Chapter 35: (Un)conscious Bias
Training Day 3, the Capitol
The final day of training brought with it a distinct undercurrent of tension. Venatrix itched to get started, a sentiment clearly mirrored across the faces of her allies. Even the outliers were getting fidgety during the Head Trainer's briefing as Flora explained the mechanics of the afternoon's private session lineup, though at this point Venatrix doubted it was news to anyone with a halfway-decent mentor.
Not too far away, she caught Caitlin's eyes flickering longingly towards the knives. The Eight girl stood a decent distance away from her sullen former ally who'd finally made a reappearance after yesterday. Even Zavian wasn't sporting his usual devil-may-care grin, though the somewhat-thoughtful expression disappeared along with the trainer's monologue. "Think I'm gonna show the Gamemakers my beatboxing skills, what do you guys think?"
Venatrix rolled her eyes at the huffs of amusement from his allies, though his district partner shot him a scowl. "You're such a child," Veylani snipped.
"Geez," Zavian huffed, raising his hands in surrender. "And what are you gonna do, hypnotize the Gamemakers into giving you a 13?"
"I probably could."
Venatrix barely hid her snort of amusement at that, echoed by Percy at her shoulder. However, she had more important things to do this morning than listen to the Thirteens squabble. "Alright," she barked, herding her pack away from the outliers. "You heard what she said. Last day; let's make it count." The others nodded in passive approval. They moved to disperse, but Venatrix cleared her throat, the discussion from last night clear in her mind. "Listen." She leveled her allies with a firm stare. "We've got a talented group here. I know this isn't the usual sentiment, but I want to see all of us in the Final Eight this year."
The words earned a few raised eyebrows, settling over the pack with thoughtful interest; as intended, the majority seemed unwilling to shatter the friendly façade so early. Whether her sentiment was true or not didn't particularly matter, as long as the pack believed her.
But Venatrix hadn't been lying earlier when she said she wanted to prove herself. In the very least, she'd drag Percy with her as far as she could, the others be damned.
"You in the Final Eight?" Viper broke the thoughtful silence, eyes narrowed at his district partner. "Over my dead body."
"Yes, that's the point, Valleroy," Mariposa snipped back, too busy inspecting her fingernails to return his glare. He walked into that one, Venatrix mused, exchanging another glance with Percy.
Still, the One boy bristled. "It's Saint-Valleroy to you, bitch."
"Hey!" Venatrix snapped.
Recognizing the end of the briefing, Grethel and Shannon smartly peeled off, unwilling to get another earful of District One bickering. Viper didn't flinch under Venatrix's glare, his eyes still trained on his partner, but Mariposa merely laughed, stunningly caustic. "You're no fucking Saint. No more than me." She stalked off without waiting for a reply, slipping into a light jog once her feet hit the running track.
Before Viper could do the same, Venatrix halted him with a firm hand to the shoulder. "Can you knock it off, for one day?"
"Why, does it bother you?" he sneered testily.
"I don't want my alliance going toe-up on day one."
Viper's gray-eyed stare was ice. "I am going to kill her." He said it like a promise, the anger bleached from his tone by cold sincerity. Venatrix willed away a shiver. "Final Eight, my ass; I thought you were supposed to be smart."
Venatrix's fingers tightened around his arm, and his face twisted into a snarl. "Come on, don't you want to make Hunger Games history?" she prodded, careful to keep the bite from her words.
"I'd rather have an easy win, thanks."
It was her turn to scoff. "That's not what they like to watch, and you know it." With a scowl, Viper ripped his arm from her grasp. "You don't want them to forget about you as soon as you win, do you?" Venatrix folded her arms, her expression morphing into one of false pity. "I thought you were supposed to be smart."
"I can tell when someone's trying to fuck me over," he hissed warningly.
"You mean everyone here?"
Viper rolled his eyes. "I know the others want you as our leader, but that's only because they're too stupid to see otherwise."
