Amara Arterius (Head Trainer)
"We've got our work cut out for us this year," I say, my eyes passively scanning the tributes as they file past me and into the training center. Some with cocky, determined grins on their faces. Others with their eyes glued to their feet or some random spot off in the distance as they try and fail to ignore everything going on around them. And others still without the slightest hint of emotion.
Those are the ones to watch. At least in my experience.
"What do you mean this year?" asks my assistant, Gregor. A playful, shit-eating grin on his beard covered baby-face as the two of us watch the last few tributes trickle into the center before closing and locking the door behind them. "We have our work cut out for us every year. Why should this one be any different?"
"Because it's a quarter quell," I say, laughing softly as he shakes his head and falls in step beside me, "and I just sort of assumed that this year's crop of tributes would reflect that."
"You know what happens when you assume things, right boss?"
"Of course. I make an ass out of you," I laugh. "After all, you're the one who's going to have to work twice as hard to help me whip this sorry bunch into shape before the games."
"Why me?" he groans, that same playful, shit-eating grin from earlier still plastered on his face. "You have forty-three other trainers on your staff. Why do you always pick on me?"
"Because none of them have their eyes on my job," I joke, a playful smile on my lips as he rolls his eyes in annoyance before moving over to stand with the rest of the trainers on the far side of the room as I take my place in front of the obstacle course.
"Tributes!" I yell, my voice just loud enough to get their attention and let them know that I'm ready to begin as they slowly make their way over to where I'm standing.
It takes them a little over two minutes to do this. And by the time the last member of the career pack finally gets around to gracing us with his presence, my patience is starting to wear a little thin. But whatever, it's their time, not mine.
"Welcome, tributes. My name is Amara Arterius, and as I'm sure you've probably guessed by now, I'm your head trainer.
"In just a little over two weeks, twenty-three of you will be dead, and one of you will be a Hunger Games champion. This is a matter of fact, and there's nothing any of you can do to change that.
"However, which one of you will be left standing is still to be determined, and your chances of being that one will depend on how well you listen and how much time and effort you're willing to put into your training over the next few days.
"Now for some ground rules. First, there will be absolutely no fighting between tributes. Save it for the arena.
"Second, you will be expected to follow any and all instructions given to you by me, or a member of my staff. Failure to do so will result in you losing your training privileges for the day.
"There are four compulsory exercises collectively known as the gauntlet. The rock wall, the endurance course, the pool, and the obstacle course behind me. The rest will be individual training.
"A word of advice, don't ignore the survival stations. Everyone wants to learn how to fight. It's fun, it's sexy, and it pulls in the sponsors. But it's just one of many skills you need to win. And all the combat training in the world won't save you from dehydration or hypothermia.
"Are there any questions? ... Good, then what I want you to do is line up single file in front of the course, boys on the left side, girls on the right. You're going to run the course twice, once forward and once in reverse. Once you've run it both ways, the rest of the morning is yours.
"Oh, and one more thing. This event will be timed, and your time on it will factor into your overall training score. So I advise you to take it seriously.
"On your mark ... get set ... GO!"
Bellatrix Harvey-18 (District 2 Female)
"Well, that was a huge waste of time," I growl, wiping my face off with a towel and tossing it on the floor at the feet of the avox who gave it to me before stomping over to the timing table with the rest of my allies.
"You're only saying that because Helena kicked your ass, Bellatrix," laughs Cornelia, a stupid grin on her face as she punches me in the arm playfully.
"She did not kick my ass, Cornelia."
"Yes, she did," laughs Alfonso, a smug look on his face as he watches the boys from Eleven struggle to help each other over the wall before turning his attention back to us in time to see the times we all posted pop up on the wall behind us. "She kicked all of our asses, and it wasn't even close. The numbers don't lie," he says, pointing to the board.
"I beg to differ," I growl again, my eyes fixed firmly on mine and Helena's times as I rack my brain trying to figure out how she managed to beat me by nearly three and a half seconds.
I did everything right. My form was perfect; I paced myself; I took the shortest and easiest path through every obstacle. There's no way in hell she should have beaten me — Unless she cheated.
