Still sweaty and grimy from the rigorous track exercise, Joan decided that it would be best to tie her hair up and hide from the rest of the tributes for now. She didn’t want to slack off; she never truly had, for all of the stations she had visited serves a specific purpose. She didn’t waste time, but she used it in ways that would benefit her in set ways.
She hadn’t gone to a first aid station at all during training because she had so much experience with Dafne and her profession. Joan herself probably could have taken over Dafne’s job at any time, her knowledge of medicines, vaccines, and the body extensive. So she had skipped that station all together.
She hadn’t visited too many of the weapons stations, other than the blades she’d like to get more accustomed to. She was best with spears, though she hadn’t even touched one yet. She would, eventually. But not yet.
She had frequented stations that required knots to familiarize herself with them, to make up for her severe lack of skill with them. She finally had gotten the hang of it after forced repetition, so for whatever reason she needed to make a net or construct a fancy roped mechanism, she would likely be the best candidate for it. Her knuckles hurt, her palms full of rope burns. But it was fine by her, the productivity nice.
So now she sat at a table, a few books sprawled in front of her. She hadn’t picked a topic - she’d just grabbed a dozen books and shoved them open, deciding that she would figure out what to truly study. She took to the books cautiously, skimming and wading through the ones that she wouldn’t need.
She read of electricity, of wiring, of circuit boards. She read of poisons, of antidotes, of darts. She read of tracking, of animals, of survival.
She read and read until her eyes bleared over, jotting notes down to keep focused that she would throw away later. She flipped to the next page of “An Overview of Foliage” when she felt a sting in her finger, and immediately dragged her hand away from the book, in which the stinging increased.
A blossom of scarlet sat on her index finger, and she shoved it into her mouth after seeing the paper cut. Her finger tasted like copper, salty and familiar. It reminded her of times she would fall on the rocks of the beach, scraping up her bottom lip.
Would killing another person, would tasting their blood, feel this comforting?
She knew that training at the track wouldn’t make her that much better of a runner. Still, she decided it was a decent use of her time in the closing hours of training. She wanted to just zone out and push her limits, trying to sort things out in her head.
She started slowly, running the track. One foot in front of the other, her lungs working in tandem with her thighs. She recollected, remembering how friendly she had been to the tributes the first few days. Now, she wouldn’t have any reservations about slaughtering any of them.
It was a sickening thought, but one she needed to start getting used to. She would do whatever it took to win, to get home. Whatever it took, even if that meant having each of the 23’s blood on her hands. She would do it again and again, just to get back home.
Dafne was probably seated in the kitchen every passing day, manically watching the television for any updates on her sister. Though there wouldn’t be much of anything until the end of private trainings, her sister would be glued to the screen until Joan was either dead or home.
Her parents were probably on their way home from sea, and if word hadn’t made it to them yet, it would soon enough. Her mother had always been the sturdy one, so it would be her father who would be crying. Though they would be weary and hopeful, if Joan was to die, they would still enjoy the seas that she would never step foot in again.
That’s how it would be. She would be a memory, fleeting like a wave. She didn’t exactly belong at home, but she didn’t belong here either. She was stuck in an in-between, excelling at everything and nothing all at once.
Sweat beaded on her forehead, dripping off of her as she sprinted. Her throat burned at the effort, and she finally almost doubled over, hands on her thighs. She heaved, catching her breath in pants. Checking the time nearby with squinted eyes, she rubbed her face to make sure she was seeing correctly. She’d ran for an hour straight, without pausing from her daze. She sighed and sat in the middle of the track, dragging her hands through her hair.
Her body was built for the Games, but she wasn't sure her mind was.
Meredith pressed her lips together, today was the final day of training and soon, they will all be in the arena, fighting it out to win the crown of victor. Her green eyes were on the prize, willing to do whatever it takes to go back home, they needed her, the Hatter needed her. Meredith knew not winning meant she was leaving the Hatter, and that will surely make him go mad.
