Alas, I am back yet again... with the conclusion of the Gamemakers sessions and the reactions...
And yes, it is LawrenceLee93; I just decided to use Rosa's code name as my pen name cause it sounds cool...;)
Some NEWS: I am also going to be taking part in a 24 authors/24 tributes collaboration... but we need more writers, so if you fancy it PM me and I'll try and point you in the right direction! THIS STORY IS STILL MY PRIORITY, IT WILL NOT BE NEGLECTED WHATSOEVER!
Anyways as they say: The show must go on... Even if it is tedious seeing what people do, I personally appreciate Crimson's little insights but don't worry after this we'll be back to fast paced drama; after this we have the interviews and boom: Last Night, Launch, potntially a countdown and then BLOODBATH!
Crimson Hardwick, Gamemaker.
After the complete shock of Miss Thorn revealing her plot, although not original yet still effective, I am intrigued by the tributes: In fact I am yearning to see how they react once the arena begins to take its vicious toll out upon them, but as a great philosopher once said: Patience is a virtue and I am almost certain that my patience will be rewarded in the form of the greatest Hunger Games that Panem has ever known. But however surprised my colleagues may have been in regards to Miss Thorn's extensive deception, they have returned to their wine and food like bees to honey; I don't even try and rebuke them, for you cannot teach an old dog new tricks.
I, as the consumate proffessional, sit up straighter in my seat; I do understand how their attention drifts so freely: As a member of the Capitol we are acclimatised with something I can only describe as 'spectacle' we like to see thing big, bold and beautiful. Or more accurately, crazed displays of sadism: Exhibit A, Ruby Ashford. Outlying districts rarely offer such displays, at best they are proficient with a weapon and are able to identify poisonous plants; but the outlying districts have offered me more than a few surprises today and I don't know what to expect other than the fact that me and my fellow Gamemakers have been giving multi faceted tributes to play in our playground.
On that thought, Iian Trescott, the male offering from District 6 skulks into the room. He bears a certain presence standing at 6' but throughout the whole time allocated for training he has quite effectively 'flown beneath the radar' but I'm not quick to assume this means he is harmless; I overlooked Autumn and it turned out she was as devious as I. I will not be so quick to make assumptions of the tributes in future, so Mr. Trescott show us what you can do. The following display is mediocre at best, but I am still reserving judgement on the boy. On more than one occaison, tributes tend to 'hold back' on their skills in some vain attempt to surprise the competition and I strongly suspect that this boy is one of those tributes. He identifies edible plant, constructs a satisfactory hammock and then displays a variety of ways to use a sword; stabbing, slashing, throwing and so on.
Rather rudimentary yet necessary skills but something about this enigmatic figure strikes me, his general stoicism and detached demeanour just makes me think he may be hiding something up his sleeve; only time will tell. Upon dismissal he stalks from the room, projecting the same casual air of apathy as when he entered; I'm most sure that I can ensure he'll have a hard time maintaining this stoicism as soon as he steps into my territory. But as I said before, this boy gave an average performance and as consequence to this he will receive an average score;or if I'm feeling especially bitter, a poorer than average score.
Then ambles in his tiny district partner, the first thing I notice is that she is wearing a solemn expression. Please let there not be tears, but she looks up at the podium where we sit and her eyes: They are not the eyes of a 13 year old girl, these are the eyes of a wise woman and I am not ashamed to admit I am a little unsettled. But then I'm no longer disturbed, I am fuming: Her eyes fill with pity. Pity? And why would she be pitying the likes of me, she is the one living in poverty back in a nondescript district of Panem; she is the one who can die at our convenience, yet her gaze doesn't falter. Her warm brown eyes are filled with sadness and pity, I'm seriously considering the girl may be mentally fragile until she looks to the ground.
"It is said that all man are made in God's image; that we all bear the capacity for love and compassion. We are all human and must respect God, accept him as our Lord and his son Jesus Christ as our saviour." I am moments away from standing, what is the meaning of this religious drivel? Seriously, how dare this child speak to her superiors in such a patronising manner; but before I can admonish her she heads towards the camouflage station; she takes a tube of red paint and empties it onto her index finger. I admit, despite her totally delusions spiel regarding the 'Lord' and her blatant rudeness I am curious as to what she's about to do. She paints on her forehead a cross, and I can feel my eyes rolling without conscious thought; It seems as though we are about to endure more deranged ramblings. Nobody else is giving this pathetic girl a second glance, and I myself am more tempted to get myself a small glass of merlot I see in the corner of my eye. But then this little cretin decides to vandalise the floor of the training centre; a large red triangle now blights the once pristine, white floor. Well, she has most certainly gained everyone's attention now: The facical expressions I see range from shock, to confusion and I'm sure mirror my own aghast expression.
