A/N: Today we're knocking out the biggest alliance in these Games, the six tribute, fear mongering pack called the Careers! Trinity, Zircon, Ardin, Tyberios, Cordelia, and Chavez will all be featured today in a humongous chapter! I'm sorry if the lengths are a little inconsistent, I'm just writing a decent amount at the least for everyone, and if there's more it's just because I need that extra length to explore that character that much. I'm trying to keep this as fair as possible but honestly it's not always going to turn out that way XD

AND THERE IS A CAMEO FROM ONE OF OUR FAVORITES FROM OCEANSIDE PLEASE TELL ME THOSE OF YOU WHO READ OCEANSIDE WILL RECOGNIZE HIM

PLATRIUM I KNOW YOU'RE BEHIND BUT I CANNOT WAIT UNTIL YOU READ AND SEE THIS SPECIAL FRIEND YOU WILL DIE FROM JOY

Anyway! Enjoy your reading! XD :D

Trigger Warnings: Profanity and Tracee low-key shipping most of the Careers XD

What's wrong with being, what's wrong with being

What's wrong with being confident?

What's wrong with being, what's wrong with being

What's wrong with being confident?

It's time to get the chains out

Is your tongue tied up?

'Cause this is my ground

And I'm dangerous

And you can get off

But it's all about me tonight

Trinity Vegas, 18

District One Female

"Welcome, tributes, to your first day of Training," a man with skin so dark it almost looks black says, standing proudly in the center of the half circle of tributes gathered around him. We stand at the foot of the Loft, a huge indent in the wall a story up where the Gamemakers sit, feasting and surveying our training to get a scope of how we're progressing through our three days of practice before the Games fully begin. They're stern faced and silent in their blood red smocks, cold eyes locking onto our motley group of Careers and Outliers. In the middle, on almost a throne of sorts, a man with bronze hair, startling silver-blue eyes, and a scowl carved into his face sits. Head Gamemaker Ludum Factorem. He looks more menacing than Esquiria described him as. On his right sits the man who was at the Parade, directing us, Odore something or other, with his frizzy purple hair. And on his left sits a fierce woman with a beak-like nose, magenta tattoos curling around her arms, and dark brown hair interspersed with iridescent streaks. Esquiria told me about her, she's the arena designer. Some that ends with -cily. Sicily? Vecily. Their armada of indifferent faces look down at us, and I absorb all of this in the few moments the Head Trainer pauses in his welcoming speech.

"I am Tautulus Cragmyre, your Head Trainer," the man, apparently Tautulus, continues. My eyes flicker back to him, and I fold my arms across my chest, shooting an icy glare at the nearest Outlier, one of the younger girls. She has white-blonde hair and scars riddling the undersides of her arms, and when I glare at her, she looks back at me indifferently. Ha. Such audacity. She should know she's playing with fire.

"Today, your first of three training days will begin. Today and tomorrow, you will have free reign of the training room to do whatever you please, even if it is sitting on the floor like a doofus," Tautulus announces. "We will have lunch halfway through the day. On the third day, you will train until lunch, and after lunch is over, the Private Sessions will begin, where you must display at least one skill; you will be graded on it. Attendance is mandatory. We have three general types of stations: weaponry, survival skills, and athleticism. We have a wide variety of weapons, and if you do not see a certain type of weapon in this room, we can most likely pull it out and teach you how to wield it. It is smarter to stick to more common, easier to master weapons such as daggers, throwing knives, or sickles, although you may choose to do any weaponry station, or none at all. Survival skills also have a wide variety of stations, ranging from edible plants to shelter buildings to knot tying, and beyond. These skills will help you learn how to survive in any of the more common wilderness arenas, and are essential if you are going to have to live off of the land for more than a day or two. Our final group of stations is rather small. Athleticism stations include wrestling, weight lifting, rope climbing, the agility course, flexibility, swimming, and running. These stations will help you perfect your athleticism and get you into shape. We have dozens of trainers eager to help you master whatever skill you desire to learn. Just ask whatever trainer is stationed at the skill you want to learn, and they will teach you. There is a limit of three tributes per station, as trainers have a hard time managing more than two tributes at once and will not be able to teach you as adequately. Does anyone have any questions?"

No one speaks up, as I expected. All of the Outliers, no matter how brave they may be, are seeing the big bad Careers standing literally right next to them for the first time besides the parade, but even then none of them came close to us. They look so uncomfortable and I almost want to laugh. The little twelve year old from Five is standing right next to a smirking Zircon, and she looks scared shitless. At least Zircon has some scare factor on a tribute, even if it is a twelve year old.

