Training Outfit Hunger Games Novels & Stories

"We need some advantages they don't know about." -The Steel Alpha's son watches you differently now,- Star observed. -Both fear and desire.- I pushed away the thought of Maison's intense gaze. "He's just reassessing a potential asset." Star's disbelieving rumble was the last thing I heard before exhaustion claimed me. Dawn came too quickly. I woke to find training clothes laid out—high-performance leggings, a moisture-wicking top, and sturdy boots. I kept my pendant and my mother's vial against my skin, beneath the clothes.

"Thank you, Rhea." "Your clothes also," Amelia piped up with an enthusiastic tone, leaping onto my back with uninhibited energy. I was dressed in a combat outfit, prepared for my morning training with Katniss. For some reason, I still felt really anxious to see her since our last meeting didn't end on a good note. "They look so dapper. I want to also learn how to fight and throw hands. I've been hearing news about a war, lady Annalisa, how true is that?"

Everyone on her squad wore a slightly different style for their specialty. For Aeon, as a Jack, her outfit consisted of her tank top, combat style pants that stretched easily, and her combat boots. Star, the fast moving sniper and information holder, she wore a tank top and pants as well, but used steel toed sneakers for their better mobility. She also had an unusual dark brown side pouch she used that was not part of standard ware. Chriso, the heavy hitter and muscle, wears a form fitting t-shirt, pants, and combat boots. J7, the scout and tracker, needs shorts for his running, a tank top, and steel toed sneakers.

After we gather ourselves, we finish off our shower by actually showering. Drying off, we both get dressed. Unfortunately, we can’t go in workout gear. We have to appear normal. I’m dressed in my black jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt paired with my black trench coat and black boots. My war scythe and gun are on my hip. I’ve loaded the gun with Iron bullets. Cade will have his pistol filled with silver bullets.

His voice returned to the cold one she was used to hearing. "I think I can join you. I-I just don't... umm... have any clo-" Before the words finished leaving her lips, a hunters pair of trousers and a shirt was handed to her. "You will wear these. They are typical Hunters attire. You'll find it's easier to move and a lot less restricting than a dress." Turning to leave, he almost didn't hear her as she called his name.

A knock. “My lady.” One of the guards. “Commander’s orders.” I blinked the sleep away, still wrapped in the dream of my mother’s script, until he stepped inside with folded cloth in his hands. Training clothes. Simple, practical, dark. Nothing like the gowns the Queen pressed me into. “Your attire,” He said stiffly, placing it on the chair. I washed quickly, pulling the unfamiliar garments on. They fit closer than dresses ever did—no sweeping skirts, no embroidered sleeves. Just fabric meant for movement. For fighting.

The landscape stretched out before us, vibrant and teeming with life, but also filled with hidden perils. Our team, consisting of Aret, Nova, Horia, and myself, Jannah, had trained for years to reach this point, but nothing could have prepared us for the reality of the Hunger Games. The very mention of its name sent shivers down our spines, and we knew that survival in this brutal contest would demand everything we had. Our surroundings were dense with towering trees and exotic flora, their vibrant colors contrasting with the shadowy undergrowth. The air was thick with the sounds of unknown creatures, their calls, and rustlings both fascinating and foreboding.

“Odessa, we have no choice.” “We can’t walk out of here, though,” I replied. “I have an idea. Wait here.” Heather said. She bolted out the door before I could respond. She came back minutes later with a pile of clothes in her arm. “Oh, I thought we were caught again,” Evyn exhaled. “Are these cheerleading uniforms?” I asked in horror. “Yes, at least you’ll be clothed. Put these on.” White and silver uniform pinched my ass and chest. Unlike the Daciana uniform, this one had no sleeves, but tiny straps.

If you didn’t know who we were to Xander it would look like we were his six person protection detail. The guys have black, almost too small, t-shirts showing off every muscle they have in their upper body. The tactical cargo pants hide more, but still look rugged and intimidating all at the same time. The girls and I were given the same black form fitting t-shirts. It’s not cotton, but a matte water wicking material that feels like butter on my skin. We all have black leggings, black socks and black boots that match the guys. Our only difference is the tactical belt. It’s thick and sturdy, designed not to move too much over the slippery material of the leggings. There is a cargo pocket

I am not really sure what the mechanics are because, to make it fair, just like how every tournament was held in Purple Hill, whenever a family is joining, someone else decides on the mechanics. I prepared myself as I wore the warrior uniform that my mom had created for all she-wolves. The uniform is an all-black body suit that hugs every curve of my body. The body suit was designed to be a camouflage, especially in the dark. The reason why it was so tight-fighting was not for looks, even though our male warriors beg to disagree, but for flawless movement and flexibility. I was almost in the dining area when I heard the sound of laughter and loud whispers. Everyone turned to look at me the m