Well, I'm back :) My oh so tempremental laptop has decided to be a complete doofus and die (taking 4,000 words with it may I add) but nothing stops me when I am in a writing mood! So here we go, the Gamemaker sessions! It took so long to write, so I'll post the reactions tomorrow!
I do focus on certain tributes...Hope you don't mind too much! And it may be tedious but I do think it was fun to write; the pace is a bit slow but it promises to speed up soon.
Seneca Crane, Head Gamemaker.
Nicoli Spinoza trailed into the room as if being sent to death, a quivering wreck if I've ever seen one and seeing as I've hardly slept due to the fact that if I mess one minute thing then I am guarenteed death, I can most definitely identify such a thing; so yes I empathise with the boy. Seeing as he hails from an aptly named 'Career' district, I was concerned by his apparent nervousness but that faded rather quickly once he had picked up a sword. What followed was a sublime demonstration of swordply, beheaded dummies and disarmed Peacekeepers; I nod approvingly as he performs a series of gymnatic manoeuvres before coming to stand before us with an apprehensive expression, still appearing like a rabbit in headlights despite his exemplary display.
"You may leave, thank you." I see his shoulders sag in relief as he almost sprints from the room, I smile at his reaction: It is not very often you see someone from a Career district, someone so able to succeed in the Hunger Games suffer such 'pre-game jitters' but I admit it is rather refreshing and dare I say it, endearing. I hear some chuckling and the entourage behind me erupts into hushed whispers, despite the superiority of the Capitol across Panem; I sometimes wonder how at times we can appear as uncivilsed as animals, where is our Capitolite decorum? Gossiping like old hags, but I hear a few of the whispered remearks: "Awww, he is just adorable" "What a siss, suffering from stage fright" "Look at those dimples, I may get a pair".
I'm about to admonish them, my role as Head Gamemaker gives me the responisiblity of managing this morons and ensuring thet remain focussed, a feat just as difficult as designing an arena which meets our Presidents incredibly high standards at times. But before I can open my mouth to scold them, Crinsom Hardwick herself joins the ruckus and renders the other Gamemakers completely silent; I am torn between my admiration of the woman and her ability to silence a room with something as small as raising her eyebrow and the irrational desire to applaude her for managing to silence our foolish colleagues.
"May I remind you all, this is to rate the potential of tributes not to discuss how sweet they appear to be or whether or not they suffer from stage fright. I encourage you all to remember to maintain some degree of professionalism and to only talk about the tributes potential and whatever score you seem fit for the display of their skills." I smirk as a number of newly employed Gamemakers actually cower in their seats at her rebuttal whereas the more 'seasoned' of us simply look ahead in an attempt to avoid her tempestuous wrath; the overall effect is one of focus which is a blessing as the second tribute has just entered.
As a Gamemaker you eventually become familiar with certain traits you can associate with tributes from certain districts, for example: District 1 always gives you the pretty girls, the 'Daddy's Little Princess''; altogether lethal but so air headed it physically hurts but something about this Ruby girl is different, maybe it is the way she struts into the room like a Capitol supermodel or the way she is smiling coyly and occaisonally winking at the assembled Gamemaker's: The way she oozes confidence and the way pure sensuality seems to escape from every pore tells me that this tribute is not just a pretty face.
She is intelligent, I can smell the phermones as a large majority of my male colleagues seem to drown in the tangiable lust that floats around them like a bad smell; she appears to have decided against 'normal' training attire, opting to wear a black skirt that clings to her womanly hips and shows how long her legs are and a training bra, displaying her washboard abs, narrow waist and full breasts. Although this gives the impression of her being promiscuous, it also ensures that everyone has eyes for only her; well the males anyway. I see her wearing a suggestive smirk as she stands before us, hip cocked with her hand resting on it delicately; it is only when I hear Crimson's sharp voice ring out across the eerily silent training centre that I have been ogling the specimen before me like my male peers.