"The father, the son and the holy spirit. Our Lord, he is the only one whom will ever judge me; your scores need not matter. For when I enter our Lord's embrace he will see my utter devotion, my faith and my humility. But I'm here to tell you all to repent, you cast yourselves in the role of Gods; you believe it is you who decides who lives and who dies. This is blasphemy, your cruelty and bloodlust repulse our Lord and for you, there are no open arms waiting steadfastly at the pearly gates of heaven. But all is not yet lost, your true sight has been veiled by greed, desensitisation to violence. Repent, ask for forgiveness and the Lord is waiting." Silence, pure silence. Until the laughter rings out throughout the room, a symphony that decrees this girl insane. This religious nonsense is hilarious, if we were giving scores for comedic value this Dariela girl would most likely receive one of the three 12's ever given in Hunger Games history.
How deluded can she be? There is no God, no man with a beard sitting on a cloud. For Panem's sake, the Capitol as an institution is the God here: We decree something and it happens, we choose who lives and we choose who dies; it is we that are all powerful, endless resources waiting to be exploited for our slightest whims. A smile carves its way onto my face, her warm brown eyes bore into us; ignoring our almost hysterical laughter, as though the weight of her stare could somehow make us start believing in this God mumbo jumbo and spiel those crazed beliefs. Our chorus of chuckles continues until she departs the room with her head held high, totally deranged and not disheartened in the least that we all deemed her a complete laughing stock. And relating to scores she has done absolutely nothing to earn a score, unless it is possible to kill someone through laughter of course.
Proceedings are held up then as avoxes come to clean the mess that little brat made, lets see if her Lord can help her in the arena. Lets see if anyone is compassionate when fighting for their life? I estimate she'll perish during the bloodbath, stabbed through the gut while trying to deliver another unecessary sermon about 'agape' or repenting. Oh I do hope she sticks around though, I'd love to witness her steady decline into insanity; Praying to a God that quite obviously doesn't exist. I mean be logical, if their really was some omniscient force out there why would it allow for the Hunger Games to exist? If human life is so precious, why does God allow the Capitol to take 23 lives every year with the sole purpose of entertainment. After 15 minutes, we're ready to start again.
I watch as the male of 7 walks in smiling broadly, he waves up at us; no sarcasm, just a general greeting. Respect, that is what we deserve; not the offering of repentence. He works methodically, he ties some knots; some of which are rather complex in their nature and have an array of purposes. He then moves to the weights and lifts an impressive amount, the same amount as Kai from 4 in fact, although it is evident that this boy doesn't find the task as easy if the slight tremor in his arms is anything to go by. He shows us his speed and dexterity by completeing the obstacle course in a respectable time. The grand finale is as expected, like most District 7 tributes he is more than proficient with an axe; slicing through dummies like a hot knife through butter, his strength combined with his skill with an axe would make him a formidable opponent in the realm of close combat. He strides confidently over to the target range before launching the axe through the air, it crashes into the chest of a dummy over 12 metres away; so this boy is not a one trick pony. He is one I'll be monitoring, but as with most tributes he radiates a certain gentleness that could work against him but something tells me this boy is fighting for something however much he seems to smile, and tributes are ten times more dangerous if they are fighting for a reason to go home unlike most of the Careers who are solely here for 'District Pride' or some other nonsense like that. When dismissed he gives a short bow and another wave before walking away in the same slow, measured pace.
