Book 2: The Victors

019

"Makes sense, I guess." Isla nodded, slightly thankful for Finnick's involvement. Training with a gun was a lot different than the training she had done for the Hunger Games. 

They enter a large room with targets and weapons. A man sits hunched at a desk, weapons deconstructed into their smallest pieces in front of him. He looks up, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Ah, yes, hello." Beetee greets Isla and Gale, rolling himself away from the table. Isla had almost forgot that he was paralyzed, it had happened during the final moments of the the Hunger Games. She had been running in the trees with Johanna at the time.

"Hey Beetee." Isla waves at him softly, feeling a bit awkward. She had never particularly liked the man, but she had always respected him for his brains. Though, she had fully intended on killing him just weeks ago.

"So, I've got some knives for you." He motions towards a section of the table, making his way over. Isla walks over, followed closely by Gale, to get a better look. Spread out are several knives with three different coloured handles. Black, yellow, and red lines all design the otherwise completely matte black knives.

"What's with the colours?" Isla asks innocently, but she's pretty sure she has an idea of what they mean.

"Regular," Beetee points at the ones with shiny black lines designing the matte black surface. "Incendiary," he then points at the ones with yellow lines, "And explosive." Finally, motioning to the ones with red lines.

"I don't even know what to say." Isla chuckles lightly, allowing Beetee to pick up one of the sets. 

"They'll attach to your vest, I just have to finish that part." He explains almost nervously. Although, his natural state seems to be slightly on edge. Awkward, even.

"Try them out." Gale looks at Isla with an encouraging expression. 

"Yeah, okay." Isla agrees, grabbing one of the black handled knives. She feels it in her fingers, twirling it and testing the balance. They're similar to the ones she's used to in the arena, but heavier and more high tech.

She turns to the targets, settling the knife comfortably between her fingers. With one last look at the men behind her, she whips back her arm and sends the blade flying through the air. It settles on the target, near the centre. It's better than she thought, considering she was bound to be rusty. Not to mention, they're new knives.

"Not bad." Gale speaks up, walking to retrieve the knife. "We should really get on with your gun training though. I'd say you know what you're doing with these, and I don't know when we'll be sent out. You have to be ready."

Isla nods, and they go into the more enclosed gun range off of the armoury. It was sound proof, designed to allow Beetee to work in quiet while still letting the soldiers brush up on their shooting. Gale hands her a gun after she puts on her goggles, a mandatory piece of equipment within the range. 

She hates the guns. They're heavy, huge, and just feel awkward in her hands. She longs to go back and pick up the knives that Beetee made her. They felt so much more natural in her hands, she felt much more efficient with those than the hunk of metal she held now. Of course, it would be ridiculous for her to fight a war with knives. Peacekeeper armour would likely stop the blade before it could do any damage, she'd have to hit her shots just right to penetrate the weak spots of the armour. A gun would do her a lot better, and be a lot more helpful to her squad.

"Like usual, head and chest are the primary targets." Gale says before putting a pair of earmuffs on her ears. He puts a set on himself as he steps back, standing with his arms crossed like he always does. 

Isla takes this as her cue to begin, so she lines up her shot, aiming at the head and the chest. It takes her a bit to get the flow, hitting the shoulder, neck, and chin a few times, but she gets the hang of it after awhile. Her training had progressed significantly, as her first few sessions had ended with the targets still intact. Gale handled her frustrations well, though, and kept her on track to a point where she felt she could accurately defend herself now with one of the rifles.