Shtick! Clang! Clang!

Talon leapt backwards away from the sword fighting instructor; reeling from the blow he had been dealt. His face contorted into a sharp grimace as he noted the large bruise which was forming on his chest where the instructor had struck him

"Come on boy, I haven't got forever" sneered Davos, the sword fighting master.

The pale 17-year old shook with anger at the slight but forced his temper down as he circled his opponent and took in his options. If he went toe-to-toe with Davos in a duel, he'd get his backside handed to him. Blessed with both the characteristic good looks and physical prowess of a warrior, he was the pride and joy of District 1. He had long blond hair which fell over his shoulders, blue eyes that reflected the colour of the sky and the broad chest and shoulders that came with endless hours of sword fighting practice. Hailed as the finest swordsman to ever emerge from the district, Davos was all too willing to bask in the people's admiration. His talent was such that the training centre forbade him from volunteering as they refused to run the risk of losing the greatest swordsman they had ever produced and, instead, put him to work training potential tributes in order to maximize their chances of winning. Talon harboured no high hopes of defeating him, especially not with a broadsword. He was highly talented in fighting with dual blades due to him being ambidextrous, but his low weight and small physical stature made wielding larger weapons virtually suicide.

Talon swung his broadsword in a vicious uppercut in an attempt to catch him off-guard, but Davos was too experienced for that. In one fluid motion, he sidestepped the stroke and slammed his hilt into Talon's wrist. He gasped in pain and clutched his wrist while his broadsword clattered against the ground as it went flying out of his grasp. However, Davos was not finished. With a guttural roar he delivered a roundhouse kick to Talon's solar plexus to knock him into the ground and held his sword to Talon's neck.

"Yield, you pathetic excuse of a tribute trainee!" he spat as he pressed his sword harder against Talon's neck until dark, scarlet droplets of blood oozed from the point of contact.

"Ok. Ok. I yield. Are you happy now?" Talon shouted as he pushed the sword away from his neck with the palm of his hand. The teenagers recruited by District 1 to train for the Hunger Games were divided into different classes based on their characteristics. Smaller, more agile warriors like Talon were classed as lightweights and instructed in the use of weapons which allowed them to take advantage of their nimbleness and dexterity such as dual swords or knives. Davos knew this, but still insisted on fighting Talon with larger weapons which frustrated him to no end.

"No, actually I'm not. You think you're entitled to special treatment because you have some skill with two fancy gladiī. You don't. What happens in the arena when all you can find are long swords and axes?" Davos mocked him by twisting the pronunciation of the two short Roman blades that he knew Talon favoured.

"District 1 is always a part of the Career pack. We always have access to all and any weapons we desire. Even the final showdowns which involve our tributes traditionally have each tribute fighting it out with their favoured weapons. So I think this is less about you wanting to get me as prepared as possible and more about how you're afraid that one of us lowly tribute trainees will show you up and prove that you aren't so great after all!" Talon knew he had gone too far, but it was much too satisfying to put Davos in his place for once. He was barely older than reaping age, but he still lorded it over all of the trainees as if he were Dux Ducis of the training centre which he was far from becoming.

Only silence greeted him as the swords master fumed over his disrespectful manner. The only sign of his rising anger was the dark flush in his cheeks and the trembling of his fingers on the hilt of his long sword. When he spoke again, it was in the cold, quiet way in which he addressed people who had made him extremely angry. It was the deep breathe before the plunge, the calm before the storm.

"You think that you're a match for me. You think that you know better than the people who instructed me on how to train people to fight with all the different types of swords. Well, I'll humour you, just this once, to show you how wrong you are. You see, I can fight with any sword, in any style, and still best my opponent. So now I invite you to show me your worth. You can take your choice of weapons and, as a bargain, I'll even let you choose mine." he said quietly.

"Looks like I'm really in it now," thought Talon. He had only seen the sword master this angry twice before and both cases had ended with extreme humiliation and bodily harm to the ones who had brought out his inner fury. However, the other five trainees who were to be the finalists in the selection of the 31st Hunger Games tributes had gathered around the two and were murmuring eagerly about the result of the confrontation. He barely overheard one of the boys betting that Talon would back down and get slapped with toilet cleaning duty for the next month as well as being omitted from the selection of the boy volunteers for the Hunger Games. And Talon had a lot more riding on that then honor.

