Hello, everyone! Lisles and I are so sorry for the long wait, school was pretty hectic for a while. But we promise the wait for the next chapters won't be a tenth as long. So, almost a year later, this is the last character introduction. Woo, time sure flies. Please. Don't hurt me, aha. At the end of the chapter is a list of all the tribute's scores. No scrolling down to the bottom of the page! And without further ado…
Please read and review!
Stormer Heathridge (D12 , Lisles)
I tiredly glance around the room at my opponents. Some are laughing, some are clearly nervous, and then a few, such as Euca and myself, just don't care. As easy as that. We don't care.
Even if I go through that huge marble door, stand before those freaks everyone calls Gamemakers, and manage to land myself a score of twelve, it wouldn't change my chances of winning in the slightest. So why care?
Sure, some people may sponsor me; but it's not as if Rye is going to send me anything useful. He hasn't done anything to help me so far, so I doubt he'll start when I get in the arena.
And it's not going to get me an alliance. No one will come up to me and ask me to join them in the arena. They might have, had I not made it so clear that I despised them all.
So obviously I don't care for an alliance. It's not like I want to be alone, I don't. In fact, I hate being alone. In my mind, time alone meant time to think.
Ever since my mom acquired that disease, trying not to think about how my much life was like living hell was my number one priority. I constantly had to distract myself.
So why don't I want an alliance? I hated and distrusted all of them. Plain and simple. And I don't hate them because the Capitol wants me to. I don't agree with all this competitive, superficial crap.
My silent rant is rudely interrupted by a sudden tingling sensation in my arms and legs. I realise that my body is vibrating and, shocked, I look around the room and see in everyone else's eyes the same terror that I'm sure is in mine. Their bodies are vibrating, too.
Then I notice that it's not just our bodies, but the walls and floor, as well. Then the noise comes. A deep, low rumbling hits my ears and at once the same, terrifying realisation comes to everyone in the room.
"Earthquake!" I hear a voice screech over the sound, and instantly we're all under our tables.
I can see several of the younger tributes desperately clutching whomever is lucky enough to be sitting next to them. They look so scared and confused. For a split second I wish I could help them.
Then I remember why they're here, why I'm here, and where we're going and any sympathetic thoughts vanish.
The rest happens in a flash. Almost dreamlike.
It's like a chain reaction: A vase falls from a table, cause it to smash. Water splashes, soaking any tributes in its path. A fake-looking, neon pink flower lands delicately in front of Gerisho. The tribute's eyes grow wide and instantly he begins to sneeze violently.
This sequence of events pushes a terrified Pup over the edge. In the hectic commotion, she apparently forgets that she's squatting beneath a table, because she then attempts to stand and make a run for it; but unfortunately, the solid wood table above her brutally knocks her both back to reality, and unconscious.
Her limp, tiny body rolls across the cold marble floor and away from the safety of the table.
After that something strange happens. We all (Well, except for Pup, whose unconscious mind is probably wishing one of us would snap the hell out of it and help her.) stare at each other. And for about ten seconds the Games are forgotten. The rumble of the earthquake becomes background noise. We are all equals. All children who have just been forced in the same situation.
We're all clearly terrified, no matter how much we don't want it showing.
Quickly, though, all our attention moves to Pup, who is now slightly bleeding from the top of her head.
Where are all the Capitol people? The Gamemakers, the avoxes, the escorts, the mentors, anyone?
I stare at Pup's frail, tiny body and suddenly it's not Pup lying there. It's Avery.
Images flash through my mind-Avery and Button picking flowers. Skipping to school. Crying when my name was called. Promising they'd take care of our sick mother.
Something stirs inside of me, and within moments I'm kneeling beside Pup. I take off my shirt and press it against her head.
For what seems like hours I sit there, in the center of the room, cradling her. I know that all eyes are trained on me, but I try to ignore them as I do my best to protect Pup.
Emotions run through me faster than I can process them. Worry, guilt, fear, confusion.
The confusion elevates when I hear sounds of applause and relief.
I open my eyes and allow myself a shaky smile when I notice that the earthquake has ceased.
Almost immediately a team of men and women in long, white coats rush in room through a door I didn't know existed. They expertly pull Pup out of my arms and place her on a stretcher.
After that we all stumble wearily out from under our tables and sit.
Almost simultaneously the room explodes in excited, nervous, and tired whispering. The Career pack seems to remember that they're better than the rest of us and go back to bickering among themselves.
No one else seems to mind very much, they're all too engrossed in their own conversations.
And who am I left with?
My thoughts.
Great. 'Cause we all know how much I love those.
Just then a loud voice from a speaker saves me from spending time alone with my thoughts.
"Do not be alarmed," it says in a deep tone. "What you just experienced for ninety seconds was an earthquake. We are having a few minor difficulties; but your sessions will commence as usual momentarily."
