Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.

Gladiolus

Chapter 1

My hands are shaking from holding the string too tight and keeping the bow straight… but I can't be at ease, not now. I look at the end of my arrow and mark the invisible X that Peeta draws on Cato's hand. I will shoot because I can't really afford not to. Peeta and me will be going home, I promised and owe him that. The Boy with the Bread.

I was just about to release the arrow when I see Cato's eyes widen, he knows. He knows that I'm not going to miss so instead he pushes Peeta roughly towards me and jumps down. I catch Peeta but he was too heavy and carried me down with him, we struggle for a while since his leg isn't healed yet. So from beneath Peeta, I try to look around, only to see Cato outrunning the mutated mutts made from dead tributes. 11 mutts started chasing him and I was going to help them kill him. I struggle up, knees and elbows banging on the steel roof in my haste to fire an arrow. I want to end this. No, I need to end this, I can't go on much longer. So even in my kneeling position, I aim my bow and let the arrow fly… only to miss.

Oh, I was able to hurt him, but the arrow just grazed his shoulder when he swerved. I can see it bleeding and can only hope that the mutts catches up to him, with the scent of his blood in the air.

...

The Capitol people are riveted; they thought that it was over, when the District Two boy had Loverboy in a headlock, it saddened them they were rooting for the star-crossed couple of District 12. Then they saw the smaller boy marking the brute and was again hopeful that the Girl on Fire will finish the District Two tribute.

Hmmm, it was almost anti climatic, but then the antagonist did an unpredictable move. He jumped off the Cornucopia. Shocked shouts and sharp inhalations were heard all around, thinking that he has jumped to his death, but no. He dodged the kill shot from the Girl on Fire and outpaced the creatures.

The 74th Hunger Games is not over yet.

...

Haymitch almost felt relief but then the Brute was able to escape. Nonetheless, Capitol people are now lining up to District 12, throwing their money on him and he felt confident. I snort over my glass, relieved and confident I'm not used to feeling those things but I hope it lasts.

...

The camera focuses on the Girl on Fire atop the Cornucopia who was bending down to help her district partner up. She lifts up a hand to touch his cheek and then trails it down to his neck inspecting the red mark left by the career from two. The remaining sun shines down on her hair and emits a red glow, truly a lovely girl. And despite the haggardness, the dirt and blood on her face, the strain evident in the tightness around her eyes; she still manages to captivate her district partner. They can see it in his eyes: Lover Boy was awed.

At present, however, they can't get down since ten mutts remained circling the Cornucopia.

...

Meanwhile, another camera pans and follows the running career with a bloodied shoulder. His heavy footsteps crunch the leaves and loose twigs, making it easier for the dogs to track him. Then it happens.

A mutt tackles him to the ground and then rips off with razor sharp teeth his upper body armor, another clamps down on his hand while a third one bites down on his leg. It's over, the Capitol people thought. But no. The career manages to drag himself up and lifts up his arm with the mutt, snarling against the creature before prying his hand forcefully out of its teeth and simultaneously twisting its neck. It mewls and then slumps. "One" he whispers. He turns towards the one on his leg and kicks it hard against a tree. Kicking it repeatedly with the mutt still attached to him until its skull splits open. Dead. "Two" he utters. The tags on both mutts had a number four stamp.

He turns towards the one that ripped his body armor and smirks sadistically. The mutt was large with an 11 number on its collar. Three others appear beside it with a number one, three and ten, respectively. The mutated dogs attack at once.

Screams of panic can be heard around the capitol and you can almost catch the surprised echoes from the neighboring districts, everyone riveted for once, not on the district lovers but on the brutal career. He reaches for his belt and pulls out two knives the district and capitol people watching distinctly recognize them belonging to his district partner, the petite killer.

