Training Day 2
A/N: IMPORTANT: Hey everyone, I don't really do A/Ns anymore these days, but if you're still reading this story, as a simple check-in, can ya'll like idk pm/ Discord dm me hi or smth, a review would be great but it's not necessary. Note that this will not affect how I view your tributes, I have the final placements somewhat nailed down already, I just want to check in to see how many ppl are still on this story for self-reference. Dank je wel and without further ado...
PHOENIX AVENA (17)
DISTRICT ELEVEN MALE
Phoenix tried his best to stay focused on his own Training.
Unfortunately for him, his focus tended to swivel around like one of those funny chairs in the Tribute Centre every five seconds or so.
The day before, while at the edible plants station, he'd accidentally brushed Mia's hand. Gosh, she was incredibly pretty and Phoenix found himself staring a little too awkwardly at her for a full three seconds. Mia had raised an unamused eyebrow at him, crossing her arms in a challenging stance. "You got something you want to say to me?" she demanded, her tone crisp and harsh.
Phoenix blinked. Drat, he thought to himself. Remember Phoenix, remember the trouble this sort of stuff got you into.
His mind was still so feeble, so easily spun around by anything that piqued his interest, from pretty girls (who he knew he'd have to kill to return home, he wasn't even sure he could bring himself to kill someone like Elris, let alone these older, stronger kids, Esma, for instance, looked wicked with a weapon), to expensive Capitolite technology (a little bit of those would've gone a long way in feeding his family, just saying) to those damned Careers (no idea what they were trying to achieve continuously calling him a weirdo when Phoenix didn't even respond the first time).
How the heck was he supposed to win this thing?
He'd at least gotten a bit of practice throwing knives, yes, he'd been brave enough to venture into Career-dominated territory, those idiots were dead in his eyes anyway.
The second day had barely begun and it was already worse than the first. It had taken plenty of shaking from Trish plus a bucket of ice-cold water from Chaff to even stir him from his deep slumber. Hey, he thought. Not my fault I was exhausted as heck.
Time however waited for no man, and soon Phoenix found himself being shoved into his ridiculous training suit, force-fed a couple of pastries and then shipped off into the elevator still groggy-eyed and half-dazed.
Wonderful impression this is going to make, eh?
Naturally, he'd been late for Training, receiving quite the glare from the Head Trainer, but he was barely paying much attention. His gaze shifted around the Training Centre, trying to look for Wisteria. The poor girl had looked lost ever since the Reapings, spending half her time cuddled up in the corner of her room, rocking back and forth gently like wildflowers in the wind, murmuring, "It's gonna be over soon enough," repeatedly under her breath.
It's gonna be over soon enough.
Phoenix gritted her teeth. Wisteria had made it no secret that she was planning on dying as soon as she quite literally stepped foot into that arena. She'd been talking with Seeder the other day about how she planned on jumping right off the pedestal to avoid a much crueller fate in the arena- and beyond.
Phoenix knew he had to keep an eye out for her.
Hopefully, he could conjure a few choice words here and there to try and motivate her a little, giving her some willpower to last in the arena. But as he scanned the Training landscape, his heart sank as he realised she was nowhere to be seen.
Maybe she's in the bathroom?
Phoenix crossed his fingers in a silent prayer that she hadn't gone to do something to hurt herself.
"Hey, are you gonna move or what?" Phoenix jumped and tripped over his own shoelace. Stabilising himself before he could fall, he turned to face Kieran of all people.
Damn, this kid should have a bell around his neck.
How long had he been standing there, just brooding over Phoenix? Phoenix shuddered at the mere thought of him. Kieran had spent most of Training lurking in the darkest of shadows, silently observing the other tributes with a curious look in his eye. Phoenix couldn't help but dart his eyes towards the mysterious boy, which only prompted a tempestuous glower from Kieran.
Phoenix murmured a quick apology and shuffled off towards the climbing wall. He hadn't been able to scale this yesterday during the compulsory exercise (heck, even Levi had made it pretty far on this monstrosity), so in a bid to improve his upper body strength (and save himself from the embarrassment of falling down a tree mid-climb straight into a Career's sword), he headed over there once more to try it out again.
Gazing up at the wall, Phoenix felt a rush of anxiety swirl through him like a tornado. This thing was huge, towering over even the Gamemakers' Loft and containing numerous jagged footholds and crevices that spiked out and curved in imitation of the blades and weaponry that Phoenix was going to have to face in the arena.
Oh, and loud screeches constantly rang out of a loudspeaker to mimic the sudden distractions of the arena.
With a sigh, Phoenix grabbed the harness and began to don it.
Oh well, better get started.
Just then, something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Wisteria sat behind a pillar, concealed from the rest of the Training Centre. She had her back to him and was bent over, her body trembling like leaves in the chilly winter wind.
Damn it, what's she doing now?
Phoenix threw the harness to the ground and jogged up to her. "Wisteria!" he called out, but she didn't even flinch or react in the slightest.
Wait a minute, is that-
"No, no!" Phoenix dove to the ground and in an instant, knocked a twinkling, silver blade out of her hands.
Wisteria whimpered softly, her lips trembling and contorting as she tried to formulate words but none came out. Her gaze was fixed longingly on the now-discarded knife, her hands slowly inching in its direction.
"No," Phoenix said firmly, gripping Wisteria's shoulders tightly. Her shoulders shook and she made a feeble struggle to release herself from Phoenix's grasp but to his relief, she didn't lash out and her shoulders quickly relaxed. "Wisteria, why?" he asked, his voice a mere echo of disbelief. That knife had been pointed straight at her neck, had Phoenix not been there, his face paled at the mere possibility, the dread rising through his chest.