Then I smile, I know who's coming next: Seraphine Connoly, a firecracker; a loose canon and someone I can count on to give us the show we were all expecting, she did promise us an 'exciting' show upon her volunteering did she not? She storms into the room, but there is no smile given like her district partner; not that I expected it anyway. During the training period, she never struck me as a 'people person' she raises her eyebrow and taps her foot as she stands before us. Upon being told to begin she huffs before sprinting over to the axe station and picking up an axe with a serrated edge; then she does what she does best, unleashes whatever pent up anger she has out on the dummy. Although her hits aren't as clean as Asher's they come quicker and with such venom that I wouldn't be surprised if the inanimate dummy sprung a pair of legs and tried to flee from the red head's tempestuous wrath. Once she's decided she's had enough of swinging an axe like a crazed lunatic she strolls over to the Peacekeepers, wearing a sweet smile that I know is as fake as most Capitolite's breasts and beckons one toward her; I can't help but laugh as the biggest, most muscular Peacekeeper strolls forward confidently. There is something rather amusing seeing these two square up, the tiny doll like red head with a temper like a rabid dog and the Peacekeeper; tall, broad and above all else: Disciplined, which is a trait I would put money on that our 7 fire cracker drastically lacks.
The mountain of a man lunges towards Sera, but she steps out of the way and it continues like that for a minute or so before she employs her second favourite weapon: Her vicious tongue. The taunts begin 'Come on fatty' 'God, you're sweating like a fat lass at a disco' 'Now you see me, now you don't' 'Is he stuck in slow motion mode?' His fellow Peacekeepers are stifling chuckles and many of the Gamemaker's are laughing openly at the man's public embarrassment. His movements become quicker but sloppier, until his fist catches Sera's shoulder; she doesn't cry out in pain, but she begins to turn a violent shade of puce and BOOM. No longer is she dancing around him, this canon is hitting home. She kicks him with as much force as she can muster in the fork of his legs and judging by his strangled cry, it hurt. But it isn't over yet, she pulls back her fist: CRACK, you hear as his nose breaks, you see as his blood gushes to the floor. As he lies on his stomach, Sera repeatedly nudges him in the ribs with her toe until he rolls onto his back before she places her foot on his chest and her arms in the air: The universal pose signifying victory. I may have thought seeing these two stand face to face was funny, but it is nowhere near as funny as seeing the porcelain doll take down the man who seemed to made of rock with her bare hands: So it is true them. size really doesn't matter.
I hear Seneca dismiss her but rather than leaving, she steps over her fallen opponent; ensuring to put all her weight on his chest judging by his spluttering cough, I'm sure I hear a muttered 'Wimp' and dances over to us, gives us an overly exaggerated curtsey and a wide smile that I interpret as: 'If any of you were down here, I would of kicked your ass too' and dances off, making sure to give the Peacekeeper one last kick in the ribs. Oh, what would we do if we didn't have tributes like this girl? Being a Gamemaker wouldn't be half as good fun if it weren't for those 'strong' characters that we get to break down bit by bit until they are nothing but emotional wrecks. The Peacekeeper is excused, we're dropping Peacekeepers like flies today.
And then the man of the moment, Lyle Carrington, walks in. Instantly recognisable by his cocky smirk and laid back gait, oh you wouldn't be so laid back if you knew what I had in store for you Mister Carrington. In fact, you wouldn't be smiling at all; you'd be trying fruitlessly to escape as I laughed at your fate, doomed to perish but we are all born to die but in this case: Lyle Carrington will be dying a lot earlier than he expected. For he is the puppet and I am the puppet master and well I'll be cutting away the strings that hold him up very, very soon. I feel a sinister leer form on my face, and Lyle must notice it too because for one second that over bearing confidence wavers and he looks like the scared little boy I know he is. Mess up my games, and you die: Simple rule. Another year, his devilish good looks may have been enough to spare him the full extent of my wrath but this year we have been blessed with an array of beautiful tributes; All the more fun for me then. I don't take particular notice, his score doesn't matter in my eyes; high or low, either way you spin it he is dead. I'm pretty sure he rough houses with a few Peacekeepers, throws some spears and then lifts some weights. He leaves quickly, maybe he was unnerved by my eyes following him like a hawk after all.
Then comes a 12 year old, one Lacey Burton according to my notes; In my cold heart I always feel a pang for the 12 year olds; there have been a few 12 year old Victors but it is sheer luck that wins it for them, plus a 12 year old Victor is rarer than rain in a dessert. She smiles sweetly as she demonstrates which berries are poisonous and which are edible, she heads toward the knife throwing station and throws a few knives, surprisingly they all hit the target but I sincerely doubt that any of the wounds would be fatal. She then heads towards the camouflage station, often an overlooked skill but she seems to excel at it, if she gets the right material I have no doubt that this girl could camouflage herself so effectively that she could become invisible. I nod my head, she may not be the strongest tribute but she doesn't appear to be as weak as many tributes her age I have seen over the years. She sets a few simple traps after that, demonstrating her capabilities to catch food before she just dawdles around: Making a fish hook, showing a simple breast stroke. When dismissed she gives us another glowing smile, I note that some of the more 'maternal' or as I like to say 'emotionally stunted' Gamemakers smile back or wave. I roll my eyes at their stupidity, why concern yourselves with the tributes or emotionally invest in them when 23 are guarenteed certain death? It is simply ludicrous, I'll have my fun with the Victor if I deem them worthy of my attention.
