liberty

LIBERTY APPROACHED the training room with determination, her steps confident and purposeful. Today was the day she was going to make a statement—a declaration to the Careers that she wasn't just another tribute. She wasn't going to sit back and wait for them to come to her; she was going to make them come crawling to her. Well, maybe not all of them, but if she could catch the attention of one, she knew the others would follow. Careers were like a pack, and once one of them acknowledged her, the rest would have no choice but to take notice. That's how it worked in the arena, and Liberty was more than ready to prove her worth.

As she neared the entrance of the training room, she took a moment to size up the other tributes, mentally evaluating each one. Her eyes scanned over the group, assessing their strengths and weaknesses.

First, there was Cage, the male tribute from District 1. He was built like a brick wall—brute strength seemed to radiate off him. His advantage was clear: he could overpower anyone in a direct confrontation. But Liberty knew that strength alone wasn't enough. Cage's weakness was agility. He was slow and cumbersome, unable to move with the fluidity required for a real fight. That was something she could work with.

Then, there was Flo, the female tribute from District 1. She was agile, quick on her feet, and graceful in her movements—traits that made her a formidable opponent in her own right. But, as Liberty noted, she lacked survival skills. She didn't have the resourcefulness needed to last long in the wild. Her strength in agility was meaningless if she couldn't survive without the comforts of the Capitol.

From District 2, there was Perish, a survival expert. She was the type of tribute who could thrive in the harshest environments, adapting quickly to any challenge. But her weakness? Awareness. She often missed the subtle cues that others would pick up on. In an arena where the smallest detail could make the difference between life and death, Liberty knew this would be a major liability.

Finally, there was Dane, another male tribute from District 2. Dane's strength lay in his keen hearing and sharp awareness of his surroundings. He could hear things that most people couldn't, which made him an excellent tracker. But unlike Cage, his weakness was his physical strength. He couldn't match up to the brute force of someone like Cage or even herself if it came down to it.

Together, the four of them made a well-rounded team. They complemented each other's strengths and covered each other's weaknesses. But Liberty wasn't intimidated by them. In fact, she was more focused on Grayson. He was the one who could be her biggest obstacle or her greatest ally. He had strength, but Liberty could counter that with her agility. If she could get him to stop looking down on her, if she could show him that she wasn't just some weakling to be dismissed, they could be a powerful duo. But that meant making him see her for who she really was—someone worth partnering with.

The thought of relying on Grayson made her stomach turn. She hated it. She hated needing anyone, especially someone who had dismissed her so easily. But she had to be realistic. Grayson had his uses, and if he was willing to see past his own arrogance, he could be the key to her survival. She just had to make him see it.

She waited until the Careers were near before she finally made her move. It was deliberate, measured. She walked toward the training stations, confident but composed, knowing that every eye in the room would be watching her. As expected, the moment she stepped into their line of sight, their attention snapped to her. The group fell silent, their gazes following her every step as she made her way toward the weapons.

This time, she didn't hesitate. She reached for a spear. The cool metal felt familiar in her hand, and a smile tugged at her lips as she held it. It had been a long time since she had held a spear—since things had gone wrong with Finnick—but now, in this moment, it felt right. She was ready. The spear wasn't just a weapon to her; it was a symbol. It represented her past, her skills, and the person she had once been. It was also a declaration that she wasn't going to be a victim again.

"A spear?" Cage scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "She's so small. How is she even going to throw that thing?" His mocking tone earned a chuckle from Flo, who nodded in agreement, her eyes gleaming with superiority.

Perish and Dane exchanged similar comments, muttering under their breath, clearly amused by Liberty's choice of weapon. They saw her as nothing more than a joke.

But Grayson... Grayson wasn't laughing. Since they had left the apartments earlier, he had been watching her more closely. He had noticed something in her eyes—a fire, a spark of determination that hadn't been there before. It was subtle, but it was there. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it was enough to make him pause.

As the others continued to jeer and joke around, Grayson stayed silent, his gaze fixed on Liberty. He wasn't sure what to make of her, but he couldn't ignore the feeling that there was more to her than met the eye.

