was sure he wasn't the only one getting fed up with Santana Perez. It seemed he was the only one who wasn't on the same page as the rest of them. Sure, there was Tabby, who didn't want to accept Tyto into their alliance despite the obvious fact that the lumberjack would be a brilliant ally to have on their side, but she was too caught up in her own conceptions of the world. Jason wasn't sure that he could fault her for simply sticking to her beliefs, even if they were mostly wrong.
Santana however was much more difficult to manage. He wasn't someone you could pin down. The crass and rather vile Santana would act in direct opposition to suggestions provided by his allies simply because he could. He behaved contrarily simply for the sake of behaving contrarily, because he found it funny to annoy his allies.
If the careers were going to be leaderless for the first time in the history of the Games, then they really couldn't afford to have anyone who wasn't entirely committed to the same standard as the rest of them.
"You think he's going to be a problem?" Cassie questioned as she once again tied a fairly decent snare.
Jason focused on his own snare for the moment, thinking over his response. His snares were no better than Cassie's, and he was beginning to think it might've been a waste of time to even visit the snare tying station.
"I think he already is a problem," Jason said. "He's capable enough in a fight, but he just doesn't mesh well with the rest of us. The pros of having him around are starting to be outweighed by the cons."
"I agree," Cassie said. "When he and Tabby are in the same room, I can just see them thinking about strangling each other constantly. Plus, he keeps running off with the bullfighter. I'm not sure he's really that attached to working with us either."
"Maybe it's best if we went our separate ways…"
"Careers don't split up too often," Cassie said. "Alina dealt with something like this in her Games, and she made sure the careers stayed together. Usually, the others expect for the alliance to work no matter what. Breaking it up won't be easy."
"We won't be breaking up the career alliance," Jason replied. "We're just kicking Santana out."
"I think it's the right decision Jason, but I really don't want to have to deal with a vengeful Santana."
"I don't either, but it's either deal with a vengeful Santana or a potentially alliance breaking Santana if we keep him around."
"Should we tell the others?" Cassie asked.
Jason nodded certainly and tossed his snare to the side with a scoff at his own incompetence.
It only took a few minutes for them to convince the others of their plan. Both Tabby and Tyto were quickly convinced, neither of them having a great like for Santana, and even though they didn't particularly like each other, they were united in their frustration with Santana. Murchad took a bit longer to convince, as he didn't view the bloody freak the same way everyone else did. Eventually, he came around. Cassie spoke with Eydis, convincing her, though Jason wasn't exactly sure how. His district partner told him that Eydis wasn't exactly comfortable around them yet.
Finally, they sought out Santana together. Once again, he was with the bullfighter, watching Rel duke it out with one of the trainers.
"Santana," Jason called. "We need to talk."
Santana's messy red hair whizzed around his head like a halo as he spun to face them. His eyes darted back and forth between them, trying to figure out exactly what was going on, but obviously failing.
"The gang's all here, for little old me?" Santana placed a hand to his chest in a mocking gesture. "What's going on?"
Rel called off his own practice with the trainer, wandering over to the barrier of the arena and leaning against it. He displayed mild curiosity on the outside, but Jason could see that, beneath the bravado was a degree of true interest.
"The gang's here for just you Santana," Cassie said sternly. "Take a break from your boyfriend for a minute, so we can work this out."
"Boyfriend?" Santana scoffed. "This guy? Please, he's not my type at all."
Rel raised a single eyebrow and set a glare on the back of Santana's head.
"Well whatever," Cassie swiped a disregarding hand through the air. "Come on."
Santana huffed and followed them back to the lunch tables where they all sat down. The air was tense, and the stares traded back and forth between them were so visceral they were almost physical.
"So what's the big deal?" Santana asked, suddenly and surprisingly serious.
Jason sighed heavily, preparing his words in his mind. He didn't want to fuck this up. He had to say this correctly.
"Santana, I know we just met and all, but I don't think this is going to work," Jason said.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Santana asked. "Just tell me straight up."
"You're out of the alliance Santana," Cassie jumped in.
Santana remained silent for a long moment, seemingly speechless. Jason never thought he would see Santana Perez speechless.
"We all agreed if you were wondering," Murchad said sympathetically. "Sorry man."
"You're sorry?" Santana scoffed and shook his head.
