A/N: We have reached the final day of training, and most of the alliances have been forged. However, as we approach the Private Training Sessions, there are still some tributes that have yet to make friends or even be featured, but trust me, they will get some spotlight. Thanks for all the reviews, keep them coming, this is really turning out to be bigger than I thought! Also, keep in mind that points for the sponsor shop are being tallied, so do your best to get as many as you can before the games begin! So here it is…The third and Final Day of Training.
Icarus Cotton- District Twelve
Everything is wrong. This isn't how it was supposed to be. I had prepared for this, I knew I could do this, but now, everything seems so wrong. I never got my chance, the chance I was supposed to have. I wouldn't have blacklisted Sasha and the help from our mentor if I had known the careers would reject me. They seemed to be so content with their roster of six, that they didn't even give me a thought. It had only felt like minutes into the first day when Revolc joined their ranks, and now, here I am, on the last day, without an ally in the world.
What will Ecclesiastes and Hera think when they see me? Cowering in fear and unsure of my fate, nothing like the confident spirit I was back in Twelve. What will they say? I don't know anymore, I'm not sure if I can do this, it's just too much.
I don't eat, the thought of food repulses me, I've been binging since last night to prepare myself for my inevitable death. I feel like a husk of my former self, like my insides have hollowed out. The acidity in my stomach screams for nourishment, which I deny. I can't keep going on like this, day in and day out, quivering in the corner while others take my place on the shoulders of glory. I know they can tell, people aren't as dumb as they look. The sideways glances Sasha gives me irritate me, past the point of simple annoyance, but a deep, red, anger.
"What?" I ask sharply, causing her to drop the spoon she was using to scoop the flaky cereal into her mouth.
"God Icarus, don't scare me like that," she chastises, ignoring my question.
I don't say anything else, and she doesn't seem to care. Why would she? She's found her own set of allies. The boy from 8, Aden is his name, and that scrawny boy Loot from Six. Aden looks fit, and I'm sure Loot could easily sneak up behind you and sink a dagger into your throat before you even knew he was there. Good allies, strong allies, people I need. I don't think about asking her for help, I know she has her faculties tailored to what she wants. I'm not a part of her equation.
"I'm off," Sasha says brusquely, leaving me in the wake of her dust, treading water in a bottomless ocean. I can't help but wish for a moment that I hadn't volunteered; I put myself in this situation, not the capitol. I could have lived on, I could have prospered and built a legacy, but it looks like that won't happen.
I don't know what to feel, I guess it's expected that I put on something of a show for the capitol these next few days. We've already been here for three days, and time is beginning to melt together and fade away. I just want to get out of here, to shut out the demons swirling in my head. It's torture, absolute torture to know that you're going to die and there's nothing you can do about it. I had plans, big plans, to win this game and shower Twelve in glory. Looks like that won't be happening, but, maybe Sasha can.
I have hope for her, although she'll never know it. I hope that she can get out of here, despite the wicked nature of her flirtatious qualities. I know she's done wrong, I can tell she's not the innocent girl she advertises herself to be. There's something more to Sasha, something more that I can't quite determine, but I know it's enough to get her home.
I've been sitting here for a while, and it looks like our mentor is gone as well. Picking myself up, I decide to go to the training complex, and when I heave the colossal mahogany door open, the peacekeepers seem to be a bit surprised that I'm there. One of them takes me down, carefully following behind in case I break for it. I won't though; I'm not stupid, not like Jemima.
The image from that day is seared into my mind, forever there. She was stupid to think that she could get away with only a knife. Sure, District One isn't all that far away, but was she going to swim across that dam? No, she had no plan; she was just a desperate girl trying to get back home.
She's dead now, something I'll be in a matter of days.
I guess it doesn't matter; all she did was hasten her impending doom. Jemima wasn't going to win these games, and I guess she figured that out ahead of time. All these tributes, they cling onto hope, thinking it's enough to get them home. Hope is merely a spark, something that is supposed to put other factors, like ambition and tenacity, into motion. That's the problem with these other tributes, they think hope is enough. I know the difference between hope and power.
Entering the complex, I can see Sasha climbing the enormous wall, trying to scale the whole thing. The careers are sparring in the swordplay arena, using batting sticks instead of the deadly metal. The soft collision can be heard, sharp clinks of wood. It's a dance, that's all it is, the pair from Four are dancing with each other, parrying and weaving like virtuosos of the sport.