"Alright, I'll fight with two gladiī and you can have your long sword." he huffed, certain that he would at least match Davos for a while during their duel; such was his skill with dual blades. He collected the two gladiī from a rack containing all different types of swords. Dirks, rapiers, bastard swords, every type of sword in existence was present in the District 1 training centre who prided themselves on being one of the Career districts. Talon zoomed in on two golden short swords which were laying side-by-side, the Roman gladiī. According to Davos, these swords were used by warriors of a culture long ago in large arenas for the entertainment of the people.

The two warriors circled each other, waiting for the other to make a move. Talon had his swords in a defensive stance, one sword raised, one sword bowed. Davos gripped his sword with both hands; a gesture Talon recognized was to allow him to deliver stronger blows and faster strikes. He knew he had to be wary from Davos' superior range as his dual swords required him to be close enough to deliver rapid strikes in order to overwhelm his opponent. If he could not get close to Davos, this fight was as good as done.

Abruptly, Davos stopped pacing and struck a quick blow to Talon's right side which was swiftly parried with one of Talon's blades and countered with a downward slash towards Davos' knees with the other. Davos jumped to escape the hit and brought his blade downwards, aiming to slam his sword into Talon's chest. Talon dropped to his feet and rolled to the right before he got his chest caved in. The swords in the centre were all blunted in order to avoid fatal injury, but a blow such as that would be enough to take Talon out of the fight as well as a few weeks of action. The two fighters continued to exchange blows in a similar fashion, Davos engaging and delivering strong strikes with Talon dodging and countering with lightning speed, until Talon made the mistake of trying to block an uppercut with both gladiī crossed over Davos' long sword. That move pitted his strength against Davos' and he would surely lose that battle. Davos pressed downwards with his blade, his blue eyes gleaming as he sensed the nearness of victory. Talon's forehead shone with sweat and his shoulders shook as he fought to maintain the effort required to keep the long sword away from him.

Without warning, the pressure on Talon's swords ceased and Davos slammed his right fist into Talon's jaw in a searing uppercut. Talon flew backwards and crashed into the training centre floor with bright lights flashing across his line of sight. He groaned painfully as he felt his jaw begin to swell and he realized that Davos must have taken his right hand off the sword and, with Talon still preoccupied with the force he was applying with his left hand, used that opening to end the contest. Faintly, he could make out the sound of cheering as the other trainees congratulated Davos on his great performance and how there was never any doubt about who would win the duel. Talon ground his teeth in frustration. He still wasn't strong enough. If Davos could beat him with a single blow, then what chance would he have in the arena where he might have to face multiple opponents, each of whom might be stronger and bigger than him.

"Hey Talon, are you alright? You look a little dazed, that hit must have really done a number on you huh? An airy voice interrupted his thoughts as he looked up to see one of the ditsiest girls he had ever met, Courtney Brooks. Short, shallow and superficial — these were the first words that sprung to his mind when he had met her. Overly optimistic and cheery to a fault, she was always worrying about the most mundane of affairs. Whether her red hair was better in a braid or flowing loosely on her shoulders. Whether her eyes were better in their true emerald green colour or hazel brown using contacts. How she irked him. The only aspect of her that warranted some semblance of respect from him was her ability to throw knives with deadly precision. She had trained since youth as a career, just like the others, and had perfected her aim so that she could shoot 20 bulls-eyes in under a minute from 30 yards out.

"Yes Courtney, I'm fine." said Talon through clenched teeth as he began to sit up, grumbling as the multiple injuries he had sustained began to take their toll on him.

"Are you sure? Because I can go get you some ice if you need to put it on your jaw…"

"I told you, I'm fine!" growled Talon, growing visibly infuriated by her attempts to help him. She was completely oblivious to the fact that she was making him feel even worse through her coddling and fussing over him.