However much I may criticise my fellow Gamemakers for not paying attention, I note that my focus is slipping; the lower districts often struggle the most and I can feel a migraine beginning to flare to life as Aezir walks in, he spares no time in noticing us; he simply heads towards the dummies and grabs a pair of sickles before striking. It's as though he has zoned out, his instincts guide every slash; he moves around like a ballerina; surprisingly graceful I note for a boy who more than likely works harvesting wheat. I make a side note to include sickles in the cornucopia, they're an obscure weapon so they'll be placed in the very mouth; it'll be very interesting to see if this dark haired boy is willing to fight for the weapon he so obviously favours and guessing from what he has shown us today, wielding a sickle seems to be the only skill he possesses that may benefit him within the arena. He then throws the sickles to show the boomerang like effect, the angle of the wrist when flicked can affect the direction the curved blade travels; Impressive, but his skills appear one dimensional. He may get a weapon but most tributes do die from exposure and such, I hope he has an ally who has amassed these survival skills or maybe he has learnt about the skills and has made a tactical decision to not show us. I rub my temples, trying to ease the pain away. I need to stop thinking about the tributes motivations and focussing on what they show us, any questions I may have will be answered when they are fighting for their lives. He leaves, a sickle in hand and when he realises he flicks his wrist and the sickle soars in a high arch and beheads a dummy: Well, that most certainly leaves an impression, primary and recency effect I believe it is called: Leaving on such a high note will make sure he is remembered, potentially he isn't the brainless oaf I thought he could be.
Oh Fiona, another rule breaker but luckily for her I have deemed her disability as a mitigating factor when I was deciding how the two deviants should be punished, but that doesn't mean she won't have to fight a lot harder than every other tribute to survive the bloodbath that is guarenteed at the Cornucopia; and even if she manages to survive what I throw at her, I'm sure another tribute will take out the girl with the crippled leg. I give a morbid chuckle, what a legacy to have, what a way to be remembered: The girl with the crippled leg. She hobbles around the survival stations: Lights a fire, ties a knot but her time is ticking away a lot quicker than she can move and I smile. I can see her beginning to panic as she notices the time seemingly flying by, she hobbles as quickly as that useless leg will take her to the archery station; it seems Miss Harkin isn't the best at handling pressure for when she raises the bow you can see her visibly shaking. Tick, tock: her time is running out and she fires three arrows, they all hit the target but it is obvious by the way she bites down on her lip that she hasn't hit her intended target. If she has any hope of survival with that leg of hers she needs to learn two things: How to handle pressure and how to conceal her emotions; the tears of self pity that fill her eyes when she nods respectfully sickens me. We're waiting another ten minutes while she is hobbles away from the room, I hear hushed whisper threatening to emerge so I glare at my colleagues until I hear the symphony of silence I expect from them; this work may be monotonous, even tedious at times but for appearances sake we need to appear more refined: I may speak to the President about this, he wanted me as Head Gamemaker but I convinced him Seneca was a better puppet but maybe he needs to have a little word with Seneca to ensure he ensures that the Gamemakers learn to act in a manner that is both dignified and proffessional.
District 10, it feel as though I have stepped into a western and it is blatantly obvious that Austin and Pepper, who are both personal favourites of mine, have collaborated to ensure both tributes amass a good score as both tributes do the exact same thing; they wear the same expression and perform a series of demonstrations, each highlightinh their individual skill set. Both nod respectfully upon entry to the training centre; I appreciate this, the element of rehearsal to a degree is inspiring: allowing us to see what they can do without them dilly dallying around trying to select which station. It is extremely logical and maybe it should be enforced that all tributes should provide a specific programme and for there to be certain etiquette observed: It would make things run a lot smoother and allow the tributes to utilise the time to their best advantage. I make a quick memo to Austin and Pepper, congratulating them on devising such a strategy, like most true Capitolites; not those mornic beings who think dying their skin makes them superior to the district rats, I admire efficiency and reward it accordingly. Maybe I will allow Austin the pleasure of my company this evening as a reward.