Wisteria opened her mouth, her lips downturning into a curved 'O', her eyebrows scrunching and her eyes widening in a pleading look. She gnashed her teeth and bit her tongue, but still, no words made the trek from her voicebox to her mouth. A weak, quivering hand slowly rested itself on Phoenix's shoulder and she gave her head a light shake.
Phoenix bit his lip. He didn't know what to do or what to say, his chamber of ideas running dry as he contemplated this miserable girl who looked to be on the cusp of another breakdown.
"She loves challenges, why don't you try challenging her with something?" Seeder had told him.
A smile began to form on Phoenix's lips, prompting Wisteria to lower and furrow her brows in confusion.
"Wisteria, I challenge you to make it up that wall," he said, pointing at the climbing wall right in front of them. "If you make it further than I do, I'll, uhh, run shirtless around the jogging track." It was a stupid bet, one he knew he'd regret. And no doubt it'd be a one-way ticket into Mia and Esma's bad books, he'd already been caught staring at both of them the day before.
But Wisteria, she seemed to find it amusing. A smile, almost a smirk, curled on her lips. Wiping her tears, she shook his hand and murmured, "You're on."
Phoenix grinned, although deep inside, he was bracing for the upcoming humiliation, knowing full well that Wisteria was definitely going to smoulder him at rock climbing.
LAURA ACKERMAN (13)
DISTRICT NINE FEMALE
Laura tried her best to stay calm and keep a move on.
She danced around stations, never staying in one place for too long in a bid to keep herself away from attention. She'd already been approached by the Careers once, she hoped that they'd soon forget about her if she was never in their line of sight for too long.
Today, thankfully, they weren't having a go at her or any of her allies. The boy from Five seemed to be their principal target of the morning, although one minute of his bad puns was comically more than enough to ward them off.
Perhaps she should try a bit of humour for a change.
Ceri had opted to train alone, according to her, she'd wanted the group to have a more 'diverse array of skills'. She'd even tried to pull Jotham along with her, grabbing his arm and batting her eyelashes, but he'd politely refused, opting to follow Laura to the trap-making station instead. Laura could see the fury in her eyes, the way she glared murderously at Laura, as if by stealing Jotham's attention from her she'd committed a grave sin.
Ceri dear you really need to keep your jealousy in check.
Every time Jotham smiled encouragingly at her (he was super nice that way), Laura could see Ceri out of the corner of her eye, a disapproving frown and a longing look pasted on her face.
It was the Hunger Games, what was the point in catching feelings?
Laura sighed and with a shake of her head, she sauntered over to the far corner of the weaponry section, where the Careers didn't seem to bother venturing towards. Spotting a small rack full of a few niche weapons, she examined each one of them closely, reading the tiny labels pasted on each of them to learn their names.
"War fan, butterfly sword, Lucerne hammer," she read out, testing her grip on them and giving each of them a swing. Grabbing the war fan, she tugged on it to unravel the fan, and let out a squeak of alarm when the iron edges nearly lashed at her face.
"Okay, maybe not this one," she murmured, gingerly placing the war fan back on the rack.
"Found anything you like?" Jotham asked, marching over to join her. He glanced at the war fan she'd just handled and grimaced, his face contorting into a pained scowl. "That would be a brutal way to take someone out."
Laura nodded in agreement. She gestured at the rack. "You wanna try anything from here?"
Jotham's jaw clenched and his arm twitched at the mere sight of the assorted weapons that lay before him. Laura could understand, those things were menaces, here in a secluded part of the Centre, under the shadow of the Gamemakers' Loft, they glowered in the darkness, waiting for some unassuming teenager to pick them up for its bloody purpose.
Those things were meant to kill everyone here, including Laura.
Laura glanced back at the rack and something caught her eye. A set of three spherical weights attached to the end of three strands of rope, with a tight cord connecting the opposite ends of all three strands of rope. Peering closer at the weapon, she saw that it was called a 'bolas'. Not a common sight, but she could vaguely recall someone in a previous Games using it as a weapon.
She held it in her hands and eyed it cautiously. One wrong swing and she could take her own eye out, but if she could handle this well, this could be a pretty neat weapon to distract other tributes without necessarily killing them, although she certainly could if she attached spikes to the weights. If she recalled correctly, the last time this little menace was provided in the Cornucopia, it did have spikes. Perhaps the Gamemakers weren't ready to risk harming their little arena moneymakers too much with such an unpredictable weapon.
Whirling around, she found herself eye-to-eye with Jotham, whod been looking over her shoulder at her bolas. She stared at him, waiting for him to move aside, but he stood rooted, a deep stare boring right through Laura's vision. Their faces were barely an inch away from one another, a few strands of Laura's hair brushing the side of Jotham's face.
Well, this is awkward.
The last time someone had come this close to her, well it was Catullus. In an instant, Laura tightened her grip on the bolas. She could picture Catullus ever so vividly right then and there, standing right in front of her where Jotham stood, that sinister leer of his penetrating her soul.
"You'll never get away from me, you're mine, always and forever!"
She could still hear his voice, rising slowly to a crescendo inside her head, tearing apart her insides bit by bit. And then, she blinked, and Catullus's face and voice were gone, replaced by the frozen, awkward look of Jotham Velasquez.
