Oz Channer-17 (District 3 Male)
For a second there, I was worried that Dana wasn't going to tell Leandra I was staring at them. That would have made the whole shy, awkward teenager trying to work up the courage to talk to the pretty girls angle I'm trying to play a lot harder for me to sell.
But she did. She may have taken her sweet time doing it, but she did do it. That's what matters. And it means that it's safe for me to go ahead with the plan I've spent the last ten minutes working on. I just hope I'm as good at being awkwardly charming with them as I am with Genevieve.
Well, here goes nothing.
"Excuse me," I mumble, looking down at my feet in embarrassment as I quickly wipe the sweat off my hand before timidly offering it to Landra. "Hi. My name is Oz."
"District Three, right?"
"Y-Yep," I stutter.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Leandra," she says, taking my hand and shaking it passively before turning her attention back to her food and nodding in the direction of her partner. "This is Dana. She thinks you're cute."
"Leandra?!"
"Well, you do," she teases, a playful grin on her pretty lips as Dana starts to squirm in her seat.
"That doesn't mean you have to tell him?!" she pouts, her embarrassment quickly giving way to curiosity as she glances up at my face to see how I'm reacting to the news.
Oh, this is going to be even easier than I thought. I mean, I would have preferred that Leandra be the one to think I'm cute. After all, she's the one calling the shots in their alliance. So, wrapping her around my finger would guarantee I get both of them for my alliance instead of just one.
But I think I can work with Dana too. I just need to tweak a few parts of the plan, and I'll be fine.
"You ... think I'm cute, Dana?" I ask, pouring every ounce of shy, awkward teenage angst I can muster into my body and forcing myself to blush just a bit as I look down at my feet in embarrassment.
"No," she says, a little too quickly and loudly as I smile like a fool while Leandra tries and fails to suppress a snort before rolling her eyes at her friend.
"Dana, we've gone over this. You're a terrible liar."
"No, I'm not."
Yes, she is. She might be one of the worst I've ever met. And that's saying something because I've met some pretty lousy liars in my life. That's not really relevant or anything, but it is a fact.
Dana, try as she might, is a terrible liar. And that makes my job even easier than it already was. Because if I can read her like a book, and she can read Leandra like one — which may not actually be the case, but I feel pretty safe in assuming it is based on the admittedly limited amount of information that I have on them — I'll be able to read Leandra.
This just keeps getting better and better.
"I mean, it's ok if you don't. I was just surprised by the idea that someone as cute as you would think someone as awkward as me was cute too."
"You think I'm cute?" she asks, her voice low and full of shock as her eyes dart between me and Leandra, who is doing everything she can not to laugh at how nauseatingly awkward the two of us are acting.
"I — I do," I admit, a timid little smile creeping across my face as I look down at my feet in embarrassment again.
"You two are adorable," she laughs, earning a swift kick to the shin from Dana and a small sigh from me as the head trainer walks into the middle of the room and lets out a bellow that captures every eye in the room in an instant.
"That's lunch, tributes. I want you to take a second to clean up and let your stomachs settle, and then I want everyone to line up over at the rock wall. Your second compulsory exercise begins in five minutes. ... MOVE!"
"Well, this was fun and all," says Leandra, a huge, shit-eating grin plastered on her face as she ruffles Dana's hair affectionately before pushing away from the table and picking up her tray.
"Speak for yourself," growls Dana.
"But it looks like we've all got places to be. So, Oz, thank you for helping us pass the time. It was fun."
Ok, it's now or never, Oz.
"Actually, that's not why I came over here. I actually had something important to ask you guys. But I got distracted." I say, my eyes fixed on Dana as a slight blush creeps across my face.
"Oh?" says Dana, her feelings clearly hurt by what I just said despite the small ego stroke that came with the news that I was so struck by seeing her up close that I almost forgot to do what I came over here to do.
This really is easier than it has any right to be.
"Yeah, me and my allies, that's them over there," I say, pointing towards Cypher, Sentri, and Sedge, "were sort of wondering if you and Dana would be interested in joining our alliance?"
"I see," says Leandra, her face an unreadable mask of indifference as she turns towards Dana. "What do you think?"