"You may begin" Ruby nods her head before gesturing a Peacekeeper over, every sultry emotion exaggearated and her plump lower caught between her teeth; the Peacekeeper stumbles over his eyes alight like the cat got the cream until Ruby's whole demeanour changes: Gone is the seductive temptress, replaced by a bloodthirsty harpy who looks as though she was summoned from the darkest depths of Hell with her narrowed eyes and her lips set in a thin line. He freezes and tries to back away but Ruby strikes like a cobra, before the man in white can react the harpy cartwheels through the air and lands a kick squarely in his chest. The peacekeeper is sent sprawling across the floor, a strangled cry escapes his lips as he hits the melee weaponry rack with a resounding crash and Ruby laughs as he struggles to stand. Beneath the beauty lies a callous, cold blooded murderess to be.
The remainder of her time consists of Ruby tormenting the Peacekeeper: beating him to his knees and pressing the blade against his throat and makes him beg for safety before binding his wrists to his ankles and rendering him completely defenceless, dragging a leather whip across the floor as the man is bound and proceeding to whip him until his white uniform is tainted with streaks of vibrant crimson. Every crack of the whip is accompanied by Ruby's mirthless laughter. Savage and cold, before our very eyes this tribute has reduced this man to a pathetic being begging for mercy. I sit entranced by this demonstration of cruelty and violence, time could have frozen until I hear Crimson.
"Leave" No formalities, Crimson has issued a simple imperative and this tribute seems to realise that the orders of the fearsome Gamemaker are to be obeyed and without question. But before leaving the tribute bows lowly, allowing us all to ogle her cleavage before strutting from the room without a hair out of place and her hips swaying rhythmically. Once she is gone, everyone remains silent as they are still in shock at what just happened. Eventually the Peacekeeper is escorted to the medical centre and we are addressed by Crimson in her typical, no nonsense manner.
"Now that you've all managed to place your eyes back in the sockets, I suggest that we get back to our jobs and discuss the tributes." Her statement is met with shouts from our fellow Gamemakers: "A 12, best display I've seen in my 20 years." "Never seen someone so lethal, at least an 11." and things along those lines. I can see Crimson's anger boiling to the surface as everyone else seems content to continue singing the praises of the temptress with the mahogany tresses. I'm tempted to cover my ears as I note that Crimson is seconds away from exploding.
"Silence, you dare call yourselves proffessionals. From now on, we will not be discussing tributes; you will make notes which will be passed onto Seneca to finalise the scores." Silence reigns and I smirk at Crimson who as of right now seems to be the epitome of exasperation. Let us hope that no one crosses her again for there will be dire consequences.
Crimson Hardwick, Gamemaker.
Fools. Incompetant Fools. I can think of no words to describe the atrocities that I have to work alongside; despite me telling them moments ago to wise up and remember their professionalism they are now ordering wine and food. Does nobody possess a work ethic nowadays? But that is beside the point, in a way this is a blessing: Maybe these 'Gamemakers', and I use this term loosely, will drink themselves into oblivion and allow the likes of myself to do my job and rate the tributes potential. I snatch my notepad as Claude Dew walks in, his posture rigid and his jaw set in what I guess to be determination; as a District 2 tribute I have high expectations of such a tribute.
"You may begin." I feel like clapping that Seneca is still managing to focus on the tributes as he pours glass after glass of cotes du rhone; the 6' blonde instantly grasps a mace from the rack and continues to pound dummies with impressive force, he then moves onto hand to hand combat where he easily overpowers his numerous adversaries. Performing a series of grapples, he pins one to the ground and performs a hold on his wrist until the Peacekeeper slaps against the floor in submission; unlike his predecessor in the session he releases his hold instantly before jumping to his feet and running to grab a sword. He continues to perform a series of techniques that would cause a spectrum of pain: from a simple graze, to a slash that would cause unbearable pain, it is when he is dismissed after 15 minutes that I realise something. Reluctance: Technically Mr. Dew met my expectations of a District 2 tribute, showing a range of maiming techniques flawlessly but his mentality does not correspond with his physical performance. There is no malicious glint in his eye, no desire to cause pain; he is simply going through the motions without any true motivation. Let us hope that he somehow finds the motivation for he will fall quickly, Career status be damned. The Hunger Games are not a place for hesitance, hesitate once and you'll never be able to hesitate again.