That's it! The bitch cheated. I'm not sure how — it should have been impossible with everyone watching us run the course. But she did. There's just no other explanation.
"Is everything ok, Bellatrix?" asks Helena. Her voice is soft and insultingly awkward, her smug, perfect face a mask of concern, her hard icy-blue eyes bleeding fake sympathy. God, I can't wait to put this bitch in her place.
"Everything's fine," I growl, pushing my way past her and starting for the weapons stations, the rest of the group falling in step behind me, Cornelia at my back, Shimmer and Helena bringing up the rear.
I need to find a way to reassert my dominance, to regain control of my alliance before things get out of control. And I know just how to do that.
I may not be as fast and as strong as Helena, though I'm pretty sure that I would be in a straight-up one-on-one where everyone was playing fair. But I know that I'm a better fighter than she is. And I'm going to prove it.
"Ok, our next exercise is the combat simulator. We'll run through it twice, once individually and once as a group. Show everyone just how deadly we are individually and how unstoppable we are as a team."
"Why?" asks Ariadne, picking now to open her mouth for the first time since she introduced herself and asking one of the stupidest questions imaginable. "We're careers. Everyone already knows that we can fight. Wouldn't it make more sense to spend our time working on things we're not as good at? Amara said ..."
"I don't care what Amara said," I snap, my anger and frustration boiling over as I square up and take a step towards her, "she's not in charge of this alliance. I am. And I say we're running through the combat simulator. Do you have a problem with that?"
"No. I just thought that. ..."
"I don't care what you think. If I want your opinion, I'll ask for it. Until then, do as your told and keep your mouth shut, or you can find other allies.
"That goes for all of you," I say, my frustration at losing to Helena and then having my authority challenged by one of the worst members of the alliance boiling over in a spectacular display of anger. "No one in this alliance is irreplaceable. We all have to earn the right to call ourselves careers."
"Even you?" asks Shimmer, an amused look on his face and an unsettling glint in his eyes.
"Even me," I say, my voice hard, firm, and commanding as I walk over to the weapons rack and rip a rapier out of its sheath before storming over to the control counsel and dialing the combat speed and difficulty up to max.
"Now, I'm going to go in there and prove that I not only belong in this alliance but that I deserve to lead it. The rest of you have a choice to make. You can grab a weapon and come with me. Or you can hit the road.
"Because there's no place in my career alliance for tributes who can't or won't prove that they belong in it. So, who's in?"
It takes them all a little while to decide how they want to play this, and for a moment or two, I'm legitimately worried that I might have overplayed my hand and driven a couple of them out of the alliance. But then, one by one, they all shrug their shoulders or roll their eyes before heading over to the rack to pick out a weapon, even Ariadne. And by the time I finally step into the simulator, I'm surrounded by the five strongest, deadliest tributes in the Games not named Bellatrix, and I can't help but smile.
I've passed my first test and established myself as the unquestioned leader of the Career alliance. And I'm one step closer to my ultimate goal of winning the Hunger Games as a result. Now, it's time to get to work.
Asuka Tamura-17 (District 7 Male)
I don't have a clue where to start with any of this. I mean, it all seemed so simple in my head. Benny and I would spend the morning working on some simple survival skills. We'd start with first aid, then move on to fire starting, and then shelter building. Then after lunch, we'd work on edible plants before ending the day with some light weapon work.
And then I stepped out of the elevator. And all of my planning and hard work went straight out the window. I am in so far over my head right now that it's not funny. And, try as he might, Benny is absolutely no help.
And he really is trying. I know that, and I appreciate it. It's just that none of his suggestions — like winging it and hoping for the best — have been all that helpful. It's almost like he doesn't understand how dangerous it would be for us to go off half-cocked on this.
Then again, there is an attractive simplicity to the idea of just going with the flow and seeing where it takes us. And it would be a massive improvement over the nothing we're doing right now. Maybe it's not such a bad idea after all. ..?
No, it's a terrible idea, and it won't work. We have to have a plan. That's all there is to it. And I know I can come up with one if I just put my mind to it. All I need is five minutes of peace and quiet. Is that too much to ask?
