Mocking the Odds (A Hunger Games/Tom Hiddleston Fanfic)

Training Isn't a Game

I'm in simple black capri leggings and a light blue top this time as we descend to the heart of the Training Center. Benedict has assured the fabric will wick away any sweat, which I am eternally grateful for. Like Loki, my skin is much colder than normal, and things will get bad if I start to overheat. A number 10 is etched into the back of the shirt, and I'm tapping the rubber soles of my shoes against the floor of the elevator. Chris stands between James and I, and as I look over to my fellow tribute, I can see nothing but impassiveness on his face.

I guess he's made up his mind that he's out to kill us all. Including me. 

Shoving that thought away, I step out of the elevator, which has now stopped with a ding at our floor. James walks past me with no regard, heading straight for the double doors in front of us. I move to follow suit, but Chris stops me.

"Reyna, hold on." he speaks. I stop. He pulls me back into the elevator, and even though we're the only two people in here, he still whispers.

"I know James is being very quiet and practically ignoring you, but that's just his defense mechanism to cope with all of what's happened. When you go in there, don't follow him around or try to interact with him unless he comes to you first; that'll just aggravate him. And in general, just stay out of everyone else's way. Do your own thing, but don't go near the weapons. Save that for your private sessions and when you have to impress the Gamemakers. We don't want everyone knowing they've got a little firecracker on their hands, now do we?" he smiles.

I nod, blushing and smiling. "Yes, sir." 

"Good. Now go out there and make me proud, Reyna." Chris gives me a little push, and I stagger out of the elevator, practically bounding to the Training Center. My mentor, a victor. He had faith in me. And right now, all I know is that I can't let him down. 

The first thing I notice when I step in is the sheer enormity of the place. There are stations of all kinds as far as the eye can see, and large lights shine down, giving the center a very high-tech appeal. Making my way into the open space in the middle of the room, where the rest of the tributes stand, my eyes dart everywhere, analyzing everything I can see. 

"Hey, Reyna." a voice slides in next to me. I don't even have to move my head to know who it is.

"Morning, Camryn." I grin. "That hangover pill working for you?"

"Oh yes, thank goodness. Can't train looking like a drunkard, now can we?"

"Too bad Aimee's got that in her genes already, poor thing." I tease, and we snigger.

"Good morning, tributes!" a woman calls. She reminds me of Coin, 13's former leader, with ash-colored hair and steely eyes. "Welcome to your first training session. You will have nine more of these before impressing the Gamemakers and heading into the Games itself. You may go to whichever stations you wish, but not before getting a barcode on the inside of your wrist. Scan that barcode at each station, so we may keep a tally of who goes where."

"Barcode?" I whisper to Camryn. "Did they have those before?"

She shrugs. "I have no idea." 

"Now tributes, if you would please line up in district order, male before female tribute, with One being at the front and Twelve at the back." the lady instructs. Camryn makes a face, and goes to stand in her place in the line. There's a large shuffling, and we end up in a sort of jumble, each of us peering around at who goes where. 

"Hello." Warm breath ghosts over my neck, and I have to surpress myself from shivering. "Reyna, yes?"

Oh my god. The realization dawns on me that it's Thomas. Of course it is. District 11 male goes behind District 10 female. I gulp.