The Fourth Olympics

L A R I S E

"I'm guessing both you and Sierra have used weaponry before the Games right?" I asked.

Ever since lunch I've been trailing Sierra's district partner in hopes of collecting something for my notes. Strangely, Jack didn't seem to mind and answered most of my questions.

"Me? Yes, I don't know about Sierra," he grunted, throwing an axe.

Also, we've kind of traded skills. I teach him how to use an axe as a weapon, he helps me with swordsmanship and knife throwing. So far, I've learned Jack has a severe case of  ADHD (explains his extreme fidgeting), a multiple personality disorder, and is partly mentally unstable. He won't tell me what happened for the last one, but the other two he was born with.

"Besides an axe," he began, frowning when the axe hit the dummy's chest instead of its neck, "can you use any other types of weaponry?"

I shrugged and played with the axe I was holding. "I haven't tried." I threw the axe, allowing it to swiftly decapitate four dummies in a row before it hit the wall. Jack's gaze burned into my arm and I looked up at him. "What?"

"I was studying you," he mumbled. He picked up another axe and threw it. I smiled watching the weapon separate the torso and the legs of and dummy before landing in another dummy's stomach, causing it to fall down.

"You did much better this time," I told him.

"Throw it again," he instructed gesturing to the axes.

I did as he requested. This time the axe cut through a dummy's torso and landed point center in another one's chest, right where the heart would be. He copied me, much more successful this time as he decapitated two dummies and caught the last one in the heart.

"You learn quickly," I observed.

"I know," he replied, but he wasn't even looking at me. Instead, his eyes were scanning the center, and finally landed on the agility course. He turned to me, "You're stiff in your motions. Are you flexible?"

"Ah, no," I chuckled. "Besides, I can't even cartwheel properly without falling on my face."

He furrowed his eyebrows, "You can't even cartwheel?"

"Nope," I replied, popping the 'p'.

"You are utterly hopeless," he sighed.

"I know," I laughed. "If you want, we can still go over to the agility course, even if I take like three hours to get past the first obstacle."

He rasied an eyebrow amused, "By that pace, you'll finish the course in thirty six hours."

"Aha, we'd be in Day Three."

He shook his head chuckling. "That would be hilarious to watch, but no. I want to teach you knife throwing before training ends."

"Alright then. Hey, can you... teach me how to fight? Like hand-to-hand combat?" I asked, following him to the knife throwing station.

"I'm not the right person to ask," he replied.

"But what you did in the sparring room," I pointed out.

"It wouldn't work for you, you're not as— scratch that, you're not agile at all."

"Why not?"

"My fighting technique consists of gymnastics, which requires you to be flexible, martial arts, which requires you to be nimble and swift, and the art of balance. You don't have all three, I can't help you."