Of course, it is. That's why I'm in this mess. And it's why I'm sitting here watching Benny hurdle the last wall of the obstacle course for the fourth time instead of working on any one of the five things I mentioned a few seconds ago.
"Is everything ok, Asuka?" asks Benny, sweat dripping off his face as he jogs over to me and plops down on the floor with a smile on his face.
"Umm ... yeah," I say, my answer catching in my throat as the butterflies in my stomach kick into overdrive at the sight of Benny's warm, infectious smile and his big, happy brown eyes. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you have that look on your face again," he says, his voice low and filled with concern as the smile on his face slowly fades away.
"What look?"
"The one you had when we stepped off the elevator, and you nearly threw up."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, the lie slipping out reflexively before I can catch it as I push myself up off the ground and start to pace back and forth as Benny looks up at me. "I did not nearly throw up."
"Right," he chuckles, rolling his eyes in amusement as I continue to pace back and forth like a trapped animal. "I suppose I imagined it."
"You must have," I say, my heart thumping a million miles a second in my chest as I continue to rack my brain trying to come up with a new plan while the room starts to spin out of control. "Because I ..."
Oh — my — god, I'm having a panic attack. I'm standing here in the middle of the training center, having a conversation with my ally, trying to come up with a plan that gives me the best possible chance of making it out of the games alive, and I'm having a panic attack.
I can't afford this. Not now. What am I going to do?!
Fortunately, I don't have to answer that question — Because my body does it for me. One second, I'm standing there in front of Benny, my heart trying to thump its way out of my chest while the room keeps spinning faster and faster. And the next, I'm lying on the floor in the back of the first aid station with Benny and a boy with dark, messy brown hair and black glasses hovering over me.
"Asuka! Are you ok?!"
"I'm ... I'm fine, Benny," I groan, my head pounding with every word as I force myself up off my back and into a sitting position. Which I immediately regret when the room starts to spin again, forcing me to close my eyes as I fall back onto the floor with a thud. "But my head is killing me."
"Well, you did faceplant pretty hard back there," says the boy whose name I can't seem to remember as he takes me by the arm and gently pulls me up into a sitting position. "So you should probably take it easy for a few minutes. Ok?"
"I'll try."
And I do. It nearly kills me because there are about a million things I should be doing right now, but I force myself to sit there and relax until my heart stops pounding and my head stops spinning. This gives me a chance to talk to my mystery helper, Oz, while Benny learns how to tie a tourniquet.
"So, what do you think?" asks Oz, his eyes almost pleading with me to say yes.
"I'm not sure," I say, my eyes darting between him and Benny as I try to find the right words to say what I'm about to say. "It sounds like a good idea, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't interested. But I can't say yes."
"Why not?"
"Because I haven't talked it over with Benny yet. He and I would be a package deal in this, so I can't say yes until I ask him what he thinks. I'm not tossing him aside for you."
"And I'm not asking you to."
"I know you're not. But the fact is, if Benny isn't interested in the alliance, then I'm not interested either. So I can't give you an answer until we've talked about it."
"I see," he says, his shoulders slumping slightly in defeat.
"But, he and I can talk with our mentor about it tonight, and I can have an answer for you by tomorrow morning if that's ok? Or do you need it now?"
"Tomorrow is fine," he says, his eyes lighting up as a small sigh of relief slips past his lips when he finally realizes that I'm not saying no.
"Ok, then. We'll have an answer for you in the morning," I say, pushing myself up off the ground and back onto my feet before taking his hand in mine and shaking it firmly. "And thank you again for helping me."
"Don't mention it, Asuka," he says, a warm, happy smile on his face as he returns my shake before turning around and wandering off into the heart of the training center, leaving Benny and me alone with a half-asleep first aid trainer, a thoroughly tangled tourniquet, and a bunch of questions.
"So, what did he have to say, Asuka?"
"I'll tell you at dinner, Benny. Right now, I want to learn how to tie a tourniquet. And you're going to teach me."
"I am?!"
"Yes, you are. So, what do I do first?"
