technical difficulties // meghan

It was only day two of training and already the whole concept of being a tribute was an utter bore. I felt like I was going to punch the next person who suggested I try talking to somebody. I had already done that. People were just as stuck up and idiotic here as they were back home, why would they be any different on day two of hell than day one? Besides, I was here getting ready either to be killed or to go kill so that didn't exactly equate friendship.

One thing is for sure, I loath small-talk of all sorts, especially the kind that I have to force through my teeth.

Maybe that's why I have never made a very good career. Though I have the right skills weapon-wise, I can't quite capture the crowd socially. I guess I am much like... Cassius in that regard. He could win any crowd if he wanted to...well when he was still alive... but he didn't give enough of a rat's ass to bother. Me? I'm too stubborn. Fuck them. They don't deserve it.

Maybe I'm too hard on people.

"Naaaah," I mumble as the elevator door swings open and a scruffy-haired little boy steps onto the lift. Goodness, when did I get so far into my morning? Did I lose myself into my thoughts that deeply? I grunt in response to his entrance, and pull out a box of matches from the pocket of my coat. Time to have some fun.

"Hey, kid. You like tricks?"

I only meant to intimidate the boy, to scare him out of his boots a little bit until the elevator arrived at its destination in the training center. My escape to the roof had been short-lived when my stomach had began to growl, a wide rumble declaration of demanding hunger. Could I be anymore spoiled?

Shouldn't they be teaching us to starve this week? Or were they really trying to give us the biggest shocks of our lives? The theory that eating more would help us keep on the pounds in the arena was the biggest bunch of bullshit I had ever heard.

Still, I was more than a glutton and couldn't resist the draw of creamy chicken pot pie and sweet mashed potatoes sprinkled with cilantro and just the hint of dill. Not even I could reject the delicate taste of cut strawberries on top of puffed shortbread and topped with the perfect amount of chocolate whipped cream. No, I was still human, even if they had picked me to die.

He begins to respond, red in the face, hand squeezing something at his side with nervousness. "What are yo--," words go unfinished as the elevator halts before our destination.

I wait for the intruder but they never come.

"What did you do...?" I demand to the boy, my match forgotten for only a moment as I pull my shoulders into their full stature over his tiny figure. I reach forward and pull at the metal with all my might.

The scene is all too familiar to me, and it feels much like it felt that day at the justice building. When they told me the thing I refuse to believe. And once again I felt trapped.

I wanted to pin the little twerp against the wall and scream in my anger, but I knew that would be a bad idea in of itself. So instead I decided to, in the nicest sense, play with him.

The lights began a violent tango, playing with their own death. Like they couldn't decide whether they wanted to live or die. Perfect.

"This is your fault you know."

Fear echoed on the little sausage's face as the rogue of the lift played with the atmosphere. I echo its demonic sound and barreled out my own impish cackle. "Au contraire, my petite companion, your presence must have done something to cause a circumstance such as this." My gestures are exaggerated and I wave an unlit match through the air and focus on the honey venom that drips from my voice. I hope that spider-crawl shivers are running down his spine from where my words pierce at his blubbering exterior.

"Let me put it for you this way," I say oh-so-agreeably, "Before you stepped on this elevator, it was in perfect working condition. No flickering lights, no weird noises, no odds malfunctions in unexpected places. Therefore, and this is a funny therefore, my little friend, it could only be your fault. I knew you were up to something the minute you stepped onto this elevator! So, I ask again. And this time, I give you one more chance to answer nicely. Or else I might really bring out a trick... or two. What did you do?" I bare my teeth to the tiny kid, but the fact remains irrelevant. The light goes out and we become creatures of the night.

I wonder how he'll hold up, he didn't seem to have much in the terms of bravery.