okay, sorry for the long wait. i have been busy so i took a backseat on writing. but i'm back!
some important notes: i am switching to present tense for the rest of the story, i made the mistake of writing in past tense for the past eleven chapters, but i'm fixing that not
anyways, i hope you enjoy this chapter! they're now officially in the capitol! let me know what your thoughts are!
Chip Babbage, 16
district 3 female
If there is a medal for being stupid, her district partner surely earns it.
"Can you shut up," Chip finally snaps as the train passes through a tunnel and Waylen's sobs seem to be amplified in the tiny space they were stuck together in. "None of us want to be here, the least you can do is man up and stop whining about it."
Waylen wipes away his tears, eyes bloodshot as he nods, and Chip wonders what she must have done in her past life to deserve this fate. Hopefully there are more competent people from the rest of the districts that she could scare into allying with her. No one younger than sixteen though, the thirteen years old boy she is stuck with for the past hour has helped Chip make up her mind. If she is coming out of this game alive, no sobbing children are going to pull her down.
The train pulls up into the station, and crowds of people gather around as Waylen presses his snotty face into the window, leaving a circle of fog from his breath. Chip rolls her eyes in annoyance but presses her face to the window regardless. There are people dressed in all varieties of clothes, and Malice stands stiffly behind them, arm crossed across his chest and feet shoulder width apart to stabilize himself as the train squeaks to a stop.
Rilina comes out of her room as the train stops, purse on her shoulder with a sigh of relief. She has been sick in her quarter since the train pulled out of the station in district 3, and if Chip feels more, she would have felt for their escort. "I hate trains."
"You could've declined the escort job, you know? You weren't forced," Malice rolls his eyes as the cheering grows louder and Waylen glances at them in awe while Chip watches with a permanent scowl on her face. She doesn't understand why the capitalist feels the need to dress up in flashy clothes when there are more comfortable choices in clothing.
Rilina scoffs at that prospect. "And miss my moment in the spotlight? I think not. I am more than capable of being in this position."
She walks off the train with her head high while Malice shrugs and follows behind her. He catches Rilina as she stumbles walking off the train, Rilina huffs, patting her dress before standing stiffly by his side with her head high. The motion is so familiar that Chip knows for a fact that isn't the first time Rilina has fallen walking off the train.
"I am not holding you if you fall," Chip warns Waylen as the younger boy walks off the train. She walks off with her head high as well, ignoring the loud cheerings as the door of the train cart closes behind her, and not for the first time, Chip feels like the Hunger Games are real. Real in the sense that this is it, there is no going back. She has now officially taken her step in the capital, and there the next time, she will either walk back into the train cart victorious or she wouldn't walk back at all.
Waylen sticks to her side throughout most of it, to the point where Chip has to shove him a few times in case he gets any idea about becoming allies. Malice has advice for it, but Chip will rather go into the arena alone than to ally with a dead weight (she will say no offense but she means every offense).
Malice leads the way through the crowd that have gathered, and peacekeepers frame their side with guns on their hips. For a moment, Waylen looks ready to make a run for it, and Chip grabs him by the collar before he could go anywhere.
"If you make us the locking stock of the district before we even get into the arena, there will be hell to pay," she hiss through her teeth, and Waylen whimpers but continues to drag his feet through the platform. Malice leads them into a small room, where a seating area is arranged in a circle. The peacekeepers close the metal door behind them, a click echoing in the empty room.
Then they're alone.
"Chip is being mean to me," Waylen complains to Malice, who sighs in response.
"Okay kids, there's no reason for you to fight," Malice holds back Chip before she could land a punch on the thirteen year old. She is not above hitting a kid, as those in the orphanage could tell everyone. In her defense, they were being rude and annoying. Annoying kids deserve to be punched and taught a lesson. "Chip."
"He started it when he almost shoved me off the platform back in the district!" Chip glares, her mind flashing back to the unfortunate fall that almost cost her life. The gap between platforms should really be made smaller, and Waylen stumbling into her did not help anything. The only reason she is alive right now is because a peacekeeper grabbed her arms, and she doesn't like owing her life to one of those soldiers.
"It was an accident," Waylen shrinks more into himself if possible, his arms crossed over his chest with a pout on his lips. "I didn't know you would stop in the middle of the road."
"OH! So it's my problem?" Chip growls, and Malice tsk and holds the older girl back. She struggles against his hold. "Let me punch him, it'll be better for our districts."
"We do not fight before we enter the arena, especially not our district partner," Malice childs. "This is how the capital gets to us. Children, be civil. I don't care if you choose to part ways in the arena, but for now, please at least try to get along."
Waylen stuck his tongue out at Chip in triumph, and the latter flip him off.
"All bets are off in the arena, buddy."
Malice sighs, Waylen whimpers again, and Chip smirks.
Trent Kassady, 18
district 4 male
The metal door click shuts behind Trent, and Diya claps her hand in excitement while Palila looks around curiously. "Okay people, this is where we talk strategy."