"None? Alright!" Tautulus shouts. "Training begins now! In five hours, the lunch bell will ring and you'll have lunch, and then you'll have another five hours to train. Go explore, and good luck mastering whatever skill it is you want to learn!" Everyone slowly starts to disperse except for us Careers, who collect in front of Tautulus. He smiles ravishingly at us; he's pretty young, probably in his early 20s. I smirk at him, but he's not looking at me. His eyes are locked on Zircon as he looks up and down the kid, and I just roll my eyes. Of course, all the hot guys are gay in the Capitol. Eh. It's not like I was going to seduce him or anything, just show the others what I can do. Zircon sends him an Academy approved eyebrow waggle, and Tautulus just shakes his head, lifting his head and showing off his shiny golden wedding band before waggling his eyebrows back. He then walks off without another word or action, leaving Zircon giggling uncontrollably. I bite down a smile as Cordelia laughs quietly as well, and Tyberios smiles. Chavez and Ardin look emotionless, however. Maybe I've met my match in these two on how much of a hardass one can be.

"So, the plan?" Tyberios grunts after everyone's calmed down. Chavez and Ardin open their mouths at the same time to start speaking, and they shoot dirty glances at each other. Everything becomes prickly and uncomfortable, and I know I won't be vying for the leader of the pack even though I sort of want to. Ardin's hands ball into fists and she doesn't even notice, and Chavez stares emotionlessly into her eyes, boring into her soul.

"How about we just go have fun and make some Outliers shit their pants?" Zircon announces, and I shoot him a thankful look. He's the only one that can lighten up this situation. Ah, this situation. Of course this pack is going to be dysfunctional just because two of its members are going to grapple over the title of leader, which doesn't really mean anything since Career packs make decisions as a whole. Some packs don't even have a designated leader. But it seems like a special couple of us are superbly interested in being the crown jewel of the pack, and for that I'm already wary of them.

"I second that motion," Cordelia squeaks. She's not even a legitimate Career, but if Chavez doesn't have a problem with her joining, I'm not going to challenge his authority. I don't need a target painted on my back yet. Let him feud it out with Ardin. They'll have a big fight, one of them will die, and the other will be exiled from the pack or killed for their traitorous actions. Then the rest of us who have their heads screwed on straight can make it to the end.

"I'm going to axes," I speak up. "They're my specialty."

"Mine too," Tyberios huffs with a small smile. "Sure you can lift it, pretty girl?"

"Big mistake," Zircon hisses, chuckling again, but I brush off the comment. It's the Academy all over again; I'm going to have to take shit from people because I look like a stupid bottle blonde, like the ones that always die so early in the Games. Bury your reactions and don't let them show how much their words effect you. I just roll my eyes and look around for the axe station, locating it on the far end of the room.

"I'm gonna go to tridents," Cordelia mutters.

"I'll go with you," Zircon proclaims. "I like spears better, but they're essentially the same and we might as well get to know each other." He turns to Ardin and Chavez. "Which weapon is your guys's preferred one, the one you're gonna go practice today?"

"Throwing knives," they say at the same time. Ardin sighs and Chavez looks exasperated. I just wave Tyberios over and we walk over to the axe station. Better to not get caught up in that mess.

The instructor, a strangely buff woman with bubblegum pink hair and lots of piercings named Alayza, is working the axes and hatchets station. An older boy with darker skin, either the one from Six or Seven or Eleven, is inspecting the hatchets, but walks off calmly when Tyberios and I appear at the station. Alayza sits back and watches with glee as we both pick up the thick bladed axes and head towards the dummies. I swing mine through the air, stepping forward and decapitating the nearest dummy. It's made of some strange material that's exactly like skin; they have a few of them at the Academy, they can gel themselves back together once you've destroyed them, you just have to put the pieces in the right places. The insides are made of a gummy blue substance, and the outside is a stretchy, plasticky substance of a light peach color. I place the head back on top of the body, watching as the thing stitches itself back together. Tyberios is obliterating the mannequin next to mine, and he grins as he watches my hack off the thing's arms boldly before sinking my axe deep into its chest.

"Basic bitch has some skills, eh?" he snorts. "Shoulda expected it. It's about time a One girl made a decent try for Victory."

"Why thank you, Basic Ogre Man," I shoot back, rolling my eyes.

"Ogres are awesome. They are giant monsters and they can tear people apart and eat them. Can whiny rich girls do that? At least my stereotype is cool."

"Take away a whiny rich girl's heels, and then you've got a real monster on your hands, Ogre," I chuckle, and he just snorts in laughter again before burying his axe in the dummy's head, cleaving it into two pieces, his muscles rippling as he does so. Too bad I'm going to have to kill Ogre, or we might've actually gotten along in real life.

If we pretend that I'm happy when I'm really not

Pretend that I give you everything I got

Pretend that I'm there when I ain't there

Pretend that I care when I don't care

Once upon a time I did

Now I admit that I was fucking with a kid

Now I pretend that everything's straight

When everything ain't just covered up like paint

Zircon O'Dile, 17

District One Male

"Thanks," Cordelia murmurs once we're out of earshot of the others. "That was so damn awkward. Are packs supposed to be like this?"

"I dunno. I didn't get to talk strategy last night," I reply as we march over to tridents, our sneakers squeaking against the smooth tile floor of the training room. I can feel several pairs of eyes on me. Gamemakers for sure. I don't look at them, however, listening to Cordelia.

"How?!" Cordelia gasps. "Like, the moment they pulled me out of that...outfit, Mags tugged me upstairs, sat me down in the living room, and chewed my ear off talking strategy until I literally fell asleep and she carried me to my bed. She kept chattering about which stations to go to and how to act and all that. I listened, sure, but I think she's just nervous 'cause I'm the first non-Academy kid in half a decade and Mags doesn't know how to act."

"You're not from the Academy?" I mutter, looking at her. "I knew you were Reaped, but I just assumed...then how are you in the pack?" She's short and stout and could easily be as dumb as a bag of rocks, and we automatically just accepted her in. I swear, if she's some prankster who doesn't know a trident from a spear, I am going to flip out! With Ardin and Chavez already having a hissy fit over who gets to be the leader, boo hoo, we can't afford to have another flaw.

"Don't worry," Cordelia sighs. "My dad trained me at home in the garage. I'm probably not as good as you guys but I can fend for myself, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make it out, even if that means killing someone like...her." She points at the slim girl from Eleven, who is bent over the firemaking station, rubbing two sticks together hopelessly. She sees Cordelia's finger pointed her way, and she drops her sticks. Cordelia bites back a laugh, and I just chuckle out loud. It's like we're boogeymen or something. Sure, we're trained to kill, but just because we point or look at you doesn't mean you're doomed to die! Well, I guess that anyone who freaks out that much isn't going to last till the end, but still. We could scare them so bad.

"They're so jumpy," I hiss, suppressing more laughter. "How about we point at...that one!" My arm shoots forward and my pointer finger sticks out, shaking as I point at the white-blonde haired Nine boy. He just turns away, shuffling over to the snares station and purposefully not looking back.

"I guess some of them have some constitution," Cordelia grumbles.

"Constitution? Isn't that like some government document thingy? Why would they have that?" I inquire as we near the tridents station.

"Not that constitution," Cordelia mumbles. "It means like, their mettle?"

"Oh," I say, looking down at my shoes. "Sorry. We don't really go to school much after you enter the Academy. Vocabulary isn't the most important thing to the trainers and the Dean, I guess. Don't worry, I'm not an airhead. Well, not most times, at least."

She giggles, and I smile. She's pretty cute, being short and all. Not in a I wanna fuck her way, she's just cute like a puppy or a kitten. Like, I'm gay. News flash! But anyway, I've never thought of a girl as fuckable or anything like that, I just think of them as cute, funny people. With them, I don't have to worry about them thinking I might secretly have a crush on them or that I might fantasize about them. I do that will lots of my male friends.

We walk up to the tridents station, were a man with navy hair and skin tinted aqua stands. He seems delighted when we walk up, and he titters mindlessly as he unlocks the rack of weapons. I ignore his useless words, snatching one of the tridents off of the stand. Cordelia does the same, testing the weight in her hands for a moment before stepping onto the fighting mat located next to the rack where the trainer's been standing. She stands there, holding the trident next to her. It's almost the same height as her, a little taller, and she chose the smallest one on the rack. The trainer giggles as he grabs a trident of his own and takes his stance on the mat, leveling his trident as he stares her down. Despite his seemingly airheadedness, he seems to know how to fight.

"So my name is Fracas, and we're going to fight!" he screeches. "I love the Games, and I was so happy when they chose me to be a trainer, even if it was for tridents-"

Cordelia jabs her trident forward fluidly, and I smile as Fracas stumbles backwards as the blunt tip smacks into his left kneecap. The mat is mostly flat, although there's a few more smaller mats stacked in one corner to simulate a hilly environment. Fracas's words are now nonexistent, his eyes flinty and his mouth set in a firm line as he backs up, taking the high ground as he climbs up a step. Cordelia jabs forward several times again, but Fracas deflects them. They continue to spar for a couple of minutes, not budging much, until Cordelia fakes a jab to his right. He goes to block it, and she shoves her trident to the left. Fracas stumbles and falls off of his higher ground, and Cordelia whirls and smacks the tip of the trident into Fracas's chest as he wheezes. I would've been tempted to do some sort of fancy move, like Soren when he disemboweled an opponent with a sharp section of pipe in his Games. He twirled around the tribute, then did a flip in the air and smacked his length of sharpened pipe into the guy's neck. The guy was already pretty much dead since his arms had gotten torn off by mutts so that's why Soren did it, but it was still cool. I am totally going to finish off my final opponent like that, in my own special way, when I make it to the end.

"Zircon?" Cordelia calls out, breaking me from my haze of thought. "You're up, dude."

I take my stance across from Fracas, whose glittering violet eyes are full of determination. I can't wait to crush that outta him.