"Uhm, Jotham?" she squeaked, clearing her throat. Jotham's face turned scarlet and he mumbled a quick apology before stepping aside.
She hurried off to the practice targets, empty while the Careers laughed and hollered with their swords and spears at the other side of the Training Centre. There was no available trainer here, they were all busy sparring with the Career pack and the girl from Six who'd somehow elbowed her way into a coveted sparring session.
She's got more guts than I do.
How on earth was Laura supposed to face off these tributes when even the Outliers were a class above her in fighting skills. Here she was, fiddling around with an uncommon, niche weapon while the girl from freaking District Six was excelling in a fight against Matt. Heck, even the girl from Four stopped to stare at her!
She sighed, shaking her head somberly. Jotham placed a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, still reeling from that brief memory of Catullus, but she tried to relax her muscles. "Don't look at them," Jotham advised her. "Just try to focus on yourself. Swing and throw this thing and we'll see how it goes." He gave her a wink. "Just try not to hurl it at me."
Laura flashed him a weak grin. Really, she was thankful he was around to try and cheer her up a little, acts of kindness were a rarity in Panem, the taboo on people like Totlen and the existence of the Hunger Games proved just as much. But Jotham had a golden heart, and yet, Laura knew he had to die for her to come home.
Jotham could see the hesitation in her eyes, apparently, because he told her, "Let's not think about the Games or anything right now, just this weapon, yeah? Come on, you can do it."
Laura took a deep breath. She could do this, oh, totally. Gazing ahead at the target dummy, she closed her eyes for a brief moment, then opened them again, only this time, the target dummy's figure had morphed into that of Catullus. With a loud cry of fury, she burst forward, swinging the bolas in circles in the air, somehow managing to avoid slamming her own head, and, in one, wrath-infused throw, she hurled the bolas right at the dummy with enough force to knock it right over.
She gaped at her own work, stunned that it had actually worked.
Damn, that felt good.
She glanced back at Jotham, who was now suddenly looking a lot more queasy. He shuffled his feet and chewed on his lower lip, his gaze away from her eyes.
Damn it, that may have triggered one of his memories.
"You alright?" Laura asked, her eyes flashing with concern. Had she gone too far? Was he now scared of her? The thoughts began to swirl through her mind, inflicting a rising sense of regret at even picking this stupid thing up.
He quickly shook his head. "No, no, it's fine, you did great with that dummy, you knocked her- erm, I mean, it, down real good." A smile quickly formed on his face, a sudden shift in emotions that Laura doubted was a sincere one. "We're gonna be a good team, you and I."
Laura had a million questions, but she decided to drop the matter. Jotham looked uncomfortable enough, she didn't enough to push her closest ally away from her before the Games had even begun. "We should go check on Ceri," she said.
Jotham nodded slowly, a grim look on his face. "Yep," replied, his tone a little more blunt this time.
Laura raised an eyebrow. "You don't trust her, do you?" she questioned.
Jotham shook his head and a dark cloud passed over his eyes. Laura gritted her teeth. Perhaps this had been the wrong question. "She reminds me of someone I used to know back home," he replied, flashing her a pleading look to change the subject. Laura got the hint and remained silent for a while.
As they neared Ceri, who was in the middle of a chiding session by the climbing station instructor, Laura chuckled to herself. "She's got an attitude, that's for sure. Might be helpful to us in the arena."
"Yeah, but we'll see," Jotham said. Laura glanced over and saw that he was making direct eye contact with Ceri, who obviously hadn't been paying the trainer any attention at all. In a heartbeat, the smug look on Ceri's face was wiped out and she began to play with her hair,a smile quickly tugging at her lips.
Laura sighed. Rolling her eyes, she wondered if Jotham's decision to offer an alliance to Ceri had been a rash decision by him. After all, he himself had admitted to not trusting Ceri fully, and Ceri, well, she had a thing for Jotham, it seemed. Fighter as she was, such a dynamic might end in tatters.
And even if Jotham and Ceri formed a bond, that would only leave Laura as the third wheel, trapping her in a hopeless situation.
TOTLEN MILLET (18)
DISTRICT NINE MALE
Totlen tried his best to find joy even in such a dark time.
Having spent the first day wandering between the various survival stations and picking up a few skills here and there, today, he set his sights on one station that had piqued his interest since the very first time he'd stepped foot into the Training Centre.
The camouflage station.
Yet another useful survival skill and one that Laurel had emphasized to him could be important if he planned on hiding out for much of the Games, but that wasn't the sole reason it stood out for him.
It was a chance for him to use makeup on himself whilst looking as cool as ever.
This was the main pull of the Capitol for him, right? The fashion, the makeup, all that kind of stuff. Well, whoever said camouflage had to look ugly? With a beaming smile on his face, he strutted over to the camouflage station, where an elderly lady with rosy cheeks and a kindred smile sat on a stool awaiting the arrival of any tribute willing to learn.
When she saw Totlen approach, she gave him a toothed grin, beckoning him to sit in front of her. "I see you're interested in camouflage, eh?" she asked. When Totlen nodded, she continued, "Do you have any experience with art or design? Camouflage is a true test of those skills sometimes."
Totlen gritted his teeth. This was the Capitol, surely they would be a lot more accepting of who he was, right? But his mind wandered back to the discriminatory nature of Nine and despite the excessive makeup every Capitolite male donned, he was still worried. What would Laura think of him? Or Laurel and Gwen, sitting up there in their loft, watching his every step?
He may not be in Nine anymore, but the fragmented remnants of his past in that District remained, lingering on to ravage the back of his mind.