The boy it seems is able to work a length of rope into anything; a noose, then he ties a Peacekeeper up and watches for a few moments as the man struggles fruitlessly to escape the bindings. He then uses his rope as a lasso to pull things toward him, he then attaches a weight to his lasso and swings it so it crashes into the torso of a dummy: Creative use of materials. He then shows some other, less impressive skills but he establishes a balance between survival skills and physical demonstrations: identifying poisonous and edible plantlife, climbing, weight lifting and then working with some throwing knives. A well structured display, showing combative and survival skills makes him a rather well rounded tribute but something about the boyish grin I've noticed is an almost permanent fixture on his round face; the way his blue eyes twinkle with some innocent humour makes me think this boy may not be able to commit murder. Despite being 16, he seems more carefree and child like than Bala or Lacey; and I can easily imagine this boy being exploited, or manipulated by the likes of Autumn but as I promised myself: Now is not the time that think of the tributes in the arena, my only concern should be rating their 'potential'. He leaves and is soon replaced by his district partner, who like him is able to manipulate rope so efficiently and effortlessly it appears as though the rope is directed by thoughts; she also excels at using a spear in both ranged and close combat as well as hand to hand combat. From her large physique I had expected her to be physically strong but that was an underestimation with apparent ease she sends a Peacekeeper soaring through the air as though he weighed no more than a feather. Then she shocks me, she removes her shoes and ties them together before swinging them above her head before throwing them at an unprepared Peacekeeper. The pseudo lasso of sorts wraps around his throat and he falls to his knees as he struggles to catch his breath: Whether or not she manages to get anything at the Cornucopia she'll have a weapon, incapacitate her enemies with her shoes and then break their necks. She leaves, her face blank but I've seen that protective urge lighting up her eyes every now and then; she's wet my appetite: I want to see some more of this Ginna girl.
10 eases into 11, the boy Nicholas looks almost feline with his strangely angled cheekbones but what strikes me is his pale skin; usually the offerings from the agriculture district are dark skinned. Fair skinned people are generally rich, however presumptuous that sounds, so it is rather unfortunate he was reaped but alas it is the Hunger Games and no one is safe. Most 'rich' tributes from outlying districts are rather useless but he seems to do well, I'm just surprised by his weapon of choice: A slingshot just seems juvenile, but when he uses it to fire a dagger into the bulls eye of a target almost 15 metres away I revise my former opinion that slingshots are harmless or juvenile. He then climbs to the top of the climbing course, but he seems rather clumsy and almost slips a few times; once he reaches the summit he fires a series of berries and small metal balls at targets all across the room, he is surprisingly accurate and having secured the high ground he has a tactical advantage. His dismount from the artificial tree is as messy as his ascend. For the last few minutes he identifies berries, but he places nightlock in the pile of edible plants which is a serious matter: I hope his district partner who I also assume is his ally will be able to stop him poisoning himself. Shortly afterwardshe is dismissed, he gives a shaky smile and scarpers from the room. So he isn't the typical rich kid who'll get themselves killed by being totally useless.
Clorisa Orielle, she walks in completely expressionless; her eyes glazed over as she walks around the room seemingly without purpose; she could be trying to pull from what will from now on be known as an 'Autumn Thorn' as my colleauges seem to think but something, call it gut instinct if you must, tells me this girl isn't trying to maintain some carefully constructed facade. She raises her hand to cover her ears, her face scrunches up in what can only be pain as silent tears make tracks down her face. A Peacekeeper ambles over toward her but my scream of warning is to late as her face transforms into a leer, her eyes promising blood shed; like a wildcat she springs at the man and tackles him to the ground; like some possessed being she scratches, bites and pounds every part of his body she can reach. Due to her scrawny physique, she is easily overpowered and restrained but she is no longer responsive; her eyes are blank and she stares at the ceiling, a small smile makings itself known on her full lips. Everything is silent until she starts giggling, it gets louder and louder: The laughter is that of manic hysteria as she is escoreted from the room, collapsed in the Peacekeepers arms with her head lolling backwards and forwards. Speechless, what have I just witnessed? Tributes are prone to varying degrees of a mental breakdown during the Hunger Games, but it usually happens once they've been deployed into the arena, as expected hushed whispers begin to arise from all around me and for once I don't silence them, I'm still trying to process what I have just witnessed. Most unusual indeed. Before I can gather my thoughts, the District 12 Male tribute walks in and however much I try to concentrate on what he is doing I can't seem to drown out the echoes of Clorisa's manic laughter; the inhuman tone to her hysterical screams but the question is: Is she a threat to herself or her fellow tributes? And more importantly, is it prudent to allow someone so mentally 'fragile' to be given a chance at becoming Victor? I don't know.
