Voices of the Dead: A Hunger Games FanFiction ©

3. Bruno

After the opening ceremonies, we were all herded back to our own floors. District one got the first floor, two the second, and so forth. As night began to fall, I decided to actually sit with Dawn and our mentors to watch the chariot recaps. I was less than impressed.

I sighed with a little indignation as I watched all of us parade around like costumed monkeys. I wasn’t angry, just impatient to get to the real show. When the screen went black, signifying that the recap was over, I wordlessly got up and head to my room. I needed sleep, because tomorrow the first day of training would begin, and I had a lot of strategizing to do.

Before the morning rays had even appeared I was up and about, already having eaten a decent breakfast. I’d decided not to overindulge in the overly-rich foods of the capitol, wanting to be already prepared for the scarce provisions of the Games. I knew, from watching many past Games, that careers generally fared well unless their food source was eliminated. We were much too used to having our stomachs full, and this was something I planned to avoid.

The first training day brought me much insight into the minds of the other tributes. Silently, I watched every single face; from my new ally Flint, who was as deadly as he was charming, to the smallest boys, who in my mind were nothing more than “fillers”. I watched for weaknesses and flaws, for strengths and talents.

I spoke little, if nothing, that first day; limiting myself to observation only. It wasn’t until the second day that I actually said anything of value. After I’d finished filleting several dummies and impaling others with my sword, I’d taken Flint aside to compare notes.

“I don’t think there’s really much to worry about. Mostly I’d say the males from five and ten are our biggest concerns,” I said under my breath as I played with a handful of daggers I’d confiscated from a young boy.

He nodded, mopping the sweat off his forehead with a towel; he’d been wrestling, “Agreed, Coriolanus and Macon,” he took a swig of water, “Macon should be easy though, he has many faults.”

I nodded, not surprised that he knew their names already. He’d been doing a lot of recon in his own time. I also understood what he meant about faults. The boy from ten, Macon, had two problems to be precise, “Yes, those two young boys from eight and nine. He seems to have a fondness for them. I’ve seen him trying to keep an eye on their whereabouts.”

Flint nodded, seeming pleased that I’d noticed what he already knew, “Yeah, Mipe and Bodey, he never takes his eyes off them for long. He’s gone soft and has been trying to keep them from me since day one,” he chuckled, “Lotta’ good that’ll do him when the Games start.”

I nodded; after evaluating Macon for a full day, he’d gone from being an actual threat I’d have to look out for, to just another tribute I’d have to hunt down. He was much too kind for these games. His plan to keep the boys safe was idiotic and impossible. He was a dreamer that didn’t realize what he planned was unattainable. Those boys would die, no matter his attempts to keep them from me.

I was about to head off to try some wrestling for myself, when Flint caught my shoulder. “Before you go, I wanted to run something by you.”

I pulled away from discomfort at his touch, but otherwise waited, “Yeah?”

“So you and Dawn, you known each other very long?” he prompted.

I thought for a moment, then shook my head, “Not really, we went to the same academy but never really spoke.”

He nodded, “So would you say your alliance to her is infallible?”

I raised a brow, not liking the route this conversation was taking, “Actually, yes.”

He considered my expression and then smiled, “Oh, good. Just wanted to know,” he chuckled, “wanted things clear.”

Looking like he was about to leave, I spoke up before he’d taken a second step, “Aren’t you loyal to your district partner?”

He turned slowly, a dark smile settling over his features, the gears in his mind clearly moving, “I’m here to win Bruno. No matter who gets in my way,” he said softly. Then, as if a switch had been flicked, his face was cheery and playful again, “But whatever, it’s cute you still believe in district unity.”

I watched him leave in silence. Yes, he was a deadly one to watch for. I didn’t mention anything to Dawn, not because I didn’t think she could handle it, but because I figured she probably already knew. I’d seen him speak to her on an occasion, now I could only assume he’d been propositioning a similar offer. I could and would do many cruel things to win, but District honor ran deep in my blood; if at all possible, I’d try to avoid having to kill Dawn for myself, and if I were to perish, it was her that I hoped would take the crown. Honor was honor, whether I brought it home or she did.

On the final day of training we were taken out during lunch to perform for the Gamemakers. Dawn went in first, and then fifteen minutes later I was motioned in. I showed off my swordsmanship but didn’t try very hard. I wanted, not to go under the radar, but to seem less threatening than Flint. I figured if everyone was watching him more than me, that would be to my advantage. I could tell they were impressed anyway when my time was up; the excitement in their eyes was clear. I was what they’d call a “show-stopper”.

Confident enough, I went back to my floor and then awaited the scores. Dawn received a ten, while I received a nine. Our escort attempted to pat my back and “comfort” me, so I supposed my stony appearance had been taken for discontent, rather than boredom.

Afterwards, I only paid attention to the scores that mattered; Flint received a ten, which wasn’t surprising, Coriolanus from five got an eleven, which seemed appropriate, and Macon from ten got a nine, which confused me. It didn’t make much sense to me; he’d seemed so bland during the first two training days, I’d completely put him out of my mind on the third. What could he have possibly learned to have earned him a nine? Though it wasn’t thee highest score, it did provoke an unsettling feeling.

What could he be hiding under his unassuming demeanor?