"No, I don't," he finally responded.
The trainer gazed quizically at him, tilting her head to one side. Totlen flinched a little under her gaze but she quickly moved on, a satisfied smile appearing on her face.
What was that for?
"Now, I'm going to start off by showing you how to make some natural dyes," she told him. Reaching for a large marigold flower on a table to her left, she picked it up and placed it in a white bowl with the symbol of a primrose flower on its outer surface. Then, she grabbed a jug of boiling water and began to slowly pour it into the bowl, before using a small stick to stir the mixture. She also added a small cup of orange liquid, which smelled an awful lot like orange juice, and stirred even more. Soon, a yellow pigment began to appear in the boiling water, hues of bright yellow cascading out of the fading flower, bathing the bowl with a rich, yellow pigment.
Totlen's eyes widened. "That's so cool," he breathed.
The trainer nodded. "Yep. And marigold is one of the most common flowers in the arena. You'll find plenty of yellow, green and blue pigments in general. Alternatively, if the arena is located in an indoor setting, more often than not you'll find artificial dyes in the Cornucopia or scattered throughout the arena itself."
Totlen nodded in understanding as the trainer moved on to talk about how to actually use camouflage in the arena. She went on a bit about using leaves as a cover, using the bottle green jacket that Nines always wore to blend in with the foliage, even designing camouflaged jackets using the fabric available in indoor arenas. That bit piqued Totlen's interest in particular. "Has it ever happened before?" he asked. He had to admit, his Hunger Games knowledge was a little bit sketchy, after all, who on earth would want to remember such a horrible event?
The trainer nodded. "A couple of tributes have attempted this before, though they perished once they were flushed out of hiding by the Gamemakers. But given the right weaving skills, yes, it could work."
A spark lit up in Totlen's eyes.
Designing clothing, huh?
Now there was something he excelled in. A small, faintly dim beacon of hope began to emerge within his chest. There was a possibility now, that if the arena were to cater to his skills, if the right pieces of the puzzle came together, that he could very well stand a chance.
One look at the girl from Four judo-flipping a trainer and that beacon of hope went 'poof' into the air.
He sighed, suppressing his trembling hands as he followed the trainer to a section of the floor covered in a white plastic sheet. On a large tray, paints and dyes and little sticks and leaves were laid out, simply beckoning for Totlen to come and use them.
Totlen's jaw dropped. This was far more comprehensive than any prop set or makeup counter he'd ever seen in his life. Heck, even the bits of grain he'd used back home on the family farm were present, ready for him to use for reliving old, nostalgic memories for potentially one last time.
"I get to use all of this?" he asked, shaking his head in disbelief at the splendid collection on display.
The trainer nodded, patting him gently on the back. "How much time are you planning on spending here?" she asked.
"I'm more than happy to spend the whole day here," Totlen admitted.
The trainer beamed. "I'll give you three hours to work on it before the compulsory courses begin, I want you to camouflage yourself into the surroundings I'm about to show you." She marched over to a small projector and pressed a huge, red button. Instantly, an extensive hologram of a green forest lined with both green and yellowed grass and adorned with rocks of all shapes and sizes flickered right in front of her.
Totlen blinked. Damn, that was so cool, imagine if we Nines could get our hands on such tech.
The trainer glanced at a shiny, silver stopwatch on her wrist and pressed some buttons. A beeping sound emerged and Totlen knew it was time to get to work. With an energised grin on his face, he pounced upon the multiple brushes and dyes, licking his lips in anticipation as he began mixing the dyes together to form new hues and colours. Soon, he had his mixtures ready and began to paint on his body. It was just like applying makeup back home, except this time he had to cover his entire body, including his clothes. The trainer had given him a bottle green jacket and matching bottle green pants to paint over purely for this session in order to not mess his training clothes up too badly.
Not that he really cared about some crappy training suit anyway. It looked horrible on him.
He swirled his brush across his hands, delicately coating them with different shades of dark brown paint and woodland mud to mask his fair skin and blend in with the bark of the individual trees.
He felt at peace at this station, finally, he was doing something he truly enjoyed.
Time seemed to warp and twist while Totlen sat there painting all over himself, forming into an incomprehensible hodge-podge of matrices that Totlen lost himself in. The three hours whirled by and Totlen barely even realised it. He'd been sitting there contentedly whistling a small tune his grandmother had sung to him as a little baby about a boy who wanted to run from the fields of Nine into a bigger, brighter future in a land of snow and ice. Even when the boy from One tried to throw some snide remarks at him, he barely noticed, only looking up to just barely dodge a crumpled piece of paper thrown at him that would've definitely messed up his camouflage.
By the end of the three hours, he sat back against a tree and kept himself as still as possible.
Imagine it's the arena and the Careers are coming over, he told himself firmly.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and froze right there and then, tensing up his muscles to stop them from twitching and biting his tongue in a bid to keep as calm and collected as possible. He could hear footsteps, shuffling and scraping across the floor of the Training Centre. In the distance, a couple of kids yelled and roared about something.
Just like the arena, a bunch of unpredictable chaos.
"Well done," the trainer's voice rang out, prompting Totlen's eyes to flutter open. "That was an immaculate camouflage, I must say."
A bright, peppy grin spread across Totlen's face. As he gingerly stood up, that beacon of hope began to flash through his veins once more.
Perhaps there really was a shot at winning.
At the very least, he could use this skill to show off to the Gamemakers in the private sessions, earning himself a decent score and some handy sponsor funds. That should help to keep him afloat during his tenure in the arena.