"Careful, Viper."
He smirked at her testiness. "Sorry, I know you love your little golden retriever," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "But I don't think your little pedigree helps you as much as you think it does."
On the contrary. Venatrix couldn't easily forget the sense Morwenna had screamed into her the day she'd almost broken Percy's arm. But Viper didn't need to know that. Venatrix quirked a questioning brow at her slippery ally, gesturing for him to continue.
"You don't think any of them actually believe you have their best interests at heart, do you?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Even Idris isn't that dumb. Especially not when you'll be getting all those handouts from the Capitol…"
"I'm not—"
"Two mentors, pretty much; am I wrong?"
Even Percy found fault in that, she remembered. Venatrix squared her jaw, not gracing him with a response. Whatever he's monologuing about better be good.
Viper continued. "I'm only speaking the truth; the others will see it soon enough. I can't imagine they'll want to follow you with a low training score."
"What low training score?"
"Well, that's just it. If anyone scores higher than you, surely they deserve to lead instead."
Venatrix clicked her tongue against her teeth. So that's what he wants. "By 'anyone' you mean yourself, right?"
"Naturally."
The thought made her lips curl in amusement; something flickered across his face at her reaction before he could wrest it beneath his calculating mask. Of course he thought he could score higher than her; laughable, really. Venatrix blew a raspberry, pretending to deliberate.
Viper couldn't keep the impatience from his creased brow. "What do you say, Vee?"
It hardly counted as a risky decision in her mind; at least until Venatrix remembered that as much politics went into the Gamemakers' assignment of training scores as actual skill. Venatrix pursed her lips. "So, you want me to hand over leadership to you if you score higher than me, correct? Higher, not the same." Viper opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off. "Wouldn't be very fair to our allies if we changed things up for no reason, hm?"
The One boy hummed in reluctant agreement. "Fine. Do we have a deal?"
Venatrix let him stew for a beat before shrugging. "Sure; the challenge will be good for you." She grinned at the war between satisfaction and offense taking over his features. The days of empty compliments were long past; if Viper wanted to challenge her, she'd let him know just what he was walking into.
In the meantime, however, she had another idea to set in motion. "Viper, fetch the Threes for me, will you?"
Viper frowned, caught off-guard by the sudden change in subject. "What do you want them for?"
"We haven't seen what the outliers are capable of." He tilted his head, still confused. Venatrix scanned the gym, spotting the Nine girl crouching by the fire-starting station with Erryn from Twelve. "When you're done, see if you can learn some fire-starting skills, why don't you?"
"Why would I—"
"Just trust me," she insisted, jerking her chin towards their direction. Once Viper's eyes landed on poor Gaberlee, they lit up with malice, and he sauntered off on her errand.
Following a quick round of warm-up sword drills, Grethel and Shannon made their appearance, and Venatrix directed them towards where the pair from Ten sat silently with the girls from Twelve and Five at the shelter-building station, wary glances periodically passing between the two groups. At the presence of the Careers, however, the Tens quickly made themselves scarce, joining their allies from Seven by the axes. The younger girls soon followed their stead, dispersing elsewhere; Venatrix's eyes tracked them as she replaced her sword on the rack, heading towards her comrades from Four. "Knot-tying, both of you," she ordered as Idris's trident sailed into the chest of a faraway dummy.
"Hey, didja see that— wait, knot-tying?" Idris lifted his elbow from Venatrix's shoulder at her pointed glance.
"They taught us that at our Academy ages ago," Patience reminded her.
"Sure, same here. But I'm reversing our training strategy a bit." Venatrix's eyes flicked towards the station in question, currently manned by Caitlin and the younger Vita from Six; nearby, Veylani swirled a dizzying array of black and white paint up her arm. "Pay attention to where they go once you chase them off." The two exchanged a glance before bounding off.
