𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫, Finnick Odair

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒍𝒍𝒚

The heavy doors of the Training Center slid open with a mechanical hiss, and Aphrodite and Ash stepped into the vast training hall. The sound of weapons clashing, people grunting in exertion, and murmured conversations filled the space. It was overwhelming, yet Aphrodite felt a strange sense of calm. She'd been preparing for this moment for years.

Ash, on the other hand, wasn't so composed. His hand twitched nervously by his side, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Aphrodite caught his movement out of the corner of her eye, though she didn't address it. She needed to focus. The tributes were already scattered throughout the room, practicing their skills. Some were over at the sword station, slashing at dummies. Others were hurling spears across the room with intense focus.

Aphrodite tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the tributes. This wasn't just training; this was her chance to evaluate. To measure each one of them—not just in strength, but in what they tried to hide.

Ash shifted beside her. "Where should we start?" His voice was quiet, laced with uncertainty.

Before Aphrodite could answer, a woman with sharp, meticulous features and a Capitol uniform stepped into the center of the room. She cleared her throat, and the static crackle of the speakers overhead followed.

"Tributes," she began, her voice cool and commanding. "Today, you'll have access to various stations. Assess your strengths. Learn your weaknesses. Weapons, combat, survival techniques—everything you'll need to stay alive. Remember, the Game makers are always watching."

Her gaze swept across the room before she added, "And so is the Capitol."

Aphrodite glanced at Ash, his expression tight and unsure, and she made a mental note to keep an eye on him. The last thing she needed was him falling apart during their first day of training. But it wasn't just Ash she needed to worry about. She was scanning the room, watching the other tributes as they picked their stations.

There were the obvious ones—the Career tributes, standing tall and arrogant near the weapons racks. A boy from District 2 smirked as he tossed a knife up and down, making a show of his power. Aphrodite's eyes lingered on him for a moment before shifting to a girl from District 7, who was fiddling with an axe, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Overconfident. Easily baited into showing off, Aphrodite thought of the boy.

The girl, though—her silence spoke of focus and fear. That could be dangerous.

Aphrodite's gaze moved next to a wiry boy in the far corner, standing by the fire-making station. His hands were shaking, fumbling with the tools. She could see the fear on his face as clear as day. He wouldn't last long—easy prey, she noted coldly. But still, appearances could be deceiving. There were always surprises.

"Aph..." Ash's voice was quiet again, and she turned to see him looking at her expectantly. He wasn't confident, but he trusted her.

She squeezed his arm gently. "Let's start with survival skills," she said. "Weapons can wait. We need to stay alive first."

As they walked toward the station, Aphrodite kept her expression calm, but inside, her mind raced. She was sizing everyone up, noting their movements, their expressions. Trying to get inside their heads, just as her mother had drilled into her for years. If she could read them, she could manipulate them. It was all a game of control.

But this wasn't just about her anymore. She'd made a promise to herself—she was going to help Ash, not push him. Not turn him into something he wasn't. If her mother could see her now, she'd be furious.