Hey! So my computer is currently dead. As soon as I get it back, I plan on finishing up "Undecided, for now" and updating "Friend Zone" as well as uploading my own original cover art work. It's quality is comperable to that drawing of Belle that I made in kindergarten. SCORE!
For all of you HP fans out there, a friend of mine and I are thinking about collaborating on a parody I started writing about eight months ago. It will be posted on here and deviantart.
UFN should be finished around Halloween. I have no idea how I plan to end it. These one shots are a place for me to just release some annoying plot bunnies without feeling obligated to write an entire story. I hope that you all enjoy.
"Stop it, Cato!"
"Stop what?"
"Looking at me like- like that!"
"What do you even mean?"
"Just- just... Urgh!"
District Two is different from District Twelve. Everyone has enough food, there is always at least one volunteer for the Hunger Games, and the boys are always reaped first.
Cato isn't sure if he likes that last little difference, though.
He had won the right to volunteer at the age of seventeen. The girl volunteer was supposed to be an eighteen year old by the name of Aurelia, but she showed up to the reaping with a broken arm and a bloody face. Sabatoge is common in District Two, but when it's someone's last chance there are severe punishments. No one would step up to save Clove, the little fifteen year old knife expert.
"Why would someone go to all the trouble to take out Aurelia and then not bother volunteering?"
"Does it even matter, Clove? Look at this stupid mess we're in!"
"What do you even mean, Cato?"
"I- I... Just forget it, okay?"
The buzzing of the Tracker Jackers jerks Cato awake. He remembers learning about them in one of the Mutt lessons and immediately registers that the girl from Twelve is behind this.
Clove, Peeta, and Marvel, on the other hand, seem to register the deadly nature of these Mutts and make a beeline for the lake. Cato sees Clove running and something inside of him tears his mind from District Twelve and gets him to follow Clove.
She's got short, little legs that get caught up in all of the thick foliage far easier than Cato's or Marvel's. Peeta is lagging behind a bit, but Cato can only think about getting Clove to the lake. Marvel's already there, completely submerged and with no district partner. Marina isn't there either.
Clove surfaces, looking like a wet cat.
"Lover boy," she spits.
"The other girls don't like me, Cato."
"It's because you're a threat, Clove. They know you're better than they could ever be."
"But you're the best boy and no one ever steals your clothes or cuts off your hair or writes nasty rumors about you on the toilet stalls!"
"Shit, you girls are nasty..."
"Yeah, especially your girlfriend."
"You mean you?"
"You're a moron."
"You're killing my buzz."
Cato throws the body as far as he can, relishing in the sound that the broken bones make when they hit the scattered remains of their supplies.
"Cato!"
"Cato!"
"Cato!"
"Cato!"
He turns and fumes; searching for the origins of the two voices. He spots Marvel first and lunges towards him, arms extended and ready to kill.
"Cato, stop! It's not his fault!"
Cato turns to find Clove grabbing his arm. He can't quite place the emotion, but it looks like fear, almost. A part of him wants to break down and cry and beg her to forgive him for scarring her, but he settles for nodding and stomping off to their tent by the lake.
Clove and Marvel trail behind and Cato can't help but overhear parts of their conversation.
"Why don't we just kill him?"
"Why didn't you just kill Glimmer?"
"Look, it's not like I'm going out of my way to-"
"Just shut up, Marvel."
"Why are you constantly talking to Glimmer?"
"Why are you always talking to Marvel?"
"He's teaching me about spears and I'm helping him with knives!"
"Yeah, a certain type of spear..."
"Oh, like you're one to talk, Cato! I've heard all about what you used to do after practice from the other girls."
"Just stop hanging around Marvel and I'll stop flirting with Glimmer, okay?"
"Whatever, Cato."
Cato is almost positive that Clove is doing this on purpose. She must know that Cato can hear every word that she and Marvel exchange. What is she trying to accomplish here? Is she trying to make him jealous?
