Hi guys! Welcome to another chapter.
Happy March by the way, I hope you had a good St. Patrick's Day.
Enjoy the first phase of the training chapters.
~ Meghan
"Stop quoting laws, we carry weapons!"
- Pompey the Great, 106 BC - 48 BC, Roman Republic/Empire
The Training Begins.
...
Training Day I - Pt. I
...
Finnegan Armani - 18 y.o. - D1
...
- Training Center Floor 1 -
Finnegan awoke to the sun streaming between skyscrapers.
He took his time showering and watching all traces of the previous night's parade swirl down the drain. The cold water hit his face, washing away the fuzzy drowsiness he couldn't let linger. They'd been up late celebrating. But it was the dawn of a new day. An important one.
When he finally headed back to his room, the pajamas Finnegan had picked out the night before - a soft set in his favorite color, a muted red shade, like a bed of dying embers - were gone. Someone had made up the bed that he'd left purposefully strewn about (after years of his parents chastising him to make his bed a particular way, it only felt appropriate to start his Capitol stay in his own way.) Laying on the refitted duvet was a cherry red tunic, reminiscent of his reaping shirt, along with a pair of dark fleece pants.
Finnegan dressed quickly. He laced up the leather boots left by the door, watching as the gold bracelet on his wrist glinted in the amber rays of morning light.
"I thought you might like a token for the arena," Morris had said in the Justice Building.
It was after Finnegan's parents had visited him with all their proud tears and jubilation about having a victor for a son - and always in that order. Finnegan had gritted his teeth through it and played the part of dutiful child that he'd perfected over eighteen years. When Morris Feldon had stepped in the doors next, Finnegan's heart had missed a beat. His parents didn't question it, though, and neither did his friends waiting in the hall. Morris had been his trainer for five years. Why wouldn't he see Finnegan to send him off for the Games?
But the look they shared, the way that Morris smiled sadly, was more than that.
"Congratulations, Finnegan."
"Thanks. I owe a lot to you."
"You deserve everything you earned yourself," Morris returned easily.
Finnegan stared at his trainer for a moment and thought of all the words that were dying in his throat. Outside in the hallway, he could hear the chatter of the people waiting to come in and congratulate him. They had no idea who Finnegan truly was, and that's how he wanted to keep things. Besides, how many times had he and Morris set out to have a training session that turned into flirtation and hidden kisses?
Morris had just turned twenty a couple months ago, back when things became more serious for Finnegan - because summer was going to end with him in the Hunger Games. He was going to be broadcasted in front of Panem. His relationship was a secret he couldn't keep much longer. Whatever he'd had with Lionus was casual, but this felt like it could become more. So he'd ended things with Morris a few weeks before the reaping.
As much as the idea of dying in the arena still instilled a primal fear in Finnegan, his own terror about his parents finding out about Morris - or Lionus Nording, the other romance - was even more pressing. He wasn't scared of much, but when it came to those two things, he couldn't tell which one was worse. They just terrified him in different ways.
"It would've been wrong of me to keep asking you to lie about yourself," Morris had finally said, breaking the silence in the ornate room of the Justice Hall. "Personal situations aside."
Finnegan didn't step away when Morris pressed his lips against his cheekbone. A hidden token. A final goodbye kiss. Because even if Finnegan came out of the arena with a crown on his head, it was over between them, and maybe Morris was saying goodbye to that side of Finnegan too.
"Morning," Wallace Winston said as Finnegan walked into the dining room.
With a smile to his mentor, Finnegan nodded at the sideboard covered in food. "Good morning. May I serve myself?"
Wallace waved a hand. "Take as much as you want. They'll serve lunch down in the gymnasium, but you'll need all your energy for this morning."
Finnegan took a plate and went down the line of dishes. He'd always had enough to eat back home, but the food in the Capitol was particularly... well, capital. He avoided eye-contact with the Avox down at the end as he ladled rice and stew onto his plate. For as much as his parents had praised the Capitol growing up, the Avoxes had been a shock to Finnegan. It just seemed like a strange anachronism among all the wealth and excess to see someone who had their very voice cut out. The idea made him too uncomfortable, like it was personal, so instead he just focused on collecting all the green vegetables on the buffet before sitting down.
Wallace didn't speak, and Finnegan happily ate in the easy silence.
Between bites of stew, he snuck glances at his mentor.
At the wizened old age of nineteen, Wallace hadn't exactly been Finnegan's first choice as mentor. The guy leaned back in his chair, drinking orange juice and watching the sun rise higher over the sparkling Capitol. With his button-up blue shirt, blond hair and aqua eyes, Wallace looked like he could almost be related to Finnegan. The idea didn't exactly assure confidence.
But, Finnegan had to remind himself, Wallace had been in the arena and made it out alive, so that counts for something.
Laughter floated from the hallway before Amethyst and Luster Ballantynn appeared.
"Good morning," Amethyst said, bubbly as ever. She was dressed in an almost identical outfit to Finnegan, but her tunic was of the same violet as her reaping dress.
"Morning, ladies," Wallace answered, as if they'd known each other for years.
After fixing her plate, Amethyst gracefully took the seat next to Finnegan, tossing him a smile almost as bright as her diamond earrings. "Ready to meet the competition?"
Finnegan smiled back. "I think it's time District One shows the rest of the tributes who the hell they're up against."
"Speaking of which," Luster said, "it's just a formality, but we're required to ask you both if you'd prefer to be trained together, or separately. In case one of you has a skill they'd like to keep secret."
Finnegan met Amethyst's turquoise eyes and knew they were thinking the same thing. They'd been training together for years at the academy. There wasn't anything skill-wise to hide, even if he'd wanted to. He already knew his district partner's strength profile: hand-to-hand combat, agility, and ranged weapons with archery in particular. He knew that she was probably reviewing the same profile for him, too, right down to his affinity for melee weapons.
Finnegan finally looked at their mentors, and knew he spoke for the both of them. "Together."
Luster smiled. "Then it's settled. During training today, you both need to put up a cohesive front. You're going to have eyes watching you. It's not a first impression you want to let slip."
"The tributes from Two and Four are the traditional allies for us, of course," Wallace added. "Stick with them and you'll be fine."
Finnegan waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. His mentor just drank another sip of juice and waited for Luster to talk.
"It's worth a look at the others," she finally added, "especially since the girl from Two this year is still questionable. Spend some time getting comfortable with how the other tributes operate."
They returned to their breakfast, exchanging little pleasantries between bites now-and-then. Finnegan made them laugh over a story from school about a bird stealing someone's throwing knife, and he tried to ignore the mix of excitement and nervousness rising in his chest as the sun climbed the morning sky.
The elevator dinged at five minutes to ten. Finnegan had just stood up, allowing the Avox to clear his plate away.
"You two are the new Capitol darlings!"
Tryphaena beamed as she strolled into the apartment. She fluttered a lace fan and blinked crystal-tipped eyelashes. "I have had quite the morning fielding questions from potential sponsors. The stylists were too daring this year, I thought, but it paid off. You're the talk of the town!"
Finnegan smiled. He hadn't been sure what to expect when Dionysia had told him about the costumes. District 1 never failed to have a spectacular costume of some sort for the parade; starting the whole thing off with a bang was practically their signature now. But then his stylist had unveiled the garment.
"The rings of Saturn are made of rock fragments and ice." Dionysia had given Finnegan a grin. "Ice for our two diamonds this year."
And they'd quite literally outshone the others already.
"We owe it all to the prep teams, and the stylists," Finnegan said smoothly. He followed Tryphaena into the elevator, and held the doors for Amethyst.
"Pretty bracelet," she cooed, peering at his wrist. "Is it your token?"
Finnegan leaned back against the elevator as it hummed to life. "It is, but it's not as nice as your earrings."
She laughed. "You flatter me. Actually, I'm just hanging onto the earrings for as long as I can, but my bracelet is too. I didn't want it to get ruined at training, my parents gave it to me on my last birthday. Let me guess, did your parents give you yours too? You mom always has nice jewelry."
Finnegan gave a quick smile. "Just a friend."
He'd never been the best at hiding his emotions, but if Amethyst noticed anything off she didn't comment on it.
The elevator slowed. The whole thing couldn't have taken more than fifteen seconds, but then again, the apartment for District 1 was the lowest. The trip down to the underground wasn't all that far. Still, Finnegan almost wished it had taken a bit longer for him to prepare. His whole life had led up to this. He was determined to make the most of it.
He lifted his chin as the doors opened.
The bright lights of the gymnasium and the smell of rubber matts greeted him.
Inside, a half-circle of tributes stood around an older man. Tryphaena winked at Finnegan and Amethyst before heading back into the elevator, whisking her away. The second their escort was gone, someone was pinning a paper sheet with a '1' onto Finnegan's back. He was already scanning the other tributes.
Finnegan couldn't see their numbers, and he was still learning their faces. Not that it mattered. Most of them immediately looked away at the sight of the two tributes from District 1. Some still snuck glances, like the redheaded girl from 7 that Amethyst had pointed out in the stables the night before. The tiny boy from 11 also stared curiously, as if he couldn't help his curiosity.
Then Finnegan's gaze settled on the pair from District 2. They were unmistakable from the way they carried themselves, differently from the others - arms folded and with an air of belonging. It was the kind of self-awareness that came from years of training. It was a look that Finnegan knew he had too. They stood away from each other, though, backs turned in a way that he didn't miss.
The boy from 2 - the one with the scar just below his dark eyes - met Finnegan's gaze. He gave the smallest nod.
Finnegan curved a corner of his lips up in a smile. When he noticed the tributes from Districts 4 weren't there yet, he leaned over to Amethyst. "I don't think all of our potential allies are here. We're a bit early."
"It's fashionable to be early," Amethyst murmured back, and tossed her ponytail. "Let the others watch us."
Finnegan's eyes skimmed over the various stations set around the gymnasium.
The past two days had been the longest he'd taken off training, bar being sick. He ached to have a sword back in his hands, to be doing something familiar, something he knew he was the best at. Fighting was something he genuinely enjoyed. The noise of swords clanging and watching how metal shone in motion was an art that Finnegan had learned until it was inseparable from himself.
Today, he was going to be second to no one.
Raven Night - 18 y.o. - D12
...
- Training Center Gymnasium -
Raven felt her face flush when everyone turned towards her.
She and Darien were the last to arrive in the gymnasium even though it was only a minute past ten.
Behind them, Julius gave a single nod, blue curls bouncing, and went back to the elevator. Raven couldn't help but feel like their escort was leaving them with a pack of wolves. A second later, someone was pinning a number '12' to her and Darien's backs. She couldn't bring herself to look over at her district partner, worried he might see the panic in her eyes, and just focused on the floor before a shrill whistle blew.
The older, dark-skinned man at the center of the tribute-crescent lowered his whistle. He swept his gaze over them all, and Raven swallowed. "Welcome. My name is Iasus, and I'll be overseeing your training. Over the next three days, you will have the chance to learn the art of survival. How much you retain is up to you. But within three weeks, twenty-three of you will be dead."
A wave of dizziness passed over Raven. She pressed her leather boots into the floor, trying to steady herself.
"One of you will be alive. Who it is will depend on how well you listen to what I have to say. Most of you will die from combat, but twenty percent will die from exposure, and ten percent from infection."
Raven couldn't bear to watch Iasus speak anymore. She took a moment while everyone was distracted to peek at the others, scanning the mix of nauseas and terrified expressions. Some definitely didn't share her own fear, though. The girl from 6 yawned as she picked at her nails. The boy from 5 - the volunteer - had a placid look. The boy from 10 had his arms folded and jaw clenched. And, of course, the Career tributes looked borderline excited. The girl from 1 swayed the slightest bit, as if to sprint to a weapon at the first signal. The boy from 4 noticed Raven staring, and looked over at her with a smirk.
She tore her eyes away and stared at Iasus.
"Finally, no fighting with the other tributes. Leave the fighting for the arena. You'll have plenty of time there."
Iasus finally blew his whistle and footsteps echoed throughout the gymnasium.
Raven glanced over at Darien. "I'll... um, I'll see you at lunch? If you want to eat together. If not, it's okay."
He smiled. "Sounds great. I'll see you then." He turned and walked away, and Raven almost called out for him to stay.
She felt more alone with every passing second.
Glancing over her shoulder, Raven was startled to see almost everyone had already dispersed. Metal was already ringing throughout the gym as the trained tributes had found their way to the weapons.
She forced her legs to move and started walking in a random direction, keeping her gaze straight ahead. Considering how much her stomach still ached from all the food at breakfast, the obstacle courses were out of question for a while. So was anywhere with a Career. As Raven got closer to whatever empty station was in front of her, relief made her shoulders relax.
Snares.
The trainer brightened at having someone at his station already.
"Any experience with knot-tying?" he asked Raven, handing her a length of wire.
She laughed quietly. "You could say that."
"You could give some of the black market hunters a run for their money, Raven."
"You flatter me, Luna. It's really not as hard as it looks."
"I don't understand how you can remember all these snares and little traps..."
"The district library might be small, but some of the books there are pretty useful."
The conversation with her sister one afternoon felt so long ago now. It was only last year, but it might as well have been a decade ago. Raven's hunting in the meadow hadn't been something she'd planned. But that was before the sickness spread throughout District 12 when she was sixteen, and left her and her siblings without parents. Her siblings had steady jobs, but the extra meat in the winter wasn't something Raven could imagine going without now. What they didn't need, she traded for other food, clothes, or medicine.
She knew some people in the district went beyond the fences. She'd never been brave enough to cross through them. The childhood stories of bears and wolves kept her at bay. But catching any of the rabbits and squirrels that wandered into the meadow was a perfectly gray legal area. The Peacekeepers turned a blind eye, and sometimes bought her quarry, and she went on her way.
Raven's fingers twisted the wire without her needing the trainer's prompting. She formed the tiny loop, feeding the rest of the wire through it, and held up a small noose.
The trainer applauded. "And you know where it goes?"
"Over a rabbit burrow," Raven said. Her voice became more confident as she spoke. "It's called a fixed snare, one of the best basic ones."
"Well done," the trainer said.
He began to quiz her on other snares, and she matched him on several. The got more complicated and for bigger game that Raven had never encountered in the meadow. He showed her how she could enlarge the fixed snare, tie it to a cord between two trees, and catch a deer. All she'd need after that was a knife, and she'd have more food than she knew what to do with in the arena.
"It's best to focus on small game since you may not have a cold enough arena to store extra meat," the trainer added. "But food is food. I think you're smart enough to know that."
Raven finally smiled.
After spending what must've been an hour and a half, she thanked the trainer and promised to return tomorrow to refresh her memory with the new snares. She turned around to observe the activity in the gymnasium. It had been easy to block everything out while making the traps, but she couldn't stay at the snares all day - no matter how much she wanted to.
Raven watched a tribute draw back the string of a bow at the archery station. It was the girl from 2, the one who was younger than most Careers. But no one would know by the way the arrow skewered a dummy right in the heart.
With a shudder, Raven searched for a less intimidating option.
Over at the spear station, the tall boy from 6 was getting a lesson from the trainer. The blonde boy from 9 was climbing up to the ceiling on a ropes course. The pair from 11 - the only ones aside from the tributes from 1, it seemed, who had stuck together - were at the edible plants station. At the camouflage station, only one tribute was bent over the table with a paintbrush in hand.
Raven took a deep breath. It would have to do. She walked over, nodding at the trainer, and stopped at a table littered in natural materials and paints.
She'd never really been the best at art, but she wasn't the worst. Selecting a paint brush, Raven rolled up the sleeve of her maroon tunic and compared her arm to some green leaves. As she began selecting shades of paint, she snuck a glance at the other tribute further down the table.
It was the girl from District 3.
Raven didn't need to see the number on her back to recognize her. The girl was the one with a face more on the thin side, and her two front teeth that stuck out the slightest bit. What was her name? Maybe Anna?
The younger girl had her tan arm flipped over, painting it in a multitude of vibrant colors that matched the flowers scattered in front of her. The whole thing was beautiful beyond any picture Raven had ever made. It matched the shades of the petals right down to the dapples of sunlight sprinkled across the girl's skin.
"That's beautiful!" Raven blurted.
The girl flicked her gaze towards Raven. "Okay," she said simply, turning away.
Raven felt her cheeks heat. Even the trainer had a confused look on his face, which didn't help. Had she offended her? Sure, the compliment was random, but... she was just saying something innocent. Keeping her head down, Raven focused on her own paints and tried to seem absorbed in shade-matching leaves. Even with the trainer's advice, she still struggled to accurately camouflage her arm.
"Your lines are too sharp."
Raven turned to the girl from 3, shocked she'd spoken.
The girl pointed at the leaves with the end of her own paintbrush. "Shapes in nature aren't usually that harsh. You need to soften them a bit. You're just drawing attention to yourself."
Swallowing, Raven forced herself to respond, trying to keep her voice from becoming too quiet. "Thank you. I really appreciate the advice."
The other girl nodded once.
Raven tried what she had suggested, aware of the other girl's eyes on her as she did so. Back home, Raven had never really been good with talking to others in class. She'd been well-liked, she supposed, but anytime someone asked her to go somewhere or hang out after school, she always turned them down. She liked her classmates, but she couldn't help it.
"You're too shy for your own good," Luna had said one day as they walked home from grocery shopping.
"At least I have you and our brother," Raven joked back and linked her arm through her sister's. "What more could I want?"
She took a deep breath and turned towards the girl from 3. "Like this?"
The girl nodded again. "Looks better."
Raven smiled in thanks. "Do you paint much back home?"
The girl was quiet for a moment, but finally looked back at Raven. "Yeah."
It was only one word, but they were talking. The thought gave Raven a glimmer of hope.
She had listened to her team this morning - who were all present and ready to get to work before she even had coffee - talk about what to expect from today. Raven was to make sure to watch the other tributes, and report back to them, along with Darien. She hadn't told them about her trapping activities, but they told her to go to each station anyway.
"And," Agrippina had said before they left, "if you see anyone who you might want to ally with in the arena, let me know. It never hurts to have someone on your side."
The thought had made Raven nervous at first. But quickly the appeal of having someone there with her during the Games was tempting. Having someone who was stronger was a good idea. Raven could provide them with food, and they could guarantee some protection. The idea of having someone as skilled as the girl from 3 to help with camouflage wasn't a bad one.
"Is it part of your job?" Raven asked. District 3 was the electronic manufacturing district, but maybe this girl did something else.
She shook her head. "No."
Raven bit her lip, struggling to think of something to say. She finally reached out the hand not covered in green paint. "I'm Raven Night. District Twelve."
"I'm Hanna Techroe," the girl said. "District Three." She looked at Raven's palm and held up both of hers. "Sorry, hands are full."
It was clear that it wouldn't have been hard to set down the paints. The gesture was one that Raven knew meant Hanna wasn't interested in getting to know her, and that any chance of an eventual alliance was out of the question.
Raven stayed quiet after that and focused on the leaves.
Garrick Raymond - 18 y.o. - D2
...
- Training Center -
Garrick swung his sword toward its target.
The instructor - dressed out in padding - struck back in a parry, pushing Garrick back along the mat.
It was a dance that he had become accustomed to over the past years. No matter what weapon he was training with, be it a sword, a spear, knives, or anything else, it felt more like a choreographed performance with deadly stakes than anything else. Garrick relished the feeling of the sword slashing through the air, the weight of the metal in his palm. It was the perfect catharsis.
He feinted left, and the instructor lunged. She realized her mistake and tried to correct it with a riposte but Garrick executed a perfect circle parry, catching the instructor's sword in a deflect. He struck her padded armor with his own blade in what would've been a lethal hit.
The instructor raised her hands in surrender. "Nicely done. Just remember to watch your timing in the future. You were almost a half-second late. Don't hesitate."
Garrick wiped the sweat from his hands, dropping the sword to the mat. He grinned. "No problem."
He took her advice into account, but only minimally. Training here in the Capitol was exciting, but after years of it back home under masters of swordsmanship - and even some victors - he felt confident in his own abilities. This whole training-before-the-Games thing was more of a formality. And a way to gauge the competition. Not that there was a ton of that yet.
Scanning the gymnasium, Garrick walked over to the rack of swords and returned his gladius to its proper spot.
His brown eyes stared back at him in the shining blade. Behind him, two figures appeared.
"You're pretty good with that sword."
Garrick took a moment to breathe deeply, just once, before standing up straight to his full height, thankful that his navy tunic showed the muscle definition in his arms. When he turned to the pair from District 1, he tried a friendly smile.
"Thanks," Garrick said. "I appreciate it."
Pretty good was an understatement, but he let it slide. He was the best back home in 2 and he knew it.
"Your sister was our best student," Headmaster Stone had said.
Garrick had sat in the chair in front of his desk that winter, watching snow fall outside the windows. He turned back to Headmaster Stone. "She always loved to talk about your classes. You were her favorite strategy teacher."
Sadness flashed across the aged man's face and then it was gone, back to a disciplined neutral. "Sempronia told me you weren't interested in joining the academy."
Glancing down at his gleaming leather shoes, Garrick stalled, trying to think. It was true. Training to be in the Games had always been Sammy's dream - not his. He had been content to just sit in lectures at school about architecture and masonry. The weapons and fighting stuff was her world. That all changed, though, when he watched his sister get electrocuted on national television.
She was supposed to win. Not die because a tribute from District 3 set a trap.
Standing there on that dais two weeks prior, next to his father, Garrick had watched the boy from 3 walk onto the stage and give his speech. It had been frigid that day, but Garrick had been shivering from rage. He couldn't even the feel the cold. The Victory Tour for the 39th Hunger Games had been burned into Garrick's brain. He'd wanted to run across the square and make the boy who killed his sister suffer.
It was then that he realized he couldn't have killed him, even if he'd been able to try. Even if he had somehow been allowed to attack that boy, Garrick wasn't strong enough. He didn't have the skills to do it.
That was what the academy was for.
"I misjudged myself," Garrick finally said to Headmaster Stone. "This is what I want to be doing."
"Most of our students get admitted at twelve years old at the latest," the man countered.
"I know I'm a couple years older than most of the freshman, but I think I can make up for the lost time quickly. I'm a fast learner, sir."
Headmaster Stone was quiet, contemplating the boy in front of him. "You know, Jim is always generous with his donations to the school."
"My father thinks it's important to support the place that teaches our future victors," Garrick continued hopefully. He hadn't missed that Headmaster Stone called his father Jim, not Jacobus. It was a good sign if the headmaster was fond enough to call his father a nickname. Garrick hesitated, then added, "my sister always told me I should come here."
When Headmaster Stone finally agreed, it was become of that, Garrick always thought after.
"For Sempronia," the man said when he'd given Garrick a nod goodbye at the end of the meeting.
The first time that Garrick had been in the school gym, holding a spear in his hand and staring at a foam dummy with a bullseye on its chest, he'd thought the same thing.
For Sammy. And he'd imagined that the dummy was the victor from District 3.
"I'm Amethyst," the blonde girl in front of Garrick said, drawing him back to the present. "This is my district partner, Finnegan."
The red-haired boy smiled amicably. "It's Garrick, right?"
Garrick nodded. "Yeah. Garrick Raymond."
Obviously he knew who they were. And obviously they knew who he was. He'd learned their names after the reaping replay, and Garrick was sure they had learned his too. It was expected that he would ally himself with Districts 1 and 4, even if they weren't ever quite at the caliber that District 2 was. These two had that pampered District 1 look about them that Garrick automatically assumed came from growing up in a wealthy family.
Sure, his family had money too, but everyone knew that the people from 1 were absolute lapdogs for Capitol money. It was different with them and all the finery that their district produced. It made them obsessed with the shallower things in life, as his father liked to say. District 2, in contrast, was as steadfast as their mountains.
"I loved your chariot costume," Amethyst said.
"Thanks. You both looked pretty impressive."
He couldn't remember what the hell they had actually worn, but whatever. The small talk was necessary.
"What stations have you guys been to?" he asked.
"We tried out the archery one, did some combat with knives, and a bit of maces," Finnegan said. He peered over at the swords almost longingly.
Out of the corner of his eye, Garrick watched as a group of people walked into the gymnasium, heading into the raised bleachers around them. From their purple robes and clipboards, it was obvious who they were. The Gamemakers had arrived and were settling in to watch the tributes training.
From the scrutinizing looks on Finnegan and Amethyst's faces, they had noticed the new arrivals too.
Garrick arched an eyebrow. "What do you both say we give them something to watch?"
Finnegan's lips quirked up and a competitive gleam shone in Amethyst's eyes. Garrick decided they would get along.
Together, the three of them went to a couple stations. None of them were particularly talented at the ax station, but Garrick didn't do too bad. Amethyst was the best at archery, managing to get bulls-eye's on the majority of her arrows. Garrick and Finnegan were practically neck-and-neck at weightlifting, though Garrick prided himself on deadlifting a bit more.
Their conversations were casual, mostly about what they had thought of the trains and their rooms in the Training Center, or the food in the Capitol. It was when they moved on to the combat station that a fourth person finally approached them.
"Mind if I join you?" the boy from 4 said with a grin.
"Not at all," Garrick said, shrugging as if it were an open invitation, but knowing full well that any other district would've been told to fuck right off. "Marlen, right?"
The boy nodded.
"Such a cool name," Amethyst said.
Marlen regarded her coolly. "Thanks. I like yours too. Have you started the station yet?" He glanced over at Amethyst, raising his arms over his head as if he was stretching, just enough for his shirt to show his abs.
Garrick fought the urge to roll his eyes.
"Not yet," Finnegan said, clearly fighting an amused smile that Marlen didn't see. "You're here just in time."
They took turns at the station, taping up their fists and fighting the instructors. Garrick knew that they all felt the same pressure he did. This part of training was crucial - and not because of the survival skills. This was the time when his potential allies needed to prove to each other that they were worth having around. He knew that anyone with half a brain would want him as an ally, but part of his brain still urged him to do his best, no holding back.
After throwing the trainer to the ground with a slam, Garrick wiped his sweaty hair off his forehead. The three tributes regarded him with appreciate looks.
Across the gym in the bleachers, the Gamemakers murmured something to each other, nodding at him, and scribbled on their clipboards.
A thrill ran through Garrick. He looked to see if anyone else in the gymnasium had been watching. The quiet boy from 7 was peeking over from the fire-starting station and the girl from 10 turned away quickly, returning to the hammock she was trying to tie. Off by the rope climbing, he caught the eye of the girl from District 4.
She didn't turn away like the others. Instead, Marina just finished tying her dark curls into a braid before finally looking away and starting to climb.
When Garrick stepped off the mat, he spoke to Marlen first. "What about the girl from your district? Think she'll want to come try some stations with us?"
"Oh," Marlen said, running a hand through his sandy-colored hair, seeming like he half expected the question. "Marina's a bit of a loner. I'm sure she'll come around later. She's pretty decent once you get to know her."
Garrick nodded. He didn't ask his question out loud, but he was curious. Why weren't those two going around the stations together? Maybe a rivalry between them? He wasn't going around with his own district partner either, but that was completely different. Princess was a whole mistake. He couldn't be blamed for not wanting to go around the Training Center babysitting her. But the girl from 4 looked like she belonged there, the type that was chosen by her district to volunteer, even if there had been that weird race at the reaping with another girl. Garrick wasn't sure what the whole story behind that was, but he decided to wait and be patient. Sooner or later, he'd find out what that was.
A bell rang, signaling lunch.
Garrick took the tape off his hands and waited as the others did the same. They walked into the lunchroom first, raising their voices as the other tributes slowly followed them. Marlen got in line for food first, piling his tray with a medley of dishes from carts. Garrick was already hungry despite his large breakfast, and selected all the items he thought would have the highest protein count. He waited as the tributes from 1 got their food and then headed to one of the tables.
As if they'd read Garrick's mind, the other tributes pulled a table away from the others so that it stood independent. They all sat down, chatting and watching as the others shuffled in the food line.
It was much quieter in this place compared to the lunchroom back at the training academy in District 2. Garrick had never really been popular back home, but he'd been respected, first because he was Sammy's little brother, and then because he was the best fighter in the school.
Sitting here at a table with potential allies, the whole thing felt a bit funny.
In a few days, they would be in the arena.
The alliance was one that would never last the whole Games, of course. They all knew that, even if they weren't saying it. Garrick already understood that these people he was talking with weren't his friends - they would never be. They might end up killing each other in a couple weeks. If things went his way, Garrick would be the one to make the first move. He just wasn't sure who he'd kill first. Yet.
He smiled and laughed at a joke Marlen told.
Let the Games begin.
Alstroemeria Kane - 16 y.o. - D9
...
- Training Center Lunchroom -
Azzie reached for the last strawberries.
She resisted the urge to immediately eat one, and instead drifted over to the next cart. She'd never had such a selection of food before for lunch. It was the biggest meal of the day back in District 9, especially during the summer for harvest season, but this was something else. Her plate was full of colorful berries the same shades as the rainbow, alongside rolls of bread glistening with butter, and slices of ham so thin they were like onion-skin.
Picking up a glass of what looked like sweet tea, Azzie turned around.
The lunchroom was big and bordered by the carts of food. Tables that could seat eight dotted the room. Avoxes stood silently by the doors, watching the tributes.
Her stomach twisted.
She'd always hated this moment, staring into the cafeteria at school and the sea of other teenagers. She hated the feeling of standing there, alone, looking at everyone else who seemed to have a place to sit and friends to talk to. She hated how everyone pretended not to see her. It was always the same.
But now it seemed like everyone else felt the same way.
The other tributes mostly ate alone. Some - like the pair from 5 - sat at the same table, but didn't speak. The tributes from 11 were together, talking softly, and so were the dark-haired quiet ones from 12. Everybody else sat sprinkled around the room, having lunch in silence, keeping their heads down and pretending that the rest of the tributes weren't there.
Loud laughter broke out.
Almost everybody, Azzie thought sourly.
She glanced out of the corner of her eye at the rowdy table, quickly enough that they wouldn't see, but it didn't matter. They weren't looking at her. Instead, the pair from District 1, and the boys from 2 and 4, were all huddled together like old friends. It just reminded Azzie of the kids back home who sat clustered together and never spared her a second look. The ones who always laughed the loudest to make everyone else feel like they were missing out.
Azzie turned, sweeping the lunchroom once more. Her eyes locked onto a tall honey-blonde boy sitting down at the last free table. She walked over without another thought, her chin held high, shoulders back.
"Is this seat taken?" Azzie asked him, grinning.
Royal looked up in surprise for a second. For a brief, horrible moment, Azzie thought he'd tell her to sit somewhere else. She could already imagine the laughter from the Careers when they saw it. But even before he replied, Azzie knew her district partner wouldn't cast her aside.
"I'm beginning to think the rest of the lunch party is a no-show," Royal said. He gave a small smile.
Azzie laughed lightly in relief. She ignored the look of the District 3 boy who glanced at them curiously. "I'm so hungry," she said as she sat down across from Royal.
"I was too nervous to eat a lot at breakfast," he confided shyly, "but I think I learned my lesson."
The admission made Azzie relax. "Tell me about it." She hoped her voice sounded light and casual. Azzie almost pulled Ellie's hair ribbon from her pocket to tie her brown waves up to eat, but hesitated. looked better with her hair down, right? That's what her stylist had said anyway. She left the hair ribbon in her pocket and picked up a strawberry.
Silence settled between them briefly. Azzie fished for something to say before things got awkward. "This food is so much better than shit in Nine," she finally said.
Royal smiled sadly at his plate. "I kind of miss my parents' cooking... Not to mention missing everyone in class... It's so quiet here, you know."
Azzie knew what he was really saying. He missed being surrounded by all the friends he always had, and missed having his girlfriend next to him at lunch to eat with. The thought made Azzie prickle with jealousy. Not of Meadow, of course, she didn't like Royal like that. She was just jealous of the idea that Royal knew what it was like to never have to be on his own.
"What stations did you try out?" he finally asked as he started eating.
Azzie was grateful for the question.
The two of them had spoken yesterday after the parade. It was no secret that District 9 had been overlookable compared to the other, more shiny districts. Having Royal to talk with after that at dinner was, honestly, comforting. Emmer Phox - Azzie's mentor - was still looking at her with that concerned expression. It was nice to have a distraction and pretend she was just back in school with a classmate instead.
"I'm trying everything once," Azzie said. She chewed the strawberries, delighting in the sweet taste. "The edible plants one wasn't too hard, obviously. I did knot-tying and was actually pretty damn good at it. I did knives too. I'm avoiding the edible insects like hell."
Royal pointed at his food. "Don't make me sick."
Azzie smiled at his joking tone. "I saw you on the ropes course earlier. You weren't half bad."
"You were spying on me?" he returned.
Azzie froze and felt her palms break out in a nervous sweat. "Oh, um-"
Royal smiled. "I'm just kidding. Yeah, I liked it. I was thinking of trying maces next. The tributes from One were kind of dominating it by the time I was considering it." He lowered his voice. "I've been trying to stay away from the weights section."
Nodding conspiratorially, Azzie leaned closer. "It's been hard to stay away from the damn gauntlet."
At breakfast, they'd talked about their "strategy" for training. Azzie wasn't sure how much of a difference it would make, but she listened to their mentors' advice. Well, it was mostly just Emmer Phox talking, but still. She'd advised they each hide their best skill from the rest of the tributes to have an edge in the arena. It wasn't hard to know that Royal's strong point was physical strength - which meant he was expressly banned from the weights section. Azzie had said sprinting as her biggest skill. She was one of the fastest girls in her school during races. That meant she had to hide it until her private session with the Gamemakers in two days.
Azzie knew what she was most proud of, but she couldn't exactly tell her mentors about all the stealing she did.
"It's beautiful," Ellie had said months ago, clasping the bronze chain around her wrist.
Azzie smiled at her younger cousin. "It's all yours."
Ellie gave Azzie a wry smile. "Where'd get you get this one?"
"A boy at school." Azzie leaned back in the wicker chair at their dinner table.
Aunt Talisha was gone, off at work, leaving the two girls to do their homework. The small house was cold in the way it always got after Harvest Festival when it was biting and barren. The window panes frosted over and snowflakes stuck to the glass like charms. It might've looked pretty in a way with the fireplace blazing, but Azzie knew how sometimes they had to sleep in their coats because the blankets weren't enough, and how the oil sometimes ran out for the lamps until she got more tesserae.
Stealing here and there was something that Azzie did for them. For her family. Aunt Talisha was too honest of a woman, too hard-working. So Azzie hid it from her aunt to spare her the trouble.
But Ellie was always excited by whatever treasure Azzie had snatched. She flicked the new chain and listened to it tinkle. "The boy won't miss it?"
"He has more jewelry than he knows what to fucking do with," Azzie said and rolled her eyes.
She couldn't stand the kids at school who showed up flashing their new clothes and jewelry. At the beginning, she'd felt a bit guilty taking their things. She'd stare at whatever she'd taken in her bedroom, wondering if that was who she wanted to be. Did she want to wear a stolen ring? Did she want to give her aunt a red scarf she'd taken from someone's backpack while they were unaware?
And then she'd see the rich kids standing there and complaining about how they had only gotten five or so gifts for their birthday. Azzie would look at her own worn dresses and watch Ellie struggling to fit into shoes she'd long outgrown.
It had been too easy after that. She went from hiding her stolen things to wearing them - daring anyone to look at her as lesser than them.
"Where did you get that necklace?" a classmate had asked with awe, staring at Azzie one day.
Azzie had laid a hand on the dainty silver choker and grinned. From a woman at the market who didn't watch her things carefully. "Oh, this? My aunt spoiled me the other weekend."
There had only been one time she'd gotten caught.
It was already two years ago, but the thought still made Azzie nervous. She'd been in detention at school for talking out of turn in math class (but, really, it wasn't her fault that statistics was so boring) and had taken a shortcut home through the town square. The sun was high up in the sky and people were bustling around, crowding so much that Azzie had to squeeze through them to get by.
When the man caught her eye, it was too good to pass up.
His attention was focused on someone he was calling to across from the square. It had been as easy as breathing for Azzie to move close to him in the crush of people, and reach into his pocket where the silhouette of a wallet was. She'd held it between her hands, switching directions to get as far away from the man as she possibly could before he noticed it was gone. She turned down the street leading to the trolley station to take her towards home.
When she'd turned to look behind her, she'd crashed into something so hard that her breath got knocked from her lungs.
The wallet fell to the ground and spilled out coins.
Azzie stumbled back and stared at the shiny black visor of a Peacekeeper helmet. Her heart tightened.
The Peacekeeper leaned down and picked up the wallet. Azzie thought he might've said something, but the blood in her ears pounded so loud she could barely hear. His white-gloved hands opened the leather wallet and took out the ID card inside. He flipped it around and Azzie stared at the photo of the man she'd taken it from.
She couldn't think of any of the lies that usually came to her so easily. Her throat felt thick and the air was too warm. An image of her hands being caned in the town square came into her mind. First she thought of the disappointed look on Aunt Talisha's face, and then the fear on Ellie's. When Azzie imagined the humiliation of her classmates' inevitable looks, and what they would whisper about her, it was too much.
"Please," she managed.
The Peacekeeper had lifted his visor. He was older than Azzie had imagined, eyes crinkled with lines that came from years of smiles, and his lips in an unreadable straight line. "Something tells me this isn't your father's wallet," he said in a Capitol accent.
Azzie felt sweat drip down her forehead. She held onto her backpack straps like a lifeline. "No."
The Peacekeeper regarded Azzie again for a long, agonizing minute. Finally, he put the wallet into the bag on his belt. "Get going, kid."
She didn't question him, and had run so fast she nearly fell. The whole time on the trolley, at home during dinner, tucking Ellie into bed, Azzie had wondered why the Peacekeeper had let her go. They both knew she'd just stolen someone's wallet. In the morning, she'd expected someone to show up at their house and take her away. But no one did. Nothing happened.
It had scared Azzie off of pick-pocketing for a while. But not forever.
And she made sure not to get caught again.
"I wonder what our parents would say if they saw us," Royal said.
"Huh?" Azzie had almost forgotten where they were, too lost in her own thoughts.
Royal took a sip of his drink. "Like... if they could see us here training. I mean, I know they're hearing about it back home on television, but... I keep wondering what they would say to me right now."
"Oh, damn. Right," Azzie said. She shrugged. "My parents are dead."
Royal choked on his water.
Azzie fought down a laugh at his bulging blue eyes and the way his face turned red.
"I'm sorry," he said, sounding sincere. "I... I forgot... I'm so sorry, Azzie."
"It's alright. I think I'm a bit glad they can't see me now." She picked up another strawberry.
And so the training segment begins!
I hope you guys liked this chapter! I like having four POVs, even if they are shorter than before. The wordcount is more now so I think it evens out.
Sidenote, I like to think that Iasus is Atala's father! They have a family dynasty in my headcanon. I've recycled most of his dialogue from The Hunger Games book and film. Brownie points to anyone who knows why his name is Iasus!
Also, the Pompey quote for this chapter also cracks me up. I think it's perfect for our tributes.
I hope I'll update the next chapter soon! Hopefully by the beginning of April. I just got accepted into grad school, so I'm focusing on that for now, but I can't wait to keep adding to this story.
Thanks to my last reviewers: Annabeth777, TheWatcherofTheVoid, and fiona11303.
Please drop a review! Thanks for reading. :)
~ Meghan