With both feet planted firmly down, the career boy slashes upward stabbing the first one in the throat and pries it upward until the snout was sliced in two, killing it painfully. "Three" he counts. Another manages to claw his arm and he grabs it roughly from its hind legs before it can turn and swings it around the large mutt, hitting him over to another tree and momentarily disorienting it. He then drops the mutt with a number ten and stabs downward, penetrating its skull and killing it instantly. "Four." Lastly, he turns towards the large mutt. The mutation snarls and runs towards the career. He stands calmly as the mutt bares its fangs ready to sink it in the career's throat. The brutal career just straightens out his arm, right into the mutts mouth and grazing his arms on the animal's teeth; piercing it through till the blade tip comes out the back head. "Five" he sighs but doesn't pause, just sprints away from the bloodbath. His pace doesn't change despite the numerous cuts littering his body.

The camera tracks the scene behind him, six mutations are still following him. He bends down suddenly and grabs a large rock. Turning quickly to check, he aims it directly at the head of another mutt chasing him. It hits with enough force to kill the creature, it was another number 11. "The small one" he mutters panting. And runs yet again. This time, the capitol citizens counted for him, uttering "Six."

After another 20 minutes of sprinting, dodging and jumping, he was in luck; a short spear was lying around along with an abandoned pack, hidden indistinctly with leaves. The career grabs the weapon and turns quickly, surprising the mutts and stabbing one in the chest. He pulls it back quick and spears forward again to skewer another one running behind it in rapid succession. Acting fast, he whirls around portraying a steady cadence of movement and launches the spear high into the air. Not waiting for the weapon to hit his target, the boy is already running straight towards the remaining three. The spear imbeds itself on the targeted mutt, while the boy launches himself towards the first one and wrestles the dog down. Hitting it repeatedly with bloodied fists, it mewls pathetically and collapses. The two remaining mutations hesitate but nonetheless snarl when the boy stands up, dripping in their pack's lifeblood. He stands and waits. Waiting for them to attack, all the while holding out his two arms palms up as if in invitation. The two mutations lunge at the same time.

...

There were no screams now, only silence, as they watch the career slaughter the gamekeeper's mutations one by one. The colorful sea of capitol onlookers gawk at the scene playing out. Screens all around panem were splashed with red, as the boy slashes and mutilates the dogs, regardless of his injuries. They were seeing the Brutal Cato, an apt name, for a ruthless killing machine. This was a reliving of the games once again, bloodbath at its finest.

...

What the hell do they do in two to produce such horrific tributes? Haymitch thinks as he reluctantly feels admiration for the boy who kills more than half the mutts, 11 in total. It almost looks easy when he does it. He turns around and sees Brutus looking on proudly. He's confident again.

Yes, why shouldn't he? His district tribute is singlehandedly killing off the creatures that kept Katniss and Peeta trapped atop the Cornucopia. He will get more sponsors. And Katniss only has five arrows left and if she uses it on the mutts and hits them, there's still going to be five more circling their temporary haven. Haymitch thinks bitterly.

Despite this depressing thought, he feels grateful to the boy from two for providing Panem and more importantly the gamekeepers, an exhilarating show, regardless of how gruesome it actually is. Because if not, he has no doubt that the gamekeepers would either collapse the Cornucopia or invent a hailstorm just to drive his tributes off the structure. At the corner of my eye, I glimpse some sponsors also gravitating once again to the District Two section.

No. The 74th Hunger Games is not over yet.

...

Panting heavily after finishing off the last of the beasts, Cato surveys the area and looks up at the baleful sky, portending a possible storm. He was covered in blood, whether the gamekeepers used the blood of the dead tributes or an animal is irrelevant. Cato wants it off him, now. The pathetic lovebirds of District 12 are most likely still trapped atop the Cornucopia since he counted only 11 dogs here. That gives him time.

Sprinting yet again after hearing the distinct sound of flowing water up ahead, he squats down and snatches the abandoned bag. He needs some clothes and weapons. Cato needs to scavenge for long-range weapons. If he's going to face off with the Girl On Fire, he needs to be on equal footing.

Finally reaching the stream, Cato gazes down at his reflection. His hair is matted down with sweat and tinged in blood, his shirt is in tatters. Assessing the damage done, he sees three slashes from claw marks across his chest, a bite mark on his hand and leg as well as the cut left by the Girl On Fire's arrow. The bitch will pay for that.

