.Foxx's A/N: Greetings fellow fanfictioon pioneers. Take note, that although Subject said 'G'day mates', he is not from or near Australia. I'm the pure Aussie here and proud of it. Anyways, enjoy this chapter! (:

Subject's A/N: G'day mates! If you have found this chapter, you have made a few very hormonal oriented teens happy. This is another Derryl chapter, brace yourself! I am a very true American, thank you very much.

~SFSFSF~

Chapter 3 - The Goings On Of The Train Ride, Derryl's POV

I took my first tentative steps onto the train and was immediately shocked when my eyes fell on the scene before me. Sasha's adorable demeanor from before was completely dropped and standing before me, the twelve-year-old was unrecognizable. A ruthless expression sat firmly on her face, and she was staring everyone down. I dimly noticed Beatrice Gramp cowering in the corner, frightened into submission.

Unfazed, I strode to the upturned couch and flipped it over, sitting down on a plush cushion. If Sasha wants to act like a freaky evil girl that she really isn't, then that's fine with me. As if she sensed my thought, here unwavering gaze focused on me, and a spark of fear flowed through my brain. I automatically stood up, assuming a defensive pose.

The room fell silent, thick with tension as Sasha and I death stared each other to no extent. I didn't even notice the two unknown people sitting on the couch I had recently left. They looked almost... bored. The anger that was previously filled me gushed out, and I sagged onto the couch, the wear of the day catching up to me.

"So," The woman with black curls began, presumably one of our mentors. "Have you too met before?" Sasha and I both shook our heads, and the lady kept questioning.

"Nevertheless," she continued, "What amazing skills do you two posses? Or would you rather meet with your assigned mentors separately?" We both looked up to her, questioning looks on our faces.

"I'm Rosalina Faye, your mentor," she pointed to Sasha.

"And I'm Bevan," the noticeably stocky man said with a slight, disinterested wave directed towards me. I nodded in reply.

"Are you kids just going to sit and stare at us? Or will you answer Rosalina's question?" Bevan glanced at his partner.

"I'd prefer to speak to Rosalina alone, thank you," said Sasha, suddenly perky and calm.

"Alright then," Beatrice said, having reassembled the mask of calm she usually wore.

"Your mentors will lead you towards your bedrooms and talk to you there." Bevan grabbed me by the arm, tugging me after him.

The room that welcomed us was an array of amazing architecture, far greater than any you find back in the district. Although we were on a train, the ceiling was vaulted, and I could have sworn the walls were made of some type of marble.

Bevan gestured towards the couch that was situated in the middle of the enormous room, and we both sat down when he began to speak, "Okay, first off, you should know, I hate kids. Secondly, you being from district four, my boy, are joining the careers, no buts about it; and thirdly, you have to listen and obey everything I say, or the few sponsors you might get will only send you dust." I gaped up at him, surprised at his surly attitude.

You'd think he'd like kids, considering he has to teach them to survive. The thought swam to the forefront of my mind, and I almost missed to next part of his extensive speech.

"Now, that display of pure loathing you shared with that girl, Sasha, was unacceptable. Bouts of rage will not help you survive these games. You need to control yourself, but, more importantly, stay away from her in the arena. She will not hesitate to kill you when she is allowed to." I opened my mouth to reply, but he cut me off, continuing, "And when you ally with the Careers, you have to turn on them before they turn on you. Become the leader of the group. Gain the sponsors. Hoard all the supplies. And be a deserter. It won't help to have you leave running for your life, with nothing but the clothes on your back."

Finally he stopped, giving me a moment to absorb all the advice he threw at me. I already new which tips not to follow. He should've known I would have other plans. "Anyways," he said, "I need to know what skills you've got." He said it as an order, not a question, which greatly annoyed me. Screw anger management, I thought snidely. It'll help me survive.

"Do you want a list?" I asked, putting as much sarcasm as I could into those 5 simple words.

"Don't fool around, boy. I'm not taking any bullshit from you. Yes, give me a list." I knew he would make my life living hell if I continued pestering him, but I did anyway.

"Well, that sucks. Because I happen to be the master of bullshitting around." I continued to toy with his emotions. His face contorted to one of pure rage, his skin a bright purple. And I thought I had anger management issues.

A vein pulsed in his head as he continued to speak through clenched teeth and pursed lips, "I thought that this year's tributes had a chance. I guess I made too many assumptions." The image of hate, he stormed out the door as fast as possible.

As I stared at the door after him, absentmindedly, his voice came yelling back, "By the way, we're watching the reapings of the other tributes now. Come if you want! Or just stay there like the insolent little brat you are. Your choice."

With a smirk, I got up and followed him down the hall.

Foxx's A/N: This chapter was completely joint between me and Subject, both putting equal input. Hope you liked, and don't forget to review. I'll give you cookies!

Subject's A/N: Ooh. Derryl's the newest badass. I wouldn't want to clash with Bevan like that. R&R, because Foxx and I shared the work equally here!