The Eighty First Hunger Games «MAJOR REWRITING, REEDITING, AND REVISION»

:9: Risky Chances

We sat on the couch, watching the scores go by. I sat between Tef and Harper. Effie was next to Tef, and Link's stylist, Catre, sat next to Effie. Link was a loner, sprawled out over the carpeted ground with his head propped up on a pillow. The names and numbers ticked by, one by one.

Link's posse had gotten scores that were eights and nines. Ze got a ten. A few strangers' scores caught my eye. The girl from Seven got a nine. The boy from Eight also got a nine. When they called off the girl from Eleven, I watched Link sit straight up, eager for his score.

"Link Dimitri, a score of ten." Caesar Flickerman's voice ran out as Link's face flashed up on the screen with his district number and score. I sat on the edge of my seat and nearly fell off, anxious if I'd get a good enough score for possible sponsors.

"Illissa Wilcox, a score of ten."

Half a second after the screen shut after my score, Link jumped up and turned on me. "You pathetic little cheat! You somehow scammed this scoring to copy my score! When we get into these Games, you better watch your back. You understand, you little twit?" He spat, stalking out. Tef and Harper sprang up and went after him, defensive on my part. Catre rubbed my arm comfortably as snippets of the argument ran to my ears.

"Link, don't you think you're being a little irrational here? The fault is not Issie's, she must have impr-"

"I'm tired of no one listening to my requests! That pathetic excuse for a girl is getting all the attent-"

"Link, if you don't stop being down on that girl, you can stop considering me your mentor because you are the worst spirited apprentice I have ev-"

"Listen, Coward. I'm not going to sit by and smile while you convince a dying girl she can live. She's weak, pathetic, and has no chance in these Games, so just give up on her and mentor the real winner here-me! Why don't you idi-"

"Link, there are still peacekeepers in the Capitol and I have them on my first request, so don't you even think about touching any of us. If you do, you'll certa-"

A door slammed, but the shouting continued darting back and forth. I laid down, my eyelids getting heavier by the moment, shipping dreams of yesterday to my awakening "nap".

I'd grabbed a knife belt and wrist straps, putting the essentials where they were needed before telling my request to the only instructor in the room.

The muttations came in shortly.

I didn't know what type I'd get, I just asked. Anything is possible in the Capitol, I guess. Except for a cure.

The gate opened, and my seven opponents flew in. The instructor told me the basics, like how the muttations would be electronically zapped right before they drew blood.

The creatures were more beauty than beast. A mixture of two graceful, ancient animals produced a dangerous spawn. The eagle and the wolf had been around since the old ages, when a country named America lived. They weren't a Capitol creation, but an animal of their own.

These certain muttations had the main body of a wolf, but the wings and coloring of an eagle. They soared with grace and elegance. As I was wondering how in the world I'd kill such a beautiful animal that deserved better than this, three dropped to the ground and lunged for me and the flying four dove right at me. It was now or never to impress the Gamemakers.

I grabbed a handful of throwing knives from my belt, maybe three, in my right hand, and a short distance knife in my left, ready for the oncoming predators. I had maybe ten minutes left, and I needed to use each second wisely. I got into a universal stance and threw two of my knives up. One implanted in a muttation's wing, and it barrel-rolled to the floor, landing in a deafening crash. These things had a wingspan of at least twenty some feet, and they were huge. The other knife dodged between the sky ropes, bounced off the ceiling, and gave another bird wolf a long cut down it's side.