Twenty Four Shades of Blood [A Hunger Games Fanfic]

Gamemaker Assessments: Districts One - Six

Given the drama that has seemed to mark this year’s group of tributes, the morning of their final day of training passes without any serious incident, to the dismay of some of the instructors.  Fighting amongst the tributes may have been forbidden, but it does break up the monotony of the job, and more than a few of them had hoped that today might lend itself to more entertainment.

They are Capitol born and bred after all – what else can be expected from them?

The tributes are quiet at lunch time, sitting in their groups or alone, none of them talking.  Even the Careers are quiet for once; although Ruby’s glare is saying plenty to anyone it touches. She is surprised to find a slight hint of nervousness under her annoyance.  It's only a few minutes of swinging a sword, she reminds herself, nothing to be afraid of.  All she has to do is maintain that hard façade she has been building over her years of training, and she would be fine.

Nash is playing with a loose thread from the hem of his shirt. He has no idea what he will do.  Despite trying everything, he’s found that there is no field he’s natural in, or really even much good in at all.  He comforts himself with the fact that he hadn’t managed to completely tie himself up like the boy from Six.  That little episode had been what Nash might have called pathetic, having to be untied by Oswin.  He risks a glance in their direction, and suddenly feels very alone as he takes in the sight of their little group, quiet though it is.  He wishes he had an ally, just one.  But he doesn’t.  He’s in this alone.

The silence at the table where Carmen and the members of her tentative alliance sit is significantly more awkward. Jolie has joined them, sitting next to Byron, who is looking uncomfortable.  He doesn’t want her as an ally. She might have been useful over the axe thing, but the way she had apparently adopted him was annoying.  Somehow he has found himself with the two tributes from Five, and the little girl from Nine.  He has to keep reminding himself he had no loyalties to any of them, that he'll leave the minute things started to fall apart.  Which will no doubt be the minute they enter the arena tomorrow.

Ellie catches him looking at her and gives him a little smile, trying to appear brave.  Byron almost hates the protective feeling he has for her, the odd sense of obligation he feels.  The siren sounds for the end of the break, and the tributes file from the room avoiding each other’s eyes.  Less than twenty four hours to go before they must kill or be killed at each other’s hands.

It’s not a cheerful thought.

***

Austin is the first tribute to stand before the Gamemakers.  They take in the cocky smirk, the imposing physique, the aura of confidence, already half deciding what score he will receive.  He’s given the sign to begin, and goes through an impressive, if somewhat unoriginal, display of strength, slashing and hacking the numerous dummies to shreds in the space of a few short minutes.  The Gamemakers note with grudging admiration the way he manages to cleanly remove each limb before slicing off the head as the mutilated mannequin collapses to the floor.

He heads in the direction of the weight equipment, but they tell him not to bother.  They can see the strength in those burly arms and broad chest.

Ruby slouches into the room, feeling apprehensive.  She doesn’t look much like a usual Career, with her squat build and apparent lack of muscle, but the Gamemakers have watched her reaping, and the footage of her training, and know she’s not one to be underestimated.  She throws a few knives, watching the reactions of her observers out the corner of her eye.  They don’t look too impressed, so she decides it’s time to pull out all the stops.  She grabs a bundle of spears and begins her performance, hurling them one after another into the line of dummies.  Each spear thrusts through the target on the dummies necks, right where the throat would be.  Ruby notices a couple of the Gamemakers sit forward.  She ignores them for now and carries on, this time with a bundle of throwing knives.  It’s just like the ball game she loved to play back home, although the things she’s throwing are lighter and sharper than the hard red ball she used then, and in a few hours she’ll be throwing them at real, living humans, not just these inanimate dummies.  She pushes the thought away; sentimentality and weakness has no place here.