Deceived: The 500th Annual Hunger Games

Chapter 66 - Private Sessions/Scores

JARRETT CANNERY'S P.O.V

I popped a small pill into my mouth, forcing liquid down my throat in an attempt to wash away the taste of the bitter tablet.

Depression had really hit hard since Kipper joined us gamemakers. It isn't his fault. If anything, he's making it easier for me.

It's President Ammon's fault.

For some odd reason, Phillipe and Fione had become the victims of his abuse. Everyday, all I hear is Ranunculus' voice booming over the cowering hosts, scaring them into loving the torture.

Kip sat down next to me, his notebook and own gripped in his hand. I could see the tiredness and pain in his eyes, realising we would have to see these kids on television, mentally destroying themselves in order to make it out of the damned arena alive.

It's weird. Being a gamemaker on my own, well, without Kip...it wasn't so hard. However, now that my eyes are constantly exposed to the abuse from our boss, and on top of that, protecting Kip, I've learnt how horrible these games are.

I sat back and called in Hazil. She seemed way too eager to get into the games. It's strange how the Careers were my favourites and now they're the ones who I despise the most. They're the ones who play by the Capitol's rules.

She walked in and immediately lunged towards the trident stand. I had to contain myself from groaning, the realisation only hitting me now that many of the early tributes would be throwing tridents and skewering dummies with spears.

She asked for two dummies. I would place bets that she will kill in the bloodbath if I could.

The dummies were positioned away from her, one gripping a spear, the other holding throwing knives in each hand. The two padded people paced towards Hazil, ready to strike and attack the vicious Career.

She launched her trident at the dummy with the spear, laughing sadistically as the blades pierced the heart of the victim. Artificial blood squirted from the wound.

She ripped the trident out of the impaled body, leaving it for dead. She knows, and so do I, that of that was a person, it wouldn't take more than a few seconds for them to die from blood loss.

A throwing knife whizzed passed her head. She cursed and threw herself at the long ranged fighter, swiping at the face of the dummy. Her nails drew blood as she scratched at the face of her opponent.

She stood up, realising how hard it is to kill someone using a trident when you're sat on top of the person. She jabbed the dummy with the bladed weapon, leaving puncture marks in the chest of the dummy. The dummy fell to the floor, dead. I'll give her a 9. She won't be too happy with that, will she?

Tule was next up. His arrogant smile and cocky walk showed as he advanced towards the spears neatly placed on their rack.

He held two spears in his hands, yelling impatiently for two dummies to be fetched. One dummy had a sword; the other dummy wielded an axe.

He let one of the spears go, hitting the dummy right in between where its eyes should be. He laughed in triumph as the dummy sank to the floor.

He then ran towards the dummy with the sword and poked at its ribs. The point of the spear left deep wounds, each one more fatal than the previous one. Tule drew the blade across the chest of the dummy, avoiding the sword the dying dummy swung. The dummy fell to the floor, bleeding out. He can have a 9 too.

I took a sip of water as Trey walked in, ready to prove he was the best. He picked up the spears Tule had used, twiddling them stylishly in his hands. He asked for two dummies.