This announcement only ignited more chatter. "I told you so's and "I knew it's flew frantically.
Eventually it quietly to a low whisper and then silence when Gerisho decided to stand on his table.
"I believe," he announced. "That what we all just went through," he paused for effect. "Was not an earthquake!"
Shocked murmuring quickly spread. Some people rolled their eyes.
"I'm serious!" he shouted. "Where I'm from, District Nine, we have earthquakes every now and again, and that was not an earthquake!"
"Why not?" Hexavire asked inquisitively.
"I don't know..." he replied. "It just wasn't. I've experienced my fair share of earthquakes, have you?"
Hexavire shook his head.
"Exactly." He smiled. "And you know what? Just for you, Hexavire, I'm going to prove it."
He swooped down and grabbed a vase off of the table, and then he jumped to the floor.
"Quiet! Everyone!" Gerisho demanded as he strut toward the door.
When he reached the door he, ever so carefully, placed the vase against the marble, and the other against his ear.
"Oh, man. What are youdoing now?" Hexavire sighed.
"Shut up!" scolded Bailey.
"I'm going to eavesdrop on the Gamemakers. They'll know what that 'earthquake,'" He put air quotes around "earthquake." "Really was."
Everyone was silent as he patiently stood with his ear to the vase.
I swear, I had my second heart-attack that day when a voice interrupted our silent waiting.
"Alaia Hemlock."
Alaia was up and gone as fast as she was summoned, Gerisho gave up and sat back down, and in minutes everyone was back to their normal chatter. It only broke for about half a minute when Pup re-entered the room. She was holding some blue gel thing against her head.
After that, time flew by. I tried to savour every minute, knowing that I didn't have many left.
But despite my efforts, it wasn't long before I heard it:
"Stormer Heathridge."
And I was slowly moving toward the door.
Kira Pawson (D12, Adrenaline Write)
A smile stretches across my face as I tap my foot against the floor restlessly. Cancel each other out, right?
Last. I'm last. They'll be drunk, inattentive, and just as restless as me. I still continue to grin as if nothing's wrong, regardless.
I'm never going to be a Career this way. Stupid, careless, bastards.
Stop it, I think. You're not helping yourself at all!
My face hurts.
I crane my neck towards the door, hoping to hear any signs that Hexavire has finished. Giving up, I leap from my seat and tiptoe over to the door, pressing my ear against the marble.
Naturally, there's a clang of swords, although faint.
"What are you doing in there, playing cards?" I shout and regret my words immediately. But still, no noise.
Annoyed, I slump back into the chair in defeat. Stormer shoots me a stony look, and goes back to staring at the ceiling.
Fine, then. Be that way.
The others chuckle under their breath, and I decide it's too painstaking just sitting here.
"Why the long face, Margo?" I ask, flashing a perky smile.
Eleven stares up from her lap, eyes puffy, and her fists clenched.
"Nothing," she replies through her teeth, and I wag my finger.
"You're never going to feel better if you don't talk about it!" I pipe, with the persistence of an escort.
"I'm. Not. Going. To. Talk. About. It," she mumbles, her puffy eyes now filled with defiance.
Springing from my chair, I walk over to Eleven, kneel down, and pat her head in mock-comfort.
"It'll be all right, there's nothing to worry about-"
I feel the wind knock out of me as Margo's fist connects with my chest. She's seething with rage, and fresh tears are streaming down her face.
I went too far, and guilt begins to overcome me. Why do I have to be such a bitch?
It's because you're scared. You're terrified, you're going to die out there, you're hiding behind a mask-
I grin and get off the ground, wiping the dust off my shirt.
"You should learn to control your temper, dear. I was just trying to help," I say matter-of-factly, giggling.
It's enough after that weird explosion to be causing any more problems, I think.
The explosion. Earthquake. What ever you wanted to call it, blew everyone's mind, I could tell. Millions of questions swirled in my head as I recounted the incident. How in hell could that possibly happen? Was it even an earthquake? Or a stunt to up the drama for this year's Games?
Then I remember.
Mace was in there at the time. He hasn't come out from those doors since it happened.
I can feel an idea sprouting in my mind, so impossible and far-fetched that I start to believe it.
Did Mace have something to do with it? He was always so stoic, so calculating. Something about him didn't seem right.
I push the thoughts from my mind, hoping I can come to a conclusion later.
It comes to my realization that Gerisho is now in the training session, both the Eights and Pup gone. Time flies when you're having fun.
So much fun, in fact, I forgot I could be signing my own death warrant when I walk through those doors.
You're a real pessimist, aren't you?
I'll show them some close-combat with knives for awhile, maybe some fire making, poison darts-
And you'll get a four. Those lushes are looking for some entertainment!