Don't break me down

I've been travelin' too long

I've been trying too hard

With one pretty song

I hear the birds on the summer breeze,

I drive fast, I am alone in midnight

Been tryin' hard not to get into trouble,

But I, I've got a war in my mind

So, I just ride, just ride,

I just ride, just ride

Ardin Varnell, 18

District Two Female

I don't go to throwing knives. Maybe that's some sort of surrender in Chavez's twisted mind, but I don't know what's up with him. Serephina told me that she and the other Career Mentors, including Oisin, agreed that I'd be the best fit of the six of us to lead, with Trinity being the back up. Chavez was the third option just because of his unpredictability. I don't know if Four is trying to pull a fast one or if Chavez is just being a jerk, but I'm destined to lead this pack. I was given that title from the moment I accepted the offer to volunteer, when the last flourish of the pen ended my signature, putting me into a contract to volunteer for these Hunger Games. He doesn't get to take what he wants. He isn't in his seaside playground anymore, plucking whores by their pussies and doing whatever creepy stuff pedophiles like him do. This is the Capitol, and he'll have to face me if he wants to control this pack.

Of course, I can't let that show. I have to keep the cap on the bottle of my emotions, even though it's fizzing so much from how much Chavez just shook it. I walk to a random weapons station, a small smile on my face, my breathing steady. He won't get to me. He won't ruin me. I was ready for five good coworkers that would respect my position and that would work well with me. The other four are like that, as they should be. Chavez is just the irregularity. Maybe we can nip his antics in the bud. But that would just cause further disharmony, wouldn't it? Frustrating. I'll figure out the right plan, however. I just need time.

I channel my anger by going to the first weapons station I see. It's some weird bladed disc, and the tiny girl from Five is already there, prancing about and almost cutting off her nose as she twirls it through the air while the trainer desperately tries to get her to stop so she won't hurt herself. The little sign plastered onto the unlocked rack of blunt weapons calls them "chakram." To me, they just look like metal frisbees that got the center cut out, and a curvy handle put in instead. I guess when it's sharp in the arena it could be of some use, but anyway, it's just one of those out-there weapons that would never be found in the Cornucopia unless a Career specialized in it and could wreck some serious havoc with it. It's a time waster, but that's the sort of thing I need right now.

Once the trainer manages to get the twelve year old to set down the thing, they both notice me. The girl darts off immediately, scurrying over to the nearby camouflage station, shooting furtive glances my way as the trainer there greets her, pulling out a palette of colorful pastes and paints. The girl's gaze quickly turns to the liquid pigments, and I look up at the trainer, my mouth set in a firm line.

"Know how to use them?" he asks, out of breath from flagging the little girl down. "I'm Henrius."

"No," I whisper. "Didn't focus on weird weapons in the Academy. I doubt they even had these frisbees in the building."

"If you're going to be so critical, don't try them," the trainer mutters, his voice strained with annoyance as he picks up his own disk, snapping it apart into two halves. He guides me throw the steps of how to wield it, and fifty minutes later I sorely wish I would've learned how to wield these things back home at the Academy. I look so badass doing it; even the little twelve year old would look badass. You have a seemingly boring metal disk. It can snap apart or not, and you can be like a whirlwind, slicing and dicing into people are you go. Once I have fathomed the basic technique, I go try to slice into one of the gelatin-like dummies as the trainer shows another curious kid what to do at the station. Apparently it's a new one or something, and it is pretty cool.

Henrius gave me sharp ones to use on the dummies, and I whirl like a ninja as I slice into the dummy, feeling invincible almost as teal goo seeps out where I cut into the rubbery mannequin. I just laugh to myself as I do insanely weird moves, watching as I keep twirling for no reason after I cut into the false human thing. Flecks of the inner gloop flies as I destroy the thing until it's an oozing lump of blue with bits of the peach colored plastic sticking out of the damp mess I've made. Henrius strides over; the other tribute is already gone, not interested in learning how to wield these amazing chakram. He helps me clean up the sodden, messy lump, separating the slices and pieces of the diced up mannequin and lining them up to remake the human shape. They melt together until the thing looks good as new. I've used a couple of these before in the Academy, and they're always so gratifying to destroy and then build right back up again.

Tyberios approaches once we're done cleaning up the fake jello man. His outfit is already damp from sweat, and he has a relaxed smile on his face as he ambles over. I stand up, thanking Henrius curtly for the fun time before walking through the training room with Tyberios. I feel like I'm going to have to rely on him a little to win this power struggle between myself and Chavez, and he seems to already trust me somehow.

"I just wanted you to know that Trinity and I talked about what happened after Tautulus gave his speech. And we both agreed that we'd rather have you lead. I know we weren't besties in the Academy or anything but we did know each other and you know I don't lie often or well at all. We're going to need to depend on you to work with us to somehow get through the Chavez thing without damaging the alliance and lessening any of our odds of winning. It's not a question of if, but when, and I'm sure Zircon and maybe Cordelia will agree. Repeat Two Victors, Varnell. Just remember that. No matter what, this year, it's going to happen."

