When Luck Runs Out

Let's Face it, We're Hopeless

    "Welcome to the training center!" said a cheery woman in a white jump suit, the leader of this whole thing. "Now, I know you've all been here before, but I have to go over the rules once more. No fighting, no killing each other. You can make friends, allies, or enemies, but leave your fighting for in the arena. I can't stress enough how important it is to focus on learning to survive before you learn to kill, and even though I'm sure those axes seem pretty temping, they'll be no use if you freeze to death overnight." I eyed John, tuning the lady out and making sure he was doing alright. He seemed relatively okay about it, although his hand was tapping aggressively on the side of his leg. I looked over at Greg, who was humming something and looking over at the weapon displays, obviously not listening or caring about what the woman had to say. Jeanette was playing with a loose string on the hem of her leather jacket. Jim and Sebastian were muttering to each other in the back of the group, probably plotting on where to go first or something. Finally, when the lady was done talking, we dispersed, walking over to the survival section and poking around the stands there. John and I worked together on all of them, learning once more how to start fires with everything from dried leaves to wet logs, tying knots out of thick grass and rope, preserving heat with a blanket of leaves, and decontaminating water from a stream or puddle. All of the stations weren't very busy, considering all of the people here had already won their games, and they knew all the survival tips. Unfortunately for us, neither had really thought to remember how to tie a knot, so here we were again. We played around on the net monkey bars until lunch, since they were deserted when we got there. John and I both went up at once, hanging spiderlike upside down, moving around in midair and laughing hysterically as one of us would lose our balance. The fun ended when my hand slipped and I fell right onto the mat below, back first. Thankfully though, lunch was right then, so I had a good bit of time to rest a bit and a good time for John to stop laughing. During lunch there was a smaller selection of foods, even though it was the same delicacies we were usually served. I had some roast beef and mashed potatoes, and John settled with a chicken patty. We sat at the end of one of the long tables, two other tributes sitting at the very end, but they didn't really seem to be too into talking to us. That was fine with me of course, because I had no interest in talking to them either. Unfortunately though, Greg and Jeanette came to sit by us, so we had to sit and listen to their discussion of the arena possibilities.
"I heard a rumor that it would be a new arena, to spice it up." Jeanette said matter of factly.
"Where did you hear that?" Greg asked.
"Twitter." She shrugged.
"That's not a reliable source." John insisted.
"It depends which page you follow." She insisted.
"There is no other arena they can have, it's not like a new terrain is created." I insisted.
"Maybe it's going to be in the middle of some ocean, and you have to swim the whole thing." Greg suggested.
"Then everyone would just drown, and that's no fun for the Capital." I insisted.
"Or up in the mountains." Jeanette suggested.
"They've had that one before." Greg insisted.
"What if it's underground, like in a cavern or something, and no one can see." John suggested.
"I don't even want to think about that, sounds creepy." Jeanette decided.
"It's the hunger games, and we're just the players. It doesn't matter what we think." John insisted.
"We're winners turned players." I corrected.
"I thought you were taken?" Greg pointed out with a laugh. Jeanette laughed, but they were the only two. Needless to say, when the doors opened back up for training again, I was extremely relieved. This time John and I went over to the defense and combat stations, since we decided to split up our survival and combat, both for a half of each day, that way we get an equal amount of both. We started small, with knives, practicing throwing them and hitting dummies. John was surprisingly good at it, he hit the dummy in the side of the neck once and in the left chest. I was a bit of a failure; I hit the ground on numerous occasions and almost hit some District Eight boy on his way to the spears. After apologizing profusely and getting a warning to 'watch my back in the arena' (as if I wasn't going to already) John and I hastily moved over to swords. There was a little area to duel with stick swords, so no one got injured until we actually had to. John and I went one of one, jabbing, dogging, striking, and deflected these wooden swords that made me feel like a childish pirate.
"Hey Holmes, how about a round with me?" Greg asked, jumping into our mat with his own sword. Jeanette was watching, holding another sword but not looking too eager join in on all the fun.
"If you insist." I shrugged, secretly happy to get an opportunity to beat Greg up. John walked over to the sidelines with Jeanette, who started talking at once, although I couldn't hear what she was saying. As much as I wanted to beat him up, Greg was actually ridiculously good at sword fighting, probably using all his built up energy to whip the blade around. In all reality he was the one beating up on me, as much as I tried to block and dodge (I even dove out of the way one time, only to get decapitated on my way down) he kept striking me, over and over until finally I got a huge bruise on my side, which I would have to put ice on later on.
"You sure you're okay?" John asked as the two of us walked over to the spear section, where there were numerous spears of all different lengths to be thrown and jabbed.
"I'm fine." I assured.
"I swear to god, the moment we get into that arena, I'm going to..." John started, glaring daggers at Greg across the room, who was toying around at the fire stand. He was rubbing sticks together, and every time a spark caught Jeanette would jump, as if she wasn't expecting it to actually work.
"He's a good ally." I pointed out.
"You want him as an ally? He'll give away our location by telling us stories!" John pointed out.
"We won't get through this alone, you know that." I insisted.
"We've got each other." John pointed out, hurtling a spear over to the dummies and hitting the ground beside it with a large clatter. Many people looked over, some sniggering as he started to blush in shame.
"I can see how that's going to work out." I laughed.
"I'd like to see you try." John snapped. I got one of the medium length spears, throwing it as hard as I could towards the dummy. To my utter shock, it hit the dummy in the stomach, a killing blow if it were real.
"How in the world did you do that?" John asked, shocked.