It takes her a few seconds to come up with an answer. And for the second time today, I'm worried that Dana might be about to scuttle my plans. Any, while that wouldn't be a death blow to them or anything, it would put me behind the eight ball a bit.
So, I'm sure you can imagine my relief when she shrugs her shoulders and nods her head in agreement before taking hers and Leandra's trays over to the nearest garbage can and tossing them inside.
"Is that a yes?" I ask, confused.
"No," says Leandra, her tone just as flat and neutral as her face, "but it is a solid maybe.
"Let's see how the rest of today goes. We can meet the rest of your allies, do a little bit of group training, and see how well we all mesh.
"If the two of us are comfortable after that, we can talk about something a bit more formal. Ok?"
"OK!"
Shirley Gutters-16 (District 5 Male)
"I'm not finished with that," I bark. Snapping angrily at the pathetic little avox that tried to take my tray away from me. "Keep your filthy hands away from my food, or you'll lose them."
"Lunch is over, Mr. Gutters," says a soft, almost pathetically quiet little voice from somewhere behind me. "Please hand your tray to the attendant and join the rest of the tributes at the rock wall."
"And who's going to make me?" I ask, looking over my shoulder and locking eyes with a puny female trainer with soft, pink skin, a ridiculous green and purple mohawk, and bright red eyes. "You?"
"If I have to," she says, squaring her shoulders and glaring at me menacingly with a look that screams, are you going to do what I tell you, burning in her stupid red eyes. "Now, please, hand your tray to the attendant and fall in with the rest of the tributes."
"You'll get it when I'm done," I growl, looking down at my plate and angrily shoveling a spoon full of rice into my mouth.
"No, now," she shouts, storming over to my table and trying to rip the tray out of my hands.
We spend a couple of seconds struggling for control, and it's pretty obvious to anyone with a brain that I'm winning. But that doesn't stop her from trying. And, after a few seconds of her pulling as hard as she can, I decide to give her what she wants.
"You want it? FINE!" I scream, letting the tray slip out of my hands and sending it, and the food still piled on it flying everywhere as the trainer tumbles to the ground with a pathetic huff.
"That was uncalled for, Mr. Gutters," she groans, her face covered in gravy and rice as I let out an amused chuckle.
"So was trying to take my food from me, you stupid bitch," I growl, a pair of other trainers and a trio of peacekeepers racing towards us as I push away from the table and tower over her like the sad, scared, pathetic little shit that she is.
"But you don't hear me complaining. Do you?" I ask, taking a couple of steps towards her and smiling as she scoots back a few feet with a look of pure fear burning in her big, stupid red eyes.
"That's enough, Mr. Gutters!" she screams, her eyes wide with fear as she continues to scoot across the floor on her ass. Putting a few extra inches of space between the two of us as I stop cold when I feel the sharp poke of a peacekeeper baton pressing into my back.
"Don't move," growls the peacekeeper, his voice low and angry, his command punctuated by the gentle twisting of his baton into the small of my back as his friends take up position on either side of me, their batons clutched tightly in their hands.
"I wouldn't dream of it, officer," I chuckle, raising my hands in surrender as one of the trainers helps his rice and gravy-covered friend back to her feet while the other comes over to scold me.
"Were my instructions this morning not clear, Mr. Gutters?" she asks, her right hand resting on her hip as the tattoos on her left arm and neck glowing softly as she clenches and unclenches her left fist.
"Nope."
"Then why did you break them?"
"Because the bitch tried to take away my lunch before I was done with it," I growl.
"I don't care. Instant obedience to orders means just that, instant obedience. It's not your place to question or ignore them because you feel like it."
"And it wasn't her place to take my food away while I was still eating," I growl, my eyes shifting from Amara, or at least I think that's what her name is, to the pathetic little thing standing behind her. "But I think she's learned her lesson. Don't you?"
She doesn't answer me. Not that I expected her to. Instead, she spends a few seconds glaring at me before shrugging her shoulders and looking past me at the peacekeeper with his baton still jammed into the middle of my back.
"Take Mr. Gutters back to his suit and keep him there until his mentor or escort returns to take custody of him."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And please remind them that this is his one and only warning. If he steps out of line again, his training privileges will be revoked permanently."
