A/N: Hello! This is the story that has won on my poll!
This will have two POVs: Katniss's and Cato's.
Anyway, though they are my favorite couple and I'd die if I didn't write a Catoniss story, Cato's and Katniss's are the POVs I have the most trouble with from characters from book 1 of the original story. So, if the first chapter isn't top-notch compared to my usual writing, I can guarantee I'll fix it quick!
And their hate will eventually change, or I'd never write the story!
D2- 17- (Cato Allens)
Opening Ceremonies
You'll be flawless! They'll love you! Oh, you look fabulous! You'll be the first tribute to be sponsored! I've been told all of this in the past hour, and I could honestly care less in that department. I don't need sponsors, though I couldn't keep them away if I wanted to, I'm sure. I don't need the Capitol citizens' love and care to win. I can do it myself.
Clove and I are told to enter the chariot. She scowls when she sees how close we have to be. I restrain a smile and look forward at the heads of the people from District One. Gleam and Marvel I think are their names.
Gleam and Marvel begin to move in front of us, sending a wave of roars down through the hall. There is a second's pause, and then the chariot before us jerks forward. Clove and I are stuck in time for a second, and then we're yanked into the zillions of watchers' views. They scream and scream. I learn that the girl in front of us is Glimmer, not Gleam, and I was right about Marvel. It doesn't matter. Their names won't matter when I kill them when the alliance is over.
"Cato!" My name echoes in my ears as Clove and I put our hands in the air. Glimmer, ahead of us, is waving frantically. "Clove! Clove! Cato! Cato!" She wants attention, because Clove and I are taking it. I look over to Clove, who is smirking and suppressing a laugh.
We go on like this for a while. Names are shouted. Ours are repeated a lot, more than any. And then everything hushes slightly. So suddenly you couldn't do anything in the moment everything hushed a little bit. I look around. Who…?
Two names permeate my eardrums. "Katniss!" and "Peeta!" What surprises me, though, is when I can pick out the district they are chanting around me. "District Twelve!" The first thing that comes into my mind is to not appear like I'm the least bit dazed or surprised, though I am. The second is that they are my targets. They go first, if at all possible. They are to be spared for me. Or, at least, the stronger one is—if one of them is strong at all. The other Clove or someone can have.
We reach the center of the City Circle. President Snow starts his speech, but I don't listen. I know what he has to say. I've heard it before.
Instead, I look at them, just as their flames flicker off quickly, like the way the crowd quieted. The boy looks strong. The girl looks weak. But the girl is a volunteer from District Twelve. That can't be overlooked. From someone as weak as her, it won't be fatal to overlook it, but it could very well be harmful. Maybe getting her out of the way could make it simpler.
And I have just the perfect way to do that.
Since I can't kill her quite yet, I will do what it takes to mess her up, so she can't figure me out, so whatever it is that made her volunteer will screw up when she turns it to me. The perfect way to unhinge her is so utterly simple. I can just stare.
So I do. I set my eyes on their chariot and stare. Not glare. Stare without an expression. She glances over at me. I take my eyes away. Let her think I didn't want her to see me staring, I think. Let her make assumptions.
I look back and she's still staring. Our eyes meet, and hers flit away. I try not to smile, and look to the president as he concludes his speech. "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor."
We start to move again. Soon, we're back in the Tribute Building. Clove and I get off our chariot and Flets—her stylist—Trisdy—my stylist—Adalian—our escort—and the mentors—mine: Brutus; hers: Enobaria—flock us.
"Oh, you two looked great," Flets compliments. I have my eyes glued to District Twelve's girl. "Deadly. Perfect Careers, you two!"
"You did." One of them taps my shoulder. Either Adalian or Trisdy, because of the squeaky, female, Capitol voice. The girl looks back at me. The people from Twelve leave, and my eyes don't move from her. "Who are you—?"
"District Twelve, Cato?" sneers Clove.
"Come on." Brutus beckons us to the elevator. We pile into the giant thing and it shoots straight up, faster than imaginable. It's glass, so I can see down to the people. The elevator doors break apart and we're in our apartment on the second floor. "This is the second floor, kids."
"Kids?" I snap.
"Forget that," Clove says. "What was that about Twelve?"
"Wouldn't you love to know?" I retort absently.
"We are allies, Cato," Clove growls.
"But my strategies could help you," I tell her, starting to walk past her and into the dining area where the rest are heading. "Why should I help you?"
"Because if you help me, it could make the alliance that much stronger, and it's good to keep the alliance strong," she barks.
"Nice theory." I sit next to Adalian. "Not going to work, though."
Clove angrily blows a piece of hair away from her face and sits in the only empty seat—next to me. She takes the knife from her placemat and clutched it like a lifeline. Twelve girl isn't the only one I want to mess with. She's weak, anyway, and Clove is right here, so I can see her reaction all the time.
An Avox brings us an array of food, like the kind on the train.