Liberty didn't acknowledge their mockery. She simply reached for another spear, now holding two in her hands with an effortless grace that surprised even her. She wasn't intimidated by their laughter; she wasn't even fazed. She was focused, her mind sharp, her body poised and ready.

Dane snorted in disbelief when he saw that she had taken up two spears. "Two?" he scoffed. "She must be joking. There's no way she can handle both of those."

Grayson clenched his jaw but stayed quiet. He wanted to shut them up, to stop them from undermining Liberty, but he held it in. He needed to see what she was capable of first.

Liberty stood tall, holding both spears in one hand as she approached the training simulation station. Her movements were fluid and precise, and as she adjusted the settings, she chose the hardest difficulty level without hesitation. It was a bold move, one that caught the attention of the Careers. They fell silent, watching her with a mix of curiosity and scepticism.

"Either she's stupid or crazy," Perish muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible.

Liberty didn't care about their opinions. She had made her choice. Once the simulation was set, she stepped into the arena. Without missing a beat, she tossed one of the spears into her other hand, now wielding both with the confidence of someone who had trained for years. Her eyes were sharp, her body alert and a wild grin spread across her face as the holograms appeared in front of her.

This was her moment. She wasn't just a tribute anymore. She was a force to be reckoned with.

The holograms materialized in front of Liberty, their movements quick and unpredictable, designed to challenge every skill she had. Her eyes narrowed, tracking each figure as they appeared, calculating her next move with deadly precision. The challenge wasn't just about surviving the simulation; it was about showing the Careers—and especially Grayson—that she wasn't someone to be underestimated.

With one fluid motion, Liberty spun both spears in her hands, adjusting her grip. She took a deep breath, her body completely focused. The first hologram, a tall, muscular figure, lunged toward her with surprising speed, but Liberty was quicker. She sidestepped the attack, ducking low and spinning to her side, narrowly avoiding a blow to her face. The spear in her left hand flashed forward, piercing through the figure's chest with a sharp, clean strike.

The others were not far behind. The second hologram—a smaller, faster opponent—darted toward her with precision. Liberty's instincts kicked in. She raised the second spear just in time, blocking a swipe aimed at her side, and with a quick twist of her wrist, she reversed the move, pushing her attacker off-balance. Before the hologram could recover, Liberty swept her feet out from under it with a well-placed kick, sending it crashing to the ground. She finished it with a swift thrust of her spear.

By now, the Careers were watching with narrowed eyes, their previous mockery replaced by a tentative respect. Flo leaned forward, her eyes studying Liberty's fluid movements, her smirk gone. "She's... actually good," she muttered to the others, her voice tinged with disbelief.

But Grayson didn't speak. His focus remained solely on Liberty. He watched as she switched seamlessly between attacking and defending, her movements a combination of raw instinct and carefully honed skill. There was no hesitation in her actions, no sign of doubt. Each strike, each movement, was deliberate. He could see now that she wasn't just a girl playing at being a fighter. She had a depth to her, an understanding of how to survive that he had underestimated.

The final hologram appeared, larger and more imposing than the others. It was a brute—built like Cage, with a raw power that threatened to overwhelm her. Liberty's breath quickened, her heart beating faster as she faced the last challenge. She knew she had to finish this quickly; there was no time to waste. She needed to prove herself to Grayson, to make him see what she was capable of.

The brute swung at her, its arm moving like a battering ram. Liberty ducked, barely avoiding the massive swing. She used the momentum of her movement to propel herself forward, closing the distance between them. With a speed that belied her size, she twisted her body, driving both spears toward the hologram's exposed side.

For a moment, it seemed as though the hologram might overpower her, its immense strength threatening to crush her. But Liberty didn't falter. Her arms were strong, her focus unbreakable. With one final push, she drove her second spear deep into the heart of the hologram, and the simulation flickered, signalling the end.

Liberty stood still for a moment, panting heavily, her heart racing with adrenaline. She looked around the room, her eyes locking with Grayson's for a brief moment. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze—a flicker of something. Respect? Recognition? She couldn't tell, but it was enough to make her pulse quicken.