I manage to catch glimpses of what this Archie Cross boy is capable of, he is strong and fast; and he seems to be mediocre with a sword and rather efficient with a bow and arrow, too many people favour archery in my opinion. It doesn't strike me as something worthy of recognition unless the person is exemplary at their craft. Under any other circumstances I would have paid attention, I am curious about this boy: His tendency to sit back and watch, the level of tact and caution he exerted when putting together an alliance that rivals the careers in terms of numbers. It was impressive but his boring display cannot hold my attention as I consider what I've seen today. 24 tributes, each and everyone of them ha s that something about them, a sense of individuality that Archie seems to lack despite his diplomatic approach to the games so far. He'll need to find this sense of 'individuality' or he will become the typical District 12 tribute: Dead and forgotten, but something tells me that he may have a trick up his sleeve. We were set the seemingly impossible task of trying to create the most memorable Hunger Games ever known, with such an interesting bunch of tributes, a repertoire of lethal mutts and an imaginative arena: Maybe that task isn't so impossible after all. He is soon dismissed, forgotten for now; although I've managed to put together a few notes together regarding his score when his district partner waltzes in with a cheeky smile on her face.
Another 12 year old, one came in with a sweet smile and then this Livvya girl strolls in with a grin and I grow curious as to why she seems to radiate confidence; she wastes no time, she grabs a few small knives and then heads towards the artificial tree which she scales as though it is second nature: quickly and without any stumbling. She gets to the top of the tree and smiles down at us, cheeky and then she dives from the tree. My heart is in my mouth, is she committing suicide? It would be hell on Earth trying to replace a tribute with the actual games so close, but I breathe a sigh of relief as she catches herself on one of the rafters that line the ceiling; she steadies her balance and moves along the metal rafters but her steps make no sound whatsoever. I admire her use of the environment, tactically she is shielded from attacks from below and very few of the other tributes could follow her to the rafters; the metal couldn't bear the weight of most tributes. Smart, then her other skills begin to make an appearance: A small knife is thrown and strikes a dummy, the blade imbedding itself where the collar bone would be; not necessarily lethal but it could maim or disarm another tribute. She moves around the rafter so quietly, we cannot anticipate where she will strike from next. Her accuracy leaves something to be desired, but she has impressed me with her originality. She is dismissed, and as soon as she has left I hand Seneca my notes; he and the other Gamemakers may be content to sit around drinking and gauging themselves to only throw the contents of their stomach up later but I am a true Gamemaker: And having seen what these tributes can do, getting a flavour for their capabilities and in some cases their weaknesses; well I am going to make some minor adjustments to certain elements of the arena and its muttation inhabitants to make it more 'compatible' with our motley crowd of tributes.
Sheen Rownan, District 1 Mentor.
"...I messed it all up, I mean the swords balance was slightly off centre and it just all went wrong from there. I mean, they looked at me like I'd grown an extra head. I'm so unready for these games, I'll be the first one dead. Just know it, I mean then we have the interviews and everyone will just hate me. Will they throw things at me?"
Yesterday, Nicoli was a bag of nerves and maybe some part of my subconscious hoped in vain that his nerves would evaporate after the private sessions; I am sure he can do this but he needs some confidence. I need a way to reassure him that he can succeed, and maybe a way to secure his way into the career alliance as compensation if his session went as poorly as he is making out. In all fairness, with his irrational desire to prove his worth to his 'beloved' Capitol I can imagine him getting flustered and simplt breaking down in tears; despite his 'extensive' career training and his general likeability, he isn't the most emotionally stable. How do I handle this precarious situation? I have complete faith in Nicoli, but he isn't like me: He doesn't have that 'something special' that would enable him to win these games alone. He needs allies; unfortunately, he needs the careers and although they are the longest standing alliance: They are the most fragile and willing to turn on one another at the drop of a hat. If he can't bring a high training score he'll have to bring something else and would require the backing of another career. Miss Ruby Ashford, however much I despise you; you for once are about to be exploited because you are about to become of use to me. Let me show you how I won my games, whore.