I don't know why, but I watch them, neglecting any form of training on my part. I watch them encircle one another, slashing and hacking with all their might. It seems tiring, but my mind reminds me it's something I did only a week ago, preparing to bring fortune to my family and District Twelve. Ecclesiastes and Hera surface in my mind once more, and I close my eyes, shaking my head softly. The motion calms me, and the faces of my family and friends having a lulling effect on my mind. Soon, I feel almost like I do when I slip into sleep, but I know I won't doze off here. I've just sort of given up, drowning myself in memories, waiting for the day to come.
Maud Perrin- District Three
Most people would think that I'm crazy, but I'm not, because although my plan looks like psychotic, it's not. I haven't spent any time working on physical skills; I won't need them, because I've got an entirely different plan up my sleeve.
Coming from three, I know a thing or two about building things, and what I'm going to build will hopefully send me back home. Water receptors. That's it, plain and simple, I've decided to build little pods that can store given amounts of water. Brushing my hair out of my face, I quickly run over my designs. This is nothing like the dolls I crafted back home, but it's along the same design. I know my grandmother would be proud if she could see what I was working on, but it's because of her that I'll even be able to go home.
The crimson ring I wear on my finger, the token my grandmother gave me before I came here, is filled with a small red powder called Nuclear Fire. I've tested it out on small water supplies throughout the building when no one is looking, and no matter the volume of the liquid, the same amount of Nuclear Fire contaminates the entire solution. It's breathtaking, but it means that I can easily destroy the arena's water supply within an hour, but first I have to conserve enough water for myself. That's why I'm building the water receptors.
Gleaning enough information from the knot-tying station and poisonous plants station, I know which leaves to use and what kind of stems are the best for tying. Hopefully I can get my hands on some rope, but in the most likely situation, I will have to strip leaves and use the stems for sealing my receptors. If I can put enough water to sustain myself for a few days in these receptors, I can contaminate the water and wipe the arena clear of sustainable drinking methods. That way, the tributes will dehydrate and quickly become walking targets, if they don't die from exposure. My grandmother's plan is brilliant, and I hope I'll be able to see her again because of it.
I'm working on perfecting the knot for my receptors when I'm approached by the girl from Six. I don't know what she wants, but I can't afford to have any baggage when I attempt my plan, she would just get in the way.
"Hey," she says, he cropped black hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, "What'chya working on."
"None of your business," I snap vehemently, trying to shoo her away.
"Look," she pleads, "I just really need some help, and you look like you could as well."
I'm unable to stifle my laughter, "I need help?" I rhetorically cackle, "No, you need help. I can't afford to make an alliance with someone I know will have to die for me to go home, so I'm playing alone. I suggest you do the same."
"There's no reason to be…," she tries to reason with me but I cut her off quickly,
"To be what? A realist? Because that's what I am, so now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do," I spit, turning my back to her and resuming my work on the receptors. That's not like me, to be nasty to other people, but I had to do it. The poor girl will probably die early on because I refused to help her, but it was a chance I just couldn't afford to take. The girl from Six might be able to find another ally, right?
I don't turn back to see where she goes off to, I really don't want to know, because it'll just hurt more. I'm not a killer, and my grandmother knows that. It's why she gave me this ring, so I could do the unthinkable without raising a weapon.
"Thank you Grandmother, thank you so much," I whisper quietly to myself, knowing her gift might get me back home.
Aston Jeffries- District Six
Maud's rejection of me hurt, because it was my final gamble at getting someone to back me up. Going into the arena alone, I know I won't have any sponsors. My prowess in weaponry is next to nonexistent; all I know is how to fix cars and bikes. My hobby really doesn't provide me with a lot of options, unless there's a wrench somewhere in the arena, I won't be doing too much damage.
Sighing, I sit down on a bench while watching some tributes spar in the hand-to-hand combat ring. It's Aden, and my district partner Loot. Loot never really gave me a chance, but instead went off on his own before I could even ask him to help me. Loot has allies now, something I don't think I'll get the chance to enjoy. Left to my own whims, I find myself at the gauntlet, wondering if I can make it through this horrid design.
There's nothing better to do.
There are three tributes in front, each one trying to run the course. In front is Revolc, the blonde boy from Seven. He's attractive, and his hair swishes from side to side as he runs through the course. Jumping, dodging, and running his way through the grisly mechanism, he comes out perfectly on the other side. The girl behind him, Cassia is her name I think, performs with similar results, and I realize that my observations are only reflections of the training career districts pour into their youth.