Bay, the other victor who Trent didn't see until the end of the train ride, has her long dark hair flat against her back. Her brown eyes are knowing, and Trent finds himself feeling small under her gaze. "What about we cut that excitement down to a fifty percent, Diya."
"You're one to talk, you have more energy than all of us here," Diya rolls her eyes and flops down on the couch, where Palila sits stiffly, eyes still wandering the room.
"I thought I should tone it down a bit, you have more than enough energy for us here," Bay teases, the first trace of smile that Trent has seen on her face. He remembers seeing her in the 148th games, eyes wide and excited in all her interviews and parades. She talks of her upbringing, and her ability to excel against all criticisms. Then the fear that has bestowed upon her the second she rose up into the arena, on the top deck of a cruise ship surrounded by water.
There is no doubt in everyone's eyes that she has skills, when she's within the safety of the walls of the cruise, her skills are unmatchable. But when she is on the deck, she stumbles and Trent knows that if it wasn't for Neptune, she probably wouldn't have made it to the end. Theirs was a sad story, and Trent remembers watching anxiously in his room when the final showdown happened. Afterall, only one leaves the arena (besides the one mishap in the 74th hunger games).
"You two are going to ally, right?" Bay turns towards both Palila and Trent. Palila nods eagerly while Trent just shrugs. "Cool. That's cool. Some of the strongest career alliances stem from intradistrict, and I think in the long run, this will be highly beneficial."
Palila nods quickly in agreement, while Diya frowns. "I told them that it is important to seeks out stronger outliers and if applicable, ask them to join the alliance."
There is a moment of silence, then Bay bursts out laughing, patting Diya on the back. "HAHAHA GOOD ONE! That's so funny, thank you, you made my day," but Diya remains silent, and Bay sobers up. "You're joking. Are you joking?"
"Umm no, I am not joking."
Bay looks around the room, a strange expression crossing her face as Trent watches the two mentors curiously. "Cool, yeah that's a good idea. I mean what do I know right? This is only my first time mentoring."
Bay sounds resigned and she laughs awkwardly. Trent clears his throat while Palila speaks up. For the first time, Trent is glad that his district partner is so vocal. Even if she seems a little out of touch and naive, that is something that could benefit him in the long run. "Well, I think it's important to look out for tributes in the outer districts who may present with abnormally good skills, I think it is important to keep in mind that the career alliance is tentative at worst and solid at best. We don't know what the other tributes are like, but if I were to make any guess, the ones and twos won't take lightly being told to add outer district tributes into the alliance."
All eyes fall to her, and Palila blush and look away. "I mean that's just what I think. I think if we were to win this year, we should get to know the people in the careers well."
"I'm thinking of brushing up on some survival stations, mostly the edible plants session. I've heard of horror stories where people die of hunger," Trent speaks up after a moment of silence.
"Me too!" Palila's eyes light up as she turns her full attention to Trent. "I've taken some medic training too in the academy, so I think survival wise we are pretty set. Also, I think that's an important set of skills that can really benefit us in the future."
Trent nods in response.
"Okay, that's good," Diya speaks up, clapping her hands. "As soon as Barley gets back from his bathroom break, we can get going. He will brief you in on interactions and relationships necessary to keep sponsors and for interviews. Think about a word you want the capital to see you as. Your stylists have already prepared a theme for this year's parade, but giving them a word on how you want to be viewed could be extremely beneficial."
"Any recommendation to gain sponsors?" Trent questions.
Bay speaks up this time. "Sponsors are rich people who crave a good show. They care about your skills, they need you to be impressive, that's one of the main reasons they will bet on you. But really, you need to be likable, you need to be able to put on a show. They crave entertainment, they want someone who could perform. You two are lucky, you have the career title on your name, so more sponsors would be willing to sponsor you, but that doesn't automatically mean that your skills are good. Maybe everyone in the arena sucked that year, maybe that was why you were chosen. No one knows."
"And we have one unpredictable volunteer this year in both ones and twos, although they may make a good show, no one knows their skills level," Diya adds, and Trent frowns at that information, wondering if he should've watch the reaping recap when Palila offers to watch it with him.
"The district one girl knows the district one boy, so they might've met in the academy. He told her that he knew it would be her, so I think she has skills," Palila offers. "The district two boy looks violent, he punches his way to the stage with the other district two volunteer, who I think was the one who was actually supposed to volunteer."
Diya studies Palila as if she finally sees her for the first time. But before she could respond, the metal door burst open and Barley stumbled in, looking disheveled. "Okay people, the stylist is ready, and I'm ready, we can talk PR while you two get dressed!"
Peacekeepers stand behind them while they are being led inside the large building of the training center. Barley rushes to the restroom again the second they walk into the stylist's part of the center. Diya rolls his eyes and Bay shrugs.
"Food poisoning, I think."
Trent looks around the entrance, where a few other tributes also linger outside the door to the stylist. There's one guy who is escorted into a room, hands tied behind his back with two peacekeepers escorting him in and Trent watches in curiosity, before the door in front of him opens and he walks into the room.