The bomber survived the attack and Cato is determined to find her a stick her like a pig. He wants to watch the life drain from her eyes like blood. Seeing the same thing happen to Marvel would actually be more satisfying, though he hates to admit it.
"We need a new game plan- a trap that she'll have to fall for," Cato decides after an hour or two of futile searching.
"She must have an ally," Clove offers. It makes perfect sense, actually, that she would have an ally. Cato nods in agreement, ignoring the question of who said ally is. It's not a hard guess, though. Thresh is alone, Peeta is practically dead, and so that leaves Ana and Rue.
"If we catch that little girl, she's bound to show up- look at what she did for her sister," Marvel suggests. Cato has to admit that it's a good plan.
"Perfect. You set it up and Clove and I will go try to scout her out," Cato decides.
"Cato, I just heard! Congratulations! You're going to be amazing in there; none of the other tributes stand a chance against you!"
"When you win in a few years, we can be neighbors in Victor's Village, you know."
"I heard that the only open house is next to Enobaria."
"Shut up, Clove."
"Stop being a pansy, Cato."
Clove trots after Cato, her little legs moving twice as fast as Cato's. He's crashing through the woods looking for something to kill that's not Clove. This alliance is getting harder to maintain, especially now that Marvel's dead.
There are six tributes left. Six. The alliance usually disintegrates around the final eight, depending on its size. This alliance should be over, but neither has said anything about it.
Then the announcement comes just as Cato is about to slice the head off of a little white bunny.
"We can both go home, Cato," she whispers. He notices that she seems to be on the verge of tears.
"We can go home together," he agrees and his face breaks into its first smile since the reaping nearly a month ago.
Before he knows it, Clove is hugging him around the neck and he has burried his face into the dark hair hanging over her shoulder.
"We can be victirs together, just like we had always planned," he says, just loud enough for the camera to hear as well as Clove. He means it, but they do need to find a new angle.
Clobe pulls back and looks confused and even a little bit hurt, so Cato smiles a real smile, not his cocky grin, and says "it's just you and me, Clove."
"You're probably my best friend, Clove."
"You're probably my only friend."
"Are you serious? Is everyone that jealous of you?"
"I think that they're scared, Cato. I- I killed him, Cato, and they all know and they think that I'm some dangeorus nut job!"
"You did it because you had to, Clove. Your dad was going to kill you one day if you didn't do something."
"It's different than when we kill goats in practice, Cato. It's a lot different."
"You killed her, you killed her, you killed her, you killed her," he growls as Thresh's blood mixes with the rain and mud. Thresh coughs up more blood and Cato cuts at him again.
"She got what she deserved," Thresh coughs.
Cato resists the urge to just get it over with and slice his head off. But the very thought of Clove's long, painful, and drawn out death makes his resolve even stronger.
He cuts and even hacks at chucks of Thresh's flesh until he can barely even see anything other than the mixings of mud, rain, and blood. He watches Thresh struggle to breath and the rain create swirling patterns in the mud.
"We should get married one day, Cato. Have a giant messed up family."
"What, are you ten again?"
"I seem to remember that you were the one who suggested it that time."
The hazel eyes are what make him freeze and drop his sword in surprise. All of his fight is gone, his rage has evaporated, and now he is just a ragged, crazy, hungry mess filled with memories.
He thinks about how he kissed her before the feast. She promised him another and maybe even something more.
"I think I could get used to that."
"If you stop being such a moron, maybe you'll have more to get used to."
"Just- just be careful, okay?"
"You too, Cato."
He thinks about hearing her screams and the memory of them starts to mix with his own screams as the mutts rip and tear at his flesh.
"Please, Clove, please stay with me! Don't die on me!"
"Cato, I-I..."
"I don't want you to go."
"I don't want to leave you."
"Please just try to hold on."
"I love you, you know?"
"Please don't do this to me, Clove."
As the arrow flies from Fire Girl's bow, Cato wishes that he and Clove had been born in District Twelve.
After all, he wouldn't have volunteered if Clove had been reaped first.