||~Trained to Kill~|| (Career)
Jan 3, 2009 17:31:09 GMT -5
Post by Gempol on Jan 3, 2009 17:31:09 GMT -5
&Matthew&
Beads of sweat run down my brow as I pierce a dummy's heart with a knife from ten feet away. The tiny droplets of sweat fall down my temple, dropping onto the gymnasium floor below me. I use another sharp throwing knife to sever a big rope, making a bag of spearheads plummet to the ground. The noise makes other Careers glance sideways at me, but I ignore them. They're just distractions.
I have been training for hours now, honing my skills and testing my strength. By now, many regular people would be falling unconscious from fatigue, but I am not a regular person. I am a Career, a carefully crafted person designed to win the Hunger Games. That has been my own life ambition, my goal. To win the Hunger Games. And I would never drop my life ambition.
I sever a few more ropes before I tackle the climbing wall. Carefully, I make my way up the cement column which was supposed to represent a mountain. I scale it in less than a minute, and I practice throwing spears from this altitude. I never miss.
Of course, my training instructor is calling for me from across the gymnasium, holding a full bottle of water. His face is that of distress, not wanting me to overtire myself. Even for a Career, I train more than I need to. He wants me to relax, to rest. Now why would I do that? I ask myself.
I slowly climb back down the column, and then run to a row of dummies.
Turning to a dummy before me, I grab a sword and slice it's head open. Tiny bits of cotton from the dummy's head fly out, and the head itself falls a few yards from me. I continue hacking at it's limbs, until the dummy is transformed into a pitiful piece of raw cotton and nylon. Once again, my fellow Careers glance at me, but I turn and give them an icy glare. Couldn't they mind their own business? I destroy five more dummies before I take a break.
I walk a few feet to a sturdy metal bench, and grab an energy drink from the cooler underneath the bench. The liquid tastes refreshing in my mouth. It floods down my throat, giving me a burst of energy. Satisfied, I throw yet another knife at a wall across the gymnasium. It barely misses a Career.
I smile.
Beads of sweat run down my brow as I pierce a dummy's heart with a knife from ten feet away. The tiny droplets of sweat fall down my temple, dropping onto the gymnasium floor below me. I use another sharp throwing knife to sever a big rope, making a bag of spearheads plummet to the ground. The noise makes other Careers glance sideways at me, but I ignore them. They're just distractions.
I have been training for hours now, honing my skills and testing my strength. By now, many regular people would be falling unconscious from fatigue, but I am not a regular person. I am a Career, a carefully crafted person designed to win the Hunger Games. That has been my own life ambition, my goal. To win the Hunger Games. And I would never drop my life ambition.
I sever a few more ropes before I tackle the climbing wall. Carefully, I make my way up the cement column which was supposed to represent a mountain. I scale it in less than a minute, and I practice throwing spears from this altitude. I never miss.
Of course, my training instructor is calling for me from across the gymnasium, holding a full bottle of water. His face is that of distress, not wanting me to overtire myself. Even for a Career, I train more than I need to. He wants me to relax, to rest. Now why would I do that? I ask myself.
I slowly climb back down the column, and then run to a row of dummies.
Turning to a dummy before me, I grab a sword and slice it's head open. Tiny bits of cotton from the dummy's head fly out, and the head itself falls a few yards from me. I continue hacking at it's limbs, until the dummy is transformed into a pitiful piece of raw cotton and nylon. Once again, my fellow Careers glance at me, but I turn and give them an icy glare. Couldn't they mind their own business? I destroy five more dummies before I take a break.
I walk a few feet to a sturdy metal bench, and grab an energy drink from the cooler underneath the bench. The liquid tastes refreshing in my mouth. It floods down my throat, giving me a burst of energy. Satisfied, I throw yet another knife at a wall across the gymnasium. It barely misses a Career.
I smile.