I nod and smile softly at him. It's a little weird that he's putting all of this trust in me, but I guess he did know I'd be leading him for the past several months after we both got selected to volunteer. He's not as mindless as he may seem, though. He's doing this for the greater good of everyone involved in the alliance, or at least I think so. I did know Tyberios a little back home. He was an honest, hard working kid, even if he was a little weird or slow at times and didn't really hang out with the same types of people as I did. But then again, we're already in the Games from a Career's perspective. He could easily be playing me.

I just shake my head. Getting paranoia on the first day of training?! Not a good idea. Tyberios and I split. He heads to maces while I go inspect the swords station and practice a little bit, steadying myself and pushing all worries and paranoid ponderings from my mind. Take it slow, Varnell. Take it slow.

I'm gonna hide my heart behind the peacock's fan,

And keep my friends real close, yeah, this is how it's gonna go.

I'm gonna find my knife and run it through those stitches,

Throw my friends down in the ditches before they even know

what I've come here for.

Take the Heartland with a sense of revenge

Take the Heartland and make it look easy

Take the Heartland- you'll die in the end

Take the Heartland

Tyberios Palatium, 18

District Two Male

As I walk away from Ardin, I chew my lip, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment. The pain throbs in my head and I curse having to go talk to her. Sure she's my District partner, but speaking more than a sentence to people I'm not close with just agitates my mind sometimes, especially right in the middle of a training session. I look over at Trinity, who's still at axes, and I nod briskly, and she quirks the right corner of her mouth in thanks.

Trinity's the most bearable of them. Whenever we talk it's in short, bantering sentences that keep my adrenaline pumping. Cordelia and Zircon are too chatty and giggly, at least when together. Ardin's having a panic attack because she can't be the queen bee, and Chavez just seems like a cool solo type of dude from a distance, but I'm sure that if I started talking to him he'd rattle off all the reasons why he's the king of the world and he would show me every little nook and cranny of his superiority complex. There's lots of kids like him back in Two, and they're usually the ones that get picked.

I'm on edge this morning, although I'm doing my best to hide it. If I act like an asshole, it will just increase tensions in the group even further, and with Zircon and Cordelia gamboling around and scaring the other tributes and getting a laugh out of it, along with Ardin and Chavez smoldering about lack of clear leadership, Trinity would be the only levelheaded one left. I get like this a lot at home, when Fulmia starts screaming at me for being up so early or when I have to stay at home for the days the Academy is closed so our bodies get a day off from the extensive pressure. The adrenaline from entering the Capitol and the exciting new Training Center around me are fading, and it's just another day at the Academy, but I'm facing neon skinned Capitolites who flinch when I get too rough with the blunt weaponry. It's not like the Academy, with dozens of hungry eighteen year old recruits mauling each other to make it into the Games.

Add that feeling to the fact that the Zorion lasted all through last night and a little into this morning before fading completely, and you have a steaming Tyberios Palatium. The dull ache in the back of my head intensifies with every step that I'm not training, and I jog quickly over to the maces station. All of this drama, it's like we're in those Capitolite soap operas that my Aunt Beatrix watches whenever we go visit her house. There's the basketcases, the squabbling characters who complain about everything and think they're the best, and then there's the sensible leads. Who thought a Career pack could be defined by Penthouse Blues?

The mace instructor steps away from the rack after he's unlocked it. I pick out two maces, one longer one with a slimmer head to it, the other shorter with a rounder, fatter head. I twirl both around, testing their air resistance and seeing which one I like better. I choose the longer, slimmer one, and then I turn to the instructor. She's willowy and I have no clue how she can even lift a mace. She tucks a stray strand of lime green hair behind her dark green tinted ear.

"Is there something I could help you with?" she asks politely, staring at my shoes.

"Do you have any moving targets? Like the mannequins, except they fight back and I can pulverize them?" In the Academy we didn't even have these rare high tech machines and I've always wanted to try one. The trainer doesn't even seem to think it's a big deal, striding over to a rack which contains extra mannequins. She looks at the back of several before drawing one out of the rack and dragging it over to the station with surprising strength and speed. She sets the mannequin in front of me. It stands at about my height. She smiles weakly, wiping her brow before standing behind it and toggling with some switch on its back.

"What setting?" the woman inquires, eyes squinting as she messes around with whatever activates the dummy on its back.

"What do ya have?" I ask impatiently, leaning on my mace.

"I have easy, intermediate, and hard." I look at her like she's stupid. "Hard it is, then. What weapon?"

"Sword?" I say questioningly. Sure. Sword. The trainer shouts over to the swords trainer, and he tosses her a sword which she catches with surprising ability. She is definitely more athletic than she looks to be at first, I guess. I don't like people who keep surprises under their sleeve.

"Here you are, Joleen," the swords trainer replies once he's thrown it. He turns back to the tribute he's working with, the dark skinned, buff guy from Eleven if I'm not mistaken. The boy holds a longsword tight in his calloused hands and goes through a basic exercise with the trainer. He's not half bad.