His district partner is a different story, she does not hesitate in fact as soon as she enters the room she negelcts to acknowledge our existance; she throw knives with tremendous accuracy over great distances and speed. There is no hesitance as seen in her district partner, yet no brutality either; her demeanour exudes a lassez faire approach to proceedings; casually decimating dummies as though it is an everyday occurance but seeing as she is from District 2 it most probably is. In all honesty I am intrigued by the girl with the dirty blonde hair and vibrant green eyes, will she be able to be so laid back when she is attacking real tributes and not dummies? Either way I am curious as to how she will react in the arena. When dismissed she nods her head slightly toward us before walking from the room as casually as she had drifted in.
Afterwards comes the turn of District 3, you can basically hear the disinterest of my colleagues, see their attention drift away to Panem knows where. I could roll my eyes at their flippance, never underestimate a tribute solely because they don't come from a district which celebrates the games as some way of earning glory but alas you can only lead a horse to water. The meek boy who resembles a rat scurries into the room, and what follows is barely worth noticing; he sets some simple snares, although he has made minor adjustments so that it could incapacitate numerous victims: Smart but not mind blowing. The oddest thing was that he somehow managed to light a fire without a flint or matches, which is rather impressive but rather than capitalising on it he simply stares into the depths of the flames which such intensity as if waiting for it to answer some unasked question. When dismissed he gives a respectful 'Thank You' and shuffles from the room.
Greer Ballentine, a scientific prodigy according to my extensive research, hurries into the room and instantly starts gathering random pieces of equipment. Ah, an inventor in our midsts; this could most certainly be interesting. Her tongue sticks out as she entwines seemingly pointless pieces of metal, her concentration apparent; she fiddles for a while longer as she takes a rope and dagger and affixes them to the assortment of components she has just constructed. She stands and heads toward the shooting range, what she holds in her arms resembles a hybrid of a crossbow and a boomerang if that is even possible; she takes aim and pulls a makeshift trigger. The dagger is fired from the contraption toward a dummy at an impressive speed, her understanding of physics is astounding, but rather than imbedding itself in the target; Greer flicks her wrist and pulls something. The consequence: The dagger slashes across the torso of the dummy, creating a wound which would be fatal, before returning to Greer's little impression. I am almost tempted to applaude, she is apparently resourceful which is an incredibly admirable trait. She checks the time, pulling a battered pocket watch from her pocket, ascertaining she has enough time remaining she hurries over to the chemical station. She mixes various isotopes and chemical compounds, stirring vigorously as she poistions the vials exactly where they were before and I note that all labels are facing one direction. A minute or so later, she moves toward us and clears her throat nervously to gain our attention.
"This chemical compound although relatively harmless in a metal bowl is in fact insanely dangerous. Not only is it acidic and corrosive to all living organisms due to the reactions it can cause when exposed to kerotin and the unique structure of the erectile peni muscle; it is also poisonous as it would react in the blood stream, basically recreating the effects of septasemia; more commonly known as blood poisoning." I'll admit it, I'm curious but within these four walls if you want to score high we need definite proof. I smirk, well I know how we can get such proof; thank Panem for modern science.
"The dummies here in the training centre are covered in a pseudo skin developed in Capitol labs; you'll find they react exactly how human skin would when exposed to your concoction." She nods her understanding, before heading over to the nearest dummy and pouring her mixture over it's head. The effects are instantaneous, the surface of the dummy seem to convulse and bubble as though burnt and soon enough the limbs seem to fall away until the once humanoid dummy resembles nothing more than a pile of disfigured rubble. I hear cries of shock from my colleagues and I struggle to suppress my smirk: I've told them all time and time again not to underestimate those who don't attend training centres, now they know is dismissed, once she has exited the room my colleagues try to engage me in conversation, I simply shut them down with my trademark glare; unlike some, I intend to do my job. Everyone begins to pay attention again, not because of Ballentine's incredible feat but because District 4 is a 'Career' district.