Meredith laid down, her head was hurting and her friends from Wonderland continuously began to pop up, wishing her luck and others telling her to train more. Meredith was beginning to wane down, the Hatter was continuously telling her who he cannot wait for her to kill, and how long she should train before she can stop. He has a list, Meredith told herself, of all the people he wants me to murder.
“Paint the roses red, Alice.” The Hatter’s words imprinted in her mind, replaying over and over like a broken record player.
“Enough Hatter!” Meredith screamed, her emotions getting the best of her finally and now she was cracking. The Hatter patted her shoulder, the smirk on his lips invisible from Meredith’s sight.
“There, there. Everything is going to be okay Alice. I know you’re breaking, but I can help you. Let me help you.” She was a puppet to the Hatter, he was pulling all the strings and she was the one performing the tasks. Meredith lowered her head in agreement, she knew there was nothing she could do, the Hatter was in full control now.
The training center was near empty by the time Dani I parted ways. I saw this as my chance to go shoot for a while, since I didn’t get much time yesterday with Brunelle and quite frankly, I was itching for some familiar territory. Not to mention, there was something I wanted to try out.
“Last minute training, eh?” the same trainer from yesterday said when she saw me come over, “Something like that.” I scooped up a bow and a quiver of arrows, “There’s a simulator over here right?” “I don’t think you’re ready for that.” she replied, “I beg to differ.” “Suit yourself, kid. Simulator is in that room.” she said, nodding to a closed off area beside the range.
Perfect.
The room was silent, dark. It almost reminded me of the abandoned building I used to run through back home.
“Not yet.” I called to the trainer outside the glass wall, her hand just reaching the control panel to turn the simulator on. She folded her arms and leaned against the panel. I dropped the quiver and bow to the floor and stretched my legs quickly, then began jogging along the perimeter of the room.
After a lap I began interrogating the tic-tac I learned this morning at the parkour station, starting low and building up my height as my pace increased. It felt easy, natural.
I snatched up the bow and slung the quiver over my back and continued the run, following the same routine I did without the bow and quiver. I started low and moved up the wall as I ran faster, remembering to twist my hips and spin the way the trainer showed me this morning.
Then came the bow. As I pushed off the wall I twisted my body and drew the string back, releasing it without the arrow.
“Get used to the feel of it before bringing in the arrow.” Marathon told me the first time I ever used a bow. The same thing I told Six yesterday.
I went through the motions again, and again, and again. My adrenaline beginning to pump and that intoxicating burn starting to take my muscles.
“Practice makes perfect. Do it again.” I heard Marathon say.
“Again.”
I slipped an arrow from the quiver and took off, pushing off the wall and letting it fire.
“Again.”
I pulled one out mid-run, just before I hit the wall and loaded it.
“Again.” I heard Styx’s voice command.
My hand was in the quiver as I twisted my body coming off of the wall, the arrow soaring into the glass wall and ricocheting off.
And still I kept practicing. I had no idea how much time had passed or how much of it I had left in the day.
I picked up the fallen arrows and poked my head outside the glass door, the trainer wearing a slight smirk, “Now you can turn it on.” I said as I closed the door and twirled an arrow casually in my hand, taking off immediately when I saw the first orange figure appear.
----
“Hey, uh, thanks for the tip earlier.” I said to Atari when I got back to the apartment later that night. He looked up from the console in his hands, “You can thank this.” he said motioning to the device. I squinted my eyes slightly to make out the words on the cartridge in the back of the console, “Figures.” I said rolling my eyes and forcing a laugh, “Tell me I was wrong.” he replied with the first honest laugh I’ve heard this guy make.
“You weren’t.” I said, “Talk to me then.” he said, pointing to the cushioned seat opposite of him. This was weird. “Are we having a little meeting?!” Genesis exclaimed as she came bouncing into the room, “Just some guy talk.” Atari replied, “About?” she questioned, “Video games.” “I love games! Which one?”
Who knew his obsession would become more of a help than a burden.