"You better get cleaned up," the trainer implored. "They're going to call the tributes over to the special obstacle course soon."
Special obstacle course.
A shiver ran down Totlen's spine. He'd done miserably in his last compulsory course, yet this sounded a million times more ominous, striking concern right into Totlen's heart that he was going to once again screw up and make a fool of himself. Biting his lip, he trudged over to the washrooms to wash himself up.
He was not looking forward to whatever the heck this 'special obstacle course' was.
ALEA KORAH (18)
DISTRICT FIVE FEMALE
Alea tried her best to excel in Training.
Standing at the starting point of the Gamemakers' specially crafted obstacle course, she glowered ahead at the course laid out in front of her, examining each and every feature she'd have to come up against.
The course started off fairly easily, with a large slide blocked with several rocks that you had to slide around, but after that, the details weren't very clear to her, they were just out of her line of sight. She could see, however, a swamp-like feature and a few suspended elements in the mix, not the most encouraging signs but she wasn't too fussed.
After all, she had no intention of finishing high up in any sort of Training leaderboard.
Hopping up and down in a makeshift warmup, she glanced at the other tributes, who were all lined up according to District. Persey, the insufferable little brat that he was, was chewing his fingernail while murmuring what she could only hope was not another one of his darned unfunny jokes. The Careers stood tall and proud, licking their lips in anticipation as they prepared to absolutely ace this course, well except for the girl from Two, who strangely looked a little nervous, glancing about as though she were trying to make sure no one noticed her.
She's a bit of a wildcard, that one.
The boy from Ten, meanwhile, had stepped a little too close to the edge of the starting line for the trainers' comfort and was promptly told off for doing so. He shrunk backwards, his eyebrows sinking as he slouched a little, obviously a little embarrassed by the sudden attention. His District partner did a small twirl, a hopeful smile on her face but the boy accidentally bumped her as he leaned forward, causing him to tumble to the ground.
He's not going to make it far in this course, let alone the arena.
Alea blinked away the distractions and faced forward. A steady smile began to creep across her face.
Oh, she was ready to absolutely not ace this.
A whistle was blown and Alea shot forward, darting past at least five tributes (including Persey) as she threw herself onto the slide. Letting gravity take control, she steered herself away from the rock obstacles, which the boy from Eight (who'd made a surprising headstart) promptly bumped right into. Alea couldn't resist turning back to check on him for a fraction of a second. He was fine, but at least nine tributes had taken the opportunity to bypass him.
Alea grinned. So far, so good.
She dodged another rock and made it to the bottom of the slide. Dashing forward, she found herself face-to-face with a log bridge that swirled at supersonic speed. She gritted her teeth. Tucking her shirt in, she charged right in.
One foot forward, take another step, don't fall!
She waved her arms wildly as she stumbled through the course, her feet moving at a million miles per hour in a desperate bid to maintain any sort of balance amidst the rolling logs. SHe was close to the end of the log bridge now, all she had to do was-
"Argh!" she yelped. A strong blow pushed at her shoulder, sending her tumbling straight into the soft mattress right below the bridge. She let out a rather humiliating screech as she fell through the air, the wind coursing through her hair, and plopped right into a soft, cushioned landing.
Man, if only she could just fall asleep here…
"Damn you logheaded bastards!" Persey's voice rang out as he bundled headfirst into the mattress, arms flailing manically and letting out an even higher-pitched screech than Alea's. Alea rolled her eyes, clucking her tongue as Persey thrashed about on the soft mattress, howling and screaming in feigned agony.
Alright, time to get up.
She got back onto the platform at the start of the station via a metal ladder.
Take two, I guess.
She wondered who'd pushed her, but one look at who'd broken away from the rest of the group in this course and she knew exactly who the culprits were.
Those blasted Careers!
With a sigh, she braced herself, doing a tiny dance to hype herself up. She stretched her legs and flung herself into the log bridge, taking, huge, quick strides forward in a desperate bid to make it across quickly.
After all, she wanted to lose, yes, but she didn't want to lose too badly. If she got a bit of a boost now, she could relax a little later on in the safe knowledge that she'd finish comfortably in the middle of the pack.
A nice, comfortable position to slip right through the cracks.
At long last, she threw her body onto the platform at the end of the log bridge. Her body slammed hard against the thankfully cushioned platform with a loud thud. Wincing a little, she felt a sore spot on her back.
Ah well, damn it.
Glancing ahead of her, the Careers were nowhere in sight, having zipped right through the courses or perhaps been pulled out by the Gamemakers for some reason or another. The boy from Three and the girls from Six and Ten, however, were well within reach and slowly starting to pull away from the rest of the pack. Glimpsing at the gaggle of screaming kids behind her trying to regain their balance, Alea clucked her tongue.
If this shows up in the arena those guys are screwed.
Dashing away, she blazed through a short, simple track littered with more than a few hurdles, the wind billowing against her back, her feet flying across the red metallic surface. It was hardly much of a track, but still, just the feeling of being able to run gave her a fleeting sense of comfort. For a brief moment, she forgot she was in the Training Centre. Instead, she was back on the rugged streets of Five, buzzing to and fro around the various factories and laboratories, laughing and giggling with Jera all the way.
That feeling peetered off the second she arrived at the next obstacle: a series of suspended wooden planks dangling precariously above the ground, daring her to attempt a crossing.
