III. HEAVIEST BLADES

DISTRICT 2

HESTIA MCLEARSON (18)

"I think you're ready," Emmaline Reyes, victor of the 29th annual Hunger Games and Hestia's self-proclaimed mentor, a hint of pride lighting up the face of the middle-aged victor. For years, Hestia had trained for the Games, and the simulation would prove just so. It was early, around 5 AM, so they were some of the few already awake and training.

A small grin split through the eighteen year-old's face, and she took a bow and a few throwing knives, entering the gray, closed off room of the training center.

Though those in District 2 were resented by the outer districts, there was some training worse than harvesting. And though District 11 might've disagreed, Hestia and a few other pressured teens knew the truth.

Once you started training, there was no escaping your expectations.

As Emmaline fiddled with the controls for the simulation, lights flickering to signify it was starting up, Hestia began to feel suffocated. Passing the simulation was what would qualify her for the Games, so who wouldn't be nervous?

You can't do this.

It's too hard.

Only tributes have passed.

And you're no tribute.

You're just a little girl.

Hestia ignored the voices in her head, readying herself for the electronic figures sure to come. And come they did.

Hearing noises behind her, the silhouette of a male figure charged. In one quick motion, Hestia's throwing knife caught the projected figure, the silhouette disintegrating as more of the "attackers" surged.

Locked into hand to hand contact with one, Hestia stabbed it with her sword and wheeled to face an approaching figure. Just like before, her knife was perfectly aimed. The figure disappeared. Hestia felt herself losing energy as a female silhouette attacked with skilled sword moves.

See, this is another Career, and she's much better than you…

Face it, Hestia.

You could never win in the Games.

Why don't you just give up now?

With a furious scream, Hestia impaled the figure, but only more came. How long could this simulation last?

Emmaline was wrong.

You aren't ready.

With a throwing knife, Hestia took down a figure aiming a bow from the stairwell above. Seizing up her knives from previous "kills", she was caught unawares by one of the figures, who swung a mace, the weapon nearly missing Hestia's head.

And you never will be.

Hestia and her assailant exchanged furious attacks, Hestia nearly being hit several times but dodging, her nimble figure enabling her to manoeuvre a knife into its back, but she tripped to the ground. In a second she was up, waiting for the next attacker.

Not willing to make the same mistake again.

See? You don't have what it takes.

A silhouette was knocked down, disintegrating into sparks.

If this is too easy, they'll keep leveling it up. And even you aren't that skilled.

The same female silhouette who had given Hestia the best sword exchanges of her life reformed, attacking Hestia once again.

This is the Games, Hestia.

With a shriek of triumph, the figure was knocked to the ground, her sword skidding away as Hestia kneeled and stabbed downward with the most force she could muster.

It's not just strength, it's beauty too. And you have none of that.

There he was. Her last competitor in these Games. Knives aimed, ready to take Hestia's one shot of victory away from herself.

There'll always be someone better than you.

She ascended the stairwell, dodging a knife by an inch and slipping behind a pillar.

In the end, that person will always win.

Hestia peeked out from behind the pillar, but she ducked back behind to escape a blade of a knife.

They're the real Gamemaker.

Letting out a yell, Hestia turned and charged the figure. The assailant caught her in the arm with a blade, but her sword was in his chest, and the final competitor collapsed, dead. The blade clanged out of her hands.

Hestia blinked, feeling herself return to reality. She was the only one in the simulation, and where the body had been, there lay nothing but her sword. Gingerly, as if expecting it to burn her, Hestia picked it up.

Slow clapping filled the simulation room, and Hestia glanced down, alarmed, but relieved to see it was only Emmaline.

"How long did it take?" Hestia asked breathlessly, pasting a grin onto her face to hide the anxiousness she felt inside.

Emmaline checked her watch. "Ten minutes and forty seconds," she marveled. "That almost beats my record, Hestia. You should be proud."

Yes, I suppose I should, Hestia thought, but was unable to rid her minds of the voices that had plagued her head during the exercise. "Do you have any thoughts on my performance overall?" she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.

"The grip on your blade was too tight. Slacken it a bit, and you'll do better."

Of course you did something wrong.

Hestia managed a grateful smile. "Thanks, Emmaline. I have to go to school now, but I'll train later."

That night, Hestia stayed awake until 2 AM working on her grip.

You'll fail if you don't.

-x-

Another pre-reaping chapter done! Sponsor questions:

1. Any theories about Hestia's insecurity? (5)

2. Current opinion? (5)

3. Fatal flaw? (5)