TW: The end of this chapter (the second elevator scene, specifically), includes content that may be triggering to some. Please skip this portion and read the summary at the end if you are made uncomfortable by SA and/or predatory behavior toward women

Chapter 5: Elevator Rides

On the first day of training, Celestia has to continuously bang on Amber's door to get her to leave the bed. She had barely slept at all after being plagued by nightmares and a general feeling of dread. Now that the sun is finally up, what's in front of her is possibly the scariest thing yet, so she closes her eyes and pretends sleep is the better alternative.

Celestia eventually lets herself in and Amber can no longer procrastinate the day. The escort ensures Amber gets into the black training uniform the Capitol has supplied and fusses over Amber's appearance. York leaves for the training center while Celestia is still tugging at Amber's hair in an attempt to make it 'suitable for the gamemakers'. Amber is reminded of a line from the styling team: Women have always had to struggle more to be considered beautiful.

Celestia all but shoves Amber into the elevator, frantically says something about timeliness, and sends the tribute on her way. Amber exhales once the door shuts. Finally, silence. She needs to be back in reality before the elevator gets to the training center. She supports her weight on the handrail and braces as the elevator drops. Outside the glass panel, the people of the Capitol look like small multicolored bugs.

Amber turns when the elevator stops, assuming she's made it to training. The door glides open and rather than a blank hallway, she is face to face with another tribute. Not just any tribute, but the boy from Two. The one with the striking green eyes she had gotten stuck in the night before.

She goes completely stiff, whereas he enters casually.

"Good," he says. "I thought I was late." Amber is reading for any hints of sarcasm but doesn't detect anything. Still, his motives remain unclear. There's nowhere to hide, so she pushes her back into the railing behind her.

The door rolls shut, and he leans against it. This close, Amber is able to address his features. He's tall and muscular, but still not as large as York. His hair is coarse and black, contrasting with his olive skin.

"Yes," Amber forces her voice out. "I think we'll be right on time."

He takes a moment to scan the elevator before finally settling on her face. If Snow had reminded her of a snake, this boy might just be a wolf. "Where's your tribute partner? You're Seven, right? So, he must be the real tall one."

Amber nods slowly. "York left before me."

"Just like Elaina." Amber can recall his district partner as he says her name. The sharp-featured girl with glossy brunette hair. "I think it was a preventative measure to keep her from strangling our escort."

She suppresses a smile. With every word, Amber's cruel perception of him falters. She had imagined the Career Alliance tributes drooling over their prey, but he actually seems borderline friendly. "So we aren't the only district avoiding our escort?"

Now he smiles, shaking his head. "The escorts are the first enemy of the games."

"So why be in the last elevator?" She asks.

He sighs and kicks his body away from the wall instinctively. "I'm placing preventative measures to keep myself from strangling District One."

The statement raises a million questions in Amber, but as if on cue, the elevator dings to signal that they've reached their destination.

"What's your name?" he asks. "I never caught it."

"Amber," she responds. He keeps his stance. It takes her a moment to realize that he's waiting on her to continue. "Oh, um, Amber Clark."

"Cassius Wilder," he offers the information before Amber has the chance to ask. He turns on his heels and begins down the hallway. Amber follows.

She doesn't quite know how else to end the interaction, and in a moment of uncertainty, she blurts out, "Good luck." She regrets it immediately. Is that something tributes are supposed to say to each other?

"Yeah," Cassius seems caught off guard as well. He turns and scans her once more. More curious than anything else. "You too."

Embarrassed, Amber tries not to think about it. She enters the training room and watches Cassius stride over to the other Careers. It seems like everyone else is standing by their district partners, so Amber makes her way to York.

"Sorry," is the first thing York says to her.

"For what?" Amber looks up at him, searching his face.

"You were alone with that boy from Two. I saw you walk in together." York doesn't quite know how to formulate an apology, but he's trying.

"Why would something like that be your fault?" Amber tilts her head.

"I don't..." he trails off, frustrated.

"I understand." Amber nods with a reassuring smile. "I'm okay though! Don't worry about me."

York doesn't seem all that convinced. He looks back to the Career group. They were talking with District Four. No doubt they're already roped into the alliance.

"Did he say anything to you?" York asks.

Amber shakes her head. She considers their conservation before responding. Was there anything to be learned from it? "Not really," she determines.

Skeptically, York decides to accept the answer. He doesn't have any more time to ask questions anyways as the gamemaker in charge of training has called for their attention. She begins her lecture on the general rules. They essentially boil down to no fighting.