"I don't need your stupid training," I growl, the peacekeeper behind me jamming the point of his baton home hard and sending a jolt of electricity surging through my body that causes me to drop to my knees. "Ouch!"
"Don't do that again, officer," she growls, her eyes glowing with the same soft, eerie blue light as her tattoos as she pushes her way between the two in front of me and offers me her hand.
Which I refuse. Choosing instead to be hauled back to my feet by the other two peacekeepers while Amara continues to scold the other peacekeeper.
"Mr. Gutters is still a Hunger Games tribute, and as long as he's in this room, his safety is my responsibility. You are to escort him back to his suit and keep him there until his mentor or escort arrives to take custody of him.
"No harm of any kind will come to him. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good," she says, looking down at me with disgust. "Then get him out of here."
Tranquila Fenix (Chief of Staff to the President of Panem)
"That boy just can't stay out of his own way, can he?" I mumble, watching as Amara quickly regains control of the room with a few sharp words to her tributes as Shirley is dragged kicking and screaming out of the room.
"No, he can't," says Tiberius. His eyes fixed not on the tributes and the trainers — or Shirley and the peacekeepers — but on his food-covered daughter as Gregor helps her hobble off the floor so she can clean herself up. "And it's too bad. Because he could be a real force in the arena if he could."
"Seriously?"
"Oh, most definitely," he says, serious as sin. "He's got all the physical traits necessary to go a long way in the arena. What he lacks is the common sense God gave the average goose.
"But you're not here to talk about Shirley, are you?"
"If only," I mutter. "Unfortunately, I'm here on official business," I say, my hands trembling as I rip my eyes away from Amara and the slow but steady stream of tributes attempting to scale the wall to stare down at the letter clenched tightly in my hands.
"Is that for me?"
"It is."
"And is it from who I think it's from?"
I can't bring myself to answer because I'm afraid that I'll throw up if I do. So instead, I nod my head slightly and take a deep breath before quickly passing him the letter and returning my attention to the training room floor.
"I can't believe he sent you to deliver this instead of calling me into his office," he says, ripping the seal off the envelope and tossing it on the ground before giving the letter a quick once over.
"Does he not think you have anything better to ... Can I assume you know what this says?" he growls.
"You can," I say, my voice soft and low, my eyes glued to the little girl from Twelve as she struggles to find her footing while climbing the wall.
"And is that why he sent you?"
"It is," I say, fighting back the urge to groan when the girl from Twelve loses her footing and crashes to the ground with a sickening thud and a terrified, pain-filled wail.
"He can't do this, Tranquila. Not less than a week before the start of the Games."
"Do you wanna try telling him that?" I ask, my voice quivering with every word as I force myself to look away from the crying little girl clutching her left ankle and into the eyes of the man whose life I just destroyed.
"No," he says, his eyes locked on his feet, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he lets out an exhausted sigh before taking a deep, calming breath and looking up at me.
"He does understand that there's no way in hell I can get you up to speed in six days, right?"
"He does."
"Then why?"
"I don't know, Tiberius. I wish I did, but I don't.
"Look, I don't like it any more than you do, and I genuinely don't want the job. But orders are orders. And you don't say no to Caspian Ashwood. Or, at least, not the new Caspian Ashwood."
"Is everything ok?" he asks, his words and eyes bleeding concern, his face a mask of professional indifference.
"No," I admit, my eyes filling with tears as I fight back the urge to break down here and now with a silent promise that I'll do it once Caspian and I get back to the Mansion tonight, and I can do it in private. "But that doesn't really matter, does it?"
"I guess not."
"I'm sorry, Tiberius. I truly am."
"It's not your fault, Tranquila," he says, brushing away a small dusting of tears with his finger before carefully folding the letter up and stuffing it in his pocket. "Well, then, our first step should be to introduce you to the rest of your team. Let them know what's happened. And then I'll pack my stuff and get out of your office. Head Gamemaker."
This is wrong, and I know it. Tiberius is a good man, and he's been a fantastic Head Gamemaker. He deserves to be able to go out on his terms AFTER the Quell. But he's not going to get to. And it's not fair.