Stripping off the tattered shirt, he hesitates briefly before removing his trousers as well as underwear and slipping into the cold water. Dipping his head down and scrubbing the smell and color of blood off his face and hair, he checked the backpack and was grateful to find a bar of soap.

Cato moves his hand over his shoulders and winces at the cut there. However, these injuries are not his priority, the mutt's blood still staining his body is repulsive. Grabbing a smooth rock near the edge of the stream, he starts scrubbing; first his neck, then arms, chest, abdomen, thighs, feet and lastly, his hands. He scrubs until the skin feels raw, not caring that the whole Panem is watching him. His blond hair is clean once again and his skin glows a healthy pink.

Cato bows his head and feels a wetness trailing down from an eye, he doesn't know the cause of it but right now he can't seem to stem the flow of tears and so he pretends; "I'm just tired" he mutters and suddenly rain pours. This is good, he thinks, since it will obscure his whereabouts and erase his tracks, in case District 12 is hunting. However, in the back of his mind, another part of him feels gratitude to the gamekeepers for letting him hide his vulnerability in the downpour.

Cato raises his head and tilts it up, allowing the raindrops pelting his face to mingle with his own tears. He didn't know the cause, whether its from fatigue, frustration, sadness or happiness; all he knows is that he's alive and determined and right now, that's all that actually matters. After his makeshift bath, he steps out sighing tiredly and thinking, no one can really prepare you for what happens inside the arena. I won't underestimate again, I'll be the one going home. I'll show the whole of Panem the making of a true Victor.

...

Despite seeing this boy kill children and mutilate those creatures, it's hard to deny his loveliness, Enobaria thinks as she sees Cato strip off all his garments, he has lost quite a bit of the bulk from starvation and the constant running driven by the need to survive. Yet, it looks better for him now. The definition is much more aesthetically pleasing, his upper body remains tight but not overly so and the muscles in his arms are blatantly displayed in high-resolution screens across panem as he flexes his arms to scrub off the blood.

Blood, she knows the feeling because she hates it too. The smell of it is metallic, which is why District Two is oftentimes more used to it and unfortunately, also associated with it. After all, the weapons-making district is filled with the commodity. But despite that, those from District Two are the ones who hates it most, because it smells like home. Home where children are trained to the point of dying. Home where strength and cruelty are the barometer of worth. Home where children are inculcated to mistrust their friends, peers and by extension their family. Home where everything is silver and gray, dull, lifeless unless you wield it. Yes, only the shades of gray are available in District Two with splashes of red. And so, as time progresses, that's all its citizens are used to, gray and red.

Gazing at the boy yet again, she found herself licking her suddenly dry lips and sees others doing the same, especially when Cato emerges from the stream to look at the sky. How intriguing. Enobaria laughs suddenly, Cato is quite gifted both in talent and form. He is perfectly proportional. Everything looks quite large. Yes, they will have more sponsors after this, I can already hear the capitol women starting to proposition Brutus for a time with the boy.

You really are most beautiful, Cato. Good work.

...

The capitol citizens are once again riveted, not by bloodshed, but of the pulchritude broadcasted on live television, the women fan themselves and the men adjust their collar. Oh yes, the boy is most definitely gorgeous and a definite rival for Finnick Odair. Even the male portion is looking on either interestedly or jealously as the Boy from Two appears to be gifted in both length and width in all directions. On the other hand, the women thinks him an art form bared to its rawest form, not anything like the meretricious fashions that the capitol men are so fond of; this was simply earth, skin and water; a communion of nature and man. And they were awed.

Thus, for a place like the Capitol, inhabited with devoted sybarites, they sincerely hope that this show continues. This also marks the shift in favor of the gamekeepers. The audience are now divided into two, half for the District 12 lovers and the remaining for the beautiful brute from District Two. After all, evil is supposed to be tempting, otherwise, everything will just be boring.

...