"Done," Joleen peeps. She's fit the silvery sword into the robotic dummy's hands, and she steps back as slits on its face open up, revealing brilliant aqua colored eyes that are probably cameras of a sort to register how I'll fight. Just as I get into my stance, the dummy slashes forward, and I can barely block the blow. It isn't choppy and mechanical as I expected. The machine moves fluidly like a human, taking a step forward and slashing forward again, quickly taking the offense and forcing the defense on me. I deflect its blows, and Joleen watches with an eager grin on her face as the tip of the sword grazes my left elbow. I quickly strike back with vigor, jarring the blade from the thing's hands. I go in for the death blow, but the machine crouches low and attempts to tackle me. I half jump and slam the mace into it's rubbery head as I leap to the side, hearing a satisfying crack. The thing staggers to its feet, picking up its sword, as blue goo trickles down the right side of its head, the impact crater of my mace obvious. Its movements are slurred, just like a person going unconscious, bleeding out. It's easy to shatter its right hand and sending the sword flying again, and I finish off the thing with a tremendous blow to the abdomen. It doubles over, wheezing soundlessly as its good left hand clutches its stomach, where teal goop floods out. It falls to its knees and curls up in a ball, and the menacing aqua eyes shut off with a small snap, the wounded thing shutting off. It starts to stitch itself back together, and it stands, ready to fight once again, its aqua eyes holding no emotion besides a metallic glint.

"Wanna go again?" Joleen asks inquisitively, definitely excited by my bashing off the machine.

"Bring it on," I grunt, grinning devilishly as the thing surges forward, ready to fight once again.

Fit in, fit in

I`m spending nights just dreaming

And playing the music loud

They`re banging on the ceiling

They`re praying that I`ll soon be out

I almost thought of leaving

Get away from the glares and their unfriendly stares

And now I`m all alone

And the telephone teases and dares

I`ll get away from them all (oh oh)

So pride comes before a fall

But I`m not for giving in

Fit in, Fit in

Cordelia Nile, 17

District Four Female

I kneel by the table, my fingers working diligently, repeating the pattern they've done a thousand times over hundreds of days since I started working at the marina. It's not like we sell the things made of reed and bone or wire, and they're pretty useless too, but the older guy that used to work with me, Euphrates, taught me how to make them from scraps of things while we were waiting behind the counter, bored out of our minds since no customers would ever come to the little marina to buy bait or to rent a boat. I don't know how the place even stayed open. Anyway, we'd just make thousands of them and then take them apart, almost like tying knots or organizing things, stupid petty work just to pass by the time waiting in that stuffy room. Euphrates left the shop four years ago to go train as a Peacekeeper, and I heard recently that he's been stationed somewhere in Eleven. I then taught my younger siblings the skill when they started working with me soon after.

The instructor, a woman with normal black hair with a body dyed black, apparently named Yin, drums her fingers against the side of the table as she watches me work industriously. Her long, slender black finger nails are glossy under the light, and I find myself distracted by their even, constant motion.

"Why is a Career working at a survival station?" Yin asks, her voice thick with an accent that Mags defined as "Upper Capitol", which is basically just the richest of the rich people in the Capitol. They have a haughty accent that's spread and rooted itself in the area's culture. One of my Prep Team, Alaexa, has the same exotic sounding lilt to her voice. She almost sounds like some far off foreigner. Ha. No other countries are left after the floods.

I open my mouth to explain my situation once again, but why should I? She doesn't need to know.

"I'm just really excited for these Games to start, and I always do stuff like this when I'm nervous." Not a total lie, not at all, but my voice is a little shaky as I say it. I hope I don't sound like a scared little girl. Mags said trainers aren't allowed to bet, but that they leak what's happening in training to eager betters all the time to rake in an extra little bit of cash. Already, the crazy antics and moves and countermoves of the Games have begun. Although I did complain about Mags chewing my ear off to Zircon, I was sort of happy about it, too. She pretty much abbreviated all the stuff you learn in the Academy into an hour lecture that was pretty helpful.

Speaking of Zircon. After beating up Aquaman, AKA Sir Fracas the Talkative, he showed me how to throw spears. I'd never done it before, and after I messed up bad twice and didn't even hit the target I darted off. I can't look weak if I want to survive. He's still over there, having a heyday as he throws spears at targets swinging from the ceiling or running along the ground. They're animals or people and they look cool and move realistically.

"Honey?" Yin speaks, her voice sounding even more ethereal as she speaks in a soft voice. "You zoned out and stabbed yourself on the bone."

I look down and see the prick point in my finger, where a little bubble of blood has leaked out. I wipe it on my stretchy athletic, almost yoga-like pants, the blood not showing up on the black. I suck on my finger for a moment before heading back to work, creating another hook.

