Welcome to Chapter Seven valued readers! I appreciate all of the views, reviews, favorites, and follows. Keep it up!
Also, I have decided it would be best to edit this to the 69th Hunger Games, instead of the 70th, so that there aren't any clashes further on.
In this chapter, we have the last day of the training continued from last chapter, Jet makes Gloss bleed, and the individual assessments.
"Maybe you should be more careful, darling, and know who these things belong to," I hear a voice sneer from behind me. I turn around to see Johanna Mason, the chaotic axe wielder from 7 bark at Gloss as she roughly jerks a knife from him, handing it to her tribute. "Wouldn't want to mess up your nails," she adds, lip curling up into a spiteful smirk.
Gloss rolls his eyes, not responding to her as he catches up with me. "These mentors are insane," I whisper under my breath. We were nearing the last leg of training of the entire Hunger Games, and so far, I've seen more fights and verbal slander than I've seen in a lifetime, in just one day. It makes me nervous and unsure, looking around at the deranged and damaged people who were forced to kill others, the effects of it obvious on them.
"It only gets better when you're forced to see them every year," he responds dryly, then continues, "I think we should at least work on some hand-to-hand-combat, just in case."
I glance over at him, anxiety flooding my chest. I wasn't supposed to do this stuff. I'm weak and useless up close, that's what my trainers have been telling me my whole life. "I can't," I whisper, not wanting anyone else to hear the evident self-doubt in my voice.
"Practicing won't hurt," he encourages me, a gentle smile on his lips, but I can see the impatience behind his eyes, primarily from me failing miserably at sword fighting, and the comments the other mentors made. I observe that he's very sensitive to their words. He doesn't show too much emotion, but I can still see it, that raw form of Gloss that I'd seen just a few days ago, even though it felt like a lifetime ago.
Deciding not to argue with him, I just nod my head, approaching the station. A mat is at the center of it, and thankfully, no one else is there. There aren't any Capitol assistants today, so it's just mentor and tribute. The cameras follow us, and I immediately start to feel queasy. I may have a few issues with my pride, and I really don't like being shown up or failing at something, but I have the premonition that some shame and humility are going to be unavoidable in this instance.
Gloss assumes a defensive position across from me and I take a deep breath, setting myself in an offensive stance. I can hear the zooming of lenses, and I know that they're closing up on me. This is an opportunity for me to gain sponsors that could eventually save my life in the Games, but I'm sure I'll repulse anyone who is currently watching.
Gloss gives me a nod of his head and I immediately lunge in, throwing a right hook. He easily blocks my fist and I feel myself already getting frustrated with this concept. I like having time to analyze the situation and prepare myself. I wasn't good at the fast acting things, like this. It was too rough and gritty, too out of control and based on chance or fate. You could blink and be knocked out in the time span that it takes to blink.
I reassert myself and go in again, throwing a right hook, but following it with a left, effectively nailing Gloss in the side, but in all honesty, it probably hurt me more than him. My wrist went in at a weird angle, and with all my weight behind it, it made an unpleasant pop sound as it hit his firm middle. I shake my fist, getting the feeling to return to it as I once again compose myself.
I move in quickly, throwing a left punch then a right, then a left again in a quick, but inaccurate and blind, succession. By the second punch, Gloss has picked up on my pattern and has effectively grabbed my arm by the third punch, pulling me close to him, then throwing me on the ground. I immediately panic, not liking being pinned down, and hit him, with my palm, in his chin. His hold vanishes as he stands up, covering his mouth, an amused look on his face as he helps me up with his free hand.
"See? You're fine when you know you have to defend yourself. And when you can fight dirty," he adds, giving a breathy laugh as he pulls his hand away from his mouth, a small pool of blood resting in his palm from my impact.
I cross my arms over my chest, feeling insecure as I notice that a crowd has gathered. Most look either disgusted or hateful, but some have a look of approval. Gloss gestures me over to him and we stand back, drinking some water as we watch Gregor and Brutus spar next. It's a brutal dog fight and I have a hard time watching.
"Why did you say you were so bad at this stuff?" Gloss asks after a drink of water, gesturing to the two dominant males who were currently attempting to kill each other, the cameras going back and forth between the two.
"That's what they always told me back home. They gave up after a while," I answer, glancing at him, trying to ignore how gorgeous he looked, even after he had been working.
"Did they ever have you go on defense?" He asks curiously, arching a perfectly manicured brow.
I think about his question for a moment before shaking my head. "No, actually. They only had me doing the offensive training. I guess defensive training was for advanced scholars of the craft," I add pretentiously, faking a Capitol accent as I shake my head.