The male, Kai, walks into the room with his head held high and his arrogance; well, it is simply laughable. How can he claim superiority when he is playing in our games? He slides his tank top off, revealing his increible physique and I must admit, his rippling muscles are attractive but he is nothing but a district rat: He could never be compatible with myself for that sole reason. As expected, he is phenomenally gifted in combative arts but we had already ascertained that from watching him throughout the training period; his accuracy with spears is superior to any I have seen since I obtained a position as Gamemaker and his raw strength is astounding; the way he lifts such heavy weights with ease is well, astounding. He runs a few lengths of the room, and I thought he would be slow due to his thick muscles but no he appears to be as fast as he is strong. Technically, he is perfect. Too good to believe, he has weaknesses though; we all do. What highlights him as a serious contender is not his strength or his speed, it is the vicious way he lashes at his training partners; the maleovalent glint in his eye as he overpowers an opponent. Emotionless and none responsive to the pain of others; a boy with a black heart, one to watch out for. When it is his time to leave he smiles up at us smugly, as though he is the one that owns the place. Arrogant fool, such high self esteem yet so stupid. However much of a contender he may be; he needs to remember it is I who holds his life in my hands, he is nothing but a pawn in my games.
Bala Eaglehawk, what can I say. Most 13 year old tributes are sitting ducks in these games, defenceless against the supreme brutality of the careers and easily overpowered in general by older tributes; to my fellow Gamemakers her session would fly under the radar but I'm not like my fellow Gamemakers. I don't ignore a tribute on the basis that their skills aren't exemplary with a weapon. Bala proved herself to be a jack of all trades and her versatility will help her with whatever crosses her path in the arena and I will make sure Seneca is aware of this when I give him my feedback. I have no doubt that she is one of Mags' pups, who for some reason always seem to do well in the arena; Magdalena Marin is an exceptional mentor despite her age and I'm marking this young blonde before me as a dark horse in these games. Bala proved herself to be proficient albeit not amazing in every aspect: Camouflage, archery, melee knife combat, swimming, climbing, knot tying, plant identification and basically every other aspect we have to offer. Under Mags' careful instruction this tribute has utilized the time dedicated to training successfully and I commend her for it, and I most certainly think it will show in her training score.
Despite my dedication to my job, even I find it rather monotonous; although some tributes surprise us with their repertoire of skills it can become tedious so to me it is no surprise that the attention of my colleagues has begun to wane: I glance around, find one woman painting her nails and an older Gamemaker fast asleep in his plush velvet armchair. I just shake my head, I note some others are intoxicated and the young man who irked me the other day is trying to string a sentence together but is slurring his speech so it comes out as a garbled mess. I try to catch Seneca's eye but he is chatting with those next to him, but I spot the faint pink blush across his face, a tell tale sign of his drinking. Disgraces, every single one of them; I'm just thankful that I'm here to make extensive notes so that each tribute is given an accurate score. I rub my temples and turn to watch as the male tribute from District 5 walks into the room, he's never caught my eye per say seeing as he seems to follow his useless district partner around; basically guarenteeing his death.
So I am more than a little shocked at what he shows us, he drags a dummy to the centre of the room and I make note of his strength seeing as those humanoid devices aren't necessarily light; he then gives us a lesson in short regarding the anotomy, gesturing where major arteries are positioned that if perferated would ensure the victim of the wound would die in minutes from blood loss. The whole 'lecture' is made more chilling when delivered in his gentle baritone, he is describing the process in what one would call an impeccable bedside manner; the way he pierces the dummy with the knife, every action so precise and clinical. It makes me think that maybe this healer could be a cold and efficient killer when placed in the arena and told to kill or be killed. Afterwards he heads toward the plant identification and commentates as he creates poultices and cures for a range of maladies you could obtain within the arena: A way to congeal blood if you have a wound, a herbal anaesthetic if any minor surgeries need to be performed and a simple sleeping drug which renders people unconscious for hours. I raise my eyebrows, I'd been proven wrong: Despite his affiliation with his district partner, he personally is not as useless as I once thought. In fact, with his clinical approach this seemingly harmless young man could be more dangerous than we could have ever anticipated.
