Finnicks POV

The training area was vast and open, Amalia and I being close to the last ones to arrive to the 11 o'clock practice session.

"See you later kid," Amalia said dismissively, and walked lithely to the knife throwing tables. I watched quietly for a few seconds, taking in my surroundings. Shouts and yells rang out ever couple of seconds both from the exertion and frustration of the tributes. A small boy held a spear that was larger than himself by a long shot, and sunk it deep into the chest of practice dummy, brushing his hands off confidently afterwards.

I gulped.

Glancing around, I located the knot tying station, and hurried over as fast as I could after noticing no one was there.

The rope felt at home in my hands as I twisted it silently and efficiently into the knots that Annie had taught me so many years ago, weaving a net that was close to unbreakable. My neck grew damp with nervous sweat, as I finally finished and looked upwards. All the tributes had stopped moving, and were staring. They weren't staring at me though, and as I followed their eye lines I was brought to the hulking figure of what had to be the lead career this year. He clutched a knife as wide as his torso, flipping it around in his fingers expertly before heaving it forwards with little effort and beheading his manikin in one swift movement. My jaw dropped, and I released my measly net when I caught sight of the tens of beheaded dummies that lay around his station.

Ya good one Fin, you can tie knots, much more useful then having dead aim with a butchers knife.

That same feeling of raw anger that had been steadily growing in my belly flared as my frustrations towards myself boiled over and I stomped to the spear station as the other tributes dispersed back to their tasks. I surveyed the equipment, measuring the sizes of the spears and the likelihood of me being able to throw them, and that's when I saw it. A shiny structure made of reflective steal, a three-pronged structure I was so used to seeing.

A trident.

I snatched it from its holder, and flipped it around in my hands a few times before turning to the dummy and propelling it straight through the targeted chest of my make believe opponent. I smirked. Maybe I did have something to work with. Mags' words echoed in my head, and I swiftly stepped away from the spear station knowing that after years of impaling fish with said weapon I was in no need of extensive practice.

A tiny hand wrapped around my forearm as I went to turn away, and my first reaction was to turn around and reprimand Annie for startling me. I winced at once, realizing exactly where I was and exactly where she wouldn't be.

"That was pretty good," a breathy voice whispered up at me. The girl couldn't have been more than 12, her massive blue eyes bugging out of her face in an over exaggerated innocence. I looked at her quizzically.

"You're throwing. You hit the dummy right through. It was pretty good," she reiterated. A tentative smiled spread on her face, and I inwardly sighed with relief.

"Thanks," was all I could muster out, before extending my hand and introducing my self.

"Finnick"

She giggled lightly.

"That's a funny name," she chuckled, before taking my hand in hers and giving it a hardy shake.

"Brit."

Brit and I circuited the training area together for the rest of the afternoon, showing each other what small knowledge we had of our own specialties. For me? I was just ecstatic to have made an ally on the first day.

I was exhausted by the time that I found my way back to my room, taking my time as I climbed the glass staircase to view the capitol. I hadn't been able to see much of the city that I would spend my last moments in, having been shuttled through dark hallways and windowless rooms to the training station this morning.

"Hey kid. How did it go?" Mags asked, making me jump from the depths of my thoughts as I entered the dining room.

I shrugged

"It was fine. I made a friend," I added.

Mags looked at me disapprovingly.

"Friends are dangerous in this game, boy. Be careful with who you trust."

I nodded.

"In the end, only one comes out alive."

I shivered, and took a seat across from her. Amalia and Henry were nowhere to be found, but from the unconcerned look on Mags' face I assumed everything must be fine.

"Interviews are tomorrow," Mags said suddenly half way through our meal. I looked at her blankly.

"We need to figure out an angle for you to use, you know, something that the viewers can hold on to and remember you for."

She was met with another blank stare from myself.

Mags pushed her chair back and walked around the table towards me as I dropped my fork and watched her approach. Her wrinkly hands reached towards me and pushed back the matt of hair that fell over my forehead, gazing down at my face and taking in my physical features painstakingly slowly. I felt my cheeks burn as her eyes travelled my body, taking inventory before she stepped away with a smirk on her face.

"Better get used to that boy, because we just found your angle."

That night I slept fitfully, visions of home becoming the setting for my unnerving dreams filled with the same monstrous children as the night before. Their eyes had been replaced with unseeing inky black orbs, their dagger hands feeling around for their surroundings. The dream repeated itself from the night before, I observed these children stumbling around, watched as they slowly neared my solitary body. Their daggers reached towards me, and no matter how much I willed my feet to move I stood where I was until finally the tips of the knife fingers scraped against my chest and sent a searing pain across my heart.

I sat up in my bed with a jolt, grasping my tangled hair in unrest and frustration.

My heart nearly failed as my door swung open just then and three heavily made up human beings bustled in with cases upon cases of god knows what kind of new torture they had for me.

"Is this him?" One asked excitedly? The lady who spoke had canary yellow hair, the color becoming that much more obnoxious as she flicked on the lights in my room. I groaned a little, covering my eyes from the invasive light. A hand enclosed mine and pulled it away from my scrunched face.

"Oooooo, oooo look at his eyes." The second woman crooned, letting go of my hand and pulling the skin around my face in inspection.

"Oh, but that hair, that hair…. No matter, we'll just have to make it shorter than we intended."

"I think it may even be better shorter, it'll show off those cheek bones."

"But Mags said-"

"Mags never said we'd be working with such…. Raw… materials."

This must be my styling team.

I looked around in disbelief, as I was pulled from my bed, instantly grateful that I had decided to sleep in pajamas, only to be horrified as they stripped me naked anyways. The table I was placed on was made of cold steel, their cases opened to the side and filled with what I could see as being tools of horrible shapes. Tiny tweezers were put to hazardous work on my eyebrows, tiny stabs of pain eliciting from above my eyes as they extended and retracted at an unbelievable pace.

"Not enough off the left," the canary sang.

A rough brush was pulled through my nest of hair, the ends reaching past my ears when it was finally straight and smooth. Scissors were brought to my head, and large chunks of gold fell to the floor in sad pools as they continued their work, my feet and hands soaking in some kind of solution as they proceeded.

Hours, and several layers of skin later they finally set their tools aside and looked at me with satisfaction.

"By god, I think we've done it" the third stylist said, circling me like a hawk to its prey.

"They're going to love you." The canary said happily grasping my shoulders and looking me in the eyes. They walked me towards the washroom, my body stiff in the suit that they had put me in for my impending interview. The lights were switched on, and the face that met mine in the mirror was an anomaly.

I was speechless.

My hair was tousled to perfection in an effortless way, and my sea green eyes stood out from face like emeralds. Bronze skin glowing, and impressive stature suited to perfection I turned to my stylist team and whispered a grateful,

"thank you."

They all nodded and turned away from me, picking up their cases and relieving themselves from the room.

This is it. I thought, and followed them solemnly out of the apartment and down the hallway to where I knew I would find Mags waiting for me with a kind smile and words of hope.