Welcome to Chapter 4! I'm so glad that you guys seem to be liking things so far. I'll definitely keep it up!

Sorry for the shorter chapter today. I'm kind of half dead, heh.

In this chapter, it is the first day of training. Jet shows Sheen up, Sheen is a pretentious ass, and we get to meet new tributes yay!

Also, I decided to have the mentors watch the tributes train. I think that normally it's the game makers who watch, but oh well. This allows for more possible interaction between Jet and Gloss, and that's the best!

As always, reviews, favorites, and follows are always well appreciated.

Beep. Beep. I am rattled awake as I hear the sound emanating from something beside me. Annoyed, I roll over, cracking my eyes open a pinch as I turn the device off. I let out a long, loud sigh as I slowly sit up, stretching my arms above my head as the blankets pool around my waist. I get up from the bed, making my way over to the bathroom to complete my morning ritual.

I put on the clothes provided for me- a pair of dark, form fitting exercise clothes with a patch of cloth attached to the sleeve of my shirt, a silver "1" emblazoned on it, naming my district. After my hair was brushed from the air current above me, I tie it back behind my face. Today was the first day of training, and I didn't want to battle with my thick, untamable hair today. I wash my face with some cold water from the sink at an attempt to wake myself up. It works, maybe a little too well, as I blink profusely a few times, trying to get rid of the frigid water from seeping anymore into my eyes.

Sighing at the bags that seem to be getting worse and worse and every day, I give a dejected sigh as I make my way out of my quarters and out to the dining room. Like yesterday, Gloss is sitting there, an intent look on his face as he goes over what appears to be stationary. I quietly make my way over to the table, pulling out my chair opposite him, glancing down at breakfast before grabbing my fork and starting to eat.

By now, Gloss looks at me, a slight smile playing on his lips as he sets down the piece of stationary. "Good morning," he says charmingly.

I return his small smile. "Good morning to you, too," I reply between bites of food. I wait for him to bring up last night, but I'm glad he doesn't. It was just a mish mash of confusing feelings that I really didn't want to think about right now. I have enough on my plate, being in the Hunger Games and all.

I glance down at the piece of paper that Glass had been reading, arching my brow. He gives a gentle sigh, smoothing the letter and folding it up, tucking it in his pocket. "It's something Snow sent the mentors. He wants us to watch the tributes train this year," he says, a smirk appearing on his lips.

My stomach drops as I have a hard time swallowing the next bit of food, deciding that was enough as I put the utensil down. I can't help but feel panic as I think of everyone watching me, especially him. I feign a smile, misleading the internal anxiety I was feeling as I took a tentative sip of water.

I was so screwed.

Desperate to hear his calming voice, I do my best to keep conversation going, "So, do you want me to show off or hide my skills?" I ask, referring to training.

He ponders the question a moment before clearing his throat, "I don't want you to show people you could be considered a threat, but I also want them to see that you aren't going to be an easy kill, either. You don't want that kind of attention."

I take in his words, nodding. "What about Sheen and the Careers? Won't they expect me to do something?"

He shrugs, "Not all Careers are that good at weaponry. Just be good enough that they won't disown you, but don't try to show any of them up, either. Let Sheen do that. I'm sure he'll jump on the chance."

"What did you do?" I ask, hoping it wasn't too sensitive of a topic.

I was relieved when he grins, a chuckle emanating from the back of his throat in a deep, extremely attractive sound. "Oh, I showed off so much, I'm surprised I even made the Blood Bath."

"And look at you now," I reply, smiling infectiously.

He nods, his smile turning more earnest as he makes eye contact with me. "I've learned some things from then."

The rest of breakfast was quiet until it was time for me to start training. Gloss and I made our ways over to the elevator. I remind myself to keep taking breaths as the elevator starts to descend to the bottom level. Gloss senses my discomfort, and to my surprise (and delight), he gently rests a hand against the small of my back.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be fine. Everyone will be watching your district partner making a fool of himself, anyways," he says, accompanying his soothing statement with a wink.

I feel the breath leave my lungs for a moment and I'm unable to speak, so I just nod, a look of wonder in my eyes as I drink in his features. We stand like this for as long as the ride lasts. I try to enjoy every second of his calming presence, but then the doors are sliding open, and he uses his previously placed hand to usher me forward.

Once we step out of the elevator, we are met with Sheen and Cashmere. Sheen is wearing a similar outfit to mine, but a shade darker and not as form fitting. As I look at him more closely, I notice that he appears to be just as weary as me. It probably doesn't help that the commandeering Cashmere is his mentor, either, but he looks just as tired as I was, and just as scared. We were just children, after all, and we were going in there to preen and demonstrate our killing skills.

Doors slide open before us as we enter the Training Center. The first thing I notice is that there aren't that many people here yet. The second thing I notice is a boy laying down on the ground in a pool of blood. Lovely.

