Public Training Sessions

.: CHASKE PARKS :.
{district nine : 69th tribute}

If it wasn't for the fact that the games were a few days away, I might feel afraid, yet fear never surges through my veins. He beat it out of me every single day. Every single night he counted the amount of food, the amount of water, every little thing left inside the house, and if it was missing even an ounce of something, fist would rain down against my fragile body. It was only me. Never anyone else. Not Chance or my sisters. It was me every fucking time. Sneaking the food from the shelf in the kitchen wasn't worth the consequences. My stomach begged for food so many nights, and here it's the opposite. Food is tossed before me in piles and piles, and the plates in the dining hall never ran empty. No matter how many servings I forced into my body, I couldn't make a dent in what was placed before. So many deliquesces fell through my lips. I ate so much it made me sick, but it never got me out of training. I wouldn't want out of training today anyway. Private training in front of the gamemakers. Just me and them. And I'll make sure they never forget my name. It'll be left in the air in front of them every waking second of the night. When they sleep, all they'll dream about is my names. Every piece of my being will haunt them. This is the moment they learn I am not afraid of them, and I sure as hell am not afraid of death.

It's boring sitting here waiting my turn for my name. It throws me back to the reaping where I'm standing there, and she draws my name from the bowl holding so many other names. Yet it was mine, and here I am now standing in the Capitol enjoying the tour. Only one will leave this place. Only one will return year and year to follow. Not as a tribute, but as a victor, a mentor. Someone who managed to survive the games. My eyes glance around from tribute to tribute as one by one they march into the gym never to return, and I'm sitting here like a fucking animal waiting. Waiting for my chance to pounce, for my chance to show them I can fight, and that I won't die - I won't be another face in the sky. Many times the fallen are forgotten, and nobody cares what happens. Nobody shows up in the depths of the world to save them. They want us to live in fear, and many choose that route, yet I'm different from all them. Fuck the rules. Fuck them trying to make me afraid. I'm done sitting around doing nothing. Done sitting here like every fucking thing in the world is alright. Oh I can't wait for this. To show them how stupid they are. Like I said before, I'm here to play the games, and if I die in the process, so be it.

Closer, and closer the time comes, and I can't even imagine what it's like inside there right now. Facing them alone with nobody else around. Only a coward would panic. Only a coward would end up with a training score short of perfect, yet nobody's perfect. It doesn't exist, but I've seen so many people wandering around with their noses so far into the sky, it only falls short of a miracle nobody's killed one another before the gong sounds. When the gong sounds, it's game on. Yeah, I formed a group of allies, but I don't need any of them. For all I care they can die in the godforsaken bloodbath, and I'd be happy to go on by myself, but maybe, maybe they are what I need to guarantee my safety through the arena. I can use them until it's almost over, and then I'll turn against them killing every last one until the crown is placed on my head. We'll make sure they die. Every last one of them. A large grin plasters itself to my face as I look around waiting and waiting and waiting. That's all this is. A fucking waiting game, and I'm growing impatient. They should know not to keep me waiting. We'll have to teach them a lesson. A very good lesson.

"Chaske Parks."

About fucking time, I sigh to myself as I push myself into a standing position. The large grin turns into a smile as excitement prances throughout my entire body. Each step grows stronger with pride as I move forward holding onto the show waiting for them the moment my feet step into their domain. Soon it'll be my domain. Their walls will fall, and they'll understand nobody messes with me. Nobody keeps me waiting for as long as they did. My tongue slides across my lips as I push through the doors to the gym where the audience is waiting. They'll see me at my best, and I'll shine like the light of the world waiting for the savior to show itself. My allotted time isn't much, but it's more than enough. It's all I need to show them how stupid they truly are, and I'll crush them underneath the weight of my fragile body. They have no control over me. Not anymore. I wait for the door to close behind me, and I move forward with quick steps scanning through the room of any object I could possibly use. And my eyes catch one of them right away. It's so beautiful, and I cannot wait to get my hands on it. Yet I stop in the middle of the gym. My gaze fixes on the gamesmakers as bursts of laughter escape from my lips. "You motherfuckers."