I've never starved, or had to want food. Not a day in my life, and I would be among the dishonored if I had, which I am not, or I would not be a volunteer. But the foods they have in the Capitol are so delectably new to me. Most, at least. In District Two, we get quite a large amount of foods, even some from the Capitol, since we are somewhat of a favorite district because of our loyalty.
"Listen, I want you two to acquaint with the other Careers, alright? Make them think you wouldn't break the alliance early for the world," Enobaria says. "And then break it early."
"Don't do that," Brutus counteracts. "Stay with them and kill them towards the end. Her way'll get you less sponsors."
"Don't listen to him," snaps Enobaria after hardly swallowing a mouthful of food. "I really honored the district, what with my teeth and all. What did he do? Throw an axe? A spear? Psht. Sponsors will love my idea. Get more drama in there."
It's their first year mentoring together. It's Enobaria's first, period. She's always off in the Capitol. Not like Finnick Odair's always in the Capitol. She does't do what he does, that I know of.
"We don't need help on this," I break in. Brutus and Enobaria stop glaring at each other. "We—well; I am… not so sure about her—are fine."
Clove grips her knife tighter, still having not eaten anything. "He's… right. I can do this. I don't need fancy tips to throw a knife and make my own decisions."
"You sure made one at the reaping," Brutus says. "Such a young volunteer."
"Don't bash my tribute!" Enobaria slams her fists on the table, snarling like an animal. "How I wish I could go into an arena with just you."
Their fighting is actually rather amusing, so I sit back and eat whatever's on my plate. They continue on and eventually Flets clears his throat. Flets leaves the table, followed by his fellow stylist, Trisdy.
"Enough! You two have no manners! And, frankly, Enobaria, you are quite unladylike for keeping the argument going," Adalian says, interrupting the argument. She's an idiot, but I guess that when she gets angry, it's pretty funny. "What, Clove? When they fight, it means you have this much less chance of winning!"
"I don't need them to win," Clove fumes. She stands up and throws her knife on the table, leaving the room.
"She's not ladylike, either," Adalian huffs. I smile. "Now you, too? You might as well leave before I do something foolish and make a mockery of myself, Cato."
I stand up kindly, preparing to leave. "You already have," I inform her politely, and leave the room.
— — —
"In an undefined amount of weeks, twenty-three of you will be dead," the trainer says. I look around the tributes. I'm towering over all but one—the boy from Eleven, and he's no taller than me. It's almost funny how pathetic they are compared to me. These twenty-three that I'm staring at will be dead. "One will not. Who that is depends on your ability to anticipate. No fighting with other tributes; you'll have plenty time for that in the arena. My advice is: Don't ignore the survival skills. Everyone wants to grab a sword, but most of you will die of natural causes. Ten percent from infection. Twenty percent from dehydration. Exposure can kill as easily as a knife."
From the moment I stopped scanning my competition, I glued my eyes to her—the girl on fire. She flickers her eyes over to me. She quickly looks away, but she looks very uncomfortable. Good, I think.
We're able to move around the Training Centre. Us Careers are already near each other, including the pathetic bastards from District Four. I don't want them in the alliance. I'll just kill them in the bloodbath.
"Hello, Cato," says a voice from behind me.
The girl from One walk in front of me when I don't turn around. She flicks her blonde fishtail braid behind her shoulder and struts away towards her district partner. I leave the group of incompetent fools and find a sword to wield.
The others follow me. They already see me as a leader. That or they are afraid that if they don't appear loyal to me, I'll break them in whatever way I can. And there's many ways. I'd prefer it if they were afraid of me. Everything would be so much easier if that were the case. And soon, that will be the case.
D12- 16- (Katniss Everdeen)
I watch, just for a moment, as he spins the sword and pierces the dummy.
The Careers this year aren't as brutal-looking as they usually are. But that won't stop them from killing me whenever they get the chance.
I know he is—the boy from District Two. It's so utterly obvious after seeing him with a sword, and even if I hadn't seen that, his height says it all. The girl from Two isn't any larger than me, and she might even be smaller. But she's a volunteer, so she has to have something she can do.
The girl from One is average in every way. She's not a volunteer—which is a surprise—and she's my size. The boy from One is a volunteer and the one, I suppose, to goof off a lot.
Both from Four won't last, by their size, unless they get away from the alliance quick.
I return to my knot-tying. Someone sits next to me, but I don't look up to see who. I twist and tie and untie the rope to form the many snares I know from Gale back home in the woods.
"Hey," says a familiar voice. I look up at Peeta as he tries a beginner's knot. "We're supposed to stick together, remember?"
"I remember. You went away first," I remind him. We may have to appear together, but I don't want to be his ally yet. Not even with the bread hanging over my head. I really want to stop owing him for that.
"I was pulled away by the other tributes going all over the place," Peeta tells me. "I didn't leave."
We continue to create snares and the boy from Two occasionally stares at me. I try to ignore him as best I can. He must know we're forbidden to love. And he must not love me. So that means he wants to work me up. He can try all he likes, but I won't give that Career the satisfaction.
A/N: Tell me, do you love it or hate it? Should I continue, or try for another story on my poll?