Several minutes later, as I tie off yet another hook, and Yin's attentions have turned to teaching the boy from Eight, a chime rings throughout the Training Center, eerily reminiscent of the chime that rings through the air when the Games begin every year. It ends with a loud, bell-like clang, and Yin immediately straightens. The boy from Eight sighs, stomping his foot in an annoyed fashion as his hook falls apart. He storms off towards the door on the far left side of the room where all the other tributes are flocking, the entrance into the lunch room. Zircon strides over from the spears to meet me as I make my way towards it.

His face is covered in a sheen of sweat, and his blonde hair is slightly mussed. He reminds me a bit of Beck, actually, when he's done working out at the school's gym. Same body build and around the same height, actually, and they have the same goofy smile. I don't expect him to wrap his barrel arms around me, however, and twirl me through the air before kissing me feather-light on the lips. That'd just be weird. Zircon's great, but I don't think I'd be able to have a relationship with him, it seems almost like he's never serious or something. But I guess I haven't spent much time with him.

We walk over the threshold of the door into the lunch room. There's a half a dozen round wooden tables, with an excess of seats, probably double the amount we currently have just so people don't have to sit next to anyone if they don't want to. A long line of tributes is already stretched out at the lunch counter, and Trinity already has her food, her tray piled with bread, soup, and meat. She chooses one of the tables and waits for the rest of us.

I inspect the other tributes ahead of Zircon and I as he chats about stuff that doesn't matter just to fill the silence between us. The pair from Three is laughing up a storm, the boy from Eleven watching them with a smirk on his face. The pregnant girl from Twelve hobbles up to get served, and the little girl from Five walks next to her, talking in a soft voice and staring at her shoes. The girls from Six and Nine seem to be bantering and laughing a little, the girl from Eight standing next to the Nine and trying to enter the conversation. The Twelve boy winks at the server when she plops a nicely roasted piece of beef onto his plate next to some macaroni, and she bites her lip, holding back a smile. The boy from Five looks at the Ten girl, who stands in line with her arms crossed and her mouth set in a firm, disapproving line. They're all so lively and different, and us Careers stick out like sore thumbs. Trinity's one of the only ones eating, Zircon is laughing so loud it's scaring the Eleven girl in front of us, I'm short as hell and pretending to laugh along, probably looking like I want to gouge out their eyeballs or something. Tyberios stands firmly in line, tapping his spoon against his tray impatiently, Ardin seems to be lost in thought, and Chavez's startling gaze could scare any Outlier to the point of wetting their pants. We're not like them, not really. We all asked to be here. Excepting myself, of course, but I'm grouped in with them. Everyone does think I'm an Academy trained Career for some reason, probably just because I'm hanging out with them.

I've already assimilated into what seems to be a pretty divided pack, and I don't know what to make of it.

Whatever it is, I'll pay the cost

I'm willing to risk it, I'll take the loss

I'll put it all on the line

In a hustler's state of mind

I'm gonna make history

Just so we can claim victory (Victory)

Oh, victory (Victory)

Chavez Belasco, 18

District Four Male

I set down my tray with a clatter on the wooden table. There's eight chairs at the table, and three of them are already occupied. Tyberios and Trinity prod each other verbally with little insults, neither of them smiling or laughing, but I can see the mirth alight in their eyes even if they might not notice it themselves. They sit next to each other on the opposite side of the table. Separated by one chair to my left and sitting next to Tyberios is Ardin, who picks at her food without looking up, spearing a hunk of beef and chewing on it vigorously. I want to smirk. I think I've gotten under her skin. Already, inharmonious.

Who needs a pack? I can carry myself through these Games all fine. If the Outliers can do it and sometimes win, us Careers can do it, too. I'm not splitting, at least not right away, no matter how much I'll want to. The Capitol has grown to love the complexities of the classic Career pack, and if I left from the get go I'd be disliked for sure. But I don't need a pack. I don't need crutches to get me to the end like my pipsqueak of a District partner does. I have a plan in place. Pick them off one by one, maybe, or make an example out of someone and control them out of fear. Or maybe I'll play nice and just slowly mentally break them down by being annoying. So many options of how to disorient and disband the most sacred and traditional of alliances in the Games.

I wonder what would happen if the pack had never been invented in the Tenth Hunger Games, the year Serephina Manchas won and fully solidified the patriotic image of Two and the need for an Academy. The fervor spread quickly to Four after Mags won; even though she wasn't a Career, a new Victor meant new life for our District and everything changed. One had an Academy by the time Anneliese won the Twelfth just because Esquiria hated getting taunted constantly by Brick over her lack of fellow Victors, and that next year Kenyan won. They established the holy covenant of the Careers soon after: thou shalt form the o-holy pack. Without the Career pack, Trinity and Tyberios probably still would've meshed, same with Zircon and Cordelia, and they would've allied possibly. I could see Ardin joining Trinity and Tyberios just because they're more serious, and she seems like the type that needs something to be the leader of. I'd probably stay on my own and kill them all. Well, without the restraints of the pack, I might team up with someone like the kid from Seven who was on death row apparently, or the pregnant girl just to psych everyone out and so I'd be some sort of hero for bringing a weakling to the end even though I'd still end up killing the unfortunate kid.