Asher Jackson, 14
district 12 male
Maisie is arguing with their escort the second the metal door slam shuts, and Asher sits in the corner, as far away from the action as possible.
District 12 haven't had a victor in over two decades, which isn't a shock considering that most of their tributes in past years had been younger kids who's barely surviving. After the failed rebellion in the 75th Hunger Games, district 12 has been the worst off (if possible). Sometimes Asher dreams of the better days, where he lives with his family in a prosperous district, where there isn't a fear of getting reaped because there are always volunteers lined up, ready to go into the games.
"Do you even know what you're doing?" Maisie's voice echoes around the small room, and Diana glares back, head tall. "You have one job, goddammit."
"I'm sorry, your highness, that my best isn't what you wanted," Diana flashes the brunette a fake smile. "It isn't like I have twenty years of experience dealing with every district twelve tributes that have ever been reaped."
Maisie raises an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm sorry, how many of those tributes have come back alive in your twenty years of escorting?" There is a moment of silence, and Asher looks between the two women like a tennis match. Diana's eyes flashes dangerously. "Oh right! NONE! Out of all the fourty kids you have watch go into the arena, NONE OF THEM CAME BACK ALIVE!"
"IT'S NOT MY FAULT ALL THOSE KIDS ARE USELESS WITH NO POTENTIAL!" Diana exclaimed, and Maisie growled in response. "It's not my fault neither of you have a mentor because no tribute sent in there has a semblance of chance. And without a mentor, your chances of winning the games goes down even further! The odds aren't in your favor, you need to come to terms with it!"
"Maybe we could just calm down-"
"SHUT UP ASHER!" Neither Diana nor Maisie glances at his way, but he still shrinks down into the couch. They have been arguing since the train ride, about what? He has no clue. But whenever Asher thinks that they're done arguing, another argument starts up about the way Diana is chewing her food, or the way Maisie is sitting. If he didn't know better, he would've thought that they knew each other.
Asher turns towards the wall television behind him instead, watching as the reaping recap plays in the background.
The careers are as expected, save for the one guy who fought another one for the volunteer spots. And every district after that showcases a typical kid one would see at a reaping. Asher glances through their faces, wondering who would likely ally with him. He doesn't want to go into the arena alone, and the chances of him going into the arena with Maisie is slim to none.
"-STUPID. YOU CAN'T KILL SOMEONE IF YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT!"
"WELL, MY LIFE WILL NEVER DEPENDS ON IT!" Diana screams back, and they stop only when the Peacekeepers come in and lead them towards the stylist's room.
Asher looks at the building in amazement, from the light glistening off the glass building to the circular waiting room the peacekeepers lead them to. There are small groups of people around, and Asher catches the first glimpse of other tributes that will be with him in the arena.
He stops in front of a door, and Diana sighs and turns to Asher, refusing to meet Maisie's hard glare. "Beyond their door in your stylists. They will dress you for the chariot ride, tribute parade, whatever you want to call it. Do try to smile a little-" she glances at Maisie, who scoffs. "-This will be the capitalists' first impression of you. You guys come from twelve, they will barely spare you a glance after. If you don't make a good or lasting impression, you will not be going home. And come to think of it, neither of you looks like you have potential to."
The last sentence is spoken absentmindedly, but it still hurts. Maybe it's because he has the tendency to dream, but Asher feels as though there is still a possibility that he will go home victorious. He could imagine waking up in the victor's village, surrounded by his family and the warmth of the room. Taking a walk in the morning with Cole, daydreaming in school but it doesn't matter because he will have more money than he knows what to deal with.
"Go fuck yourself," Maisie growls, walking into the open door towards her stylists before Diana could utter another insult. Diana flips the door off, and Asher glances at his closed doors.
"That girl will sent me to my early grave," Diana sighs loudly, and Asher rubs the back of his neck.
"Umm… I'm sorry, ma'am?"
"It's okay, I'll see you on the other side," Diana smiles tentatively, just a small uphill tilt of her lips, before she disappears with the other flashy escort. Asher stares at the door in front of him.
More and more people disappear into their room, and soon it is just Asher and another guy, with dark curly hair and wide brown eyes. They share a look, and Asher smiles. The other guy gives him a half wave.
"Is your stylist late too?" Asher calls out to the other guy. "Do you think we're the last ones?"
"Maybe they're just preparing because their designs for us are so awesome that they need more time," the other guy calls back, shrugging. "What's your name?"
"Asher. You?"
"Thorn," the other guy response. "Hopefully they don't put me in an agricultural outfit this year."
"At least it's not coal," Asher shrugs, and Thorn laughs.
"Yeah, I'll salute to that," Thorn salutes as he walks into his room as the door opens. Asher sits anxiously on the ground, before the door finally opens in front of him.
He takes a large breath, before taking his first step into the room.
okay, Bay is my VE with Fiona11303 called "Fearless: The 148th Hunger Games" which i'm publishing in a bit. but here's a sneak peak for now about her game ;)