"We're afraid you're going to cause problems," Jason explained, trying to keep the conversation going in the right direction. "We'd love to have your skills, but you're harming the rest of us with your antics, and you seem to want to work with the bullfighter more than us."
"So what if I do?" Santana shot back. "You obviously don't want me as an ally."
Jason's face twisted into a slight smirk. Santana was completely correct, and his lack of filter didn't keep him from calling out what he saw as a betrayal.
"I would say it's not you, but it is you," Tabby said smugly.
Santana shook his head and exhaled in frustration.
"Fine then," Santana said. "This is how it's going to be."
His eyes flicked up and landed directly on Jason's. The black pools seemed to radiate pure hate, but Jason met the gaze with pure calm.
"I thought we were a team," he continued. "But I guess not."
Santana pushed his chair back and lingered over the table for a moment. His fist slammed into the surface of the wood with a thunk.
"This isn't the end," Santana spoke lowly. "Know that this isn't over."
With those closing words, the bloody vampire turned his back on the careers and returned again to the bullfighter's side.
Tanya Mills District 9: 17F
Wednesday Afternoon 4:00PM
Time Until Bloodbath: 4 Days 16hrs
Tanya nervously stepped up to one of the knife training dummies. Her natural athletic talent would certainly make learning to use a knife far easier, but far easier didn't mean easy.
The dummy was constructed of some sort of synthetic material designed to mimic human flesh. Tanya's breath grew heavier and faster. The nerves in her skin left her hand shaking.
Timothy always told Tanya that the skills he was teaching her were never to be used for ill. She could remember him reminding her again and again that she should only ever resort to violence if violence reached her first. Her boxing was a tool for defense, for sport too, but never to be used aggressively against anyone who didn't consent to her attack.
That conundrum ran through her mind again and again. No matter how many times Tanya considered the circumstances, she couldn't convince herself that she had any right to attack other tributes. After all, they hadn't asked to be here, most of them.
Most of the tributes were here against their wills. Just like Tanya, they had been snatched from their homes, loaded on trains, and forced into an apartment which was little more than a prison. It was a nice prison sure, but a prison, nonetheless. It wasn't fair to any of them that a regime so powerful could simply walk into their lives and say, 'come with me or we'll kill you and your family.'
But not every tribute was here against their will. There were some who were here voluntarily.
Logically, Tanya could justify violence against those people. Though there were only nine of them, and two of them volunteered to save someone else, Tanya equated the act of volunteering to the act of consenting to be violently assaulted. Perhaps she had a right to attack the volunteers, specifically the careers who had trained their whole lives for this.
She had no respect for them. They were only supporting the regime that had destroyed the lives of so many.
Tanya envisioned the ridiculous boy from one in place of the dummy. His stupid red hair and evil smirk appeared perfectly on the plastic face. Now, she felt ready to do battle, even if it wasn't quite real.
Tanya raised the knife in her hand, holding it tightly. She slashed experimentally at the dummy, just to see what would happen. She wasn't sure what she expected, but it wasn't what actually did happen.
Fake blood spurted from the upper arm of the dummy. Tanya gasped in shock and stumbled backwards.
"What the hell?" She whispered to herself.
Her eyes fell to the blood on the floor, unable to tear her gaze away. It wasn't real. It couldn't be.
Tanya had seen blood before. She'd been in enough fights to see people bleed, but never at the hands of a real weapon. Tanya had only seen bleeding caused by fists up to this point.
Tanya knelt and touched her finger to the synthetic blood on the floor, smelling it. She almost gagged. The blood was real.
The blood was real.
The blood was real…
How? Tanya couldn't believe it. To put real blood in a training dummy…she wasn't even sure if she wanted to know how it was possible. Where did they even get the blood from? Tanya didn't want to think about that either.
The knife clattered to the floor, yet Tanya barely noticed, her attention was firmly focused on the drops of real blood lingering on the floor beneath her feet.
Trancelike, Tanya stood and slowly backed away. Next to her, she saw the girl from District 4 attacking another dummy with a spear. Blood flowed freely from the dummy's fake skin, dribbling slowly to the floor, then gradually drifting towards a conveniently placed drain.
Now Tanya felt like she really was going to throw up. The bile rose in her throat, and Tanya gritted her teeth and held her breath to prevent the vomit from spewing all over the floor. She really didn't want to cause a scene, especially not when the other tributes were already staring at her with judgement in their eyes.
