Training Partners (Open)

Kirk Helmsworth,

I walked into the room and almost choked on my own saliva. This place is a mess! Training dummies down on the ground, stuffing and plastic strewn about. Why can't they just pick up after they practice? It was probably those bratty Lightwoods.

"Great, now I'mma have to clean all this up." I mutter and sigh softly, bending down to inspect a dagger with a bent blade.

My left foot steps on an amputated manikin arm and I almost tripped over it while applying my gold lipstick.

The voice was a surprise, especially one so faint. I quickly turn toward the direction I heard it in. 'Excuse me?' The sound was produced from a small child, no older than twelve for sure. 'Could you please help me? I'm looking for someone to train with. My brother went home a while ago.'

My heart might as well have fallen straight out of my chest and shatter onto the floor. "OF COURSE!" I exclaim with utter happiness.

The child is just the cutest little girl ever, how could I turn her down? I know that the only reason I came in here was to clean up after those Neanderthals, but this little girl obviously needs my attention more than my OCD.

I walk over to other side of the room and pull a knife out of the wall that I suspect one of those cavemen launched earlier.

"Okay, so what would you like to start practicing?" I look at her face and see obvious excitement. She obviously is just a simple child who just wanted to practice, but was ignored by whoever was in here earlier... She's clearly incapable of causing as much destruction as already in here, so I smile and extend my arm for a handshake. "Kirk Helmsworth, future Quell champion."

Kirk Helmsworth,

Oh. My. Lort. This girl is so cute! I cannot believe she's so brave! I loosely hold my dagger and inspect it. It's a bit heavy, but she's a little girl who wants to 'fight' me, so it's probably better that I'm not an expert with it.

Because I spend 80% of my time trashing the Lightwoods and the rest of the time hoping for someone to say something about them so I can trash them even more, I make a comment to the girl, "What type of null-brained, immature careers do you suppose did all this?" motioning to the wreck of a training room.

I'm hoping she has a knowledge of the worst family to grace the fabulous District, but not too much, that way I can plant sweet little lies in that blonde head of hers.

The knife in my hand is really uncomfortable, so I'm hoping she makes this quick so I can get some cleaning done in this place...

I feel so sad, her brother just left her? How rude. I would cut him if I didn't have to get my hair did this afternoon. In an act of pity, I exchange the dagger for a sword, to which I am not trained in the slightest...

Swords are like the whores of the Hunger Games... You see them every year, and almost everybody can use them... And after you use it for one person's heart, you immediately stick it into another's. Then it becomes the owner's trademark, and in turn is used to kill every single tribute he can manage to penetrate.

It's really disgusting, in my mind... I've heard rumors that the Victors get to come back to the arena, before it opens for tourists, and pick out their trademark weapon that they used to kill with, or the dead carcass of a mutt they had slain, or a rock or some other item that proved useful.

So if I get picked for next year's games, the Quell, I'll win like nobody else had before... And not like the cavemen who destroy this room everyday with no intention of picking any of it up...

I groan and stab a dummy in the chest, imagining it one of the depressing Lightwoods... Gothic rejects, or questionably emo, I can't decide which one. The sword doesn't come out the other end, and instead of piercing the heart area, probably would have only punctured a lung...

The little girl, Clover, just stands there with a sweet smile upon her face and a patient stare. I walk over to her and raise my sword up above her head.

"Let us begin?"

Kirk Helmsworth

Oh. Hail. No. This girl got some kind of voodoo black-cat magic all up in her or SOMETHING... She just went all Moreno on my tail! Those are some effed up betches, if you have any knowledge of District 1's families...

I whip around in terror, absent-mindedly swinging my sword in the process. She bolts back to her starting position, and I laugh, I have no idea how to use this thing, and it's like she's trying to draw blood or something... Cray cray.

"Uhm... WOW." I comment, trying to determine if there is anyone watching or not... Usually I can tell, but sometimes it's hard to figure out.

I swipe my sword through the air, best as I can manage, and it clangs against her sword. The sound of the metal irritates me, but there are more important things to think about, like how I'm going to ruin every little Christmas wish of those terrible Lightwoods...

Our swords clash for a while until I feel a sharp pain in my right ring finger. "Sweet baby Jay-zus!" I yell and drop my weapon. My fingernail... It's broken! I broke a nail?!

That ankle-biter BROKE my nail! Shit just got real.