"Beginner's luck?" I shrugged. But it obviously wasn't, because I only improved as I kept throwing, and, to both of our amazement, I got the dummy right in the head, making it look like a very violent unicorn. The spear throwing ended day one of training, which left only three more days until the games. It had properly sunken in last night, when I had the drug attack. That had been caused by the truth falling on me like a very uncomfortable pile of bricks. But honestly it wasn't effecting me as much as I thought it would've. Two years ago I was so uncertain, but now I knew I was going in and I was going to die, no question. To get out of those games was to lose, if John died the whole game was over, there would be no point in living, and if I died that meant that John had a better shot at winning the whole thing. Honestly the fact that I wasn't going to make it out comforted me in a way. When we got back from the lobby Mrs. Hudson and Molly were waiting for us, both smiling, as if they had missed us throughout the day.
"How was it?" Mrs. Hudson asked, as if I were going to give her a play by play recap.
"I got beat up by Greg in the sword fighting thing." I admitted, lifting my shirt to show the welt now forming on my side.
"Oh dear, we'll have to ice that tonight." Molly decided. I nodded in agreement, following them onto the platform and into the train.
"Anything exciting happen while we were out?" John asked.
"Nothing I can think of, Mrs. Hudson and I had a nice lunch out at that Italian restaurant. They have the most superb pizza ever, voted best in the Capital, and for a good reason." Molly decided.
"We got the same old Capital food." I groaned.
"You should be happy to even have food, back in District Twelve I'm sure they'd kill for buffet options like you have." Mrs. Hudson insisted.
"We did kill for them." John pointed out. Even though it's against my better nature, I had to laugh. I knew killing people in the games was no joke, but it was impossible not to laugh. Only John could make my troublesome past seem like a joke.
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, but we'll be having more Capital food for dinner." Molly pointed out as the train sped into the Tribute Center station. I didn't say anything, I just smiled sarcastically and watched the walls and lights of the underground tracks speed by. When the train stopped at the tribute center the whole lobby was alive with tributes, mentors, and escorts, all talking to each other and trying to swim through the crowd to get to the elevator.
"Up we go." Mrs. Hudson insisted, prodding Molly in the back as she tried to strike up a conversation with one of her friends. In the end she followed, however reluctantly, up to the elevator. When the door shut it was much more peaceful, and John leaned in the back corner of the elevator, as if he were getting claustrophobic.
"So, any tributes that you recognize?" Mrs. Hudson asked as we sat around the table at dinner.
"Not really, other than Greg and Jeanette." John muttered.
"The two men from three, Jim Moriarty and Sebastian, I met them last year in that bar you dragged me to. Then I tried to get them to sponsor me and they said that they were already victors." I decided.
"Oh dear lord, I remember Jim's games. It was the bloodiest mess I've ever seen, he hung at least three people from trees, he'd catch them in pits in the ground he made, concealed with leaves and stuff, and hung them all from the tree tops by ropes, pulling their limbs. And then, once he either killed the rest of the people or had them kill themselves, he butchered them like pigs. Tortured them, in the end the peacekeepers had to come in and restrain him, because they were still alive when he started to remove their organs." Mrs. Hudson muttered. Molly put down her fork in disgust; obviously Mrs. Hudson's real life horror story was enough to make her lose her appetite.
"I think, now that you mention it, I remember him too." John agreed.
"If he's back in the games then you guys have better watch your backs, he'll be out for blood, I can't imagine anything outside the arena would be nearly as entertaining as in it, he probably volunteered." Molly guessed.
"And he's got that henchman of his, Sebastian." I pointed out.
"Sebastian Moran no doubt." Mrs. Hudson muttered, her face kind of white as she put down her fork as well.
"That sounds about right." I agreed.
"He was the victor a little bit before Molly's games, and he was just as blood thirsty as Jim. He killed his victims and smeared their blood everywhere, painting the rocks with their names, drawing cave art, even smearing it on himself like war paint." Mrs. Hudson pointed out.
"I can see why they get along then." John muttered. Somehow he was still eating, nibbling on a chunk of bread.
"Well there's a rumor, just a rumor," Mrs. Hudson added, looking around suspiciously as if she didn't like to spread gossip, "That they're not just friends either."
"There's another mentor/tribute gay love out there?" I asked in shock.
"I can hardly imagine you two are the first, just the most public." Molly shrugged.
"Well, it wasn't meant to be like that." John pointed out.
"So they'll be fighting for the same things we are." I decided.
"I'm afraid to say, they'll be ready to slaughter anyone that gets in the way." Molly decided.
"I think they'll want to slaughter anyone, in their way or not." Mrs. Hudson corrected.
"How lovely." John muttered. With everyone's appetites suddenly missing, the four of us plugged Molly's computer into the TV to watch some of the games from previous years. The first, even though it wasn't going to make us feel any better, we watched Jim's. As Mrs. Hudson had promised, he was tearing the trapped tributes apart, manically, smiling as he did it. I had to look away, and Molly even started to cry, as if the thought of the two of us getting ripped apart like that was too much for her to bear. But the joke was on him, I was going to kill him, maybe even string him up like he strung up his victims, torture him to the point where he couldn't bleed any more...
"Let's turn this off." Mrs. Hudson decided as John had to look away as well, Jim carving through the victim's stomach and starting to pry out muscles and organs.
"He's seriously messed up." John decided as Mrs. Hudson changed the video.
"Ah, here's Greg Lestrade's, Molly was saying you were making friends with him." Mrs. Hudson said happily.
"We're not friends, I can't stand the guy." John insisted.
"All he does is talk, and talk, and talk; I want to throw him off the roof." I decided, looking above me as if hoping to see him preforming some sort of parkour on the roof, making it only too easy to make it look like an accident.
"Well, I don't think you should get on his bad side either." Molly decided as the tape started.