"Nicoli, you have no need to worry; training score be damned. You are almost guarenteed a place in any alliance you desire; anyone with a brain would want the most sponsored tribute to date as a part of their alliance. Think about what you have to offer, anyone you're in an alliance with will want for nothing." Nicoli's eyes are as wide as saucers, you can see his confidence growing in leaps and bounds: Despite any reservations he may have in terms of his training score, he has been consoled that the Capitol citizens he so ardently admire actually like him enough to sponsor him. But it is not my tributes reaction that concerns me, it is his despicable partner who garners my attention from where she is entwined with my fellow mentor, the mentally incompetent Platinum. Like a shark who has caught the scent of blood, her attention diverts from her temporary lover to me; her full lips forming a smirk and from one bitch to another I can see the cogs whirling in her head, the calculating glint in her eye. Silly girl, if she intends on surviving these games she has a few things to learn: Like trying to conceal her emotions, but seeing as I want to see her dead by the end of the games I won't be giving her any lessons.
"Oh Nikki, don't be so silly. You're a career, you're so amazing and everyone will just love you, you're adorable. If your score is bad, I'll talk to Kai and get him to let you in. I mean we're besties now, we have to help each other..." Talk to Kai? Is that what the youngsters are calling it nowadays; but that is beside the point, she may be cruel and I don't doubt the fact she will be a contender in these games, but she is rather predictable which I am thankful for. Nicoli's back is facing her but I can see the recgonation flicker in his wide blue eyes and the big smile plastered on his face, he winks at me before turning to his 'best friend' and engulfs her in a big hug.
"Rubs, you are so nice. I mean imagine how fabulous it will be with us two as allies; it'll be like amazingly amazing. I'm sure you'll get a stupendous score... your handspring into a two and a half somersault was so great, you deserve a 12." Oh, Nikki: childlike enthusiasm aside, you really do have a killer instinct: Smart and if you continue playing this little game, there is nothing standing in your way from becoming Victor of the 62nd Hunger Games. The lovefest soon comes to an end when we hear the anthem blaring out, the training scores are about to be announced: All attention is on the television as we take our seats; me next to Nicole and Ruby once again entwined with her blonde haired beau. The familiar face of Claudius Smith with ridiculously orange hair fills the screen with his considerable body mass: this man is most definitely not a good representitive of the Capitol, where being thin seems to be everyones biggest priority, with the exception of celebrating 23 childrens death every year of course.
"Earlier today, all 24 of our wonderful tributes performed for our Gamemakers and I am here to announce thier individual training scores: Will anyone score a 12 this year? Ooo.. it is just so exciting, now first of all: Nicoli Spinoza of District 1, has secured a score of...9..." I hear Nicoli's sigh of utter relief, after a quick round of congratulations; I see that sense of victory in Ruby's eyes, not only has he secured his place in the Career alliance with his score, he has secured Ruby's 'loyalty' thanks to his popularity with sponsors: Nicoli will be able to drift along, Ruby will make sure her 'puppy' is not hurt too early on. Nicoli 1- Ruby 0. Now for the score of the whore .
"And Ruby Ashford has secured a score of... 10." Her smug smirk seriously does tempt me to lean over and throttle the girl, but I need to warn Nicoli about her: 10's are rare and it tells me that this girl does possess some form of skill, unless she secured that score by sleeping with a Gamemaker. It wouldn't surprise me if that is what happened: but that is beside the point, next port of call: Interviews.
Bala Eaglehawk, District 4.
I'm not nervous, Mags has told me time and time again that the tributes with the highest scores rarely win. But that doesn' t mean that I don't want to score well, I want to win; I want to be considered a contender, I don't want the likes of Kai to think that I'm going to roll over and die. So far me and Mags have sat in silence as Kai and Ocean discuss everyone's scores and whether or not they are a plausible threat: Kai has been his oh so arrogant self, labelling his career 'allies' as incompetent; I believe differently, I know this won't be easy and I know everyone is a threat. District 1 scored high, but that was as expected and Mags has told me to make sure not to bump into one from the very beginning; District 2, high scores as always, but what do you expect from a district that celebrates the brutality? Claude got a 9 but I suspect he is the weakest link in the Career pack and Mags shares that opinion, but he could still be a threat; Sandy, a 9 but the girl is a threat because Mags said she's got a 'fire in 'er eyes' and despite rumours that Mags is a senile, batty old woman who has 'lost her touch' I trust her implicitly, especially when it comes to the Hunger Games. My palms are a little sweaty, now comes District 3: My allies, but Mags told me to keep our alliance as quiet as possible and retain the element of surprise for when we're in the arena.