It had already claimed its first victim: the boy from Three was down on the cushioned ground, vehemently cursing with the choicest of swear words that Alea had ever heard uttered by a thirteen-year-old. As he began to make his way to the ladder, Alea stretched her fingers.
Here goes nothing.
She put her foot on the first platform and nearly instantly felt a surge of imbalance as the plank tipped over dangerously in her direction. Clasping the rope attached to the plank with both hands as firmly as she could, Alea gingerly placed her other foot on the other side of the plank to even the sides out, allowing the shaky plank to maintain a wobbly equilibrium.
Alright, I'm doing this, this will be fine.
The boy from Three had made his way back up the ladder and was starting again on the planks, alongside the newly-arrived pair from Seven. The younger boy gripped furiously onto the ropes, swinging his body onto one plank and letting out a rather comical scream when his foot nearly slipped.
Alea gave him a cheeky grin. After all, why say nothing when there was a perfectly good little bugger right there for her to poke fun at?
"Hey there, Coda!" she called out, waving at him as she leapt to another plank, inching closer and closer to the platform. "Nice weather, isn't it?"
Coda rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up, Five girl! Focus on your own problems!"
Alea let out a loud guffaw, which only caused Coda to lose his balance and tumble right back to the ground with plenty of cursing along the way. "Cheers, mate, hope it's comfy down there!"
The girl from Seven glanced up at her, a curious spark in her eye that vaguely reminded Alea of Jera. Alea felt a pang in her chest but tried her best to ignore it. Locking eyes with the lumberjill girl, she flashed another cheeky grin. "Hello there, you're from Seven, got any soundtracks to recommend for that guy?" She pointed at Coda, who was still on the ground trying to get to his feet but his shoe looked to be stuck on something.
The girl smirked. Holding tightly to a rope with one hand, she cupped the other to her mouth and belted out, "Wah, wah, wah!", her tone slowly descending into a sound that resembled that of a sad trombone.
Alea gave her a thumbs-up as she pulled herself onto the platform. "Brilliant, perfection!"
With that, she sauntered off to her next challenge: the swamp feature. A sprawling swamp, around the size of the mayor's house back in Five, had been laid out in the Training Centre, filled with mangrove trees and hordes of mudskippers prancing around the shallow waters. In the deeper bits of the swamp, dark shadows lurked, hinting at unknown mysteries that unfolded beneath the surface.
A cold shiver went up Alea's spine.
Surely, they won't let tributes get hurt or even die before the Games even begin.
Right?
A frustrated sigh escaped her lips. Gosh, she really wished she had a home near a lake or even a river. Maybe those would have prepared her for any impromptu swimming lessons she'd have to take once Reaped.
Biting back a curse, she dipped her feet into the murky waters. The sudden chill of the water sent a shockwave through Alea's bones. She knew it might be chilly, but she hadn't expected it to be this cold. The water was far too frigid for her liking, and Alea shuddered and shivered all the way as her body waded deeper and deeper beneath the surface. She bit her tongue, folding her arms tightly in a warmth-giving self-embrace.
One squishy step at a time, she did her best to make it past the shallower bits of the swamp.
Suddenly, her left foot sunk a little. Gasping, she gazed down warily at the ground beneath the water.
Damn it, was that a mutt?
She glanced around her, the panic rising in her soul. As quickly as she could, she dragged herself until she could no longer reach the sand bar with her feet. A fish swam by, no doubt a robotic one judging by the tiny screws on the side of its neck.
Now time for the deep section.
Alea held her breath as she pushed her way through the water, her feet kicking wildly in a bid to get through the thick quagmire littered with fallen logs and malfunctioning robotic fish. She coughed a little, wrinkling her nose. The fetid stench of the marshland crawled its way up her nose, infecting her lungs with an unholy surprise the further she went into the swamp.
She definitely needed a long shower after this.
A splash rippled its way through the murk. Looking back, Alea saw Coda thrashing about, still cursing wildly at his predicament.
Suck it up, kid, shit ain't getting better.
But as it turned out, Coda was one hell of a swimmer, at least compared to Alea. He waded right past her with incredible speed, going nearly as fast as the mudskippers that now stopped to watch him, craning their heads in curiosity.
Alea let out an impressed whistle. Perhaps he wasn't just a bratty little kid after all.
She finally reached the edge of the swamp, pinching the edge of her nose as her boots emerged from the foul sludge. Behind her, the boy from Seven was quickly gaining ground on her, a dull look on his face as he effortlessly brushed past logs and clumps of dirt, his eyes blank, never blinking even once, as if his mind was on autopilot.
Alea looked away, trying to avoid his gaze as he brushed past her, jogging robotically towards the next obstacle course: a series of thin, wet platforms that protruded from the ground. For good measure, there were also giant punching bags swinging to and fro around the course.
She had the urge to rub her eyes in disbelief (only to remember her fists were caked with filth) when she saw the timid, jittery girl from Ten, the one who'd avoided everyone's gaze at all costs throughout Training and had sobbed at even the smallest of insults from the Careers, dancing past this course like it was nothing more than an average Tuesday. A bored look adorned her face as she hopped acrobatically across the platforms, expertly swerving her body with flawless balance to dodge the punching bags. Her feet danced and twirled, and if she weren't in a Training Centre and wearing standard uniform, Alea could've mistaken her for a performer in a ballet concert with those moves.
Alea balled her fists. If the lowest-ranked tribute in the odds could pull it off, so could she. Pausing to catch her breath (and allow both the shivering girl from Seven and the hysterically laughing girl from Eleven to gingerly bypass her), she cracked her knuckles and placed one foot on the first platform. She placed her other foot on it and stopped to admire the view for a while, because frankly, she had nothing better to do. From here, she could see the finish line, not too far away from her.