Scanning the gym, Venatrix caught an annoyed look on Percy's face when he noticed the little Twelve girl lingering by the rack of bows. She jerked her chin for Percy to meet her by knife-throwing station, where Mariposa had spent the first few minutes of training letting off steam. "What were you and Viper chatting about?" he asked curiously, jogging over.
"Tell you later. Right now, I want you two—" Mariposa perked her head up when they came into earshot— "to take care of our favorite little group of rats."
Percy frowned, though he followed her gaze towards Zavian's group.
"Traps and snares. I'd rather see them pick up a weapon at this point. And be subtle about it," she said, eyeing her friend.
"Aye-aye, captain." Percy saluted cheekily before taking a casual route back to the archery station; the Twelve girl flinched at his brazen presence, but he merely offered her a friendly smile before backing off.
Mariposa lingered for a bit. "Which one are you going to?"
Venatrix let her gaze wander across the survival stations, by now largely occupied by Careers. Her eyes settled on the pair from Eleven, hunched over a pile of plant specimens. Mariposa hummed in understanding, or amusement (or both), and the girls separated.
Steadily, Venatrix circled around to approach from a rear angle. As she neared the station, she lightened her tread, stepping as quietly as a harvest bird hunter.
Neither the Elevens nor the trainer noticed her proximity until she crouched down beside them; the trainer jumped in mild fright at her sudden presence, laughing it off with a high-pitched giggle.
The tributes couldn't brush her off so easily. Even in her peripheral, Venatrix noted the tension in their now-rigid postures, barely listening as the trainer rattled off an introductory spiel that she didn't need. Absently, Venatrix began sorting her own plant pile, viscerally aware that the girl, Paprika, couldn't seem to peel her eyes away. Quick, whispered words hissed through the air, though they paused when Venatrix glanced up to see Starling hovering by his partner's ear. His gaze was distrustful; Venatrix nodded to their pile. "That's water hemlock, you know. Not Queen Anne's lace."
Starling cautiously inspected the white-flowered plant before switching it to the poisonous group. He didn't offer a word of thanks, and Venatrix didn't expect him to.
Once she started, however, the words kept slipping out. "Y'know, my dad said that sometimes you can get clues for what the arena might look like based on this station." She leaned back on her heels, satisfied with her successfully-sorted pile. "It's not always the case, but they like to make sure we have a decent chance of surviving off the land if needed; like, if they throw us into a jungle or something, they'll probably put some tropical plants in here during training—"
Starling cut tersely through her rambling. "Can't you just leave us alone?"
Venatrix looked up, startled to see silent tears pouring down Paprika's cheeks; her partner's glare held enough heat to curdle the inside of Venatrix's stomach. She watched in stunned silence as Starling gripped the crying girl by the hand, shepherding her towards the safety of the knife-fighting station.
Eyes narrowed to slits, Venatrix buried the rotten writhing in the pit of her gut. This is just part of the plan, she reminded herself. The one she rehearsed over and over in her head last night, same as the one her father laid bare before her just under a year ago.
The plan to wash her hands in blood and pretend she liked the smell.
Maybe you will, hm? Maybe you should.
Would that be so bad?
Shaking the train of thought from her head, Venatrix redirected her attention to the various weapons stations, now hosting the array of outliers. None seemed to have noticed the significant role-reversal, embroiling themselves in the opportunity to pick up a weapon.
Zavian stood out the most, the way he flitted eagerly about the stations. He appeared to settle for a palm-sized knife until something three weapons down caught his eye; not a minute later, he'd picked up the biggest warhammer Venatrix had ever seen, though the way he swung it only made her snort with semi-fond amusement. He'd left his allies back with the knives, where Caitlin had unsurprisingly set herself up as well. Her former ally from Six prowled nearby, hovering in line for the combat station again, though he kept well enough to himself despite Caitlin's presence. Odd. He certainly appeared the instagatory type.