"...what a joke, District 3 will be bloodbaths yet again; the boy will blow himself up and the ginger one: She'll find herself on the end of my spear..." Their mirthless laughter makes every muscle tense, my grip on my glass tightens and I am hit with an almost overwhelming desire to throw my glass at the arrogant sod I have the misfortune of calling my district partner but before I can take any action Mags places her hand on my thigh; I know I have to keep my temper under check, either way me and Kai will be facing off and all I can do is hope my allies help me take out the despicable boy. Ever since I 'outshone' him at the Chariot Rides, our little rivalry has been growing and we all know that it is only so long until it all explodes; and we all know only one of us will leave the wreck alive, I just hope and pray that the survivor is me. I take a calming breathe and give Mama Mags a grin, her responsive toothless smile sets me at ease. I return my gaze to the television.
"Leonardo Wence with a score of 5.." Not too high and not too low, Leo has never stuck me as a contender but Greer was adamant that he would be a valuable asset; and since I need allies in order to win, I have to trust her judgement. I tune out Kai and his demeaning remark about my ally, Mags shakes her head at his arrogance; in private Mags has started referring to him as a 'blowfish', he seems large and intimidating but in one second he can be popped and then he is no bigger and badder than the rest of us 'mere mortals'.
"Greer Ballentine earns herself an 8.." I feel as though my insides are dancing the conga, I struggle to keep the smug smile off of my face; Greer is definitely capable. I manage to hold myself together and keep my alliance secret, but I can't swallow my torrent of laughter at Kai's reaction: Like a seal, he splutters and sends water spraying all over the floor. Isn't it great to see how dignified the careers are? I mean Kai is meant to be a 'God against men.', his words not mine, but at times like this you can see he is nothing but a teenage boy with a sickeningly high self esteem. He turns and glares at me, and I just give him a girly smile and bat my eyelashes; it may be stupid to irk someone who could kill me with his bare hands but it's so easy. He seems seconds away from lunging at me; but alas Claudius Templesmith says his name and his attention is back on the TV, in Kai land, Kai is the centre of the universe.
"and Kai Thallasa with an impressive10." What? Both Ruby and Kai have gotten 10's, and they're always together for some reason: And I think I know the reason, sex. They are compatible: Both totally self obsessed, both attractive and obviousl, both extremely lethal. I square my shoulders, I can beat him: The score means nothing. With that thought I await my own score, tuning out his arrogant diatribe about he is the 'Supreme Leader of the Universe' or something utterly ridiculous like that. If only he could drown in his own ego, well that would be ever so convenient. Butterflies burst to life in my stomach, I've just realised that its me next; I calm myself, imagining the sound of the sea crashing against the rocks. I close my eyes and feel the pressure of Mags' gnarled hands wrap around my own.
"Bala Eaglehawk shines yet again with a score of 8." 8? My eyes burst open, and I can't suppress the unadulterated joy coursing through my every vein. I jump to my feet, clapping my hands together; acting every bit like the 13 year old I am. I did that, I'm not some powerless girl. I throw my arms against my mentor; her arms wrap around me, despite her general fraility her grip is firm and she whispers into my ear.
"Well done pup, one step closer t' comin' back t' me litter." I can't control myself, I turn to see both Ocean and Kai wearing expressions that are a mixture of confusion and outrage. How dare I, some pathetic witch from District 4 do so well. Oh Kai, you should see what else I can do; Let the games begin now Kai, your days are numbered.
Another quick update, I know the reactions are lame but... I'm leaving it there; you'll get some more reactions (well reflections on scores) in next couple of chapters, here are the scores:
Nicoli-9
Ruby-10
Claude-9
Sandy-9
Leo-5
Greer-8
Kai-10
Bala-8
Galen-7
Autumn-3
Iian-6
Dari-2
Asher-7
Sera-9
Lyle-8
Lacey-5
Aezir-6
Finn-4
Carrick-7
Ginna-8
Nicholas-6
Clorisa-4
Archie-6
Livvya-6