This is gonna be over soon, thank goodness.
As she'd predicted, the Careers were already there, five of them laughing and exchanging some crude jokes (Alea unfortunately had good hearing so she could hear all of their brown trouser bits), while the girl from Two sat in a corner twirling around what Alea could only assume was a matchstick. Just then, the girl from Four glanced back up at the course. For a split second, their eyes interlocked and the girl's lips cracked a cheeky smirk, one Alea instinctively returned.
Alea froze.
Wait, was I supposed to do that?
The girl from Four raised an eyebrow, then gave her a slow nod, as if she were trying to signal something to her.
But what?
OMEGA CENTHERS (16)
DISTRICT SEVEN FEMALE
Omega tried her best to avoid tripping on her own feet.
She darted around the circular platforms of the course, shrieking as she narrowly avoided the path of an incoming punching bag prowling menacingly for unsuspecting tributes.
"Oh, give me a break, will you?" she howled, wagging an accusing finger at the flying punching bag. The girl from Five, perched close to the beginning of the course, chuckled a little, flashing her an exasperated grin.
Kieran too, gave her an exasperated look. Minus the grin, of course. In true Kieran style, he gave her a nice, lovely scowl instead. "Maybe if you focus a little and stop whining you'll get to the end quicker," he told her grimly.
Omega rolled her eyes. A dark look passed over her eyes, the frustration with his sheer buildup of angst rising through her chest. "Cut it out, will you? You're edgier than a knife blade!" It was a terrible pun, and a pretty lame roast to boot, but for a moment, Kieran's face shifted a little. Gone was the brooding boy supercharged with eighteen years worth of pure angst. Instead, for a fleeting moment, his eyebrows creased and lips curled into an almost pouty look. He looked weak, vulnerable and the word 'knife blade' in particular seemed to have put his brains on stun. A terrified step backwards, a couple of quick, short breaths, Kieran was overheating with memories, Omega noticed, his eyes turning glassy as his mind seemed to be left shackled in a painfully dark place.
The punching bag came again and this time Kieran wasn't quick enough to react. He was sent toppling down to the ground, letting out a muffled groan when he landed.
Omega held her hands to her face.
Damn it, had she said something wrong?
She hopped onto the next platform, right in the path of the next punching bag and flung herself down to the ground. The wind soared in her ears as adrenaline rushed through her veins, but her mind was elsewhere, locked up with one, single thought: Kieran.
This was her doing, she had to go fix this herself.
She tumbled into the ground. The landing wasn't too bad, she barely even flinched, after all, her parents had given her much worse beatings, enough for her to become an expert in hitting the ground hard. Peering to her left, she saw that Kieran was still lying crouched on the ground, his wavy mop of raven black hair shielding his face from her view.
Crawling over to his side, she gently brushed aside a couple of strands of hair from his face and saw that his lips were quivering uncontrollably.
Oh fiddlesticks.
"Kieran?" she asked, her tone candied with the tenderness that she'd never heard from anyone in her life. She'd always been on the receiving end of the harshest of tones, it was a miracle of life that she'd managed to bring out any sort of care in her voice. But it was the only way she could move past the troubles of her life back home, perhaps this way, by being nice to others, those who came after her wouldn't have to suffer a similar fate.
Kiera glanced up at her, his eyes now back to flashing a dull, grim look, but he was still trembling a little. Omega risked putting a hand on her shoulder, her fingers barely touching him while her palm hovered precariously over the forbidden territory of his body.
He might punch her, for all she knew.
But he didn't. Instead, he gave her the closest thing she'd ever seen to a smile from Kieran Achlys. The corner of his mouth twitched and his facial muscles softened, his eyes glistening with a look that Omega recognised to be gratitude.
Omega hadn't said anything, yet here he was, with the tamest, mildest of looks he'd put out ever since the Reaping. If this simple act of kindness had been enough to spell out such a groundbreaking reaction by his standards, Omega wondered what Kieran's life must've been like.
Underneath that veil of shrouded mystery and darkness, there had to be a little boy in there somewhere, lost perhaps, embedded with misery, probably, but he was there, with feelings, dreams and desires of his own, just like Omega.
And those were soon to be taken away from him in the arena, if cruel fate hadn't already done so.
Omega gave him a sympathetic grin. He didn't return it, but he did give her an approving nod. Omega's grin only widened. Kieran gestured at the ladder ahead of them. "Thanks, Omega. We have to go, the other tributes will be catching up to us soon."
As if on cue, Ashton came plummeting down, swearing furiously all the way.
"You okay there, Ash?" Omega asked. Ashton didn't reply, his face was buried deep within the cushions, but he did manage a weak thumbs-up.
He'll be fine.
With that, Kieran and Omega ventured back up the ladder to the course. Omega let Kieran go first, just to give him a little bit of an extra morale boost. Up there, Omega saw that Esma, Coda and Wisteria had already finished the course and Tamsin from Twelve was nearly halfway through.
"Glad you two are back," the girl from Five, whose name Omega somehow still couldn't quite recall, called out, grinning as she stood with her arms folded primly. She hadn't moved from her platform for some reason. Omega racked her head.
What the heck was she trying to play at here?
"You're still here," Omega pointed out, frowning slightly.