Cashmere and Gloss split off to join the other mentors as Sheen and I advance to the center of the room. People I've never seen before in my life as surrounding the boy, who appears to have either been stabbed or stabbed himself. I find out that it's the latter, but due to an accident, or rather his own clumsiness.

He's a young looking boy from District 8, with curly auburn hair and freckles dusting his pale face. A pained look overtakes his face as he wheezes and winces when the head trainer, Venus, wrenches the knife from his stomach. The cut isn't deep or fatal, but I can tell from the looks he's getting from everyone that soon enough, he will be dead. As will everyone in this room but one.

By now, the entire cast of tributes is present, and the District 8 boy has been cleaned up and bandaged. We assemble in numerical order of our districts, so naturally, I'm alienated and cast to the outside as Sheen stands next to District 2, already talking about the alliance all Careers take. I glance over at them, swallowing the lump in my throat as the male from District 2 catches my eye, an analyzing eye going over me quickly. This isn't like Gloss, though, or even Gomo. I can see the lust in the boy's eyes, and a shiver of disgust shudders through me as I turn my head, listening to Venus as she explains what is expected of us and whatnot.

Once we are dismissed to train, I flitter my eyes up to the balcony, seeing the mentors. Some are sitting, watching intently. Others are socializing and enjoying themselves, such as Gloss and Cashmere. Most, however, just look disconnected and destroyed. I avert my eyes as I lock gazes with one who looks particularly mad.

I trail behind Sheen, knowing full well that I can't change my Career status, so I may as well embrace it. I watch as the trio joke and shove each other playfully. When they notice me following like a lost puppy, they park it at the spear throwing station. The male from 2 steps closer to me, a smug look on his lips as he crosses thick, muscular arms over a burly chest.

He definitely looks like he could be 21, easily. His dark hair is cropped short and close to his head. Surprising soft blue eyes meet mine and I stifle a laugh at the dramatic irony of his appearance. The killer with the soft eyes, I say to myself, a small smile gracing my lips at the irony that screams at me. Obviously, he thought I was smiling to see him. He sticks his chest out even more (totally unnecessary), and steps even closer to me. I glance over to Sheen, who is picking up a spear, practicing the arc before he throws. Wrong, wrong, I chide, wanting to say something to help my district partner, but finding myself compromised with Mister Macho.

I look at the huge boy, an irritated look in my eye. "Yes?" I ask, almost surprised at myself for speaking. Under most circumstances, I would have been quiet, but in the Hunger Games, it's all about slipping under the radar or proving that you're capable of defending yourself, and the way this boy was looking at me like I was a meal, I figure the latter is a better decision at this moment.

I'm dully aware of the sound of the clattering of a weapon and the sound of feminine laughter, turning my head to see that Sheen has indeed missed the target, by a lot, and the girl from 2 is laughing. I give an impatient sigh, looking back at the monster of a boy that was inconveniently placed. He just shakes his head, an incredulous look on his face.

"What are you even doing here? You look like you could be devoured at any moment," he speaks, low and deep so no one else can hear our exchange. I curl my upper lip as I curve a brow in disgust, taking a step back.

I say nothing, but rather turn my back to him, walking over to the spear throwing station. I remember Gloss' advice, and knowing that I was a potential target for 2, I pick up the spear, eyeing my target carefully before hefting it, throwing it in a half-hearted manner. The tip strikes the dummy's kidney. Not a fatal shot, but enough to provide complications. I turn to look at my fellow Careers, seeing Sheen blush with embarrassment.

"Gregor," the giant boy from 2 says.

I quirk a brow in confusion. "What?"

"Name's Gregor, and this is Ameda," the big brute gestures to his district partner, a girl of medium height, not as tall as me, but much stronger looking. Her hair was straight, colored strawberry blonde and it fell just past her shoulders. Her eyes were dark and harsh, a strange sort of passion glowing in them. She is confident in her skills, and she believes she can win this. I can see it, plain as day. A smirk appears on her thin lips as she crosses her arms, quirking a brow.

"Welcome to the Careers. I'm not sure we can say the same, for your friend, though," she says, a bigger smirk appearing on her face as Gregor slaps the back of Sheen's head. Sheen lets out a small, nervous chuckle as he scratches the back of his neck, acting like it didn't bother him.

I say nothing to Ameda's welcome. I feel sick as I glance around at me, at the tributes who look so fragile and thin they could pass as dolls that sit on a shelf, never been touched or moved. Most look absolutely terrified and unsure. I have a hard time deciphering whether it was an act or if it was genuine; probably a mixture of both. Often times, tributes will glance our way, eyes huge and alarmed like a deer's.

I sigh as we make our way over to the sword station, where Gregor spars with one of the Capitol trainers. I decide to wander off from the group, not really wanting to practice skills I wasn't going to use. I don't plan on ever getting close enough to someone to use a sword. I can feel eyes on me from tributes and mentors alike as I make my way over to the food testing station, where we test our skills to see if we know which ones are poisonous.