"Well you don't need to snap at me, I'm just trying to help." Courtney pouted at him and went over to stand next to the other two girls in the program, Alanna and Sapphire. They were more serious and dedicated than Courtney and it was no small secret that they were far more likely to become District 1's tribute for the coming 31st Hunger Games. Alanna, along with Courtney, was cut from the same cloth as Talon, both lightweight fighters but Alanna was more geared towards the bow and arrow. Sapphire, on the other hand, was purely a heavyweight fighter. Standing at 6 foot 4 and weighing 200 pounds, she was a colossus of a woman. Her favored weapon was a brutal, spiked mace which Talon had seen her use to dent thick steel with her devastating strength. He sincerely hoped that, if he got picked to volunteer for the games, he would never have to come up against her. As for the two boys who were betting against Talon, their names were Roy and Jax. Roy was a jack of all trades and had no favored weapon. He could fight equally well with swords, maces, bow and arrows, knives or any weapon present in the training center. He himself was at a loss to explain this odd phenomenon which, despite its obvious benefits, also had its disadvantages. Roy could not match the proficiency of any of the other trainees with their favored weapons regardless of whichever weapon he wielded. This meant that the odds of him being chosen as the next male tribute were negligible. He knew he was simply there to make up the numbers but didn't seem too upset about it. Roy was always upbeat and optimistic, trying to do the best with what he had. In Talon's opinion, someone like that shouldn't enter the games anyway. As for Jax, he was the trainee favored to become tribute for this coming year. His fighting style was a hybrid between light and heavyweight. He not only possessed the physical strength required to wield swords, axes and maces but also the nimbleness and agility to manipulate bow and arrows, knives and spears. Furthermore, he was also the best fighter between the trio of males in hand-to-hand combat and when he wielded a hand-and-a-half sword, he became an unstoppable juggernaut of damage and devastation. The only problem with Jax was that he was sullen and angry all the time. The instructors were hesitant to send someone like that into the Games where personality was a large factor in deciding the victor. Sponsors, the victor's fate after the games, the fame and favor bestowed upon the District—all of these depended on a tribute's ability to hook sponsors with a winning personality which Jax evidently lacked. However, seeing as he was the best all round fighter they had, the instructors were willing to risk sending him in so he was a narrow favorite.

Talon shook himself as he sluggishly got on his feet, a frown marring his disfigured face which had never completely recovered from the slash he had received all those years ago. He slowly walked over to Davos and stretched out his hand as a peace offering.

"It was a good fight. I'm sorry I questioned you, it won't happen again."

Taking Talon's hand and smiling gracefully at him, he replied, "Aye, it better not." He handed his sword off to Talon to return to the rack and as a sign that he was dismissed.

Talon took the long sword and the two gladiī and went on his way to return them. The room they were in was the main area for training within the center and by far the largest. It was roughly 40x40 meters and had three training areas: a specialized area for practicing archery and other long range weapons as well as a carpeted area for training hand-to-hand combat. The last and most popular one was the sword fighting section that Davos and the trainees were occupying. The room itself was dull and completely identical to the other rooms which were used for storage and offices for the instructors, painted grey and adorned only with portraits of past victors of District 1. With any luck, Talon hoped his would be the latest face to grace these halls.

Once the swords had been returned to their rightful places, Talon began making his way over to the doorway when he heard Jax's voice, in all its unruly and uncultured glory:

"You've got to be kidding me! That idiot plays it like a smart-ass and gets creamed when you duel him, but now he's got the day free! This just ain't right!

Talon burned with anger at the other boy's words and walked over quickly to Jax. "What did you call me?" he whispered softly

Jax said mockingly, "I called you an idiot cause that's what you are. What? Do you have hearing problems now? Am I going to have to repeat…

He was interrupted by a punch to the left side of his face which knocked him to the floor. Talon was just preparing to lay into him and beat his face into a pulp when he felt himself being thrown backwards. He rolled gracefully back onto his feet only to see Davos going red with anger again.

"I thought I dismissed you and gave you leave! The last thing I need from you is a brawl with another potential tribute after all that you've done today. Clear out! Get to the showers and I don't want to see your face until next week when we have final tryouts!" Davos yelled in his face.

Behind Davos, Jax was making a slicing gesture at his throat to him and Talon replied in kind with an obscene gesture of his own. He turned and made his way out of the training room. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the girls looking at him coldly, judging him, and Courtney shaking her head at him in disappointment. Well they could all go to hell for all he cared. Who were they to judge him? They had all seen Jax provoke him and that was that. Besides, none of them had gone through what he had so they had no right to judge him.

Talon walked without really thinking of where he was going until he found himself in the locker room. Each trainee had their own locker to store their clothes and personal effects. Only Courtney had deigned to decorate her locker, colored butterflies and red rose stickers plastered all over the face of it. How a girl like her had gotten into the program was beyond him. He pulled a grey sweater and black pants and underwear to change into and entered the shower. Once he was done with his business, he examined his reflection in the mirror. Despite him being slender in shape, he had wiry muscles bulging under the surface of his skin, a benefit of the years of training and conditioning he had put his body through. His skin was a rosy pale color and his hair was obsidian black. He supposed that he could have been considered good looking had it not been for the massive, pink scar ranging from the left of his eye down to his chin and the swelling on his jaw, courtesy of Davos' fist. However, his hand lingered upon the hideous scar and lost himself in his memories. He still remembered the day after he had been attacked as if it were yesterday.