Then again, life's not supposed to be. A lesson that I, Tiberius, and that poor little girl from Twelve who fell off the wall a few minutes ago are about to learn the hard way.
Maira Renault-12 (District 12 Female)
"It's broken in three places, Maira. So you're going to need to be careful. And try to stay off of it as much as possible for the next few days. Ok?"
"Will I still be able to train?" I sob, my ankle burning like a fire with every breath I take as I stare down at the bright pink cast covering my left ankle.
"If you're careful, you might be able to do some of the easier survival stations. You know, the ones that don't require a lot of jumping or moving around," says the doctor, her glowing yellow eyes fixed on my ankle as she carefully tweaks my cast into the perfect place before sealing it up tight and offering me a warm smile.
"That should do it."
"Thank you," I mumble, scooting my way to the edge of the table and preparing to jump down as her arm shoots out across my chest and holds me back.
"What did I just get through telling you?"
"I'm ... I'm sorry," I say, a fresh batch of tears bubbling up in my eyes as I slowly inch my way back into the middle of the table. "I thought we were done."
"We are. But you can't put any weight on that ankle yet, sweetie," she says, her voice soft and sad as she motions for one of the other doctors to bring her the set of crutches he brought in with my cast. "You're going to have to use these for at least a couple of days. You may even need to take them with you into the arena."
"But I don't know how to use them. Can you ... can you teach me?"
"Of course, I can, Maira."
And she does. It takes way longer than it probably should, and I fall down more times than I can count. But I do eventually figure it out just enough for the doctor to let me hobble my way out back onto the floor.
"Oh, look, the little baby hurt her ankle," laughs the mean girl from Two. Her eyes gleaming like one of the big cats in my textbooks back home as she tosses one of her long, blonde pigtails over her shoulder before scooping up her spear and hurling it into the head of her target dummy without ever taking her eyes off me.
"That's going to be you in a few days," she mouths, blowing me a kiss before turning her attention back to her allies as I hobble away from the weapons stations as fast as I can. My ankle begging me to slow down while my gut screams at me not to stop until I either find my allies or pass out from the pain.
And the pain is winning. But, lucky for me, my allies find me first.
"Maira, there you are!" shouts Cassis, jumping up and down and waving his arms around like a crazy person to get my attention. "We're over here!"
It takes me nearly a minute to get over there. And by the time I do, I'm so tired, and my ankle hurts so bad that it takes everything I have not to just collapse on the floor and pass out.
"Maira, what happened?!" asks Ash, the girl Ash, as she and the boys look down at my ankle and the bright pink cast that covers it with a mix of shock and concern on their faces.
"I broke it when I fell off the wall."
"Does it hurt?" asks Cassis, tears in his eyes as he looks down at it and instinctively reaches for his own ankle when I wince in pain.
"Just a little," I admit, my cheeks wet with tears. "But the doctor says I should be ok in a little while if I'm careful."
"How long is a little while?" asks Ash, the boy Ash, his eyes never leaving my ankle and the cast that covers it while the other Ash helps me sit up and take a drink of water.
"I'm not sure," I admit, a pained yelp slipping past my lips when Cassis accidentally kicks my ankle trying to get in closer so he can hear me better.
"I'm sorry, Maira!"
"It's ok, Cass. You didn't mean to do it," I say, fighting back the urge to cry.
"Are you going to be able to train or?" asks Ash, his eyes still fixed on my ankle.
"A little bit. I can't run around or do anything that requires me to use my ankle or put any weight on it. But I can do all of the other stuff," I say, the tears flowing freely down my face as I silently beg my allies not to abandon me.
"Then we'll just have to tweak our training to work around your injury," says Ash, her face happy and covered with a smile as she offers me her hand and helps me get back up off the floor. "Won't we, boys?"
"Yep," says Cassis, his answer slipping out before Ash has the chance to stop him and all but forcing him to agree.
"I guess so. Though, I do have some concerns."
"And I'll be happy to talk them out with you tomorrow morning," says Ash, her smile flickering for just a second as she locks eyes with her boy counterpart before motioning for Cassis to come and help us. "Ok?"
"Ok."
"Good. Now that that's settled, I think we should let Maira have a crack at the camouflage station. Maybe she'll be able to do a good forest camo."