When he finally finished at the Hand to Hand station, Judas felt like he could have filled a bucket with the amount of sweat that dripped off of his body. He kept expecting for his muscles to scream in utter agony, but surprisingly they didn’t hurt as much as he thought they would. Perhaps this was a sign that he was getting stronger, or it just meant that he would feel all the pain tomorrow morning. Regardless, he did not regret any decision that he had made thus far. There was no time to regret such trivial things. Regret kept one away from their goals, and that was the last thing Judas needed.
After that endeavor, Judas decided that he needed to find a place to calm down. He didn’t just want to sit and do nothing, so that eliminated the Meditation station. He didn’t want to do too much work since he was tired, so that left out most other stations. Eventually, his searching came to an end and Judas made his way over to the Library station where, upon arriving, he found a mass amount of books of all shapes and sizes.
Once there, he sat amongst the books and began to read to his hearts content. He read books of fiction and books of reality. He read books that had been published recently and books that had been published hundreds and hundreds of years ago. He could not finish every single book because, obviously, he did not have the time, but he read as much as he could. It was calming, the feeling of concentrating on one thing while all the worries of the world seemed to melt right off his shoulders. For hours, he did not think about these games at all. This all changed when he felt a tap on his shoulder from the woman who was in charge of the station. She alerted him that the station was closing and at first, Judas was confused. He understood when he looked around and saw barely any tributes in the room, however. Training was almost over. That was it. Getting up, he walked past the librarian woman and then started back towards his suite, mentally preparing himself for the challenges ahead.
It hit Judas suddenly as he was running on the track for his usual morning run. This was the last day of training. Today was the final day to gather oneself and prepare for the arena. Of course, it wasn’t as simple as that, Judas had learned. Once public training was complete, each tribute was to show their skills and be evaluated by the gamemakers. A score would be given between one and twelve that let everyone in all of the country know if this tribute is destined for greatness or if they are destined for failure. One number, that’s all it takes. One number could mean the difference between life and death.
After the private training, then they would be interviewed by the one called Caesar. Judas had remembered seeing him on the recap of Daisy’s games. He was an extremely fruity man that was essentially the embodiment of a rainbow. All the tributes would dress up in fancy attire and then sit there and let this walking rainbow interview them. Daisy had told Judas that the interviews were also extremely important because it gave the sponsors one final look at all the tributes before the games truly began. His mentor had stressed this part and given Judas a look when she said it. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was implying, and he agreed, surprisingly. A sponsor backing him would mean a better chance at surviving. A better chance at surviving meant a better chance at making it to the final battle and, well, it was straightforward from there.
(straightforward to absolute chaos and batshit crazy tributes)
As Judas slowed down his steady paced run into a slow jog, he thought about what other training stations would be good to visit. He glanced around the room as he ran and while he did this, he spotted a station that was void of tribute life, for the most part, that he had thought about visiting the day before. Coming to a stop, he exchanged his running shoes for his regular ones and walked over to the Hand to Hand station.
When he arrived, he stumbled across who he assumed was the trainer sparring with another tribute. It was a boy that Judas did not know the name of. In fact, he had barely seen the boy at all since the games began. He remembered seeing him in the reaping and knew that he came from District Nine. The boy leaped forward, yelling something about feeling very emotional because of someone named Zayn, but was stopped by the trainer. He sidestepped the boys assault and grabbed his arm, twisting it around his back, causing the tribute to scream out in pain and fall to the ground.
(well that was fucking easy good christ)
Whilst the boy was writhing in pain, the trainer turned his attention to the newcomer who had approached the station. He was a middle aged man with messy, unkept hair and an equally unkept beard. His hair was dyed a strange, dark purple color and his beard was an entirely different color, an emerald green.
“Welcome.”
Judas was still watching the boy on the ground moaning in pain when the man spoke. Turning his attention to the trainer, who was at this point looking rather impatient, Judas decided he would actually speak to this man instead of just nodding like normally. It didn’t seem wise to do anything to piss him off even further. However, before he could he was interrupted by the trainer.