Tanya shook her head rapidly, then moved as quickly as she dared to the bathroom. Once again, her gag reflex kicked in, and she felt ready to explode, but she held it in.
She slammed the door aside and made a beeline for the nearest stall. Tanya bent over and wretched. It hurt coming out, and the sight of the real blood wouldn't go away. The red liquid flowed over the floor like a tiny river.
Tanya told herself that she shouldn't feel this way, and that she had just stabbed a dummy, nothing real, but the thoughts dwelling in her imagination took control of her mind. She couldn't help but wonder: how the blood was put inside those dummies, where did it come from, and most importantly, who did it come from?
It was enough to make her vomit again.
"Tanya…" A gentle voice spoke behind her.
Tanya didn't recognize the timbre of the voice. It wasn't William. It was quite obviously a female's voice.
As the wave of nausea finally passed, Tanya breathed heavily, slowly turning her head to see Kendra Shogana from twelve watching her.
"Are you okay?" Kendra asked. "What happened?"
"I'm fine," Tanya groaned, turning back to her toilet. "Just a little sick is all."
Kendra said nothing, but Tanya could almost feel the older girl's disbelief.
"Okay fine," Tanya huffed. "I was trying to practice using a knife, give myself a little experience with a real weapon, you know? But…"
"The blood," Kendra finished for her. "It was too real."
"Literally," Tanya said, spitting into the toilet. "It was real blood."
"Wait, seriously?"
"Yeah, all real blood. Nothing fake about it."
She heard Kendra's soft sigh of resignation behind her. Then watched the girl lean against the stall with a sympathetic smile on her face.
"I'm sorry Tanya," she said simply.
Tanya smiled back, shaking herself to clear the thoughts from her head. There was only one obvious path forward now. Tanya would follow Timothy's teachings. She would not act violently unless acted violently upon by another. Tanya would never pick up another weapon again.
Peter Vogel District 12: 15M
Wednesday Evening 8:00PM
Time Until Bloodbath: 4 Days 12hrs
Peter tapped his foot nervously, waiting for the last of the outer district tributes to appear. This was the defining moment in his life of debating. He had to convince sixteen people to join his cause against the careers. Kendra was already with him, and hopefully the others would be soon. He needed this.
"Hey," Kendra spoke from next to him on the couch. "It'll be okay. You got this. I believe in you."
Peter nodded quickly but said nothing in return. He was too busy going over the words he needed to say to them.
Already, most of the tributes had filled the converted living room. The couch itself was incredibly large, capable of handling ten or more people alone, but they had pulled in every chair and stool from the kitchen area to fill out the remaining spots required.
It made the living room fairly crowded, even as big as it was.
The elevator dinged, breaking Peter from his nervous stupor. That had to be the last of them, and sure enough it was. There were the two tributes from District 7, the easy-going older kid, and the fierce, but happy looking girl. He was pretty sure they were Tyto and Brooke.
"So this is the shindig huh?" Tyto said cheerily. "Where's the beer?"
"Sorry, no beer," Kendra said.
"Damn it," Tyto muttered to himself while the others laughed.
Peter even smiled a little, thankful to have his mind taken away from his speech for a moment.
The District 7 tributes took seats wherever they were available. Matt Scotch from eleven patted Tyto on the shoulder consolingly.
"I wish there was beer too man," Matt said.
The room laughed again, then settled into a low buzz of comfortable conversation. Peter could almost imagine that they were simply friends, gathering only to have a good time.
"You should probably start now," Kendra whispered to Peter. "Everyone's here."
Peter nodded hesitantly. He knew Kendra was right, but it didn't make him any less nervous.
Peter cleared his throat loudly, drawing the attention of the crowd to him. Peter exhaled slowly and swallowed his fear. Briefly, he went over his words in his head, then nodded. He was ready.
"Hey there guys," Peter began awkwardly. "Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me that you all showed up.
"Anyway, I suppose I should tell you why you're here. I have an idea. It's pretty out there, and some of you might be a little concerned. Maybe you'll be afraid to join in, and that's okay. I promise things will work out. It'll take some trust in yourself, but also in everyone else here. But don't worry. I believe in us."
"What's the big idea Little Pres?" Scott Winston interrupted. "You're doing everything but telling us what the plan is."
Peter sighed exasperatedly.
"The plan," Peter said. "Is to team up, temporarily of course, just for long enough to take out the careers at the bloodbath.