Amber and York split up as training commences. With York, there's no reason not to get familiar with the Capitol weapons. It's not like he can hide his strength so he might as well learn something.

Amber decides to start at a comfortable location: knot tying. The expert who is assigned to the station walks her through the different types of rope. He seems happy to have someone to share his fascination with, so Amber listens intently, even when he's repeating something she already knows. her favorite part is learning about fishhooks. She's never worked with any nautical aspects before. It's a fun new puzzle.

"You know," the worker whispers. "Sometimes you can learn a bit about the arena by what types of training are offered." He gives her a wink. She doesn't think he's referring to the knot-tying station because of the variety that could cover any situation. She ponders it for a while before deciding to move to another station she's familiar with, foraging.

This station's expert is a lot more uninterested. They chat with another gamemaker, so Amber flips through the pamphlets alone. She gets stuck staring at the cover of one that has a picture of a beetle. Her family had eaten almost everything in District Seven as a means of survival, but insects were never something she could get behind. A memory of an old argument comes back to her.

"They make ya strong!" She could hear one of the lumberjacks on her crew cackling. Amber had been visiting an old cook in the Cache and had walked right in on a debate on insects as food. "Trust." He had flexed his muscles, gaining a laugh from the small crowd.

"Over my dead body will I have somethin' squirmin' around my mouth," the cook responded.

"Disgusting," Ivy pretended to gag, wrinkling her nose. "I'd rather starve."

Amber is fondly lost in the memory. She must've been fifteen at the time as it was in the weeks leading up to the 74th Hunger Games. Before the crackdowns and influx of Peacekeepers.

She examines the insects in the pamphlets closer. She recognized some of them. She pulls a pamphlet for edible plants. She recognizes many of those too. If the gamemaker at the previous station had spoken correctly, this is a good sign.

When they return to their suite that evening, Celestia insists they sit for a meal with their styling teams. As it seems like the only way they will get to eat, and both Amber and York have probably done much more insufferable things for a meal in the past, they agree.

Dinner is full of endless chatter about things neither tribute cares to partake in. Scandalous stories about other Capitolites and excited exchanges on plans for the tribute interviews.

"Thank you," Amber says to the servant who takes her dish away.

"Amber," Ezio scolds. "You're not supposed to do that. It's horrible table etiquette."

"Do what?" Amber tilts her head.

"They're avoxes," York's stylist hisses, lowering the volume of her voice. It was as if the word alone disgusted her. "You're not supposed to address them unless you are giving them an order. It's rude to your other dinner guests." She draws out a long, annoyed sigh and rubs her temples. "I guess I can't expect someone like you to understand."

Someone like her? A District Girl, no doubt, is what the stylist means. "What's an avox?" Amber continues to question. She takes a second to consider where they could have come from. She hadn't truly thought about it before. She figured maybe they were like the Peacekeepers, just working to repay a family debt and then they would return to their extravagant lifestyle. From the way the stylist has phrased it, Amber realizes she might have been mistaken.

"Someone who has been convicted of a crime," Celestia waves her arm as if clearing a bad scent. "They're so treasonous that their tongues have to be removed. All they're good for is servitude. I thought everybody knew that."

Amber freezes at the realization. They're not servants. They're slaves. Slowly, she rises to her feet, keeping her eyes fixated before her.

"Where are you going?" Zeta pulls on Amber's wrist. "We haven't even had dessert yet."

"I, um," Amber stumbles out of Zeta's grasp. "I don't feel well. I have to go."

With that, she traps herself in her bathroom. She can't stand to listen to another word they have to say. Can't stand to look at them for another second. How could they truly think anyone could ever deserve a fate like that? She feels disgustingly complicit. She wants to help them, but how? Where could they go? And how could she ever hope to save them when she's also currently a slave to the Capitol?

She lets the endlessly warm shower water run over her and she wonders if she could drown herself in it. Her whole life she's been told that fate always put people in the right place at the right time, but how could fate know best when it would make people avoxes for this place? The stylist had said they have to of been convicted of a crime, but if Amber knew anything about Panem's justice system, it's that it's anything but fair.

The next day at training Amber does her best to keep to herself, learning simple survival stations and steering clear of any of the weapons. She spends plenty of time watching the other tributes. After reviewing, Amber could match the tribute's faces their district, and even knew some of their names and ages. There's a twelve-year-old tribute from District Ten and a thirteen-year-old from District Three, but other than that, a large majority of the tributes are older. The youngest victor was Finnick at 14, but winning that young is an extremely rare case. Being older means being stronger, wiser, and more of a threat. It's a competitive year.