Ashton 'Ash' Drysden-13 (District 11 Male)
"This is pointless," groans Cassis, his voice quiet but annoyed as he glares at the big, red sixty-five flashing on the screen in front of him. "I'm not getting any better."
"Yes, you are, Cass. You only missed a few that time."
"I got a sixty-five, Ash. That's bad."
"But it's a twenty-six-point improvement over your first run. If you keep practicing, you'll be a master before you know it."
"No, I won't. I'll just keep getting a little less bad at it until I memorize everything," he groans, slamming his hand down on the flashing green restart button and sighing softly before quickly sorting through the pictures on the screen.
"Isn't that the same thing?" I ask. His new high score of sixty-eight flashing on the screen in front of us as he moves to the side and motions for me to have another go. "I mean, isn't the whole point of this station to learn to tell the difference between edible and non-edible plants?"
"I guess," he sighs, standing back and watching as I fly through the exercise in half the time it took him and getting my third straight perfect score.
"How do you keep doing that?"
"I've had a lot of practice. My older sisters taught me how to identify whether the things we grew in our fields were safe to eat or not when I was little."
"You're still little, Ash," he says, a happy, tired little smile on his face as he giggles softly at his own joke.
"But I'm bigger than you, and that's what counts," I tease, sticking my tongue out at him playfully for a second before returning my attention to the sorting quiz. "You want to give it another go?"
"Not really. Couldn't we do something else for a while?"
"Like what? Edible bugs? Fire starting? First aid?"
"None of those," he says, his eyes sweeping the room in search of the station he wants. Or at the very least one with no other tributes currently using it.
"Then what did you have in mind?"
"Something I might be good at. ... Like, using a slingshot or a blowgun?
"I mean, Kaetus and Olympia did tell us to work on our combat skills. And I don't think either of us is strong enough to handle anything bigger than a slingshot or a blowgun. So those make the most sense. Right?"
It's hard for me to argue with that logic. I mean, I'm not thrilled about the idea of working with weapons, even the small, easy-to-use ones, because the only reason to learn how to use them is so that you can kill someone. And I'm not comfortable with that idea.
That doesn't mean I might not kill someone if I have to when I'm in the arena. It just means that I'm not crazy about the idea of training myself to do so when I have other, non-violent options available.
"I guess you're right," I say, his eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree as he grabs me by the arm and starts dragging me in the direction of the firing range. "But I'm warning you now. I'm going to be terrible at this. So please don't laugh at me."
"I'm not going to laugh at you, Ash," he says, a hurt look on his face that makes me feel like the biggest jerk in the world. "You didn't laugh at me when I failed the plant test. You tried to help me. And I'll do the same with you. I promise."
"Alright then, Cass. Let's give it a shot."
"Yea!" he squeaks, his sudden outburst of happiness catching me off guard and giving him the opening he needs to finish dragging me over to the range with a smile on his face.
"Hello, boys, what can I do for you?" asks the instructor. His tone happy and light despite his rough and gruff appearance.
"We'd like one slingshot, one blowgun, and as many darts and marbles as you have available, please," says Cass.
"Now that's something you don't hear every day," he says, reaching under his desk to get a bag of marbles and a box of darts and setting them on the table before turning around to look for the weapons. "I can count the number of times I've been asked for either of these on one hand and still have fingers left over. And I've been doing this since I was just a little older than you are.
"Are you boys going to need any help with these?"
"Nope, we should be fine. Right, Ash?"
"I guess so."
"Ok, then. If you change your mind, just let me know. Happy hunting."
"Happy hunting, sir.
"Come on, Ash. Let's go!"
We spend the next few minutes taking turns trying both of the weapons. And in that time, it becomes painfully clear that I'm every bit as bad with them as I feared I would be. My first shot with the slingshot misses the target by about fifty feet — while my first blow on the blowgun goes maybe three before bouncing harmlessly off the ground.
Cass, on the other hand, is a natural. He's hit the target every time, and he hits the bullseye more often than not. He's so impressive that he eventually draws a pair of admirers in the girls from Twelve.
"You're pretty good with those," says the older of the two.
"Thanks," says Cass.
"Do you think you could show Maira and me how to do that?"