Laughter continues bursting through my lips as I turn away from them. They won't see anything from me today. These stupid peasants won't know what I'm capable of doing until the gong sounds. Until a legitimate weapon is tossed into my hand, and I'm placed in the challenge of fighting for my life, then, and only then will they know what I can do. I glide through the gym step by step keeping my head steady while my hands rub together in front of my face. A large smile spreads from ear to ear. It horrible they think they can weasel my skills out of me. Only when they see me in the arena will they understand. The laughter continues all the way to the door, but instead of walking out, I stop and stare at them one last time, and only then does the laughter cease. Oh how little do they know of me, and that's exactly how I'm keeping it. I'll make sure their walls collapse the moment I get the chance. Doing an about face, I turn towards the door and excuse myself before my time is up. I'm more than just a number. I'm more than a tribute in the hunger games. I am Chaske Parks, and I deserve much better than these stupid motherfuckers are treating me, and it's time they learn one way or another.

I slam the door behind me, and I don't turn back.

.: ZEKI WEBB :.
{district five : 69th tribute}

I walk through the doors and into my personal training session. I look around at the empty training room. I think this is the first time ever that I've seen the room without another person in it. Even the trainers. The room has an ominous and eerie feel to it. Every step I take clacks against the floor and echoes. Bouncing off of the metallic walls and the fleshy dummies. It takes me a second to find the Gamemakers, they sit seemingly comfortably, but at the same time a little bit distracted. That's one of the things I don't like about being in the middle. You're only paid half of the attention that you should be paid. At least it's better than being in District Twelve. They're dead last. I can't even imagine how awful the Gamemakers are by then.

The experience is so nerve-racking. I would never have thought showing off in front of people would be so scary. My whole life people have only told me how brilliant I am. How I'm an intellectual prodigy. I've never been nervous of showing off in front of others before. Maybe it's because my life never depended on it. I've always beat them by so much, knowing there's no way that I could lose. That's one of the things I love so much about having an eidetic memory. Everyone thinks you're super smart. Like there's not a difference between a great memory and a vast amount of knowledge. Usually that plays to my advantage though. The question is, how can I show these people, who are going to judge for all the world, how I'm smarter than anyone else in the arena.

The training stations I took won't exactly help me here. Fire making, stealth, and first aid. I guess they're better than nothing, though. I decide to show off my fire making skills, and I'll see where that takes me. I go over to the fire making station and grab a handful of kindling. I shape it in the fashion I learned from the teachers that will make it catch fire faster. I take a couple matches and light them. It takes two tries. I throw them on the small pile of kindling and it illuminates in a small ball of flames, which begins to slowly envelope the kindling. I think to myself how boring this must be for the Gamemakers. Ooo! He can light a fire big enough to keep a bug warm!

I think to myself what else I could do. Then it hits me. I quickly sprint across the room to the throwing knives and snatch up six. I charge back across the floor to the fire making station, making sure to avoid eye contact with the Gamemakers. That part is just because I don't like making eye contact with people unless I'm speaking to them. It's just so awkward.

I quickly stick the knives into the small bucket of tar and then put one knife over the dying fire. Luckily, just as the small kindling fire goes out, my tar-slathered knife catches fire. Slowly at first, but soon the whole knife is on fire. I catch the other five on fire as well and then approach a dummy. I stand the appropriate distance away, a mildly-impressive one, but not too far away that it would make me miss the dummy entirely. I reach back and hurl the first flaming knife at the manakin. It misses and strikes the floor in front of it.

Oh my God. That is so embarrassing. I fling the next two, one right after the other, maybe I'll get some points for speedy draws? One knife slicing across the dummy's ankle and the other stabbing directly right above the groin, hitting what would be the bladder of a real person. This gives me a surge of confidence. Not too much, but that has to somewhat impressive to them. Maybe not, but it is to me. I throw the next knife, which misses the neck of the dummy by only a few inches. I'm realizing now that I should have chosen something else to show these Game makers.

