The Great War.

III

"Treacherous."

We are taken into custody after the anthem ends. I never understood why they act like we're going to escape; we're here by choice. The peacekeepers guide us to the front door of the Justice Building, and upon entering, they take us to separate rooms. The walls are sand-colored, a chandelier hangs from the ceiling in the middle of the room, the floor is made of parquet, and thick fur rugs lie under each armchair made of what appears to be leather, and despite their tough appearance, they are incredibly comfortable. I sink into one of them and wait for the Peacekeepers to come back for me; this time is used for the tributes to say goodbye to their relatives, but since I don't have anyone here, it's time to think about the trouble I had just gotten myself into.

What was I thinking?

I am minutes away from getting on a train that will take me straight to the Capitol, where I'll have to fight with every fiber of my body to return home with honor and glory for my district. It's honestly easier said than done. If I can get my hands on a dozen knives, I'll be fine. I've trained for many years for this, and this is no time to chicken out. Although I do have a slight concern regarding the weapons that they will provide us in the arena, there was a year where they only equipped the tributes with some horrible spiked maces, and they ended up beating each other to death.

One thing is me with the weapons with which I have trained my entire life, and another is the brutal hand-to-hand fights. With my height and weight, I'm not an opponent for anyone, but if I manage to outsmart the rest, I could get my opponents to kill each other, or better yet, make my allies do the dirty work for me. The richer districts, usually one, two, and four, tend to form alliances between their tributes to increase their chances of winning and to eliminate the weak ones more quickly. I think about all the possibilities and everything that could happen there, but it is not really that helpful because absolutely nothing is certain; that's the charm of the games.

The large doors are flung open, and a peacekeeper tells me that it's time to go. Leaving the justice building, we get into a black car, and we travel for less than five minutes with Lauren, who is in the passenger seat and doesn't stop talking.

Arriving at the train station, we get out of the car and are ushered quickly through a huge crowd of journalists, who are shouting, pushing, and crushing each other in order to get a good photo of me, Cato, or our mentors. The flashes of the multiple cameras dazzle me, and I feel a painful pressure building in the back of my head. Lauren walks behind me with one hand on my back. I feel her long nails tapping on my waist as a sign that I should hurry up before the journalists pounce on us. We reach the doors of the train that are still closed. I take one last look at the sea of people standing in front of me, and I can't understand any of the questions that they are shouting. I do my best to ignore them.

There is a very important rule about the games that we are taught in the training center: do not interact with the press under any circumstances, unless directed by a mentor or representative of the Capitol.

We have to stay a few minutes in front of the train for our pictures to be taken, and when I feel like my head will explode because of the blinding lights, they let us get inside the wagon. The doors close and the train starts to move. The sheer speed of the train pushes me against one of the walls, and Lauren holds my arm to help me regain balance.

"I love traveling by train." She says this, smoothing her hair gracefully. "We will arrive by nightfall."

Although it's not a long journey, the Capitol provides us with separate rooms, both for the mentors and the tributes. I find a nice bedroom for myself, with a private bathroom, dressing room, and drawers full of new clothes. I hear someone knocking on my door, and when I open it, I see Enobaria, who tells me that we will have a quick meeting with all the mentors, just for protocol. She also recommends that I dress in comfortable clothes before going to the dining wagon in ten minutes.