(Flashback)

Pain. That was all that he could feel. Scorching, all-encompassing pain from his upper torso and face. He opened his eyes to see a white ceiling in front of him and found himself lying in a moveable bed. The room he was in was almost completely bare, with only a few monitors and an IV drip hooked up to his arm keeping him company. Well that explained why he wasn't feeling any hunger or thirst. He could smell a pungent odor of rubbing alcohol and disinfectant which threatened to choke him if he spent too long in this room.

Suddenly, the room's door opened to reveal a pretty young nurse dressed in the customary uniform of white overalls and a white hat. Evidently, by the way her mouth opened and remained so, they (whoever was taking care of him) did not expect him to be awake that quickly. She quickly composed herself and began speaking to him as she approached the bed.

"Well hello there. My name is Nurse Agnes and I'm one of the people who've been taking care of since you were brought in last night." said the young nurse. "You gave us an awful fright when you came in, but thankfully the damage was only skin deep on your face and your floating ribs were bruised, but no breakage or fractures at all. Are you feeling better today?"

Talon nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak to this nurse who seemed too nice to be real. Maybe she wanted something from him in exchange for fixing him up. He reached up to his face and was surprised when Nurse Agnes gripped his arm. He looked up at her to see her shaking her head with a sad expression on her face.

"I don't think you should do that dear. We tried our best to heal the damage, but I'm afraid there's going to be quite a bit of permanent scarring." She said softly.

Talon relaxed his arm and brought it back down to the bed as he took in her words. So he was going to be permanently disfigured. All because a malicious man had taken it into his head to harm him and 'send a message' as he put it. His fists clenched painfully as angry, vengeful thoughts burned through his mind. One day he would find the man who did this to him and make him pay for it with his life.

Nurse Agnes apparently seemed oblivious to the fire raging within Talon as she cheerfully chattered on about how a medical team had been alerted by a nearby pedestrian and had rushed to save him. Well, so much for the angel that he had seen. It was probably just a hallucination brought on by the blood loss. He must have seen the white clothes of the medical team and his imagination did the rest. He was interrupted from his inner thoughts by Nurse Agnes who asked him about his parents.

"Dead." he said quietly. Talon could remember very little about his parents as he was barely older than 4 years old when they had died. Killed in an accident the police had said. The police had placed in him in a foster home but he could tell that the parents didn't really love him and the other kids despised him for taking up their space so he ran away. Time caught up with him and here he was again going to the orphanage or, at best, another foster home. It was then that he had made the decision that he was going to become a tribute for the Hunger Games. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain. As a victor, he would have the money and influence to find the man who had maimed him. If he died, well his life wasn't really worth much anyway. He would live in the orphanage up until the time he volunteered and returned victorious. 7 years in an orphanage was a small price to pay for the chance to get his vengeance. For the first time since he had awoken, he smiled to himself and saw hope in the future.

(End of flashback)

Now, 6 years after he had woken up in that hospital room, he was closer than ever to achieving his goals. He was one of the finalists in the selection of the volunteer for the 31st Hunger Games having passed through all of the tests and eliminatory procedures that were assigned to select the best of the best in the recruits of the training center. All that was left was the final tryout where he would have to fight both Roy and Jax in a free for all battle. The winner of that mêlée would be selected to volunteer in the 31st Hunger Games. He smiled, just as he had smiled 6 years ago, at how close he was to his goal and he knew in his heart that he would not fail.

Author's Note: Hey everyone. That's all for this chapter. Hope you liked it and please review or comment anyway if you liked, hated or didn't care about it and say why. All negative feedback is welcomed and appreciated. Next up is the final mêlée and the selection of the final tribute for the 31st Hunger Games. So long.

P.S Latin and uncommon words are explained below:

Gladiī: For those who didn't get it, they're a type of sword commonly used by legionaries of the Roman army but they became popular with Gladiators in the Colosseum.

Hand-and-a-half sword: Is a blade whose length is such that it allows the user to use it with one or two hands effectively.