The first few times don't go well, as I miss most of them. I shake my head, determined not to give up. Eventually, I start to understand the patterns and the ways you can distinguish which ones are poisonous and which ones are not. I run through the test one more time, satisfied when I miss only four of 30. Glancing around me, I see that Gregor is now doing hand-to-hand-combat, Ameda is practicing her marksmanship with a bow and arrow, which she isn't the greatest at, and Sheen is trying his hand at tying knots. I'm a little surprised that he tried that, as I figure him to show off like the other two. I make my way over to him, flashing him a small smile as I join him.

"Hey," I say quietly, trying to make a simple double knot with the rope provided. The trainer continues to talk about how important knots could be, but I zone them out, listening to Sheen.

"Hi," he says quietly, his shoulders slumped a little.

I feel bad that the other two are giving him such a hard time, but there's really nothing I can do. It's better for him to be humbled while training rather than in the actual Games. Hopefully now he'll also see that you can't trust anyone, even the ones you think you can. That was what Gloss told me.

I finish the knot easily, then move onto a more difficult one next. I speak in a low voice next, "You don't have to be a Career, you know." I finish the knot easily, the trainer giving me a eye of approval as I move on.

He looks at me incredulously, scoffing. "Are you kidding me? I've been training for this moment all of my life. So have you," he adds at the end, eyes flashing with anger.

I feel my own form of anger rise in my chest as I shake my head, speaking in a low hiss. "Not all of us want to kill people."

"Not all of you want to win, then," he retorts bitterly, throwing down the piece of rope. I notice that he had still been working on the first knot as he stomped away, engaging in vigorous, blind, and angry fighting with a trainer, something we were always taught not to do. Anger leads to mistake, and mistake leads to death. I wince as the trainer throws him down to the ground, Ameda and Gregor starting to laugh again.

I decide to separate from the scene, not wanting to get involved in the small fight that ensued between Gregor and Sheen. As I make my way to the archery station, a bell sounds, and Venus announces it's time for lunch and that training for the day was concluded. I follow the sea of tributes as we mill out and into a cafeteria, where there are 12 tables for the 12 districts. Naturally, the Careers sit together, and the other small alliances that are formed during training also sit together.

Gregor and Ameda seat themselves and Sheen and I follow. Avoxes set out our food for us as we sit, and I carefully start eating. The table is eerily quiet, and I have a hard time looking anyone in the eye as I just stare down at the floor, my cheeks flushing a light shade of red as I feel Gregor staring at me.

I look around at the tables surrounding us. People are still filing in, trying to find a place to sit. My eyes make contact with the District 11 male, and he starts to make his way over to us. I avert my eyes, looking down again. I'm sure that Gregor won't want him here. He'll just leave.

I hear a chair being slid out from under the table, then the sound of someone getting situated in their seat. I glance up, seeing the boy make eye contact with Gregor, whom he must recognize as the leader of us. His olive skin is not a popular occurrence in District 11, I know that much, but I have heard of it. His dark hair is spiked up, and those intense, dangerous eyes scan over all of us. We understand what he wants, but the question is whether we, or rather they, think he deserves it or not.

Gregor leans back in the chair, tilting his head back as he puffs his chest out, a smirk curling on his lips. "And just who in the hell do you think you are?"

The boy speaks quietly, but with affirmation ad firmness. "I came here for an alliance. I'm Wyatt."

"And what makes you think you're good enough?" I'm shocked to hear that come out of Sheen's mouth.

Wyatt simply shrugs and gestures to me. "I seem to intimidate her enough."

I narrow my eyes, not saying anything as I glance between Wyatt and Gregor. "If you can kill at least one person in the Blood Bath, I'll consider it, but just know," Gregor pauses, gesturing to me, "We look after our own." I refrain from speaking as I stuff food in my mouth, a feeling similar to thankfulness overcoming me.

The rest of lunch is awkward and uncomfortable. Sheen, Ameda, and Gregor engage in conversation about killing people while Wyatt just stares at me. I can tell that he's deciding whether or not I'll be an easy kill; how much I'll fight back, or scream, or how much blood it'll take before I'll bleed out. I've seen how people operate in the Hunger Games, and everyone sitting at this table with me is willing to do those things.

The thought chills me to the bone. There really isn't a chance for me, is there?

So what do you guys think about our lovely Careers and the aloof Wyatt? What about Sheen? And, of course, how could we forget about the boy who ran into a knife? (There actually isn't any significance to "Blade Boy", I just put in some comic relief for my fellow acerbic witted friends).

Also, because I have received my first reviews, I plan on having little answers to your guys' reviews down here.

abc500: Huge thanks to you for being the first reviewer! Like seriously, you pretty much made my whole day. I'm glad you enjoy my OC and portrayal of Gloss. Who knows if Jet will be able to defend herself if it means killing someone? Maybe Jet will just hide in a tree the whole games? And if there aren't any trees? DUN DUN DUN. Pushing aside my dramatics, I have some huge plans for this story! I am very excited to be writing it and don't plan on slowing down anytime soon. Again, thank you for your review!