Assessment day, the day that makes or breaks your chance to get a sponsor. Evan and Jon were the earliest tributes there. They sat at the front of the waiting room, next to the sign that labelled their chairs as "District 1". Behind them were the two chairs for District 2, behind those were District 3 and so on.
Evan listened closely for the sound of approaching footsteps, once all the tributes were there he would be the first assessment. Those footsteps weren't coming yet, which kept Evan in disgusting anticipation. He already decided what he was going to use. Evan was going to spear every single dummy through the head, without fail. There was no margin for failure. He hadn't asked Jon what his plans were yet.
"Hey Jon, what are you going to-" Evan stopped at the sound of footsteps. The other tributes were filtering into the room. They starting to fill up the rows of seats, up to District 8. The last four districts were yet to come, then Evan would be called in.
He would never admit it in front of Jonathan, but Evan was terrified. He eyed Jon out the side of his eye. Evan's eyes trailed down the side of Jonathan's smooth, well taken care of skin. His eyes stopped at his hand, dangling just below the seat of the chair. Evan wanted nothing more than to grasp that hand in that instance. His fingers twitched with want, need.
As the rest of the tributes came in, Evan decided 'fuck it', and softly held Jonathan's hand in his own, their fingers entwining. He saw Jon's faint smile, and that was the only reassurance he needed in that moment.
Everything stood still.
The door swung open and a peacekeeper emerged. Evan's stomach dropped, he didn't want to leave Jon's side.
"Evan Fong, District 1," the man read out. Evan took a deep breath, trying to calm his persistent nerves. He slowly let go and composed himself. Now that he was standing, the other tributes could see him and Evan couldn't afford to let any weakness shine through. He took heavy steps towards the peacekeeper, straightening his back. As he stepped through the door, he got one last glance at Jonathan. His cheeks were rosy and a calming smile was painted on his face, directed only at Evan.
The door closed behind Evan and he faced forward. Soon he found himself in the centre of the training room, only everything was more in order and the dummies had all been replaced so none had any piercings in them.
"Evan Fong, you will have 10 minutes to show us what you can do. Choose one item of your choice, demonstrate your skill, then you will be allowed to return to your room and await your result," a tall woman spoke from above him. All the judges were relaxing on a balcony, eating and drinking and laughing and being free. How dare they be free when Evan was stuck down there? Fuck it, when all the tributes were stuck in the Capitol, on a death schedule. Was he starting to regret volunteering? No...he needed to be here to protect Jonathan, to ensure his survival.
For him.
Evan picked up a spear. He was going to give them the best fucking show they've ever seen.
***
The tributes before him slowly trickled into the training room situated just behind the looming doors. Craig did not have many tributes in front of him, so he was even more nervous than the tributes behind him. So far, everyone who has gone before Craig has been very physically orientated, while Craig's genius was in his mind. Would the judges get bored of him too quickly? No, if they can sit through the District 2 tribute's assessments, they can sit through him.
As mean as it was, Craig couldn't help but jump on the hateful bandwagon directed at the District 2 men. There were boys here that were weaker than those two, but it was so strange and foreign to not have strong people from a career district. The disdain Craig felt for them made Craig feel occasional twangs of guilt, so he was just going to avoid them.
"Hey, I can see you freaking out in your chair here, don't be too nervous. If you get a lower score, that's ok because you'll fly under the radar of people outside our alliance. Like that Ryan guy, I don't trust him for a second," Tyler mused, snapping Craig from his anxious thoughts. Craig stared into Tyler's piercing eyes for a moment. He opened his mouth but the door slammed open.
"Tyler Wilde, you're up," the peacekeeper said. Craig watched and stayed still as his anchor was ripped away from him. The only thing keeping him grounded was being taken away. Tyler shot Craig one last smile before disappearing behind the door. Tyler was going to do perfectly, he's been excelling at all kinda of training since the duo arrived in the Capitol. Craig would pale in comparison to his...love.