It's not fair.
I wish I could have had some training, could've been prepared for this. I think of my friends and my family, people who are counting on me to come home to them.
The boy in front of me tries his luck; I think he's the one from Nine. He is smashed to the floor near the end, but he looks pleasantly surprised by his performance. Two other boys commend him; they are young, just like him. Then I realize, they're allies.
I don't know why it's become so hard for me to find allies here, but I guess it's because there's nothing connecting me to another tribute. I could've perhaps aligned myself with Loot, but his lone wolf personality quickly eschewed that possibility. It's not the fact that Loot didn't want to partner with me that upsets me, it's the fact that I don't care. I could really care less if Loot wants to align with me or not, because it's not like he would be able to do much. He's scrawny, unkempt, overly rat-like in his demeanor. I don't know if I would've been able to trust him.
Scanning the room, my eyes alight on no one in particular. There is nothing special to me or about me. We are generic, simple children forced to play a deadly game, and we crave victory. It's either that, or die nameless, not Aston, but the girl from District Six.
Allure Shine- District One
Things have been a damn whirlwind since I've arrived, and I can't seem to keep my head from spinning. Avery's oh so delectable lips got me more than I bargained for, and now our very own district escort is out to get us. Last night was hell, today's been hell, and overall I feel like hell. There's a ringing in my ears from the cuff Cassia gave me while sparring today, and I'm pretty sure she hates my guts. I mean really? You just met me girl.
Sitting down for lunch with Avery and Revolc, I feel a bit more comfortable than I would by the other three. I don't have a problem with Ula, but apparently the chick's got a deal with me. Rip just gives me the creeps, his yellowed and pointy teeth just scream murderer. So, it's not hard to argue that Avery's company is more enjoyable, especially with those dreamy purple eyes.
"I have something of an idea," Revolc says at once, startling me from my daydream about Avery and I, back in that bed, my legs wrapped around his hips while he…
"Allure, are you even listening?" Avery asks me suddenly, and apparently Revolc has been talking for quite some time.
"Oh sorry boys," I say with a twirl of my hair, "I just zoned out."
"Obviously," Revolc states, "So back to what I was saying. I just can't help but feel like Rip and Ula are up to something."
"You think we should make a pact between the three of us, to break off if things get weird?" Avery asks his friend, while I look back up to his eyes.
"Well Cassia is obviously there little puppet, I don't know, I just can't shake this vibe man," Revolc says and Avery nods in agreement. Avery's been pretty quiet today, unless he's directly talked to by someone like Revolc or I, but he's not prompting conversation by himself. I want to know what he's thinking about, what's making him this way.
"What do you think Allure?" Revolc asks me, while Avery stares off towards the back wall. Slurping up a few sips from my protein shake made at the lunch bar, I respond with a vague,
"Sounds good."
"That's it?" Revolc asks, a bit thrown off.
"Yeah, I think your plan is good," I say, with absolutely no idea of what his plan entails.
"Alright then," Revolc claps his hands together, but softly, to where the impact doesn't make a sound, "Looks like we have an alliance within an alliance." So that's what Revolc was planning, a safety net in case the other three members of our alliance went in their own direction. What he said felt true, that Rip and Ula have been acting strange. They're not communicating with the three of us as much, whispering near stations to one another excitedly and rapidly.
"Avery," I coo quietly.
"Huh?" He turns to me with glazed eyes. I put a hand on his arms, but he shrugs it off.
"I need to clear my head," he confesses bluntly, and rises from the table to head to the climbing wall, where I think he'll sit at the top for a while. Avery didn't seem to care that we got caught last night, but ever since this morning, when I came down to breakfast, he seemed a bit, hollow, that's the word. Maybe something was said to him before I came down to breakfast. Summer, Sapphire, Cicero, and Tatyana were all there, so they could have easily brought up the subject. We don't even know if Tatyana said anything yet, so maybe Avery's problems are a bit more personal?
Deciding to leave him be, I don't pursue him like I've done so far. I decide to do a bit of snooping, see if what Revolc thinks is true. I think I'm going to spend a bit of time with the most mysterious of our members, little Miss Ula.
Ruci Nonabi- District Ten
I've coped with the fact that this situation truly exists by now, and instead try to determine a way deeper in instead of out. The only way out of this situation is to beat the rest right? So that's what I've got to do.