Shit and double shit. That career shit… Haymitch thinks. This is a ploy! I can't help but utter these same words, albeit in a whisper. I really don't know if this is a strategy or what but it's working. Capitol people are shallow creatures and as such, they swallow and devour any form of beauty and the brute from Two certainly has it in spades. Just the right combination of brutality and form, and the boy is an instant idol. If he actually stripped before the actual games, he has no doubt that he'll get more sponsors than Katniss and Peeta along with the other tributes combined.

He groans and swipes a hand over his face tiredly. The game was already tipped to their side and one strip show and the blonde Adonis the name that they're now chanting I spat disgustedly, is an instant hit. Even Effie is entranced with the kid. The gamekeepers will now favor both teams equally after seeing the general reaction from these idiots.

...

Katniss nocks another arrow and aims at the fiercest of the mutts. Feet shoulder-width apart, pull tight, mark and release. It sails straight and true into the eye, killing it instantly. That's two now. I weigh my options, I can only kill three more and afterwards, I hope that the other half will get scared enough to leave us alone.

I look at Peeta again, he's not looking good. He's pale and holds himself too stiffly even in a reclined pose. I need to go down eventually to gather food, herbs and other essentials. Because as much as I hate to admit it, it looks like Cato was able to escape the mutations following him; there's no canon sound. The brutal boy from two is still alive and probably already strategizing on how to kill us. Furthermore, he knows exactly where we are. We're literally like sitting ducks.

But then again, I don't really have much of a choice right now, I think bitterly, so I just nock another arrow and shoot the one getting nearer the cornucopia… I drift off again, I hate this; I don't like to do this anymore, I want to go home. Back to Prim, Gale and yes, even my mother. For that brief time of self-pity, a cough breaks through my internal monologue. I whip my head around to see Peeta coughing loudly. I run towards him and helps him sit up. "Peeta," I ask, looking at him intently, "Peeta, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, just a bit of draft" He smiles that half smile, asking me silently not too worry. But I can't help it, I do worry. "I need to get down there for medicines" I say and for the first time regret having blown up the Career's stash of supplies.

"No!" he exclaims, grabbing my arms in his surprisingly strong grip. "Those dogs are still down there" But even as he says it, I see one mutt turning away from us and gazing at the forest as if in deep conversation. He barks at the others and the seven remaining mutts starts running towards the forest.

"Hmm, I guess we're lucky" I say wonderingly but not to look at a gift horse in the mouth, I shake off Peeta's hands and climb down, despite his protests that I stay there with him.

As expected, the remaining backpacks are pathetically useless with only the barest rudimentary materials. I did find some dried meat and a blanket, which can surely be used in this weather. The rain still pelts across the cornucopia and I wonder if its okay to risk being inside rather than getting poured on out there by the rain.

I get out the shell-like structure and call out to Peeta to come down. I see him gazing hesitantly over and hops awkwardly to the side. I assist him in going down, holding his waist and pulling his arm over my shoulder to help him walk towards drier grounds. He looks so frail and delicate I think to myself. I feel an overwhelming urge to protect him, Peeta reminds me so much of Prim; they both have blonde hair and blue eyes. But most importantly, they are two of the most delicate and sensitive people that I've ever encountered. Once inside, I take the blanket and drape it over his head rubbing it on his shoulders and arms, cosseting him.

Yes, just like Prim. I smile reluctantly, he notices and asks why. "What's with the smile" he inquires shyly with that half smile of his. "You remind me of Prim" I whisper. He looks at me blankly for a short while before an expression flits in his eyes. Almost like sadness. "Oh" he utters. I don't know what I did wrong, so I cock my head to the side and gaze at him, confused. He just shakes his head and says "Never mind me, we better get to sleep" patting the blanket beside him and gesturing for me to lie down.

I shake my head "But Cato's still out there…" I remind him.

"I really doubt that he'll be coming back here just to kill us tonight" Peeta retorts.

I almost snort, sometimes Peeta can be too carefree that I actually wonder whether he's aware that he's in the games. Nonetheless, I sigh and lie back against his chest. He smiles at me winningly and wraps his arms around me.