Down by the swords, the pair from Ten had taken up root, wielding the weapons about as well as Venatrix expected; that is to say, poorly. Even if she ended up taking on both, Venatrix hardly expected trouble.
The same couldn't be said for the Seven boy; he'd only been getting better with those axes, unlike his counterpart.
Venatrix's astute gaze traveled farther across the gym. Twelve boy, Erryn, seemed to gravitate fully towards the pair from Nine, still stuck together by circumstance. Risky move, though he'd benefit more than not from the way Yaroslav was teaching him how to hold a scythe; the weapon cut him an impressive stature, enough for Venatrix to question her suggestion about sparing him from the Bloodbath.
The presence of the Thirteen girl hovering around their group brought an unexpected frown to Venatrix's face; sure enough, Veylani's allies hadn't seemed to notice her venture.
A few loud thwacks drew her attention to the ranged stations; the batch of babies had regrouped there, Starling and the Five girl toting knives while Paprika gripped a small slingshot. Twelve girl looked pleased to finally get her chance with a bow judging by the eagerness in her draws, the off-kilter arrows; poor thing could never hold a candle to Percy.
The only tribute who appeared to maintain their loneliness throughout the training period was Vita from Six. Currently, she traded blows with a trainer at the sparring mats near the polearms, staff in hand. We'll have to stop her from getting one, then.
With a sweeping hand, Venatrix reshuffled her plants, absently sorting them again while she kept her eyes on the outliers. Ochre had migrated over to the sparring mats, still clutching his axe, and Venatrix watched the Seven boy's progression with a narrow-eyed interest. While he sported a lankier stature than the typical broad-shouldered stereotype of his district, it didn't seem to affect his ability to wield the weapon; she figured he'd make an even match for the towering Eight boy, despite their size difference. As far as she could tell, the aptly-dubbed Tooth possessed little skill with any of the weapons he picked up, evidenced by the knife-throwing contest he seemed to have engaged in with his ally from Five, the latter winning by a long-shot. Whether the Eight boy actually needed weapon skills or not was a different matter entirely.
Dropping her plant-sorting act, Venatrix stood brusquely to her feet. She only half-registered cutting off the poor trainer mid-sentence as she abandoned her for Percy's company; he'd just finished setting up a basic snare. "Probably easier to just shoot them," he commented.
"For you, maybe." Venatrix folded her arms, eyes drifting back to the outliers. "How long do you think we have before lunch?"
"Not too long. They said it was early today, because of private sessions." He set down his materials. "Why, anything you want to warm up before we face the 'Makers?"
Venatrix pursed her lips. "Maybe."
By now, the pair had left behind any sort of subtlety, bathing the outliers in their unashamed scrutiny. Venatrix recognized the appearance of Viper in her peripheral as he did the same, no doubt watching with a gaze just as keen; he didn't seem intent on expressing dismissal for their opponents now. The One boy had migrated over from the obstacle course, it seemed; Venatrix found herself unsurprised that he'd deviated from her instructions.
Almost as unsurprised as she was to find Caitlin staring back at her, suspicion laced through the crease of her brow. The girl's eyes flicked around the gym, suddenly noticing the turn of events, the silent threat of observers, and she halted her match with the trainer, knife in hand. As if on cue, the others began to take note as well; first Ochre from Seven and then the Twelve boy and his Nines; Veylani, having returned to Zavian's side; Starling and the rest of the little ones. An odd sort of stand-off thickened the space between them, especially with the rest of the pack having gathered at Venatrix's shoulders.
Any sort of friendly banter between alliances came to a grinding halt, the careful line drawn between Career and outlier visible now stronger than ever. The reality of what was coming seemed to press the air like a stormcloud, the gym so suddenly quiet that Venatrix thought she heard one of the Gamemakers shuffle a stack of papers.
Venatrix didn't dare break it, not with her words. Instead, she parted from the pack, her footfalls beating a steady echo into the open space.