As he leaves I can't help but sigh, his session was rather interesting but now I have to endure a whole 15 unbearable minutes of his pathetic district partner; I am guessing that all she'll do is cry a lot and moan about how weak she is. If I could bring myself to pity her I would, but I just find her lack of dignity repulsive. 23 of these tributes face certain death but how many of the others do you see reduced to a snivelling wreck? None, and according to her profile she is 17 years of age; practically a grown woman and yet she is more cowardly than even the 12 year olds. As predicted she shuffles into the room with her shoulder hunched and gaze fixed firmly on the ground; maybe we can dismiss her now and spare ourselves 15 minutes of witnessing her complete incompetence. She stands there like that for 3 whole minutes and I'm about to dismiss her when she stands up straight, shoulder width apart and her shoulders held back; she stares up at us all, eyes alight with a firey determination and head held high. However uncouth it may sound, I almost collapse from my chair in shock; I hear the shocked whispers behind me but my eyes are trained on the girl.
"I present to you my weapon, I've had you all thinking I was some incompetent idiot since being reaped; So, I have a proposition for you. Give me a low score, a 3 or 4 should suffice, so I can keep my little charade going and I will make these games... Interesting to say the least." I'm speechless, we all are. On one hand, I am outraged at both myself and her, myself for falling for this facade when she is obviously anything but the 'Cry Baby' I had decreed her; she has truly thrown a spanner into the works. I'm angry at her audacity, how dare she make a proposition. What is there to prevent us from exposing her facade? Nothing, but admitting she had us all fooled. This sobering thoughtis what enables me to compose myself and address the admittedly incredible actress from District 5.
"First of all why should we play along with your little game, why not simply expose you for a fraud and watch what happens. I think you misunderstand, the ball is and always will be in the corner of the Capitol and its Gamemakers; you will not dictate to us." She smiles up at me, a smile I've seen before: A smile that has graced my own refined features on more than one occaison and I find myself smiling along. She contemplates what I've said before walking even closer to the podium we sit upon.
"Because last years games were iconic, you need to match up to it. You'll get the violence, the betrayal but what you need is drama to make sure these games are unforgettable. And let me ask you: What could be more dramatic than the apparently pathetic girl turning out to be a cold hearted bitch of a killer who'd stab her ally in the back to make sure she got home?" She really is like me, the negotiation; the way she makes it reflect well on the authority. This girl is dangerous, because she has just earned my respect which truly is one of the most sought after things here in the Capitol. But one last obstacle faces the girl before she proves herself worthy of my respect.
"Cold hearted killer? Pray tell how you hope to overpower the other tributes?" The smirk on her face lets me know that she expected such a response. She responds exactly as I would have, show rather than tell, she plucks a machete from the weaponry rack then runs while calling for the Peacekeepers to 'get her' and then she is gone. Invisible, lost amongst the stations and then I hear it a cry; the girl has jumped from the climbing rack onto the back of a peacekeeper and presses the blade against his neck. Well, she truly is an amazing actress; I quietly applaude.
"You have done well, we will consider your proposition. You may leave now." She nods her head, throws the machete at a dummy where it imbeds itself in the stomach and turns to leave, she is almost at the door before she turns around; eyes lit with mirth and a cocky smirk on her curtseys, illiciting laughs from some and other like me decide to smile. A girl with a plan, a girl like me; as she leaves her melodic voice drifts back into the room.
"I forgot my manners, thank you." And Miss Autumn Thorn, may the odds be ever in your favour.
Ok, REVIEW!
I know its not all there but I'm uploading the rest/reactions tomorrow or the day after to make it easier to digest and such ;) Errrmmm... any ideas of scores?
Anyone shocked you in there?
I 'll put new tributes for my sequel in the next chapter... this is, in case you haven't noticed, an incredibly quickly written authors note!