I emit a sigh, and watch as Gerisho exit's the room smugly, followed by Angelica entering.
I can feel sweat starting to trickle down my forehead, and I wipe it off haphazardly. When Angelica leaves, a sour expression on her face, Sile gives me a reassuring smile, walking into the gym. Creep.
My limbs relax, but only slightly. I can do this. I can.
I rise from my chair when the door creaks open, and take a deep breath. Just one more smile.
The room looks the same as it was before, but the emptiness is eerie and nerve-wracking. My feet clack against the ground, creating a symphony of echoes. I take a look above me to survey the state of the Gamemakers.
They're drunk. Not that I didn't expect it, but it's still irritating. Some are still coherent enough to watch in interest, though, and my confidence surges a little.
I start with the close-combat knives as I had planned, and they fit comfortably in my hands. It feels right. Familiar.
I know I can use something familiar right now.
As sure as hell, the dummy is decomposing under my knives. I start to forget I'm in the Capitol, that my life is on the line. All I can feel is the steady rhythm of the blades, and the pumping of my heart.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I exit the gym, and out of the waiting room. The corridor feels less intimidating now that I've conquered the training room.
I spot Rye, my mentor, and try to stifle the laughter bubbling up my throat.
"Gold really isn't your colour, but I'm sure the men in the Capitol just adore you in it," I snicker, and he scowls.
"Nice to see you too,"
"Pretty boy," I mutter under my breath, "Okay, I'm done!"
"It won't be my fault when you're starving to death in the arena," he responds, his face deadpan.
I shake my head, and step into the elevator. I'm almost glad our floor is at the very top, the elevator provides an amazing view of this horrible city.
The world is Technicolor. Saturated, nauseating, but still beautiful. A few of the alien people stop to glance at me from the ground and their bodies an incoherent flash as they jump up and down.
A sharp ding echoes in my ears, and I walk out of the elevator, into the posh loft I've been living in for the past few days. My fingers flit over everything in wonder. It still amazes me, every bit. The whole place feels impossible, like a dream. If I don't touch it, it'll just dissolve away.
I'm supposed to feel that way, I know it. I'm supposed to be overwhelmed with inferiority. And I am. But part of me has millions of questions just waiting to bubble to the surface. How? How do we live in shacks, and they vast buildings in the sky? How can my whole month of hunting and gathering be a touch of a button for them?
I shake the thoughts away. They're not important right now.
I stride into my room, already a mess of airy blue and silver. I feel defenceless here, out in the open, no matter how luxurious the place is. I sink into the fluffy, creased comforter and stare at the ceiling, wishing I could still feel coal dust between my toes.
And now, there's no use smiling. I can feel the tears, hot and wet, slide down my cheeks.
I can't stand it. Nothing is the same anymore-crying! I'm crying, goddammit- it doesn't feel right at all. I'm in the clouds rather than the ground-
The door flies open with a start, and Rye makes his way into the room. I immediately freeze, and stare down into the blankets.
"You're weak and nervous. I know it, you know it,"
I look at him in utter shock; unable to comprehend his words, or reply.
"And how does it feel to be useless? To know you're going to die the first day?"
Anger surges through my veins, and my head spins. All I can feel are my fingernails against his cheeks, drawing blood with each scrape.
He doesn't scream, he doesn't fight back. He doesn't even move. And when I pull myself away, he's smiling. A real, beautiful smile. But only for a second. And he's gone, just like that.
He'd meant for that to happen. All of it.
I wipe the tears from my eyes, and find myself smiling as well.
We're all seated around the television, and I know it isn't the cold leather that's making me shake. This is it. No matter what score I get, what's done is done.
I gaze along the screen, hoping for any news on Mace's disappearance, or the earthquake. Nothing.
There's a vast flash of faces. Innocent, cold, wistful. And then, there's mine. I'm beneath my mask. My sparkling smile. My breath hitches as the number appears on the screen.
Nine.
And now, the smile is anything but fake.
Tribute Training Scores
Sage Evans- 8
Faul Verlong- 6
Cassidy Charme- 9
Berrin Mercer- 10
Euca Trinmon- 4
Mace Ioan-Daire- ?
Alaia Hemlock- 8
Rat-Trap Moores- 7
Bailey Gizer- 11
Kael Storlie- 3
Aver Genie- 6
Carter Rollings- 5
Sofiel Adrayscaus- 11
Slate Blackwood- 8
Zina Reedmore- 5
Hexavire Lucas- 9
Pup Tanner- 7
Gerisho Pan- 10
Angelica Hust- 5
Sile Grenwich- 5
Margo Grey- 3
Everard Basil- 9
Kira Pawson- 9
Stormer Hearthridge- 8
Okay, the character intros are finally done! I'm sure you're all wondering what the earthquake, and Mace's connection to it, means. It'll all be explained in due time, I promise. (: