Training: Day Three
-Gus Proctor, 16, District 10-
Another painful blink did little to alleviate the dryness of his eyes.
He was up at the desk in his room. The Capitol-grade sound system played nature sounds, and surrounded him with a jungle. He hadn't ever really seen a jungle before. It looked damp and overgrown, big green leaves slick with rain, the sounds of various wildlife he didn't recognize playing around him. It was actually dark-looking where the perspective was on the ground, so much so that it was hard for him to tell if it was a cool climate or a hot one.
He hadn't slept that night. It was his first all-nighter since being reaped. At least other nights he was able to get a little bit of sleep. But last night, there was just something about the looming private sessions that kept him up in a way that the other days of training had not. He still felt that… Compulsion to impress.
Impress…
Who?
Chaz? Gus didn't even like Chaz. Chaz was rude and had no faith in Gus. So why did he care to prove him wrong? Was it his own vain pride?
His family?
…Did they treat him much better?
Another painful blink made him so aware of how bloodshot his eyes must have been. He could practically feel the irritated veins sticking out, complaining when they touched his eyelid. With a quiet sigh, Gus pressed a button, not sure what kind of scene he would see next, trying to familiarize himself with as many unfamiliar terrains as he could. Deep inside, he knew that it was not any more helpful than counting sheep, but it felt that way to him. Like maybe if he tried hard enough, and gained enough knowledge, he would have a real shot at winning.
Gus looked at the reddish rocks plunging upwards and downwards in a terrifying culmination of canyons. The sun shone, but he could only imagine how slick the rocks must have been when it rained, practically able to feel a long fall from a great height that sent him plummeting towards the pointy rocks below.
The feeling made him jolt a bit – shit did he fall asleep? He gave another dry and painful blink as he took a deep breath, feeling his chest fill with air as he sat up a little straighter to stretch his back. And when he did, looking around for just a moment at the canyons that were projecting around him, and… He heard the muffled sound of quiet voices through the door.
Gus reached up to rub his eyes, feeling the satisfying itch of moving pieces of sand out of the corner of them despite the sting of sleepless dryness. He looked around the room, wondering for a moment if he imagined it or not. But he heard the muffled sound again and then looked at the time. Chaz was too cool (read: old) to be up before eight-thirty, and Inspektor talked multiple times about his beauty rest. No, it had to have been Ottilie. But… Then, who was she talking to?
Gus didn't realize how stiff his body was until he stood up from his chair and felt the blood rushing to his legs. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened – he often stayed up late when he was babysitting. The parents said he didn't need to, but Gus felt like he had something to prove. To them, to the kids, to his parents, he didn't know. It was just a kind of compulsion he couldn't shake.
He limped a little bit as his left foot had fallen asleep and was tingling. When he got too focused, he didn't pay attention to how he was sitting either. Must not have been sitting properly. A feeling pricked his chest for a moment before it went away, almost as irritating to him as the pins and needles in his heel that stretched to his toes. Regardless, he continued to hear the voice speaking and went towards the door.
Maybe it was wrong to eavesdrop, but at this point what was eavesdropping compared to murder? He had to stop fearing the morality or the consequences of his actions pretty soon if he wanted to live. And despite everything, Gus did want to live.
He pulled up his knee and hugged it for those hellish few seconds of burning pain in his foot once it had finally awakened, gritting his teeth to hold back a noise. Fuck, he hated those few seconds. He kept breathing. It won't last forever. That was what he told the kids when they got booboos and sometimes it helped him too.
After a few seconds, he slowly lowered his foot back to the ground, wiping his eyes on his elbow again and then slowly cracking open the door. At least he wouldn't be alone shut in his room for too long.
"Red light. Red light. Red light." Gus squinted a little bit hearing the woman's voice, gentle and quiet. So quiet it probably wouldn't have stirred him if he actually had been sleeping.
"Green light!"
Gus looked at the living room. Furniture had been moved out of the way and in the open center of the room stood Ottilie, almost knocked over by the force running at her. Gus squinted for a moment, but sure enough, it was…
Brook. The girl in question sat down as soon as she got the bowl, filled with a little bit of blue liquid that she lapped up quickly and then held the bowl back up to Ottilie, who was looking across the room with her calculating brown eyes.
"You're up early, Gus."
"Good morning Ottilie," he said, looking at her for a moment, and then looking at Brook who was slapping Ottilie's thigh with the empty bowl. "Hi Brook."
The girl looked up – Gus wasn't sure if it was because she recognized his voice, or because she knew her name. Probably the first, in honesty, but he could hope. Brook waved the bowl at Gus and crawled across the room to hold it up to him, dark eyes imploring as her bangs were spread a little bit to show the tattoo on her forehead.
Gus gently reached over to move her bangs over the tattoo. It was hard for him to look at that knowing what happened to her. It was a big feeling he didn't want to tackle so early. "What are you… Doing?" he asked slowly, taking the bowl from her and walking it across the room to Ottilie, with Brook close by his side. He held it out to her and Ottilie took it. Brook's eyes went straight to the bottle as Ottilie opened it up and poured a little more into the bowl.
Ottilie held the bowl for a moment and looked at Gus before she gave a small smile. "I thought about our little talk the other day. And well, as much as I hate to say it about a young kid like you… You were right. "There is more I could be doing to help her. So we've been working together in the nights or the mornings. Whenever she's ready, because when she's ready to sleep nothing will move her." She chuckled a little bit as Brook started poking Ottilie's arm a few times. When Ottilie didn't look at her, Brook hurriedly went back to the spot marked on the ground with a piece of tape and grunted a bit.
"Alright," Ottilie said, showing her the bowl. "Red light. Red light. Red light. Red light," she said, when Brook looked ready to run, but instead stayed firmly in place. Ottilie paused for a moment. "Green light!" she said, and Brook came running over, straight to the bowl where she was lapping up the blue liquid.
"What is that?" Gus asked, watching this with interest.
"Just a sports drink. Lots of what we call electrolytes, they keep you from getting too dehydrated and are easy on the stomach. She loves them." Ottilie smiled when she got smacked by the bowl again, taking it from her.
"I see," said Gus. "And this is for the first day. To keep her from running off the platform." His stomach turned a little bit thinking about how close that day was to being real.
"It's the first challenge to overcome for someone that has no idea how this world works," Ottilie said as she was pulling the bowl again and filled it up. "Someone that didn't get a chance to learn the rules before being reaped for the slaughter."
Gus frowned, filled with that ever-present sadness for a moment realizing what was happening to them. He was pretty good at shutting it out, but moments like this made it impossible. He could feel the dryness momentarily agitated, then alleviated by the feeling of wet tears filling them. It wasn't fair that this happened to her – to any of them. But Gus was old, he had a job, he felt like he was practically an adult. This girl… She was just a child. She didn't know any better, she didn't know anything at all. She would die before she even really got the chance to be… Loved.
"You should have some of this too. Especially if you didn't sleep." Gus looked over and saw her giving him some sorta look, and he cleared his throat a little bit.
"Ya got me," he confessed. At that point, it was pointless to lie. They both looked up when they heard Brook vocalizing indignantly, standing on her marker. Ottilie sighed, so Gus gently put his hand around the rim of the bowl, taking it from her. "Let me." After all, Ottilie wasn't going to be there to do this with her in the Arena. But… Gus would.
He then picked up the bottle and poured some of the blue liquid in the bowl. It smelled very strongly like fruit – and not the good kind Gus was used to eating. It smelled like a terrible imposter of real fruit. But Brook was watching it so intensely that Gus couldn't help but smile a little bit.
"Red light," he said, and Brook was watching him. "Red- ah ah ah," he said when she started moving off of her marker. "Red light." Now she was staying in place and still staring at him. He put up a finger to keep her from moving. "Red light. And…" He waited a second, but when she looked like she was going to move, he broke. "Okay, green light," he said, as she came barreling over to him to take the bowl from his hands and lap up the sports drink.
"We gotta get her to last for an entire minute," Ottilie said as she watched them. "It's not going to be easy. And we don't have a lot of time. Especially if interviews scare her and she hides for the night."
Gus frowned as he looked at her. But she deserved better than just blowing up and becoming the last-place tribute everyone would ultimately forget about by the end. She deserved a true shot. At least… A true shot to survive past one day. He felt his lips purse and he had a new purpose. He couldn't leave her behind, not without letting down all the kids he babysat back home, and more.
"Then we'd better get serious about it right away."
…
If Gus Proctor died with the words red light green light on his lips, he wouldn't be shocked at this point.
Here he was like a zombie, standing in the training center with the sunlight coming from the high-up windows, going through the motions yet again. He felt like he'd learned everything he needed to learn at this point anyways, and it made the time go by faster. He only had one bottle of energy drink and he was trying to make good use of it.
"Red light." She wasn't looking at him. "Brook," he said, but she still didn't respond to that name and was staring up at the Gamemakers, hearing their indistinct voices in the distance. He had to step closer. He had no idea how close he would be to her in the real thing – they scattered the tributes on purpose and he knew it. "Look!" he said, raising his voice as if talking to a baby, and snapping his fingers – to get her attention perhaps, or just because the feeling of his finger gently slapping his palm brought him some calm deep inside. She looked over when he snapped and he showed her the bounty – the small plate with drops of her beloved blue sports drink on it waiting for her to listen.
"No," she said, trying to go over to him and he held the plate away from her with a stern shake of the head.
"We're playing our game," he told her, putting up his hand. "Red light." She begrudgingly stayed in place, watching him with a pout on her face. He stepped back from her one step. "Red light." He had to get further away. "Red light," he said a little louder, taking another step back and feeling a shoe under his foot. "Shit!"
"Sorry!"
Gus cleared his throat as Brook was watching him, looking ready to bolt. "Green light," he said and she ran over to him to take her spoils, licking the drops off of the plate as the tall figure was still looming over them as Gus turned to face him. He let out a small cry – it was the fucking Career from District Four! Oh he was so… Tall. Gus stared up at him for a moment, not sure how to read the expression on his face.
"I didn't mean to be in your way." And he smiled.
His smile made Gus feel warm all over.
"It's fine," he said, clearing his throat a little bit to try to make his voice sound better. He wiped his hands on his pants – sweaty palms – and snapped a couple times to try to calm down the anxiety in his chest that was making his heart beat harder. But the other boy wasn't leaving and he was just looking at Gus and he didn't know how to react to it, it was making him feel uncomfortably warm. He was very intimidating. "A-Are we in your way?" he finally asked, not sure what to say and hesitating a moment which caused his stammer.
"No, no, not at all," the boy said, swatting his hand in the air and seeming completely unbothered. "You're absolutely fine. Keep doing what you're doing. What… Are you doing?" he asked. Gus squinted at him for a long moment. Why was he here? Gus didn't really understand.
"Practicing," Gus said, making a face when he felt the plate hit his fucking calf.
"Looks like you found a way to make it fun," Damian said as he watched for a moment. "Electric Powerberry, huh? That's my favorite too." He smiled at Brook, but she moved towards Gus and smacked him with the plate again, causing him to take the plate from her.
"Electric Powerberry?" Gus asked, making a face. "It's blue flavor. It's fucking blue."
He grew even warmer when Damian laughed. It was a warmth he could feel on his cheeks as well, which must have meant he was blushing in embarrassment. Gus looked away quickly seeing how his eyes were hard to discern. Light brown, slightly tinged with green, they were so… Exotic. His hair was so neat and fine, unlike Gus's poodle curls which he smoothed down quickly. His skin was even and tan, unlike Gus's pale ass with the slightest bit of farmer's tan.
"Fucking blue then." He just smiled, and Gus felt… Accepted, just for a moment. No questions, no judgement, no scolding, just… A smile and a nod. Gus felt warm. It was one thing when the kids did it – they were kids, they weren't… Well-built tall musclemen from District Four… He just barely managed a smile back.
"So you're working towards the first day, huh District Partner? You don't gotta do that you know."
Gus poured out more droplets of water on the plate and held up his hand to Brook again. "I know. Red light." He took a step back. "If I can get her through the first day, she can get the chance she deserves. Red light. Ah! Red!"
She stepped back and Damian just smiled at the scene.
"Looks like you've earned her trust."
"Just takes a little bit of time and TLC," Gus said with a shrug. Because to him, it was that easy.
"Rare to find that sort of thinking in a place like this." Damian said, not even bothered when Gus interrupted him with a red light and took another step back. "You're so good with her. You know there's something about trust. It is the most rewarding when it's the most difficult to earn." He looked at Gus.
"Green light!" said Gus, and handed the plate over when she came running over, vocalizing in delight and pressed herself into his side when she had it.
Damian just smiled at him. "Keep up the good work Gus." He touched his shoulder and then turned to walk away. Gus watched him, not even noticing when his thigh got smacked with a plate. His eyes watched those toned legs, strong back… Nice thick booty… He instinctively tensed his thighs, doing whatever he could to keep his boner from showing in those tight training clothes. They were thin too, shit – "Okay!" he said when she almost hit him with the plate straight in the dick, taking it from her as he still felt warm all over.
"Alright alright, we'll go back to our game now."
He was just so… Nice.
But why?!
~.~.
Twelve sets of tributes and mentors sat together in their living rooms, waiting for the reveal of the training scores. Even Brook was contently chewing on a frozen popsicle, entertained by this and by being around Gus and Ottilie. Caesar Flickerman was joined by announcer Claudius Templesmith to greet the country on this fine night and present the training scores, reminding its terrified citizens the parameters just in case they forgot. But the intro didn't last long without the excitement of the night coming into play and encouraging Caesar to begin with the first score.
"And first up as always we have Cuprian Pearson! With a score of…" Caesar's eyebrows played no games, going straight up in surprise. "Seven."
Dazzle's eyes widened as she turned to face her District partner. "Cupey?"
All eyes were on him. But Cupey wasn't bothered a single bit by the score – low for a Career, especially for a male Career. "I have my reasons."
Platinum just sighed, but the floor kept watching.
"His District partner, Dazzle Hewitt, with a score of… Ah. Eight." A ghost of a smile spread across Caesar's face at this turn of events. "Quite impressive of her."
"Very impressive!" Whimsy said right away, clapping her hands. She wanted the best for her tribute.
"Good job Daz," Cupey said, giving her a smile. Another nail in her coffin, sadly. But she didn't have to know that.
"Thanks," Dazzle said, her cheeks spreading with a blush at outscoring her District partner.
"Don't be too impressed," Claudius said with a chuckle, as if he was listening to their conversation. "District Two's Consus Ornstein, with a score of nine."
"Good score," said Jack. Not too low, but also… Not too high.
"Well it seems they only get better, yes?" asked Caesar. "Wow!" he said as he looked at his screen. "It seems so. District Two's Isabella Torres with a score of ten!"
Isabella hated the attention on her, but she couldn't help but sit up proudly. She earned that score.
"District Two supremacy," Ornstein said, trying to get her to fist bump him, which was rejected quickly.
"We haven't seen water boy's score yet," she told him.
"Well, let's see if District Three can compare," said Claudius, but it was clear by the expression on his face that he thought – perhaps, knew – that wouldn't be the case.
"Ah yes, we have Mickey Galilei, with a score of… Huh. Seven." He seemed surprised by this, and he wasn't the only one. Cupey perked up at this, while the Two tributes turned their ears to listen clearer.
"Wow," said Astra, looking at him with eyes of admiration. Seven was over half, and that was a lot better than she probably did… She didn't know why he was being friendly with her like this, obviously he was so much better than her, especially with her injury, even though Capitol medicine was helping it heal quickly.
"Aha, here we are. Astra Kaminisky, District Three, with a score of five." It was said so inconsequentially, as if he knew that nobody was going to care about it because it was such a painfully average score.
"Good job," said Mickey, and his eyes glinted with pained sincerity.
"Thanks," Astra said quietly, even though she didn't deserve his kindness.
"Damian Beaufort, District Four," Caesar said, clearly with a little bit more life in his voice than the previous District, expecting a good score. And it was indeed good. "Score of eight."
"Alright," Damian said. His mentor Cayman was just sitting there, pouting.
"Money please," their escort Rian grinned and leaned over to poke his (strong) arm. He grumbled and slapped a bill in her hand, and she grinned. "Thank you!" She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.
Raised eyebrows went down quickly, exposing the score of his District partner before it was read out loud or shown on screen. "District Four's Antigone Rodriguez, with a score of five." Another blank reading, all of the excitement becoming artificial.
Antigone quickly deflated. She knew her score wouldn't be great, but… She was hoping for at least a six. Mags's worried expression quickly turned to a pained smile when her tribute was looking at her. "Those scores don't always matter," she reassured her, but the words were only slightly hollow.
From there it seemed like a race between the two young men to read the rest of the scores as fast as they could possibly get away with. Suspense was all but gone as the screen switched the District Five.
"District Five's Kermit Fisher has earned a score of four."
Silex reached over to squeeze his shoulder. "Worse scores have become Victors before," he said.
"How do you know that?" Kamaria asked, but she was quickly looking at the screen for her score.
"And for his District partner, Kamaria Silvera, a score of-" He actually paused for a moment, partially for dramatic effect, but almost as if it was a stutter. "Six."
"Six," said Sadie, crossing her arms as her tribute looked to her for approval, before slowly nodding. "Good work, kid."
"Onto District Six," said Caesar, trying to cover for his coworker's momentary surprised break of character by folding his hands together and staring deep into the camera. "We have Jamir Marshall next with a score of four."
"Four?!" Bailey asked in shock, before shutting up quickly when she appeared.
"Indeed, and his District partner Bailey Page has earned herself an impressive score of…" This time the pause was very intentional. "Seven."
"Oh that's more like it," she said right away.
"Good job Bailey," Jamir said. Cash just leaned back to watch his tribute, seeing how he looked at her and seemed so lost. He really needed to take it to heart that he had to be a little selfish, but it was clear he didn't have a selfish bone in his body.
"A great score," Noelle said right away. Hopefully it didn't make her into too big of a threat.
"And from District Seven, we have Mr. Bucket Tanzer, who has also earned himself a score of seven." Caesar nodded slowly at this and looked over to Claudius.
"Wow Bucket!" said Sabine, leaning over to punch his arm gently.
"Nothing to snuff at for sure," Luther said. "Just watch your back."
"I will," Bucket said, and while nobody else was interested in hearing his District partner's score, he was.
"Sabine Marcellus, District Seven as well, with a score of four." It came out like vomit. As if he couldn't be more bored by saying it.
There was a silence on the floor that not even Sidonia could break. Nobody wanted to offer false hope for the girl with a disability. Bucket just reached over and gently rubbed her hair for just a second.
"We got this." She could almost believe him.
"From District Eight, first we have Nico Rinaldi. Nico's earned a score of six."
"A great score," said Osiris, despite Nico turning his head away from him intentionally to not listen.
"Very impressive," Bronx said and Ritter nodded in agreement.
"And his District partner, Pepper French, a score of five." It was the first of the "boring" Districts in a bit, so it was as inconsequential as the intro to the program, largely ignored.
Pepper hung onto that moment when her picture was on the screen, waiting to hear what they had to say about her. But once again, it was just… Nothing.
"Next, we have District Nine's Carlisle Gray, who has been given a score of six."
A murmur of approval went through the District Nine floor for the boy without an arm. Carlisle sat up a little taller, his pride only slightly showing through to his expression.
"Alright," said Claudius with a nod, surprised by that. But his expression fell as his eyes went around a little bit. "His District partner, Doe Howard, was given a score of three."
Another murmur- a different kind – as the girl watched the program, once again fighting back her tears.
"Next, from District Ten, August Proctor. He has gotten a score of… Oh my. Three." It was obvious he thought it was going to be better, and just provided a small sigh.
"A THREE?!" asked Chaz, whipping around to face his tribute. "You're fucking useless! Just the slap you did for chariots could have gotten you at least a fucking four!"
"Chaz." Ottilie put an arm in front of Gus who was staring at him, the three swirling around in his brain. "Cut it out." They were cut off by the next score.
"And his District Partner, Thirty-Three… A score of two." He pursed his lips and looked at the paper again, as if expecting it to be less.
"One less than you!" Chaz said, just gaping in disbelief as he was still looking at Gus, his gaze boring through him.
Gus was sure the Gamemakers took from his score to give to hers, and he didn't care. "It is well."
"Here's one for District Eleven," Caesar said, blinking a few times. "Kunal Lindberg bringing in a score of eight."
That brought a cheer to District Eleven, Chaff putting up his glass in a cheers with Luca while even Donavan was trying to hide a smile.
"They won't be remembering banana penis anymore," Chaff told them with a pat on the back.
Kunal sighed but they weren't surprised by this. "Thanks," they deadpanned.
"Eight!" said Claudius, impressed by this and nodding his head a few times before remembering he had to speak next. "Oh yes, and we have Pepper Carson, District Eleven, with a score of five."
"Five?!" asked Pepper, turning to stare at them. "And you got an eight?!"
"Five's still good for a girl from our shithole," Chaff said matter-of-factly. "Full stop."
"And District Twelve." They could have sworn that Caesar was speaking faster on purpose. "Farley Hayes has earned a score of three."
Haymitch took a sharp breath at this, expecting the score to be low, but not so low. Even Oz held back a wince. That was their better hope for a Victor.
Violet just put a hand on both of their shoulders to get them to sit up straighter and put on a smile. The kids may be doomed, but they didn't have to know it.
"And Kennedy Parks has gotten a score of three as well." It was said so inconsequentially, as if they didn't even matter. Because to them, nobody did. Only the ones that could perform.
Kennedy nodded her head. "I must have done well with the ropes. That's better than I thought I would get. And hey, District solidarity, right! Woo!" she wasn't at all deterred and could keep going all night. Haymitch got up to get himself another drink.
And yet, the hosts themselves also performed, giving the nation a smile and a hearty good-night. And a building full of tributes saw themselves to their quarters, one by one. Some early, some late, but all having one thing in mind – maybe the interview POVs will actually be interesting content.
~.~.
A/N: I'm back, finally, after a hiatus! But you saw that already lol.
Finally we've made it to interviews, which I will ultimately hate writing by the end as well. (Future Celtic Says: I actually hated starting them more than I did ending them, surprisingly.) I'm going to try to streamline them to make them as painless as possible just like I did with the training scores (Future Celtic Says: They were not all that painless. But hopefully will be fun to read. XD). We'll see how that goes for Wordy McWordyson though. Have pre-Games done by New Years? Ha. I'm not a speedrunner anymore like I used to be. Hopefully soon though, maybe by my birthday. Probably a more realistic goal. (Future Celtic Says: I only have one more pre-Games chap to finish so by my birthday is pretty realistic!)
Anyways, see you for Antigone and Pepper in the next update!