Amber is reviewing a pamphlet about the difference between poisonous berries and edible berries when she gets distracted by the gamemakers overseeing the training session from a balcony. They saunter around the room and make large hand motions when they talk. They're supposed to be evaluating the tributes, but they clearly have other priorities.

When she looks back down, Amber is startled to find another tribute standing in front of her. It's the female tribute from District Eleven. Her skin is dark, like York's, and she has coils of curls that pour out of the bun messily placed on the top of her head. She's looking at Amber over the top of another pamphlet, gauging her. She doesn't look anywhere near as old as the Careers, but she also isn't one of the youngest tributes here. Likely fifteen or sixteen.

After more than an awkward length of silence, and an attempt to ignore her, Amber decides to say something. "Do you know much about gathering?"

"Not really."

Amber is taken aback. The industry of her district is agriculture. Shouldn't she know quite a bit? "Oh," she says.

"Do you?" The girl sets the pamphlet down.

"A little bit." This is an understatement, but Amber feels the girl sizing her up. "I'd like to know more," she adds.

"Yeah…" The girl trails off. She's uncomfortable. "I'm Willow." She pauses. "It's not that I'm an idiot or anything. During the harvest season, I work in an orange grove. There's nothing else there besides oranges."

Amber slowly nods in agreement, hoping that Willow doesn't think she would really call her an idiot. "I'm Amber."

"I know," Willow cuts her off. "From District Seven. I remember you from the parade." So, Cassius must've not been the only one staring at her. "And I saw your Reaping."

"Oh," Amber's throat immediately feels dry. "I doubt that was a very good first impression."

Willow looks intensely into Amber's eyes, then down, then back up. "I thought you looked brave." When Amber doesn't know what to say, she elaborates. "You knew you couldn't change anything, so you held your head high. You were brave. When my name was called, I was just bawling the entire time. Super embarrassing."

"I thought I was going to faint," Amber answers honestly. She was confused about how it was so misinterpreted. She wasn't brave at all.

"I guess we all have to be pretty terrified. It's just how you deal with it that matters." Willow looks to the Careers. The two tributes from District One are mocking a tribute from District Five. The boy makes a show of doubling over in laughter. "Even them. Don't you think they have to be at least a little bit scared?"

Amber shrugs. "They seem pretty confident to me."

"I guess you're right," Willow responds. She pauses before asking, "Do you think you could show me some of the knots I saw you doing yesterday? I tried myself and couldn't get it."

Amber smiles, her reason for approaching having made itself evident. "Yes, I can, but you should ask the gamemaker at the station. They're very helpful."

Willow shakes her head. "I tried," she lowers her voice. "But I can't understand anything through how thick his accent is."

Amber laughs and agrees. She spends the rest of the afternoon with Willow. It makes time pass much quicker and Amber is grateful to have someone new and relatively normal to talk to.

At the end of the training period, Amber finds York talking to the weapons gamemaker about the hatchets. Something about the weight and proportions being wrong. Amber decides to leave without him, patiently waiting for the elevator alone.

Her daydreams are disrupted by a voice down the hall. Amber recognizes it as the boy from One, Sterling. Amber steps into the elevator as it opens. Sterling follows with the other two boys of his alliance in tow. Amber contemplates saying something to Cassius, but instead slips into the corner of the elevator, focusing as hard as she can on the window. It's suffocating with the three large bodies blocking her in.

As much as she tries to ignore them, they seemingly haven't decided to do the same. Before the doors even close, Sterling grabs Amber's arm and yanks her around to face him.

Her heart races a thousand miles an hour, and her first instinct is to recoil back. It feels like her wrist will snap and he only tightens his grip as she pulls. He wasn't supposed to be able to touch her, but there are no gamemakers here to stop it.

Sterling steps closer, further closing the gap between them. Amber freezes, letting him draw his face close. Where was she to go anyway? His other hand clasps around her neck and chin, forcing her to look into his icy eyes. Her blood rushes beneath his fingers and the grin on his face confirms his enjoyment of it.

"Seven, right?" He coats in voice in innocence. "You're cute, for an outer district girl, at least. I think we could have some real fun together in the arena." His smile is so perfect, but his eyes show an evilness. Fear strikes Amber to her core. She knows what he alludes to. Sterling lowers his hand to caress her neck, sending goosebumps down her spine.