The rest of the Careers were silent, their earlier mockery completely gone. Flo exchanged a glance with Cage, and for once, there was no snide remark, no laughter. Even Perish and Dane were still, their eyes fixed on Liberty.

"Well, well," Cage finally muttered, breaking the silence, his voice lacking the usual arrogance. "Guess I misjudged you."

Liberty didn't respond. Instead, she turned, making her way to the corner of the room where the other tributes were gathered, her movements controlled and calm. She didn't need their approval. She had already proven herself. But as she passed Grayson, she gave him one last look, her gaze unwavering.

She didn't know if he would be her ally in the arena. She didn't know if he'd ever stop thinking of her as the small, weak tribute from District 4. But one thing was certain—today, she had shown him what she was made of. And no matter what happened next, she wasn't going to be anyone's punching bag again.

The simulation ended, and Liberty's heart rate slowly returned to normal. She had faced the challenge, and in doing so, she had begun to carve her own place in the Games. The others may have underestimated her, but that mistake wouldn't happen again. She was ready for whatever the arena had in store.

And if Grayson wanted to stand by her side, they would make a formidable team. If not—well, she would fight alone, just like she always had.

But she wasn't alone. Not anymore.

Flo's grin widened as she crossed her arms, looking at Liberty with a newfound respect. "She is definitely someone we need on the team," she said, her voice full of approval. Her eyes flicked over to Grayson, and with a mischievous smile, she playfully elbowed him. "Should've told us she had a fire like that."

Grayson chuckled, though the sound didn't reach his eyes. He quickly forced the laugh, a little too forced to be convincing. "Just thought we'd keep it for the best impressions," he replied, flashing a grin that didn't quite match the storm of thoughts swirling in his head. He was thankful the others didn't pick up on his lie. He could feel the weight of their gaze, but it wasn't the looks of mockery he expected—it was admiration. They all saw what he saw now: Liberty was dangerous in the best way possible.

As the others continued to talk about her impressive skills, Grayson's thoughts were elsewhere. His mind kept replaying the way Liberty had moved, the determination in her eyes. She had a quiet confidence, a strength that came not from showing off, but from knowing exactly what she was capable of and using it when it mattered most.

He knew, without a doubt, that he had been wrong to doubt her. He had dismissed her at first, thinking she was just another tribute with a dream of making it through the Games. But now he understood. Liberty wasn't just playing to survive. She was playing to win.

And he? He'd been too caught up in his own arrogance to see it.

Now he knew why Finnick, Mags, and Vicente watched her. There was a quiet understanding between them, an unspoken connection that made it clear they all saw something in Liberty that he had missed. Finnick's easygoing attitude, Mags' stoic presence, and even Vicente's quiet demeanour—they all had faith in her. And now, Grayson realized, he needed to learn how to do the same, along with Calypso.

A feeling of guilt washed over him. He hadn't just underestimated Liberty—he had dismissed her as weak, as someone who wasn't worth investing in. But watching her in the training room, seeing the way she fought with such quiet intensity, he understood. She was strong in ways he had failed to recognize. And now, with the Games approaching, that strength would be vital.

Grayson's mind began to race, formulating a plan. He had to apologize to Liberty. Not just because he'd been wrong, but because she deserved to know that he saw her for what she truly was. A competitor. A threat. Someone who could stand toe-to-toe with the best of them.

He shifted slightly, clearing his throat. He wasn't sure how to approach her, or even if she'd accept his apology. But the guilt was eating at him, and he knew he couldn't go into the Games with this hanging over him.

As the conversation shifted and the others began discussing tactics, Grayson's thoughts returned to Liberty. He had always believed that strength was about power, about dominating those around you. But watching her today, he realized that true strength came from within. It came from the quiet confidence of knowing who you were and refusing to be anyone else.

And Liberty? She was exactly that.

With a sigh, Grayson turned back to the group, feeling a sense of determination rise within him. He would make things right with Liberty. He would show her that he recognized her strength, not just as a tribute, but as an equal.

The Games were about to begin, and he knew one thing for sure: Liberty would be a force to be reckoned with. And if he was going to survive, he'd better find a way to stand beside her—because when it came down to it, there was no one else he'd rather have at his back.