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[capitol-chronicle]

[capitol-chronicle]

The Training Scores are out! What are you all thinking? Who do you think’s gonna win? This group of tributes seems to be pretty impressive this year!

C’mon, give me the gossip!

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“Sapphire Giada.” She heard the animated voice call her name. She stood up, giving the district two kid across from her one last look before moving into the room. The pack this year was looking like slim pickings and she was about to decide just to go at it herself.

“Sapphire Giada, District 1.” She called as she came to a stop in the center of the training room, her eyes locked on the gamemakers.

“You have fifteen minutes to present your skills.” One of them said.

Diamond wasted no time. She moved to the throwing station, selecting a collection of throwing knives, she secured them in her belt before moving into the simulation station. She glanced at the time on the clock. thirteen minutes forty-five seconds. She set the simulation to the hardest setting before stepping into it.

The door closed and she was instantly on guard. Within seconds three golden simulations came running towards her. She hit the first one square in the chest. She gave no time to see it explode into pixels before she turned to the second and hit it in the middle of the forehead. The third she barely had time to turn, rolling onto her back, she kicked her feet up to send the animation flying over her. She turned and came to a kneeling position. She sent the third knife flying and watched as it hit the golden figure in the neck. She quickly retrieved her weapons. This continued for several minutes, each set of animations coming closer together and sending more to face her. She killed them all, only having two that she had to throw more than one knife to kill.

Her breathing was heavy as she made her way out of the simulation. Her eyes flicked to the clock. Six minutes thirty-two seconds remaining. She quickly made her way over to the dummies, grabbing a bow and quiver of arrows as she went. She steadied herself on the designated archery distance, some seventy feet from the dummies. Raising the bow, she slotted an arrow and took her aim. She released the arrow and watched as it hit the center dummy square in the chest. The next three arrows were released the same. She then moved several feet back and repeated the task. She did this twice more before finally coming to her last spot, nearing a hundred and twenty feet from the targets. She raised the bow, already slotted with an arrow and took her aim, back on the first target. She inhaled and as she exhaled she released the arrow. She watched as it flew, coming into contact in the same exact place as the first, having split the very first arrow. A smile spread over her lips.

She looked at the clock once more. One minute and fifty-four seconds. She looked around quickly and made her way to the survival station. Her last minute and a half was spent building a quick trap. Afterall it wasn’t all about fighting, survival skills were needed in the arena as well.

Just before the buzzer sounded, Sapphire dropped the last knife she had on her belt. The trap snapped shut, breaking the handle of the knife. A smile spread over her lips, and feeling accomplished, she exited the room. “Thank you.” She called just as she stepped out of the room and the doors shut behind her.

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She had watched the Tribute from District Eleven disappear through the heavy doors at the end of the waiting area in the Training Center what seemed like an hour ago. Raven was thankful in some ways that she was the last Tribute to go for the Skills Presentation but she also knew it likely meant that the Sponsors and Gamemakers were growing tired. She knew she had to do something to stand out. ‘Raven Baldoni, District Twelve’ the women’s voice announced.

Taking in a sharp inhale, she rose to her feet and forced herself forward to the doors, chin set. Once in the Training Center, which looked also unsettling with the lack of other Tributes, two Peacekeepers shut the doors behind Raven. She continued forward, eyes cutting over to look up in the viewing area without moving her head. She stopped at the stand where a bow and quiver had been set out for her. Turning to face the Gamemakers and Sponsors, “Raven Baldoni, District Twelve.”  She announced.

Clipping the quiver on and then picking up the bow, Raven headed over to the simulation machine. She set the machine to level eight of ten difficulty and entered the box as she notched an arrow. Suddenly a pixelated spear went flying towards Raven, she ducked and shot an arrow up to the second floor to take out the target that had thrown it. Her arrow flew true and the pixelated man exploded into holographic cubes. Raven turned and shot another target before it could shoot its own arrow. She moved, running, ducking, rolling to shoot target after target. Raven had set the machine to run for eight minutes and by her best guess she was nearing that, but distracted for that split second a digit arrow came flying and Raven couldn’t move in time, the hologram hitting her causing the box lights to go red and simulations disappear. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuccck’ Raven screamed in her head.  

She knew she need to just move on, try to pretend she hadn’t just majorly fucked up. Leaving the simulation box, Raven went over to the table in front of the observation box where supplies had been laid out. Raven quickly got to work expertly making two different kinds of snares that could be used on animals and humans. Finishing just seconds before her time ran out, ran stepped back from them and looked up at the viewing box. “Raven Baldoni, District Twelve.” God she hoped this had been enough for a decent score.

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Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes, she could do this. Sneaking out to the Capitol, getting more than a little tipsy, swaggering around the training center as if she knew everything was all coming down to this. Fifteen minutes to prove her worth. Fifteen minutes to prove she was capable.

She stepped into the training center when her name was called, pausing only a minute as her eyes scanned everything she could do. So much of life on a farm was survival related - knot tying (gotta keep the cows in the pasture when a link of the fence breaks down), trap making (gotta keep the vermin from making snacks of your animals), making a fire (for keeping warm in the winter months or when outside far after dark when making camp just seems preferable), knowing what plants one could and couldn’t eat….