She trembles and opens her mouth to try to think of something, anything to say, but she's saved before she can get a word out.

"Sterling." It's Cassius. His voice is so controlled. Calm, yet commanding. How was he doing it? "Leave her alone." The elevator begins to shift upwards, sending even more of a pit to Amber's stomach.

Sterling takes a strand of Amber's hair between his fingers and doesn't bother acknowledging Cassius. "I've never been very good at sharing, but if Wilder lightens up a bit, he might get a turn," Sterling says Cassius's name but never breaks eye contact with Amber.

"O-kay. Let's all just reel it in a little bit," The boy from Four tries to diffuse the situation. It doesn't work.

"No," Cassius says, rage seeping through.

Amber tries to turn her head away, but Sterling doesn't let her free.

Sterling calls Cassius a crude name in response, creating a breaking point in the tension. Within seconds, Sterling is yanked from Amber and shoved against another wall of the elevator, getting another derogatory name returned. Cassius is methodological in his insults.

Sterling pushes back and spits at Cassius's shoes, and Cassius takes the opportunity to punch him. Sterling stumbles back and holds his cheek. He looks more shocked than pained.

The boy from Four steps between before it can go any further. He puts a hand to Cassius's chest before Sterling can recover. "Save it for the arena," he warns. A much more serious attempt to stop the fighting than his original interjection.

The elevator door dings open. The boy from Four spins and repeats the same thing to Sterling in a louder, more aggressive tone. Sterling balls his fist, huffs, and stalks out, yelling for his escort. He whips around as the elevator door is beginning to close. "Two, Four, and especially you, Seven, you better watch your backs in that arena!" He spits the words out, pointing in accusation. His cheek is bright red from the punch, but at least his nose is still intact. Amber's seen more serious injuries from most drunken spats between lumberjacks and mill workers.

Amber pushes herself as far into the corner of the box as she can when the door shuts. This time, she stares at the boys, deciding if she needs to dodge any more attempts to grab her. Cassius looks so different now. Yesterday he had been so casual, but now steam seems to be radiating off him.

Four curses to himself, rubbing his forehead and turning to Cassius. "I know Sterling is the biggest prick I've ever met, but you're smarter than this. Than all of us. So, try to avoid any more trouble before the first cannon even fires."

Cassius crosses his arms. "I know, but-"

"You've caused enough damage," Ren cuts him off. "I don't want to see how you could possibly make things worse."

Cassius considers his next words. Why did he care so much? He looks between Amber and the disappointed expression on the other boy's face. "I couldn't just stand back and watch."

"Yes. You could have." Four rolls his eyes. The door opens a second time just one floor above where Sterling got off. Ren shoves Cassius out, ordering him to get some sleep and to score well in the assessment tomorrow.

Cassius sticks in hand in front of the door, preventing it from shutting. "Are you okay?" he directs towards Amber.

"Yes," Amber speaks for the first time in all of this. Her eyes are wide with confusion. She smooths her sweaty palms against her pant legs. "I'm okay."

"Good." Cassius inhales, then addresses the boy from Four once more, "Do me a favor. Don't tell Elaina about this."

"Yeah, sure. I won't provoke that bear," he agrees, and the doors slide shut. "Aren't they some work?" He rolls his eyes and turns to Amber.

"I'm sorry if I've caused any problems." Amber's voice breaks as soon as it starts.

"Don't worry about it," he waves her off. "Those two were destined to hate each other. Cassius seems like a good guy, though. A bit less rational than usual this evening, but normally pretty sharp." The boy reads the confusion on Amber's face. "District Four, Ren Laurent, by the way. You're obviously Seven, but I never did hear your name."

Amber takes the hand Ren has extended and gives it a light shake. "Amber Clark."

"Well, congratulations, Miss. Amber Clark. You're the girl that just put the nail in the Career Coffin."

Amber wants to ask Ren to elaborate, but he's gone as soon as the elevator reaches his floor. Amber considers the statement. She put the nail in the coffin? Does that mean they're completely fractured? That's what Sterling's threats would suggest. A broken alliance can only help Amber's odds of returning home, so why does that make her feel so anxious?

Summary of potentially triggering content: Amber ends up alone in an elevator with the three Career boys: Sterling from District One, Ren from District Four, and Cassius. Sterling takes the opportunity to intimidate Amber, but Cassius intervenes. Cassius hits Sterling, but Ren steps in to break it up before it can go any further. After Sterling and Cassius get off at their respective floors, Ren introduces himself to Amber and congratulates her on effectively ending the Career alliance.