He chuckles, grinning. "Well, there you go. You're not totally hopeless. They don't teach you how to defend yourself like that back home. They don't teach you how to fight dirty, though, either, so I think you have some explaining to do there," he smirks, teasing me as I shake my head, smiling sheepishly. He continues, "It's all about getting the kill, I know."
"It's bullshit," I say, hands flying up to cover my mouth as the lewd word escaped my mouth. I'm usually prim about my language, but that profanity slipped out of my mouth in my train of thought.
"I didn't think I'd ever hear anything like that come out of your mouth," he drawls, smirking as he gives me a little nudge with his elbow.
"It was an accident, I'm sorry," I answer honestly, shaking my head, blushing a little. He probably thinks I'm trashy now. Good going, Jet. Really. What a charismatic thing you are. It's amazing he's not in love with you yet, I chide myself.
"Don't be sorry about it. It makes you seem real. The Capitol needs more of that bullshit these days," his smirk widens as he uses my choice word, chuckling. I'm vaguely aware of the fact that Gregor and Brutus are still fighting like animals.
I shake my head, nudging him with my elbow, copying him. "Would you shut up?"
"I would, but you don't want me to," he teases me back, nudging me for the second time.
I copy him once more, looking up at him. "You're ornery after you beat up an innocent teenage girl, you know?"
"Hey, hey, you were the one beating me. Do you not see this?" his tone is still full of banter as he gestures to his wounded mouth.
"Oh, yeah. Sorry about that, by the way," I say sheepishly, blushing a little.
He waves it away. "Don't worry about it. I'm proud of you, actually. A little shocked and injured, but proud, nonetheless."
My mood soars as he says he's proud of me. I look away, a beam on my face as my blush creeps on my face furthermore. We watch the rest of the fight, the victor being inconclusive as the two are forced apart by Venus. She warns them that one of them will end up dead if it continued any further. Brutus, although hurt by his ego, doesn't fail to express his pride that his tribute nearly beat him at his own game.
A bell sounds, signifying the end of training for the 69th Hunger Games. We are instructed that we will be eating lunch at our living quarters before we are to be tested in the final assessment. Gloss and I get to the living quarters before the others, so we're left alone for a few short minutes. He runs to the bathroom quickly, properly cleaning his mouth before coming to join me at the table.
Once he's seated, I speak up, "So you don't think I'm totally hopeless?"
He shakes his head, scoffing. "Oh, no. Definitely not. You're smart and careful. If I had to bet, my money would be on you."
I'm pleasantly shocked at his words. I'd expected him to say that he believes in me, he thinks I'm not hopeless, or anything else that files under the "Pump Your Tribute's Spirits up so they don't Make You Look Bad" category. I really didn't think he would say that I wouldwin.
"Even over District 2?" I ask, a skeptical brow raised.
He nods. "Oh, yes, definitely. They're so arrogant, they'll get themselves killed. Come to think of it, I think you're the only Tribute I've had thatisn't arrogant."
I always forget that he's a mentor and he's had other Tributes, but none of which had returned home. I push the ominous thought to the back of my head as I give him a small smile. "Who knows. Maybe I'll just die in the blood bath by running into a sword."
"Please don't do that," he says, rubbing his eyes. "I'll never forget the year that my Tribute did that; the first one I ever had. Practically committed suicide."
"I remember that year," I say, nodding as I think about it. I remember being forced to gather around the television set and watch it, and just as soon as the cannon goes off, one of the representatives from our district ran into a sword in their haste.
"It was even worse when my other Tribute died from being snared in a trap for two days. That was just gruesome," he shakes his head, letting out a sigh.
"Ah, you may have to worry about that. I'm awful at snares and traps," I shake my head, giving him a sly smile.
"You're absolutely killing me," he grins, contradictory to his words as he runs a hand through his golden locks. The elevator doordings, and soon enough, the rest of our entourage come in. I hear excitable chatter coming from somewhere, and I turn to see Teris coming out of his room, pink hair all bedraggled as he hurriedly rakes a hand through it, attempting to pull his appearance together.
"I'm sorry, everyone. I'm afraid I miscalculated the time," he says, looking like he's about to burst into tears.
"It's fine. We won't say anything," Cashmere says sweetly, but as soon as he turns around, she rolls her eyes.
I'd heard of escorts being fired from their positions, but I don't think it happens very often in my district. Well, at least, you never hear about it. Avoxes deliver our lunch soon after Teris' appearance. Sheen gives me a look as he digs in his food. I'm surprised that he can still eat like that. With every day that passes in the Capitol for me, my appetite diminishes, nerves getting the best of me.
