Rosemary Acker was pronounced victor of the 55th annual Hunger Games, however she didn't feel like a victor. The trauma and horrors of the games continues to haunt her for many years to come. Watching her friends die one by one, under the hands of P...
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The next morning, at 8:20 a.m, Finch was already prepared for the day's training session. Her hair was neatly put up in a ponytail, and she found herself eagerly waiting for Rosemary to join her. While she waited, she walked around the living quarters, picking up various items and absentmindedly guessing their exorbitant prices. The stark contrast between her humble District 5 upbringing and the opulence of the Capitol was never lost on her. Attempting to make the most of her time, Finch tried to initiate a conversation with Celeste, however, she soon realized that the escort wasn't particularly talkative in the early morning hours. The silence in the room was somewhat unsettling, with anticipation and anxiety hanging heavily in the air. At around 8:44 a.m, Rosemary emerged from her room, dressed in a similar outfit to Finch's training attire. Her presence was a reassuring one, as the mentor took a moment to assess her tribute's readiness.
"You ready?" Rosemary inquired, her voice soft. Finch simply shrugged her shoulders, her nerves palpable in the early hours of the day.
Observing Rosemary's outfit, Finch couldn't help but be curious "What are you wearing?" she asked, her eyes taking in her mentor's clothes.
Rose responded with a touch of humor, trying to ease Finch's apprehension. "Well, I can't teach you about the games if I'm dressed in ordinary clothes, can I?" Finch shrugged her shoulders again, not entirely convinced.
"We should head down, we'll probably be the first down," Rosemary suggested, leading the way to the elevator. As they stepped inside, Rosemary pressed the button, and the doors closed, setting the elevator in motion. The journey to the training center was punctuated by a sense of anticipation, the quiet hum of the elevator the only sound in the early morning stillness.
The elevator descended smoothly, and as the doors opened, Rosemary and Finch stepped into the Capitol's Training Center. The sight that greeted them was both awe-inspiring and haunting. The expansive, high-tech facility seemed to stretch on endlessly, filled with various training stations, weapons, and equipment. The walls were lined with life-sized holographic targets and screens displaying statistics and training data. Despite the passage of nearly two decades, the Training Center had retained its imposing and intimidating atmosphere. Rosemary couldn't help but reflect on how little it had changed since she had trained for her Hunger Games nineteen years ago. The memories of her past experience flooded back, and she couldn't suppress a shiver of unease.
The Training Center had the same sterile, well-lit environment, the same aura of ruthlessness that underlined the Capitol's obsession with entertainment. Rosemary remembered her own initiation into this world, the feeling of vulnerability as she had first walked onto the training floor. The training dummies and targets, the scores on the screens, all had been a stark reminder of the peril she was about to face. Normally, Porter would be the one to follow each tribute down to their training, however, this year was different.