“Let us begin.” He said simply before sprinting full speed towards a wide-eyed Judas. Raising his hands up, Judas clumsily dodged to the side as the trainer attempted to deliver a tremendous punch to his abdomen.
(what)
He barely had time to regain his composure before the man came at him again, this time with a wide kick. Unfortunately, Judas was not able to dodge this attack and his legs were swept from under him and he hit the ground ass first. He bit the inside of his cheek as the trainer stepped forward and stood over Judas with his arms crossed.
“Get up.”
Judas did as he was told and then took a few steps back, trying to guess what would be coming next. This time, the man took a slower approach and circled around Judas. Around and around he went and Judas kept eye contact with him the entire time. It was because of that that Judas noticed something peculiar. He didn’t have time to think about it, however, because soon after the trainer attacked, trying to land a barrage of blows on Judas. Judas avoided most of them, but one or two of them managed to land. Had these been injuries caused by an actual weapon, he would be wounded but not dead.
When he backed up this time and raised his arms in front of him, Judas thought about what he had just seen. Right before the trainer attacked, his left eye had twitched for just a second. Perhaps this was... Judas had to make sure.
This time, Judas was the first to attack. He stepped forward and threw a punch at the trainer, who dodged it, obviously. Following that, he threw two more and followed by trying to hook his leg around the trainers. The punches failed, but the leg move did not. He successfully managed to hook his leg around the mans and then, using his body, he pulled with his leg and pushed with his hands at the same time, causing the trainer to fall. However, he rolled to the side and was back on his feet in an instant. Judas expected this, however, but what he expected more was the counter attack that was soon to follow. He was right.
The moment he hopped back on his feet, the trainer closed in on Judas. He did not give any hints as to when he was going to strike with his hands or feet, but Judas knew where to look. He continued to make eye contact with the trainer, waiting to see if his hunch was right. When he saw the twitch, Judas’ eyes widened and he dodged to the side right as the trainer attempted to deliver a devastating punch, kick combo. Judas could see the shock on the trainers face as the boy grabbed the trainers arm and then put him in the same position he himself had put that boy from Nine moments before.
“Not bad, boy. Not bad.” He said as Judas released him. “Ready for more?” He inquired, to which Judas responded by raising his hands and nodding his head. For the next few hours, Judas trained with the man, doing his best to absorb the various fighting styles the trainer showed him as well as the motions for how to defend himself as well as go on the offensive.
When Push Comes to Shove || Hand to Hand || Cypress & Angus
Mueller had always stressed that the performers stay healthy. An injury could spell devastation for us as every performance needed to be perfect. Though we grew up with a lot of others around our age this meant we never got to wrestle and be obnoxious little things like most kids get to do. It also meant embarrassingly enough I’d never been in a real fight. Having to lift my sister for hours a day during training had made me strong enough but when it came to throwing punches and knowing what to even do in a fight I was clueless.
When I told the trainer this he laughed, clapped me on the shoulder, and told me he probably wouldn’t be making it to my funeral. If it wasn’t for the precise timing of the District Ten male I would have had some choice words for the trainer. He had a build similar to mine though he was a little thicker, probably from working with livestock most of his life.
“Hey, Ten. Think you could help me out over here?” I called to him with a smile. I had no idea if he knew what he was doing either but maybe if the trainer saw two people with no clue he’d help us out.
Alright maybe injuring myself to feel something wasn’t the best idea. The moments were fleeting and had no long lasting sensations, other than annoying pain at this point. I figured there’s no better time than now to make use of the package Ford the avox provided me. It’ll numb the pain, sure, but maybe it’ll open something in my head that allows me to feel.
I pulled out the blunt and lit the end. The narcotic had been legalized, but there was still a stigma around it’s use for whatever reason, so I turned my head side to side before exhaling a cloud of white. My eyelids grew heavy as I stared out to the view from the roof.