The girl shrugged nonchalantly. "Eh, figured I could use a break." She turned away and began to whistle a soft tune, which only made Omega's heart race even further. The girl was an enigma to Omega, and she wasn't fervently trying to make it through the course like everyone else. Omega, as terrified of the Careers as she was, found the idea of tributes like this girl who acted unusually even more horrifying.
Who knew what went on inside their heads?
Omega flashed her a cool grin, trying to edge to her good side. The girl nodded listlessly, watching as both Kieran and Omega dashed to clear the course before at last, she made her move as well. Omega noticed that she'd glanced back to see that Ceri, Laura and Elris were hot on her heels before moving forward.
Then why was she so content to let Omega get past her just like that?
Omega shook her head. She didn't want to think about this right now, it would only snatch her away from reality. Straightening her back, she breezed past the next course, which was a fairly straightforward short climbing wall followed up with a small monkey bars section. Both of which were basically child's play to her. After all, she was from Seven, the land of treetops that sprawled for miles beyond the horizon in all directions. She'd been climbing and swinging around suspended branches (or in this case, bars) ever since she could toddle around.
She swirled her neck to stretch her muscles a little as she gazed out at the final course: a long, wide track dripping with slime and sludge and littered with gaping holes that plummeted clumsy tributes down to the ground below. Omega took a quick step forward and instantly regretted her decision. The slime had been much more slippery than she'd initially thought. An invisible force grabbed her shoe and yanked it forward, sending Omega tumbling to the ground with her arms waving frantically, shrieking all the way.
"Damn it, it's like one big ice rink!" she exclaimed, hitting the track hard on her butt with a loud boom.
Biting her lower lip, she hauled herself to her feet, extending her arms carefully to try and maintain her centre of gravity. Slowly, she slid her shoes forward, leaning her body forward by just a little, her eyes wary of the holes that lurked menacingly right in front of her. Ahead, Evie was dancing ever so gracefully like a ballerina across the track, sliding across the course with a serene look on her face, a rare yet honestly heartwarming sight given her outflow of tears just an hour ago after Maximon had threatened her. Sure, Evie was technically Omega's competitor who would be out to kill her over the next few days, but still, Omega felt a small flutter of joy seeing her relaxed even for just a few moments while she still could.
Her foot began to slip and Omega rushed to try and balance herself, straightening her back and swaying her arms and hips in an effort to avoid falling. The nearest hole was right to her left now, so she leaned to the right a little bit more. At least then if she fell, it wouldn't be headfirst into that hole.
She moved forward again, slowly but surely, doing her best to shut out the loud cursing of Coda and the soft giggles from Wisteria.
Almost there now.
She edged herself forward, inch by inch, closer and closer to the platform at the end of the course. But she wasn't gaining ground fast enough. Soon, tributes began to pour in, ready to challenge her for her position amongst the Outlier pack.
Crouching down, she got on her knees and slowly hovered her hands over the uber-slippery ground.
Just like how it's done back home.
She'd done this plenty of times before en route to escaping her monstrous parents, she could certainly do it again. Crawling her way to freedom was certainly an Omega speciality, she couldn't afford to mess this up now of all times.
Skirting her way around a couple more holes, slowly but surely, she was getting there. A rush of energy surged past her and Omega glanced up just in time to see Elris bursting past her, huffing and panting as he tried to skid his way through the course.
Oh no, please don't-
"Ack!" Omega had prayed she was wrong (no idea why, Elris after all had to die for her to live, right?), but it was inevitable. Elris took a plunge right through a well-hidden hole hiding at just the right angle behind a rubber obstacle. She winced as he thundered to the ground, groaning in agony.
But this time, there was no way of helping out.
She shook her head sadly, the cruel magnitude of the Games weighing over her as she watched the Careers roar with glorified ecstasy at the sight of Elris's pained figure.
How she wished she could pull Elris into a hug and cheer him up with a joke or two.
However, she was already at the end of the course and she had no time to spare. Clumsily getting up on her feet, she wobbled a little, struggling to maintain her footing even on dry land, no thanks to the slime spread like thick icing across the soles of her feet.
"Let's go, Omega!" Groggily looking up, Omega found Esma among the small crowd of finishers, pumping her fist in Omega's direction, a beaming smile on her face.
Omega couldn't let Esma down now.
Beside Esma, Evie sat cross-legged on the ground, narrowing her eyes at Omega.
A tough read, this one.
Omega was vaguely aware that Coda, Kieran and Wisteria were snapping at her heels and the girl from Five and the Twelve pair weren't too far behind either. Bounding on her feet (and nearly tumbling over), Omega raced forward, scrunching her face as with a last, exhilarating gasp of air, she surged ahead of the pack, straight towards the finish line. A trademark silly smile pasted on her face, she leapt across the red line demarcating the end of the course and crumbled to the ground, heaving a huge sigh of relief, a smattering of chuckles escaping her lips.
There were hearty cheers and pats on the back from Esma.
There were eye rolls from the pair from Four.
There were delighted claps from Olive up in the Gamemakers' Loft.
Omega didn't care. The world turned black, the thrill of the chase quickly eroding to let exhaustion and fatigue seep in.
ALLIANCES:
Alder (D1M), Fleur (D1F), Maximon (D2M), Ronan (D4M), Quianna (D4F)
Tamsin (D12F), Elris (D12M)
Elris (D12M), Levi (D8M)
Jotham (D10M), Ceri (D8F), Laura (D9F)
Omega (D7F), Esma (D6F), Ashton (D6M)
Ithaca (D3F), Persey (D5M)