"I said I was sorry, Ash!"
"And I forgave you, Cass," she laughs, my eyes catching sight of the faint outline of a smile as she and Cass help guide me over to the camouflage station while talking about how silly she looked after Cassis covered her face with green and black polka dots.
Shimmer Calvisi-18 (District 1 Male)
Today has been a pretty good day. I dislocated a trainer's shoulder while wrestling. I accidentally bloodied Alfonso's nose while we were fighting in the simulator. I got to beat the ever-loving crap out of the boxing instructor during our sparring match. And I even got to see the pathetic little girl from Twelve shatter her ankle.
The only thing that's stopped it from being perfect is that I've had to put up with Bellatrix and her insufferable ego. She kind of reminds me of my dad in that regard. She's got an overinflated sense of importance that feeds her out-of-control ego.
And, just like my dad, she'll get what she deserves in due time. And, if I'm lucky, I'll be the one to give it to her.
"Shimmer?! Are you paying attention?!" screams Bellatrix. Her normally smug, confident face twisted in a mask of delicious fury as she glares up at me with righteous indignation burning in her soft, sky-blue eyes.
"Of course, I am, Bellatrix," I lie, my face even and neutral as I stare back down at her with passive indifference.
"Then what did I just say?"
"That we wasted too much time today on pointless mandatory exercises and getting to know each other, so we're going to have to train twice as hard tomorrow to make up for it?" I ask, confident in the fact that that's all she's been talking about for the last hour and a half, so I've got a pretty good chance of being right.
"Lucky guess," she growls.
"You don't have to guess when you're paying attention, Bellatrix."
"Then maybe you can teach the others how to do it," she growls, shooting an angry glance in the direction of Ariadne and Helena, who are at the first aid station trying to learn how to set a broken leg. "Because some of them have an issue with it."
I can't help but laugh at that. Not because I want to, but because it's just too funny that the most oblivious member of the career alliance has the gall to complain about how inattentive the rest of us are being. I genuinely can't wait to put this bitch in her place.
Soon, Shimmer. Soon.
"... they're wasting their time with first aid. If any of us is stupid or careless enough to get hurt, then we deserve it, and the rest of us should put them down like the stupid dog they ..."
Is she still talking? I mean, seriously, does she even know how to shut up?
"That's a good point," I mumble, hoping against hope that that'll be the end of it and she'll leave me alone so I can finish dismembering this dummy in peace.
"I'm glad you see it that way, Shimmer. Because I've got a ..."
Oh, for the love of. Of course, it wasn't. Her mouth doesn't have an off switch. I've only known her for a few hours, and I already know that.
"... and ears in this alliance?" she asks, looking up at me expectantly.
"Excuse me?"
"Were you not paying attention?"
"No, I was," I lie. "I just don't think I heard you right. Did you really ask me to help you run this alliance?" I ask, taking a wild but educated stab at what the phrase, 'and ears in this alliance,' could possibly have been referring to.
"I did."
"Why?" I ask, genuinely curious. "You made it pretty clear this morning that you and only you were in charge of this alliance. What changed?"
"Nothing. I'm still the one calling all the shots. But I need someone with muscle to keep the rest of the careers in line. And, after the show you put on this morning, it's pretty obvious who that muscle should be.
"So, do you want the job or not?"
I really don't. I've never been interested in being in charge. I'm here to hurt people, not lead them. I also have no interest in being Bellatrix's attack dog.
Then again, there is an attractive simplicity to being the enforcer. It not only guarantees me a spot in the alliance, which was never really in doubt, but it also gives me free rein to crack down on Alfonso, who might be the only person in our alliance that I want to gut more than Bellatrix.
"I do," I say, offering her my hand at the same time as a soft, rhythmic bell starts to ring out from every corner of the room. Signaling that the first day of training has reached its end, and it's time for us to go and spend time strategizing with our mentors and escorts.
"Good," she says, a wicked smile on her face as she takes my hand and shakes it firmly before spinning around and starting towards the exit. "Just be ready to work. Because tomorrow, things will start to get serious."
Oh, you have no idea how right you are, Bellatrix. No — idea.