"I could try, I guess. What do you think, Ash?"
"It's up to you, Cass."
"I mean, I'm up for it. I'm just not sure about helping someone who's not our ally. Kaetus and Olympia told us to be careful about that."
He's got a point. Fortunately, this problem is a pretty easy one for us to get around. I just hope I don't end up regretting doing so in the long run.
"Then I guess we'll have to ask them to be our allies. Won't we?"
Leandra Chandri-18 (District 6 Female)
"I think I've got it," I mumble, my eyes darting between the piece of rope in my hands and the instruction paper on the floor between Dana and me as I take another crack at tying a double hitch. "I go under, over, through the hole, pull it tight, and. …"
"You did it, Leandra! You turned your knot into an even bigger knot," laughs Dana.
"Impressive, isn't it," I groan, resisting the urge to throw the knotted mess against the wall in frustration. "I don't get what I'm doing wrong. I'm following the instructions."
"You're not doing anything wrong, Leandra," she says, talking the rope out of my hand and quickly unknotting it before showing me how to tie the knot properly for the third time. "You're just not good at tying knots. And that's fine. I'm good enough for both of us."
"You're enjoying this," I laugh, a small, tired smile on my lips as she shoots me a sly smirk before nodding her head enthusiastically.
"You bet I am," she giggles, untying her perfect knot before showing off by tying a second, more complicated knot with a few flicks of her wrists. "There's not a lot of things that I'm better than you at, Leandra. So when I find one, I have to lord it over you. That's just the way it is."
"You're sooooo humble, Dana," I laugh, my smile growing as the two of us settle into a playful back and forth that helps me relax a little as she continues to try to show me how to tie this stupid knot.
And for a while, I feel like I'm starting to get it.
"There you go, you've got the single hitch. Now, tie the same knot again in the same place, and you'll have the double."
"Ok, I can do this," I whisper, a surge of determination flooding through my body as I carefully weave my fingers through the steps and come out with ... a knotted mess. "Shit!"
"That was. ..."
"A disaster," I groan, tossing my knotted mess over my shoulder, drawing a reproachful huff from the trainer in charge of the station, before pushing myself up onto my feet and offering my hand to Dana.
"I wouldn't call it a disaster," she giggles, taking my hand and letting me pull her up off the floor with a slightly louder giggle before dusting herself off and pulling the wrinkles out of her training outfit.
"Then what would you call it?" I ask, my brow raising as her face runs the gauntlet of emotions before settling on playful as she delivers the smart-assed remark we both knew was coming.
"An unmitigated disaster!" she laughs.
"Wow?! Thanks for sparing my feelings Dana," I groan, my tired, playful smile from before creeping back across my lips as I slap her cheek playfully. "I can always count on you for that. Cant I?"
"You know you can," she giggles. Her stomach growling like a bear and causing both of us to bust up laughing as I motion for her to follow me.
"Come on. It's time for lunch," I say, leading her through the maze of stations and over to the far wall where a small army of avoxes have set up a handful of tables and are currently serving some of the other tributes lunch.
It only takes us a few minutes to make our way through the line. And before I know it, Dana and I are sitting at a table in the corner of the room eating our food. Or, she's eating. I'm staring down at my plate, trying to figure out why I asked for two servings of rice. I hate rice.
"That boy is staring at us."
"What boy," I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me as I turn around and scan the area for any sign of the boy in question.
"That one over there," she nods, drawing my attention to the table on the other side of the room currently occupied by the boys from Nine and Three.
"Which one?"
"The cute one with the glasses and the messy hair," she says, the words slipping out before she can stop them and causing her face to turn an adorable shade of red once she realizes what she said.
"The one who's smiling at you?"
"He is not," she snaps, her face getting even redder than it already was.
"Yes, he is," I giggle, enjoying the moment and Dana's embarrassment way more than I probably should. "Do you want to go over and say hi?"
"What?! No, of course not!" she shouts, a little too defensively, as a massive, shit-eating grin starts to spread over my face. "All I'm saying is that he's staring at us."
"No, he's not."
"Yes, he is."
"No, he was staring at us. Now, he's walking over to our table."