Sleep comes little and late that night despite his reassurances and presence.

The next morning...

Sunlight flits towards the Cornucopia along with the distinctive growls of the mutts. I shoot up quickly and see four creatures stalking towards us. I shake Peeta awake and he gazes at me incoherently but smiling. I look at him with wide eyes and then shifts my gaze towards the entrance of the Cornucopia. He follows my line of sight and stiffens.

I get up but he tries to pull me down. I yank off my hand and grab my bow. I have only two arrows left and Peeta can't outrun them at this short distance. "Katniss…" Peeta pleads, reading my mind.

"Peeta, when I distract the mutts, I want you to climb the Cornucopia again" I instruct. "Take the supplies" I gesture at the remaining meat and garments. "And no matter what happens, you are to stay there" At this, I pinpoint my gaze on him unerringly , "Understand?" I demand.

"No! Katniss, I can help, we can just go up the Cornucopia again, together" He pleads.

"Can't you see that they're too close now! we won't be able to climb the first panel without getting dragged down!" I point out the obvious. I soften my gaze to lessen the sting of my words but I can't wait for him to respond.

I lift up my bow and the mutts started snarling. Getting ready to attack; I shoot the closest one and sprint to the side, heading for the forest to the trees. I look back and see the other three chasing after me. Good.

Panting and out of breath, I see one tree and start to jump when a mutt catches me off guard. Barreling into me from the side and biting my arm with the bow slung over it. I yelp and close my eyes from the impact on the ground. The mutt biting me shakes his head until he has my bow in his jaw, gnawing it in half.

I stare at it horror, that's my only weapon I think helplessly. Crawling backwards away from the mutts, I count them. There's now four of them circling me, barking with saliva dripping from their snouts. I close my eyes and wait for the inevitable. I just hope that they go for the throat for an instant death.

I feel one mutt biting my leg and panic. Grabbing a stray rock, I smash it over its head, injuring the creature and consequently, angering the beasts… Nonetheless, I keep the rock in my hand and feel wildly for a branch; anything to keep these abnormalities at arms length.

But they don't give me that luxury. Snarling and attacking, I stare in trepidation as they aim for me once again. I lift up my arms in defense; a useless move but at this point only instinct is present. I wait for it. One second, two, three, four… by tenth, I started opening my eyes reluctantly and see another kind of monster in front of me: Cato.

I gaze at Cato as he stabs the one closest, stepping in front of me. The three remaining mutts attack him and I scream. Then, he pulls out a kind of chain, swinging it over his head and whips it forward; one is hit while he wraps the other end of the chain around another mutt, strangling it to death. After which, he takes out a short spear, throwing it to the other mutt so that it pierces the heart. Only one mutt remains now and instead of killing it, he wraps the chain around it and drags it roughly, tying it to a tree. I see that this creature had a number two collar: Clove. His district partner.

He's sparing his mutated district partner, really? Shaking my head from disorientation and getting up, I try to run away from him but at the last minute, I feel him grabbing my arms and turning me around. I thrash and kick, at least hitting him in the chest and arms with my feeble attempts at breaking away from his grip. He shakes me violently, screaming at me to stop. "What are you doing? Stop it" he commands.

And of course, I don't and so he throws me to a tree. And I hit my head roughly on the bark, blacking out instantly.

...

Haymitch watches as the Brute carries Katniss away. Shit and double shit yet again. I hear a disturbance from the side and watches Brutus arguing with Enobaria, gesturing wildly at the screen. I guess they're as baffled with this development as I am.

Why did he save her? This thought keeps going through my head, then I recast my question. More importantly, what does he plan to do with her?

end of chapter 1

A/N

Author Note:

I named this fiction Gladiolus (after the flower) meaning "strength of character" because this whole story will be about that. Of Cato's character more specifically. I'll be delving deeper into his character, past memories and his experiences in District II. I'll be extending the arena timeline for another seven to ten days. But don't worry, the arena won't be the end of this fic.

If it's not obvious in the initial chapter, rest assured, I'm a solid Cato/Katniss shipper.