"I can see you all look a little scared, concerned, skeptical, so let me spell it out for you. The careers are the biggest threat in the arena. We all know that. So, why wouldn't we take the number one threat off the board? The careers are way more likely to win than we are, and our chances of victory go up tremendously if we work together at the bloodbath.
"They can't possibly beat all of us. It's six against eighteen. I don't care how good you are. Those odds are too much to overcome. Then, after we win at the bloodbath, we can all go our own ways, but at least we would know that one of the non-careers is going to win."
The room was eerily silent as Peter closed. Nobody said anything. Some faces were nervous, but most appeared contemplative, really giving Peter's idea some thought.
That in itself was encouraging, at least he had some chance of breaking through to them.
"But what if it doesn't work, and the careers come after us when the bloodbath is over?" Brooke Fisher asked.
"They'd come after you anyway Brooke," Peter said – using names was always a good trick to convince others you meant well. "You might as well give it your best shot as soon as possible, right?"
Brooke's eyes dropped from Peter's, finding a spot on the floor to stare at.
"How do you know this is going to work?" Butch asked.
"Trust me," Peter answered. "It's really simple. They won't have any weapons at the start, so the playing field will be even, only we'll have the numbers advantage."
"Well," Tyto spoke up. "I hate to break up the party, but I already allied with the careers earlier today. I'm not turning my back on my allies. I'm no turncoat."
"Turncoat?" Peter questioned abrasively. "You're the turncoat. You joined the careers."
"They aren't bad people," Tyto shrugged. "Except Santana…and Tabby, but the rest of them are alright."
"So four out of six?" Peter asked. "Two-thirds of them are alright?"
Tyto tilted his head to the side as he slid out of his barstool. He nodded to himself.
"Yeah," he said simply. "So, I guess I don't have much reason to hang around here any longer then."
Tyto turned to walk from the room, then stopped feet from the elevator and turned back.
"I won't tell them about this," Tyto said. "That wouldn't be right. So, your secret's safe with me."
"I'm out too," Scott announced. "This is a bunch of optimistic bullshit if you ask me."
As Scott and Tyto disappeared into the elevator, the silence in the room became almost deafening.
"So you all are still with me then?" Peter asked. "Sixteen's still plenty."
"Actually no," Tesler Valdes said, leaning forward in his recliner. "I'm not with you."
Peter wanted to tear his own skin off. Why the fuck was everyone leaving?
"Why not?" Peter asked. "I saw what happened when you were reaped Tesler. You obviously aren't a fan of the Capitol."
"I'm not," Tesler replied. "But neither is that girl from District 2, Cassie. She doesn't like them either. You're making things too simple Peter, careers and non-careers, Capitol and district."
"How?" Peter asked. "It has been and always will be careers against non-careers, and last time I checked, the careers have a way higher chance of winning."
"And last time I checked, only one person wins the Games, Peter. The careers don't ever win. One person from one district goes through hell and manages to survive by the skin of their teeth to return home. Only at the beginning of the Games do those stupid labels make any difference. By day seven, we're all the same. We're all doomed, whether to death, or a life of misery and regret.
"So, don't lecture me on who wins and who doesn't, because only one person ever wins, and it doesn't make a fucking difference who it is if it isn't you."
Tesler pointed to himself as he spoke that last word.
"The only thing that matters is making it back home. Maybe then, you have a chance to fight another day, or at least you get to see your family again. But, this categorization stuff doesn't get us anywhere. It'll only get some of us killed in a pointless quest for revenge against a group of people that don't even support the Capitol, bar one.
"So, no, I will not fight with you Peter. I will not fight with you because I think that individuals matter far more than collectives like you're attempting to create."
Tesler stood from his seat and made his way to the elevator to the shocked silence of the gathered crowd. Moments later, just as the elevator door opened, Ayla, his district partner followed him. Together, they disappeared behind the sliding doors.
Silence once again held with the gathered tributes for a moment, then suddenly that silence became an uproar. They shouted back and forth at each other, arguing who was really right, Tesler or Peter.
Peter's head landed in his hands with a smack. How could everything go so wrong?
And with that, we reach the end of training day one! That was eventful huh? Strict ass trainers, new alliances formed, old alliances destroyed, and plenty of arguments had.
So, let me know what you thought. How have your opinions changed on some characters? Which relationships would you like to see more from?
Anyway, hope ya'll enjoyed, and thanks for reading guys.