I quirk a brow at him. He swallows his food, then wipes his mouth. "Gregor says that he wants to talk to you," he finally tells me.
"About what?" I immediately get defensive and cautious. I don't trust that psychopath one bit, and the fact that he sent Sheen as a messenger can't be good.
Sheen shrugs. "Not sure, but I think it's pretty important."
I glance over at Gloss, who gives me a worried expression. "Are you sure you have no idea what it is?" I ask Sheen again.
He shakes his head, obviously getting frustrated with me. "Yes, I'm sure."
The rest of the meal goes on in awkward silence between us. I don't want to prod him any further about the topic, but I can't help but feel scared. What could Gregor possibly want from me other than my heart to stop beating?
"Sheen Comman, District 1. Report for individual assessment," the voice on the speaker announces. I give Sheen a reassuring smile as he takes a deep breath, striding through the doors of the training center, where the gamemakers await to judge each and every one of us. There's even more pressure riding on this, as they haven't seen us at all yet. First impressions are vital.
I glance around at the others surrounding me. Gregor catches my eye and he blows me a kiss, laughing crudely about it with Ameda after he sees my shocked reaction. I avoid looking at them for the rest of the time as I wring my fingers nervously. I feel pressure to do well in this. It's normal for Careers to get between an eight and 10 during the assessment, and I definitely don't want to fall short.
I strategize what I plan to do; the food testing first, then knots, then bow and arrow, and then knife throwing. I want to work my way up with my strengths, saving the best for last so I can leave with a good impression, as well as a decent first impression. I take deep breaths, willing myself to remain calm. As long as I'm calm, I won't miss my shots or mess up my test.
Suddenly, the doors are opening and Sheen is walking out, an impassive look on his face. "Jet Maisivitch, District 1. Report for individual assessment," the dreaded speaker sounds and I feel myself getting up and walking to the doors to the training center. I don't seem to be in control of my body. I want to sit there and pretend that I'm not really a tribute and this is all some sort of mistake, but I also know that being punctual and attentive probably gives a good impression for the game makers.
I make my way to the center, standing there as I wait for the next part. Above me, in the panel that usually seats the mentors, there are the game makers, the head game maker standing in the center, tall and intimidating in appearance. "You have 15 minutes to present your chosen skill," he says, wise and noble eyes meeting mine. I nod, heading straight to the test.
I zoom through it and praise myself for not missing any. Hopefully that'll help me in the actual Games and not just here. Next, I make my way over to the knots, my nimble fingers tying some knots that could be useful in holding things (or tributes), and others that would be good for conventional uses. Once I am satisfied there, I head over to the bow and arrow station, careful to take my time on these last two stations.
I analyze the bows laid out for the tributes to use. My fingers feel over the grooves and characteristics of each one before I pick my poison; the lightest bow, one that will not have a lot of power behind it, but deadly accuracy and precision. It would just take one hit with this bow and it could be over for the unfortunate soul who finds his way on the other side of it.
I pick up a silver arrow, carefully nocking it against the metal of the bow. I close an eye, drawing the bow back as I visualize my target. With a perfectionist's eye that is satisfied with my position, I let the arrow loose, watching as it whizzes through the air, hitting its mark with a thud; right where it was aimed to be- dead-on the heart.
I repeat my process with the two other targets that are set up, aiming my arrow at the smaller target on the dummy that rests on the throat. I nock, aim, then loose, the same thing I tell myself over and over as I move onto the next, aiming at the eye this time, one of the smallest targets on something, and one of the most fatal shots, as well.
When I'm done with my trusty bow, I set it back on its respective table, making my way back to my most practiced skill; knife throwing. I don't need to take the time to assess the targets with the knives. I let them fly at alarming rates, each one finding their mark. I throw at least seven before I run out. I look over to the game makers, nodding my head in affirmation that I'm done with my "performance".
I just hope I don't have to use those skills unless absolutely necessary in the Arena.
What did you guys think? I always love to get feedback!
.92317: I'm glad you agree with my opinion of the Careers! I know some people don't. We gotta love those mentor scenes, amirite? As always, thank you for reviewing!
abc500: I'm glad you liked my insertion of Finnick! I didn't want to make it seem too random, so I thought I would just bring up the confusion we as a fanbase feel about the exclusion of District 4 in the Careers (well, that's how I feel, anyways). More mentors is always a fun thing to write about. They're probably one of my favorite parts of The Hunger Games series. I think it's extremely interesting to see how they all cope with the Games and the effects that they have on them. I'm glad you see my idea of Jet! That's exactly how I wanted her to come off as. Thank you for your reviews!