Roger is over by the swordplay arena, watching a fight between Nero and the instructor. Nero's the best of them, he can take down that teacher in a minute. He's been doing that and the gauntlet all day, honing his near perfect skills. I don't have skills like that, instead I'm relying on what my mother taught me, how to forage and fend for myself. Our mentors may have recommended forming a district-bound alliance, but that's not my style.
I've been thinking about Reggie a lot, ever since I left my mama's house actually. His pearly smile, those dark chubby cheeks, born between two people who loved one another, not a violent struggle. I guess I could say I'm thankful though, I wouldn't have ever existed if my mother had never been raped, but is that turmoil I'm glad she experienced for my benefit? I don't know the answer to questions like those.
The silence in the room becomes haunting; the only noises are the staccato beats of wood clashing in the swordplay arena and the sickening thud the arrow creates as it lodges itself in the foamy target. The sounds of anger, malice, practice, and hope. These are the noises created by such emotion, carefully strung together by a mad harpist. I may want to go home as much as anything, but I'm sure that's how twenty-three other people in this room feel right about now.
I'm scared, dead scared, for the day of the games. I don't know what I feel standing on that podium, the tributes surrounding me. Will I run towards or from the cornucopia? Will I even survive the initial bloodbath? These thoughts cloud my mind, swarming in between memories and recollections to create new fears and thoughts entirely. My mind is a nervous wreck, playing out possible outcomes and my body starts to quiver. I'm so scared of what's to come, but I have to be strong, for Mama, for Reggie.
I'm shaking so badly that I drop the rope my hands were working, and the instructor gives me a quizzical look. I just want to scream at her to stop looking at me, to peel those dark orbs she has for eyes away from skin. I want to spit at her, claw and gnash my teeth and give her horrible nightmares too. But I can't, I'm just a forgettable girl from District 10, cast to play these deadly games.
I try to pick the rope back up, but grow angry with my maladroit hands. Storming away from the knot-tying section, I try my luck with the throwing knives. Anger, hot and intense, bubbles up inside. I am angry that I'm here, that I'll be forgotten, that I've been robbed of the opportunity to shape my fate.
There was once a book I read, my mother's friend Edna Opapke had leant it to her, but she never picked it up. It was called East of Eden, by a man called Steinbeck. In it, he described the luxury all of us have, how we are all born masters of our own destiny. I guess he didn't portend the destruction of life, the ruinous country that is Panem, the war and depression and consequence to follow. I guess both he and my mother's neighbor were stuck in grind, the kind of grind that blinds you, makes you think you've got something to live for and work for. This isn't what the world once was, now we play the Hunger Games, and our destiny isn't ours to shape.
"Ruci," Roger says, and I jump, unaware that he was next to me.
"God Roger, you nearly gave me a heart attack," I say, clasping my hand over my heart.
"I just thought you looked lonely, I wanted to know if anything was troubling you?" He asks, sincerity in his innocent tone.
"Is anything wrong with me?" I snap, angry at his question. "What's wrong with you? I'm going to die in a week, or sooner and you expect me to be fine with that. Why can't I marry a man and build a family, run a ranch and make a business? Why do I have to die when life has barely given me the opportunity to live?"
He is startled by my outburst, and so is half of the training complex. I let out an exhausted sigh and plop down on the bench. He can tell I want to be left alone, and as I watch him walk away, I realize the only ally I had in this game, is gone. I sit there for some time, past the end of training, and as the tributes file out the door, the woman from the knot-tying station rests a hand on my shoulder.
"Time to go," she says softly, her lips pursed as if she didn't want to say the wrong thing.
I look into her eyes, our gaze is fleeting, but for a moment I can see pity. She leads me out of the room, and down the hall. Training is over, and I am no more prepared than when I first got here.
Well, that was super depressing. I wanted to dedicate this chapter to the tributes who hadn't really found an alliance yet, and I wanted to reveal the alliance within the careers. Will Icarus be able to come to terms with himself? What punishment awaits Avery and Allure? How will Revolc coordinate the alliance within the careers? What can Allure discover from Ula? Will Maud's plan pan out? Can Aston find an ally before it's too late? What will become of Roger and Ruci's district-bound alliance? Keep on reading and reviewing to find out. Up next we have the private training sessions and the scores, so be prepared for a LOOONG chapter.
-AdmiralBobbery