I take my final two knives and charge a dummy across the room. If anything, they'll take note of my speed. I was never a runner, but I could always run faster than all my classmates. Maybe that's just a gift you get from being smart. To avoid bullies.

I reach the dummy and twirl, for dramatic effect, swinging my arm around and sinking the flaming blade directly into the side of the dummy's neck. A split second after that my other hand comes around and slices open the stomach of the dummy. Gallons of blood spill out onto the floor, but in real life they would be followed by guts.

I drop both knives and turn to the Gamemakers. I have to get something in. Something memorable. I don't want to be a tribute who goes on unremembered. Faceless in the hundreds of tributes who have given their lives to the Capitol before me. But what. What could I possibly do to impress them?

Is it possible that I can use my brain? I have found that over these past few days, my ability at reading people has significantly increased. I look at one of the Gamemakers at the table. He's tapping his foot, his pencil, and staring blankly at a high spot in the wall behind me. I can tell that he's missed my entire 'performance.'

People who are that distracted either have something dramatic happening in their lives, or are very hungry. That part is hard to tell. I focus harder. It seems that he has a couple wounds that haven't entirely healed, scratch wounds. They remind me of a cat, but anyone with common sense could tell that it is the long nails of a woman. I speak up, directly to him.

"Sir," I ask. He doesn't see me yet. I shout this time, because the other Gamemakers are paying attention at this point. They've caught me staring at the man. "SIR!

He looks down at me.

"Sir, may I just remark that a man in your position, killing children for pleasure, for a job, how could you be so cowardly as to let another human being beat you? Do you have any self respect?" I ask rhetorically.

With that, I turn and leave the room, my cheeks burning hot from the embarrassment of trying to talk to a man who could just as easily come down and kill me in the arena. I realize that wasn't the smartest move I could've made. But it's one that will get me remembered. And that was my goal, wasn't it?

J o r d a n S c o f f - R e y e

I miss home.

I mean sure the food here is mouth watering delicious, sure here the atmosphere is better, sure here I have servants to attend to my every need to make sure I'm all fine and dandy.
But back at home I'm not sitting in a room with a bunch of people who probably want to slit me open like a pig in about a week. I feel like I'm a chicken trapped in a pen, crammed in a room with all of these older people only seems to remind me how young I actually am compared to these people. Not that I'm scared or anything. I just feel unbelievably uncomfortable to be completly hoenst. This skin tight training gear makes me feel almost claustrophobic.

The wait is so antagonising. Of course they make the poorest districts go last. That's the pecking order; rich kids, middle kids, poor kids. Can't fight it, just gotta accept it. There's so many things I've had to deal with. I don't like sitting here but I have to deal with it - this is nothing compared to what I've had to endure ever since Mantel left this world and never came back. It's weird to think that he was sitting in this exact spot, probably feeling the exact same I do right now. What did you do? How did you get through this Mantel? He was so weak.

"Jordan Scoff-Reye!"

The loudspeaker blares my name and I almost feel relieved that I don't have to sit here any more. It's too weird, as if the ghost of my fallen brother sits there with me - just like reaping day.

I lurch to my feet and walk to the training room, breathing in and out deeply.

I enter the empty training room, no one but me and the weapons. And them, how could I possibly forget them? I notice them and my jaw clenches. They killed him, and now they want to kill me. Let them. I observe them, sitting there with their plates full of delicious food - vegetables, fruits, meats. For all I know they could be eating meat I prepared while watching me kill or be killed. It's a huge fucking joke - that's all this is, a huge joke and I'm missing the punchline.

"You know me, I don't think I want to know you so let's just leave it at that!" I call out to them. It's so fucking ominous. Just the thought that he used to be here, trying to impress these people just like I am.