She blew her cheeks out, her usual bravado gone, and moved across the training center to an array of ropes. Penny gathered a few different ropes and set about setting her trap. One rope was thrown over, knots were tied. She worked diligently and with the precision years of practice ensured. It took longer than she would have liked, but she got it done and when she did, she stepped back to admire her work before turning to retrieve one of the dummies from across the room. The figure was hefted over her shoulder and carried back to the trap where she sat it back down, feet within the circle that snapped up and had the dummy hanging upside down from the trap.

“You know,” she called loud enough to be heard from where the game makers sat perched high above, “human anatomy and pig anatomy is very similar.” She’d made her way over to the knives display as she spoke and plucked one that looked fairly close to what she’d use at home before returning to the strung up dummy.

In one smooth, swift move she cut an incision downwards from groin to where the ribs met. A sticky red substance began to spill out and Penny recognized it as a substitute for blood. Human blood. She tried to ignore that notion. “One difference though is that pigs’ ribs are made of cartridge. Ours aren’t.” She shrugged as if it meant nothing, cutting through the simulated skin and pulling skin back to reveal the ribs. “Regardless, the heart should be,” she tried to ignore the feeling that pulling the ribs apart caused in her, “right about, here.” She reached her hand into the space she’d created and pulled out a bloodied hand with what was made to mimic an actual muscle. “Sorry buttercup,” she commented as she dropped the heart back into the abdominal cavity.

She dropped the knife to the ground haphazardly and wiped her hands on the pants of her training uniform. She didn’t have much time left, her butchery having taken another handful of minutes. She made her way over to the axes and grabbed one up, giving it a quick throw just before her time was up. “Seven’s not the only one who knows how to use axes.” She called over her shoulder as she made towards the exit.

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It felt like she had been waiting forever.  By the time they called her in, Willow was anxiously fidgeting with her tribute token.  The pendant hung around her neck and she just kept playing with it while she waited.  Her mind ran over the countless different things she could do during the skills presentation.  She wanted to make her mark and show that she wasn’t someone to be messed with, but she also knew she wasn’t as strong as a lot of the others.  Her strengths were gentler.  They weren’t weapons she could kill someone with.  She was a healer, not a fighter.

“District Seven.  Willow Ashlar.”

The mechanical voice overhead pulled Willow from her thoughts and she closed her eyes briefly before standing.  It was now or never and she still didn’t have the slightest idea what she was going to do.  Skills presentation was not something that she had prepared a lot for and yet she remembered what her mentor had said.  Get as high a score as possible.  How was she supposed to do that?  Somehow she doubted that the Gamemakers wanted to watch her patch a wound or do anything like that.  Sighing softly, she let her feet carry her towards the door.  It opened and she walked in even though every fiber of her being was screaming for her to ignore them.  Maybe if she didn’t face training then she couldn’t be put in the Arena.  

She had already known how to use an axe.  Poison was something she could make herself in the arena if she needed to and had access to the right plants.  Those weren’t flashy skills, but they could be just as deadly if she applied herself right.  Releasing a breath, she walked into the room with her head held high.  Willow needed to be confident.  They needed to know she was a contender.  She could do this.

“You have fifteen minutes to present your chosen skill,” the Gamemakers told her once she entered the room.  Willow took a deep breath and nodded before she walked straight over towards the edibility and medical stations. There were a few poisonous plants and with the right combination they could be very deadly.  Aspen explained the process of what she was doing to the Gamemakers as she did it, hoping they’d understand since she couldn’t very well poison anyone during scoring in order to prove the poison worked.  

Once she had her mixture created, Willow walked over and grabbed one of the axes from the weapon rack.  It was smaller, built for a woman, so she knew she could handle it better than she had handled her older brother’s axe back home.  She spread a small amount of the mixture on the blade of her axe before she walked over to the simulator.  She’d practiced with the simulator before but it still made her nervous.

Taking a deep breath, Willow closed her eyes and focused.  She turned it on and when the holograms attacked her, she swung the axe.  Each one came and she hit them with the axe.  A quick move to the side dodged the attacking holograms before the axe hit it’s abdomen and caused it to explode into pixels.  Again she moved quickly, dodging low to protect herself.  She was small and fast.  With the axe she kept swinging.  One came at her from the side and she took it down.

For the remaining few minutes of her session, Willow kept using the axe to take down the holograms one by one.  If they came in pairs she carefully spun away from them and focused on hurting them before they could hurt her which happened once or twice, the holograms hitting her and a zap zinging through her body. When the time ended, Willow put the axe down and walked over to stand before the Gamemakers.  She smiled politely and gave a little bow.  “Thank you for your time,” she said before she walked out of the room, anxious but eager to see her score.

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Just two months before the 98th annual Hunger Games, the Capitol is alive with its nightlife while those in the districts (most at least) are tucked away in their beds. It is exactly 3:23am, 7th May in the year 98, and television broadcasts across the nation are interrupted. Televisions flicker to life if they are turned off. A loud alarm like noise is heard, followed by:

“This is Panem Channel One with Breaking News. It has just been confirmed, President Coriolanus Snow has died at the age of 106 years old. More to come as information is available.”

The screens across the nation cut to black, unable to return to their regularly scheduled programming.