The Winner Takes it All

Scores

In the following days, Zale and I methodically worked through each training station, meticulously identifying our strengths and pinpointing areas where we needed improvement. It wasn't just about sharpening our skills but also an opportunity to observe and interact with the other Careers. As we mingled and trained alongside them, I couldn't shake the feeling that a majority exuded an air of overconfidence, almost to the point of arrogance.

Yet, as I reflected on this, figures like Sereia, Annie, and Mags came to mind, challenging my generalization. They carried themselves with a sense of purpose and humility that seemed rare among Careers. Even Finnick, for all his charm, had his moments of arrogance. As much as I wanted to believe I hadn't frequently seen that side of him, I had to admit it was there, lurking beneath his charismatic facade.

These contemplations, however, were abruptly interrupted as the familiar sound of Sereia and Tinsel's bickering reached my ears.

"Sereia, All I'm saying is it wouldn't kill you to smile more," Tinsel says with her usual artificial sweetness as she grabs Sereia's face. "Because all that frowning will give you wrinkles."

Though calm, Sereia's response to Tinsel carried an undercurrent of bitterness, a shadow that darkened her eyes momentarily. "Tinsel, my priorities are making sure one of these two returns to my District, not playing to the Capitol's whims," she said, her voice steady but tinged with an unspoken pain.

I couldn't help but notice a more profound weariness in Sereia, a kind of enduring sorrow that seemed to go beyond the usual tribulations of a Hunger Games victor. Rumors had circulated about how she had defied the Capitol in some way, leading to tragic consequences. It was said that her refusal to be paraded as a Capitol puppet had cost her dearly, though she never spoke of it openly.

As Tinsel continued her critique of Sereia's demeanor, Zale slid into the seat beside me with his usual confident swagger.

"Those two are going at it again?" Zale asked before a smirk formed on his lips as he observed Sereia and Tinsel. "Bet you that Sereia cracks first."

I shook my head, half amused. "You think so? I'd say Tinsel is more likely to give in. Sereia's too stubborn."

Zale laughed, then leaned back in his chair, his gaze briefly flickering over the elevator that would take us to our private training sessions. "You know, all this," he gestured broadly, "is just a pre-show. The real game starts in the arena. And that's where we shine."

"Yeah.....soon, 23 of us will be dead," I mumbled. "How does it not bother you that one of us won't return to District 4?"

"Honestly, I try not to think about it. Like I said the other day, I can't let myself see them as anything more than obstacles; as for you...I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get to it." He says, somewhat letting that bravado of his slip.

Tinsel, evidently conceding in her exchange with Sereia, gave a dramatic sigh and directed our attention to the clock with a pointed gesture.

"Good luck," Sereia said, her tone laced with irony as she casually flipped through a magazine she had picked up from the coffee table next to her as she sat on the sofa.

The elevator descended in silence, each of us immersed in our thoughts, the weight of the session pressing down on us. The quiet starkly contrasted with the charged atmosphere we were about to enter.
As the elevator doors glided open, the bustle of the training room enveloped us. Immediately catching our attention was Glimmer, lavishing her flirtatious charm on Cato. She batted her eyelashes and leaned in close to him, her attempts at flirtation unmistakable. For his part, Cato seemed to indulge her with a half-smirk, his eyes occasionally scanning the room, ever the strategist.