Craig sat on his hands to stop them from shaking. Tyler wouldn't take long, and then Craig would have to give it all he's got. He shut his eyes to brace himself, and when he opened them his name was called.
"Craig Thompson, you're next," the peacekeeper announced. He took in a shaky breath before standing and making his way to the training room. He was alone in the centre of the room, looking up to the judges.
"Welcome, Thompson, you have ten minutes to demonstrate your skills to us. Pick a specialty and your tools. Your time starts now."
Craig scanned the room. He would have a dreadful score if he used any of the weapons for combat. He walked to the traps station. If he could rig a device so it could trap running prey, that might work in his favour. He began working on his trap, weaving ropes in between each other, placing a net across the ground that would spring up if something walked across it.
Once he was satisfied with his work, he looked back up to the judges to see if they were paying attention. Some were distracted in their own conversations but the majority of them were watching him, some even jotting down notes. He looked around for something to set of the trap, to demonstrate that it worked. He settled on a spare cog lying on a nearby table. He squatted down and rolled the cog across the ground. It ran across the net, but before it left the net's circumference the net folded up and over itself, trapping the cog. He looked back up to the judges and bowed.
"Thank you, Craig. You may now return to your quarters or join the rest of your tributes in the lobby to see your results, which will air in about three hours."
Craig was escorted from the room and found Tyler in the lobby with Evan and Jon.
"We could go back to our quarters to watch it together, if you don't want to interact with the other tributes," Craig offered.
"Sounds good to me, I don't like the rest of them. We'll grab our mentor," Jon replied.
***
Ryan watched the career tributes enter the training room, then Tyler, then finally a jittery Craig. From his deductions, his only real competitions could be Evan and Tyler. Luke and Mark might have been a threat if they weren't Ryan's allies. The only thing dragging Tyler down was Craig. The fucking pipsqueak who won't leave his side. He ruined Ryan's chances of recruiting Tyler for his alliance.
There was almost nothing redeeming about Craig, Ryan thought. He was too small to pack a punch or properly handle a weapon. The only thing he could possibly be useful for would be strategy, but he had Bryce for that. He didn't need another weakling on his team.
In the arena, he may have to watch for Craig though. He's not weighed down by muscle or fat, so he could easily sneak up on Ryan and his squad and kill them while they slept. That is assuming that his own team was too inept to keep watch at night. Maybe Tyler or Evan or even the other guy from District 1 could keep Craig as their shield, sacrifice him if things got too difficult. That would be the logical thing to do, rat someone else out to save your own hide.
David shifted in his chair next to Ryan, accidentally kicking Ryan in the process.
"Oh sorry Ryan, didn't mean it bud," David tried to apologise, but it came out rather lame.
"Why are you here, Nogla? There were better people than you to do this," Ryan sighed. David turned away from his district partner, scowling.
"Shut up, Ryan. You've always been like this, even outside of training back in District 4. You're no better than the rest of us," David attacked, just before the door swung open for the fifth time.
"Ryan Ohm? You're turn," the peacekeeper said.
Ryan leaned in close to David and whispered, "watch your fucking back, Nogla. You're dirt beneath my feet."
Ryan entered the room, filtering out what the judges were saying. He knew what he was here do to. He grabbed some knives and made his way to three dummies standing upright against a wall. He pictured the first dummy as David, landing two knives straight to the chest, and one in the middle of the target on the face. He moved to the second one, this one appeared as Craig in his mind. He hurled the knives in the targets at lightning speed, grunting with his efforts. His last target was Tyler, the asshole who rejected him and his efforts to recruit him. He sent a knife into the chest and head. He had a spare knife, which he threw into the groin of Craig's dummy.
Ryan sauntered to the dummies, trying to keep a cool composure, like he was a professional at what he was doing. He extracted the knives from the dummies, and dumped them on the ground except for one. He needed a big finish, something that was going to make the judges remember his name.
He tossed the knife in his hand before swiftly beheading all three dummies in one fell swoop. He couldn't help but marvel in how powerful he felt.
He vowed to himself that he was going to do that to those three boys in the games, and he would stop at nothing to win.