Zircon, chatting loudly and giggling, and Cordelia, a small smile on her face and a faraway look in her eyes, approach with their trays heaped with piles of steaming food. They sit adjacent to myself and Trinity, Zircon sitting by me and Cordelia sitting by Trinity. Zircon digs into his food, and Cordelia picks at it wistfully, deep in thought apparently. She looks like a cheesy, angsty teenager or something like that, and I want to laugh.

"That's not funny," Trinity sighs. Apparently Zircon just told a joke.

"But Chavez laughed! If Mr. Macho laughs, then you all must have your panties really in a twist," Zircon peeps.

"It was a terrible joke. I agree with Trinity, not funny," Cordelia murmurs, stuffing a bite of macaroni into her mouth and chewing slowly.

"If it's so terrible, Chavez, why were you laughing?" Zircon inquires, his sharp blue eyed gaze locking onto mine.

"Wasn't laughing at your stupid joke, kid," I grunt, stabbing some beef and biting into the juicy meat. Zircon huffs and rolls his eyes, making some comment under his breath about how everyone's so uptight and fancy shmancy, and Cordelia smiles when she hears it. She's intolerable.

"He's not a kid," Ardin mumbles after she swallows a bite of bread.

"Excuse me?" I sneer, turning to her, eyebrow quirked.

"I said, he's not a kid," Ardin replies smoothly, tucking a loose strand of brown hair behind her ear. "We're all equals here. We've all worked hard to get here, even Cordelia, she just didn't volunteer. None of us are 'kids', Chavez, no matter what your egotistical head tells you."

"You go girl," I hear Zircon whisper, but I ignore him.

"Oh, so now I'm the bad guy I guess," I scoff, stabbing another piece of beef and gobbling it down quickly. "Already playing sort of skewed political game, aren't you, Ardin? You're going to try and be a controlling bitch, aren't you? You're just going to be a poor little girl trying to control everything while it all caves in and you die because you're so damn incompetent and you cannot handle it because you're just a-"

"One piece of advice," Ardin cuts me off, her face red in fury. "Realize that the Games aren't just about who's the best at killing, Chavez." She walks off without another word, depositing her half eaten lunch in the trash bin stationed by the entrance back into the training room. She waits there for the next five minutes until lunch is over. Everyone watches her go in utter silence, and slowly the pairs start talking again. I look at her and narrow my eyes. Usually girls like her, all smart and prissy, I get attracted to them. They're hard to catch and it's so gratifying when you finally rope them in. Not this girl, though. She's just a sour, uptight bitch.

"Attention, tributes," Head Trainer Tautulus shouts, walking into the room. "Time to resume training. You have five more hours for today. Good luck."

We all stand, throwing away our trash. The girl from Three looks at me uneasily as I throw away my trash right after her. She quickly lopes over to her District partner, exiting the room with him and walking over to the station they were at earlier, snares. The girl immediately resumes her work, her hands flying as she builds some sort of catapult-like structure, and her District partner works on a simple switch snare.

"Coming?" Trinity asks, standing on the threshold of the door. I realize I'm the only one still in the room, and that I've been staring. I nod curtly, and follow her out back into the Training Center main room, a small smirk consuming my face now that I'm back in my head. I've already angered Ardin, made her blow her top. I can't wait to do so, so, so much more in the weeks to come to this group of inferior Careers.

A/N: Whew! That was so so long but SO fun! Did I just like ship Trinity & Tyberios as well as Zircon & Cordelia, even though, like Zircon is gay? XD Wtf even happened, I have no clue, but it was totally fun to write and I can't wait to write more of these chapters! :D

Miriam & Jayce's alliance will be the second half of the day, same thing with the other days where first chapter will be one group, the other half the other group.

The tensions in the pack I thought would be realistic; there won't always be an automatic leader like Cato or an equal-parts partnership sort of like what I thought happened in Catching Fire. I won't talk about it more so I don't accidentally reveal anything about how this may or may not effect the plot XD

So, what did you think of everyone we saw today? Favorites? Least favorites? Have your thoughts changed? What do you think of the tensions? The shipping I tried not to include but had to? XD

Trivia:

Trinity (1 pt.): What is the Head Trainer's name?

Zircon (1 pt.): WHO IS THE TRIDENTS TRAINER XD (he's the one from Oceanside. Who remembers him from the interviews? XD)

Ardin (1 pt.): What weapon does she learn to use?

Tyberios (1 pt.): What is the name of the soap opera that Tyberios compares the Career pack to?

Cordelia (1 pt.): What is the name of the knot-tying station trainer?

Chavez (1 pt.): Which of the Career Districts was the last to receive an Academy?

Until Next Time,

Tracee