Disclaimer: Everything you recognize from The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. Quoted lyrics: "In the Flesh?" by Pink Floyd.
A/N: I shouldn't be allowed to listen to Pink Floyd. This is my first noob-ish attempt at writing Cato (Clato?). Will be a three-shot, eventually.
Quintessence
I.
So ya
Thought ya
Might like to go to the show.
To feel the warm thrill of confusion
That space cadet glow.
They are living legends. The Victors of the Hunger Games.
They rise from the carnage to be worshipped by the Capitol and the districts alike.
That's what our teachers tell us, every day of every year.
And worship them we do, like the old gods and leaders they are named for.
Everyone wants to join their ranks, me included.
Our Victors are always the best, the strongest. While most others are pulled out of the arenas half-dead and almost-starved, the champions from Two usually stand strong and proud, elbow-high in blood and knee-deep in the dead. Steely masks hiding pain, if there is any to hide.
And those who don't win... we honor their sacrifice, and swear to do better.
For the greater glory of the Capitol, and of our district that's bound to it.
Sure, we have to send two tributes into a game only one can survive, but it's worth the risk.
That only doubles the chances of our district winning. Besides, it hardly ever comes down to the last two tributes from Two – after the Career alliance breaks for good, there's usually only the better one left. And when that happens… it's the survival of the fittest. And the fights make for the best and the rarest instructional footage.
/
The other tribute, the girl, is already standing on the stage, small and steely and deadly like those daggers she loves so much.
Clove.
A bit younger than me, but already has quite a reputation. One of the few girls who made an impression on me that lasted longer than a night, even though we'd exchanged just some sparring blows, both physical and verbal. But I guess she'd make a lasting impression on anyone, even if she refrained from trying to leave them with a scar. (I didn't let her, but try she did.)
Maybe I'd have preferred it if she waited and won next year…
But she already volunteered and that can't be undone. If she thinks she's already good enough… her call.
My decision to go and win is firm, nothing can't possibly shake it. I've decided to bet everything on my last chance, honing my skills and waiting to volunteer in my last year to maximize my chances. I trained hard all my life and outscored everyone in my training class. I earned my right to call the dibs on my place in the spotlight, my chance to win honor and glory, my license to kill.
And I'm sure as hell gonna do that. The 74th Games will be mine.
When the escort announces the name of the reaped (who cares?), I don't hesitate, not even for a second.
"I volunteer!"
I must say, the words echo magnificently between the marble pillars of our Justice Building. In Two, we take bringing honor to our district seriously, unlike most of the higher-numbered rats.
We volunteer prepared to do our very best, we volunteer for death or for glory.
Since I'm counting on the glory, why wouldn't I volunteer?
/
Clove smirks as we shake hands, apparently unfazed. I return the gesture, squeezing her little fingers hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to harm.
Time for that might come later. Meanwhile, she'll make a great killing partner.
If… or when… it comes down to us… we'll sure give them one hell of a spectacle.
I can't wait for the show to begin. I'll show them what I'm made of, what I'm destined to be.
I'll ascend to be a legend.