I remember something Mace told me, something about a forcefield separating the tributes from the Gamemakers. Makes sense, so no tributes try anything funny. They can sit there all fine and dandy and we can't do a single damn thing about it. Or can we? My brain kick starts, many ideas spring into mind as I observe all the axs, ropes, tar, everything. I stride over to the weapons and start grabbing double-sided axes - not the huge ones - those would never work. The ones that can really leave someone hurting in the morning. I grab two rucksacks and stuff two axes in each of them.

I then find rope, lots and lots of rope and stuff it in the ruck sack as well, and finally tar. Jars and jars of tar and matches to go with it.

I smile at the GM's.

"My momma always told me 'bout people like you. Hell, Mantel Scoff had to deal with your kind everyday. Picking on him, bullying him cos he was weak. But as soon as someone like me came along they broke and ran away, yep, I've had experience in dealing with you and your lot all my dang life," I sigh and sling the two ruck sacks over my shoulders, "Y'all are fine and dandy sitting behind the forcefield and eating your big meals. Kinda like they were. But the thing is they broke as soon as those shields went..." I think they know what I'm getting at now. "So how much do y'all wanna bet that I'll break that fancy shield? I ain't got nothing of much worth so I guess I'll bet my left shoe. Give me ten minutes." I point towards my left shoe.

I start by climbing the climbing course, the high one. But that's not where it ends, once I'm sure I'm high enough I latch onto the rafters. Yea, this looks big enough. I take out the axes and ropes and tie one end of the ropes to the rafter and the other end to the shaft of the axe it self. And I do that four times, until I have a bunch of heavy axes tied to ropes. "Okay, attempt one." I say to myself. I push one axe so it swings full momentum towards Gamemakers... But to my disappointment it hits the forcefield and the dang thing makes a weird noise and bounces away... then it swings back towards the forcefield and is repelled so it swings even further backwards... and then flies full force towards the forcefield again... then gets repelled back.

I set the motion off on the other three axes, so they basically have a constant flow of four axes trying to hit them, then bouncing off, then trying again, then bouncing off.

I scowl and take out the jars of tar. I copy the axe thing but this time with a jar. I light the match on fire and drop it in the jar, so it's on fire and let it swing towards the forcefield. Now they have a flaming ball of glass and tar flying towards them full force! "Kill it with fire!" I yell. And yet again to my disappointment it only hits the forcefield, explodes into a ball of flame but the forcefield still manages to keep em safe.

I try the same thing with my jars of tar about three more times, but my attempts only end up with the same result. And the axes ain't even making a dent in it. They're like bouncing blades off death but they're not killing the people I want to kill.

I sigh and climb down (still being very careful of the axes) and find more deadly looking weapons. "I think you'll be glad to know I don't like giving up, I do all I can to make or break bullies yer see." I say jokingly but I'm not sure if they can hear me any more with the constant sound of the axes rebounding off the shield.

How about I combine the two?

I take more tar and , but this time I take two more (the small, light ones, the single edged ones) and climb up to the same spot I was. I tip the axes in tar and tie them to the shaft (away from the blade and where the fire will be) and rafters again. But this time I set the two axes on fire using a match and let them go. This time they have flaming axes hurtling towards them. Break, break, break. I silently pray to myself...

And they bounce off one, twice, three times.

And to make it worse the ropes eventually catch on fire on the fourth swing.

I let out a disappointed sigh and climb down the rafters (making sure to once again dodge the axes still swinging).

"Looks like you win."

I slip off my shoe and toss it to the ground and shrug my shoulders.

But I don't want that to be the end. I grab one of the dummies, bent it over and stick it in the path of one of the rebounding axes. And to my delight it slices clean through half of it's head, barely even slowing down, leaving fake blood and brains to leak out. "Looks like you're lucky that forcefield held!" I say after letting the dead dummy drop to the ground.

"Better luck next time eh?!" I yell (so my voice isn't drowned by the rebounding forcefield sounds) and begin walking out. But I don't let my head hang down low. I lift it high.

I ain't beaten, far from it.

(OOC: That axe thing made sense right?)