She halted at the sword-fighting station; the pair from Ten quickly backed away, allowing Venatrix to pull a sword from the rack with only the slightest squeal of metal-on-metal. "Arrhenius," she demanded, well aware that she had the attention of the entire gym on her shoulders. The curly-haired Capiptolite stepped easily up to the plate, sliding into a fighting stance, and Venatrix wasted no time attacking.
The shrill sound of their blades colliding cut through the quiet like a scream; Venatrix thought she saw some of the outliers flinch in her peripheral, but she wasted no time on it. Instead, she twisted her sword out of her opponent's way, sending a well-placed jab into his chest. Arrhenius dodged in time, the blade only just grazing his armor, and Venatrix caught his riposte with her weapon; she cast it promptly aside, lunging forward once again. Unlike her previous matches, Venatrix made a point of drawing this one out a longer than necessary, demanding the attention of her enemies and allies alike.
Sweat brimmed over Arrhenius's brow under the sharp light. Venatrix felt it on her own; nevertheless, she kept a fierce pace of jabs and feints until her opponent lunged just where she'd expected.
Swiftly, Venatrix ducked around the incoming blade; she fell effortlessly to her knees in a smoothly-timed roll, allowing the motion to carry her behind the Capitolite. Near-instantaneously, she sprang to her feet; not a flicker of hesitation slowed her muscles as – sorry, Arrhenius – the flat of her sword cracked mercilessly against the back of his head.
Instantly, he dropped; the sound still reverberated through the gym, through her sword. He didn't get back up.
Venatrix's sword came to rest between his shoulder blades, her stern gaze tracing over the surrounding crowd. She'd used a similar maneuver against Poppy in the Selection Tournament; had been struck by another not too long after. The blow had sent both her and her fellow trainee face-first into the dirt; ears ringing.
This one, however, seemed to have knocked poor Arrhenius completely unconscious.
She'd intended for a clear win. If this was what it took, Venatrix refused to feel guilty about it, despite how the Capitolite had offered nothing less than a friendly face these past few days of training. All he'd get from her was a concussion, but Venatrix had more important things to think about.
The stares of her peers. The Games.
The eyes of the tributes burned into her skin as she stood victorious over the trainer, exactly as she wanted. Equally furious expressions marred the features of both Viper and Zarim from Six, and understandably so. Viper could've just as easily done what she did, and Zarim… The medics dashing over to Arrhenius's aid showed no intention of tackling her into the mat, nor did the Peacekeepers lining the sides of the gym spring into action to apprehend her. Unfair, screamed the expressions on Caitlin and Ochre's faces, and again, they were right. Training wasn't the only privilege she received as a Career.
No doubt the Gamemakers were watching too, and Venatrix intended to impress them just as much in private.
Overhead, the bell rang for lunch, and the last opportunities for training slipped down the drain with it.
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Alliances:
Oh Shit They're Actually Smart This Year (8): Mariposa (D1F), Viper (D1M), Venatrix (D2F), Percy (D2M), Grethel (D3F), Shannon (D3M), Patience (D4F), Idris (D4M)
Kiddos Doing Their Best (5): Genera (D5F), Paprika (D11F), Starling (D11M), Rosemary (D12F)
Straight (or not lmao) Vibing (4): Valkan (D5M), Tooth (D8M), Veylani (D13F; :eyes:), Zavian (D13M)
Somewhat Competent With Weapons (4): Heather (D7F), Ochre (D7M), Palomina (D10F), Lucio (D10M)
Potential Last Minute Plans (3): Gaberlee (D9F), Yaroslav (D9M), Erryn (D12M)
Too Sus For Friends (3): Vita (D6F), Zarim (D6M), Caitlin (D8F)
A/N: Next chapter will be out soon, I kinda went brr yesterday and wrote like most of it FJHFDHH. Ig it's technically still February on EST lets pretend it is mkay lmao. We do be getting closer to that BB :eyes: See y'all soon !
- Nell