Clato: Twisted

Chapter 4 - No Big Surprise

 Arnold woke Clove up early, even before the sun rose, the next day to prepare her for what the day held for her. They practiced hand-to-hand combat, something Clove desperately needed help with for she was smaller and weighed less than girls her age.

"Now remember, slow your breathing and focus on the target" He said once they reached the training facility.

"Right. Okay..." Clove half-whispered to herself as she left her step-father's side. Before she even reached the doors, someone shot past her and almost knocked her down. She regained her balance and glared at the boy. The boy. Always that boy. She thought bitterly.

Once inside, she got into the back of the line where the girls stood. One by one, a boy and a girl was taken into one of the two the Selection Rooms. Clove found herself wet with sweat by the time there were only five people in front of her.

As the supervisor began to call "next", the muscular blonde boy strutted out of the boys' Selection Room. He ran into Clove and dropped his voice very low so no one else could hear. "Knife" he grunted.

"Oops, sorry" he raised his voice and left. Clove was left absolutely shocked. Knife?

"Ma'am? You're next" a gloved hand reached for Clove's shoulder. Out of instincts, she snapped away from the hand and leapt back a foot. Confusion then understanding registered on the supervisor's face. Somewhat embarrassed, Clove hastily went into the room.

"Choose. First, your choice of a projectile weapon, then we assign you one melee weapon" the supervisor stated.

There was a display of weapons on a long table in the middle of the vacant room. There was such a variety that Clove didn't know which one to choose. She scanned the weapons, some she had never seen before, and thought back on what the boy had said.

Well why not? She didn't know how to use half of the weapons displayed on the table. Knives were one of the few weapons she had more experience with before. She picked up a few of the smaller knives, weighed them in her hands, and walked over to the target.

"Begin" a loud voice boomed. The targets began shifting, moving forward then suddenly switching gears and moving to the right and then the opposite direction. Clove recalled what Arnold had said that morning, slowed her breathing, and focused on the small red dot that was the bullseye. She threw the first knife and it hit almost on the bullseye. Surprised, she threw two more at approaching targets. They, too, hit the bullseye.

Once she had run out of knives to throw, she glanced at the supervisor's table in the corner of the room. The supervisor, along with a few other judges were exchange thoughts and critics with each other. Then, as if they had made up their mind, the supervisor said in a clear, loud voice, "For the melee weapon: the sword".

She walked over to the table and found the sword section. She was debated whether to choose the golden sword or the short silver one when a target suddenly appeared to the right of her, only a couple feet away.

Clove wasn't sure what had happened. One moment the target appeared, the next its head was rolling on the ground and the sword she was gripping found its way to the dummy's chest, stuck. She was breathing hard from the short adrenaline and had to calm herself down.

"Thank you, next!" The supervisor had gotten to her feet and opened the door. Clove uncertainly put the sword back down and walked quickly out the door. The selection process usually takes around 10 minutes per person. Had it really been ten minutes since she had stepped into the room? Was it actually shorter than usual? What did that mean? Her mind was reeling with thoughts when she made her way to the large group of teenagers gathered at the basement of the training academy.

She let her mind wander off into thoughts of the Hunger Games and her future if she wasn't chosen. The last boy and girl came out of the Selection Rooms as did the supervisors and judges.

"The 10 names I am going to announce will advance onto training part 2. The order of the names goes from worst to best. First, the gentlemen: Bernardus, Nicon, Emidius, Alexandrus, and lastly, Cato" The supervisor smiled at the boys who had risen when their names were called. There were cheers and a few disappointed sighs.

"For the ladies: Clarissa, Lexus, Clove... " the supervisor finished the list, but Clove wasn't listening to the rest. She couldn't believe what she had heard. Me? Was there another Clove? She was both shocked and surprisingly relieved. She let out a breath she didn't know what was holding and pressed her hands against her thighs to prevent them from shaking.

"The Selected, please follow me." the supervisor began to walk out of the building. No one moved for a moment. Then, the boy Clove had encountered too many times, Cato, broke the silence and followed the lady. Grudgingly, the 9 other Selected moved their feet as well.

The group of Selected entered the Advanced Training Academy building adjacent to their previous academy in awe. The equipment was newer, better, and in larger number. Approximately 50 trainees were practicing, ten at every age from 14 to 18. There were people sparring, running simulations, creating makeshift shelters, and much more. It was overwhelming to take in.

"This is where you'll be training until you reach the age of 18 or until you are The Select. There has been few who have been selected to volunteer before they are 18. Anyway, make it to the rank board; your training starts... now" and with that, she disappeared through a door.

The 10 Selected looked at each other with puzzled faces for a moment and then all those who had been training stopped dead. 10 heads turned around to find the 50 charging at them.