𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 - 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄

𝑰𝑿. 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒

"In two weeks, twenty three of you will be dead. One of you will still be alive. Who that is depends on how well you pay attention over the next four days, particularly to what I'm about to say. First, no fighting with the other tributes. There'll be plenty of time for that in the arena. There are four compulsory exercises. The rest will be individual training. My advice is, don't ignore the survival skills. Everybody wants to grab a weapon, but most of you will die from natural causes. Ten percent from infection. Twenty percent from dehydration. Exposure can kill just as easily as a knife or axe."

All the tributes are dressed in the same boring, (and ugly, she might add) black and green training uniforms, sleek fitted to the touch. The reapings were surprisingly mostly older kids. Which also meant opponents that would be harder to take down.

Everyone who was anybody in the Capitol sat up on a balcony, observing, watching them for signs of weakness. It didn't make the district four tributes nervous or uncomfortable. It only made them more determined to leave a lasting impression.

The training center is buzzing with an almost overwhelming amount of energy, from the tributes and officials both.

"You ready?"

Nova turns her head sharply at the sound of the voice. Her district partner stands there, twirling a spear in his hands, waiting expectantly for an answer.

"Sparring?"

While it's true there is no fighting with the other tributes allowed, sparring is different. They're somewhat permitted to participate in it, so long as they don't intentionally injure one another.

"Yep. Down or not?"

Nova doesn't answer, but she does snatch the spear from Nico's hand and head over to a training mat. He shakes his head with a smile and follows quickly, grabbing another spear from the rack on his way.

They've always trained together back home, and with Bryony sometimes. But she's not here. It's only them, which feels weird, like there's someone missing, which in a way there is, but they're grateful she's safe back home rather than here.

They've always been skilled, even before they began training for the games in district four. Being what's considered a career tribute is no easy task, but it does have it's benefits. They spar with ease and skill, catching not only the attention of a few of the weaker tributes, but a few of the officials up on the balcony.

They've seen two tributes that have been friends before, but they've always acted like strangers as soon as they became reaped. Not these two. They're talking about their lives while they're sparring, in a training center for the games. Acting like it's just another casual affair.

"What's the plan for the interviews, do you know?"

"No. Calix hasn't said anything to me except he's going to make me look fabulous."

Nico snorts quietly, he can almost hear Calix's voice saying that in his head.

"Of course he did. He's all about fashion, isn't he?"

"Mhm. But he did manage to get people interested in sponsoring us."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, I mean according to him, we made a quote on quote, 'lasting impression'. Take that how you want."

"That's good, then. We can get shit we need in the arena."

"Yeah, it's a good thing."

There's a few moments of silence after that, neither party sure what to say. Then there's a quite loud commotion from the knot-tying station, and both Nico and Nova stop their sparring to peer over.

"You hit me on purpose, Cyril!"

"I did not!"

"You are such an-"

"Break it up, break it up!"

An out of uniform peacekeeper breaks up the district three squabble, and everyone goes back to their previous tasks, until it's time to head back to their quarters. As the next few days pass, the lingering tension is undeniable. The games grow closer, as the tributes grow apart.

"Tomorow they'll bring you in one by one to evaluate you. This is crucial because higher scores will mean more willing sponsors. This is the time to show them what you can do. Show off your skills. Make sure you use what they have to impress them. They always start with district one, which means you two will go fourth. But higher scores also make you a higher target in the arena. Keep that in mind."

The night passes quickly, and the tributes from district four sit side by side on the bench in the waiting room.

"How do you think you'll do?"

"I don't know. Eight or higher, I hope. We are technically careers after all."

"Yeah, I know. Just gotta impress 'em, right? They just want a good show."

"Exactly. And Mags said to show off our skills. So that's what we'll do."

The monotone voice of the head gamemaker echoes over the speaker in the room. 

"Nova Blackthorn. District four."

Nico gives her a fist bump as she gets up, wishing for good fortune.

"Give 'em hell."

She mock salutes to him before heading through the door, and into the center. It's almost eerie how silent it is, the officials on the balcony once again. She walks up to right before the balcony, and states her name, as instructed.

"Nova Blackthorn. District four."

The officials clear their throats and turn slightly in their chairs to watch her. They look so smug. So arrogant. It's almost like they're not even interested in seeing what she has to offer. Resisting the urge to shout at them, she takes a breath, and goes over to pick up several knives.

While she may not be arrogant, she can admit that she is incredibly skilled. Not only in hand to hand combat, but in hunting and fishing as well. She hits every target with ease, each knife hitting close to, if not a dead-on bullseye. 

In the time she's been allotted to present her skills, she ends up having time to slice the heads off of a few training dummies.

Her session ends, and Nico goes in, and they exchange a few words before she sits back on the bench.

They're both relatively hopeful of getting decent training scores, considering they're both from district four, which is known for producing victors every now and then.

They can only hope for well off enough scores to get sponsors in the games.