Hello again my lovely readers! I am back from my trip (which was amazing and life changing if you wished to know. Also exhausting.) But now I am ready to drop on you a new chapter. I like this one and hope you do too! For those of you still reviewing you make my day, week, and month every time I hear from you! Thanks again!

Ch. 10 – The Enemy

The arrow sunk deep into the bark of the tree with a satisfying thump. Peeta's aim had improved tremendously over the past weeks of practice in the woods. Peeta restrung and fired off two more arrows in quick succession. They each landed within the markings of the target on the thick trunk of the tree some twenty feet away, but he would never have the accuracy or aptitude that came naturally to Katniss. That didn't mean he wasn't proficient, and his confidence grew with each arrow he shot successfully into the imaginary heart of his enemies. The safety of distance provided by a bow and arrow was a comfort Peeta had not felt while working with close-combat weapons like spears and swords in his first Hunger Games.

Peeta and Gale's weekly Sunday hunts had transformed since the Quarter Quell announcement. They no longer held the easy air of a distraction from the troubles that swarmed Peeta back in 12. Now they were filled with a tenseness that kept both of them on edge throughout their Sunday excursions. Gale had subtly tweaked the format into an unofficial training boot camp. Just in case. Neither of them would ever say it out loud, but that was the reasoning behind it. Just in case he was sent back, just in case he had to fight for his life again in an arena with twenty-three other trained and deadly killers.

The best thing about their time in the woods together was that they could speak freely. They never had to worry about being overheard or spied on by the Capitol, and thus could voice whatever opinions they had on taboo subject matters. Peeta learned a lot about Gale that way. And surprisingly himself.

"Do you think there's something more after we die?" Gale had asked one day while they were whittling new arrows. Gale made sure Peeta understood every facet of how a bow was made, so he would be able to better work it as a whole and, if necessary, although gone unsaid, he could make one from scratch in the Arena.

Peeta's knife stalled on its downward slice against the wood he was shaping as he lifted his head to look at Gale thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?" Peeta studied Gale. He was chewing the inside of his cheek and avoiding eye contact. The air was hot and muggy, hanging like a damp rag against their skin. A drop of sweat trailed from Gale's forehead down over his nose. He had a smudge of dirt on it, and Peeta wondered if he knew it was there. If he should reach out and brush it off.

"Like a life after this, some place where all those who have died gather, some place better…" He said the last part wistfully and it refocused Peeta's gaze back on Gale's eyes. They were a somber blue, like the water of a lake on a grey and stormy day, churning with tumultuous thoughts.

"I—" Peeta looked up then back at Gale with a shrug, wiping the sweat from his forehead, "I don't know. Maybe? Are we talking about religion?"

Religion was a word he'd heard in passing once. It was whispered between two kids at school conspiratorially, like they knew something others didn't and it was theirs to know. He had asked his mother later that day only to get a beating. There was no such thing as religion or God. It was outlawed.

"No, not really." Gale picked at the dirt under his fingers with the blade of his knife. "I know people used to believe at one time there was a God or something. It all seems far-fetched to me. But I can't help but wonder sometimes if this is all there is. If so, it just seems so fucking unjust."

Peeta knew what he meant. There couldn't be something like a higher power, some omnipotent being that created them and watched over them, because if there was, it was a sadistic God and not worthy of anyone's worship.

"I just feel like there should be a reward for all of this." Gale motioned around with a jerk of the arm holding the knife.

It really didn't need any further explanation. Peeta got it. He wondered if when their eyes closed for that final time would they awaken on the other side to something better. All the loved ones they'd lost waiting patiently to be reunited and live in peace for all eternity. It was a beautiful thought, but not something Peeta wished to pin his hopes on. Reality was more important. One couldn't get lost thinking about what if's of what might happen when they die, because it didn't matter. Once they died that was it, it was over for them here and here was where it mattered. Here in the now was were they lived, even if it was through suffering, and they had to make that work because there might not be a chance on the other side. To hang up their hopes on that was a foolish misuse of the life given to them.

"You make your own rewards." Peeta forced the knife down against the grain of the wood and a large chip of wood shaved off in one clean swipe. "You can't wait for it to get better, you make it better yourself."

Gale studied Peeta closely and it unnerved him to the point that the knife slipped from the wood and nicked his leg. Blood, thick and red, welled to the surface of the skin and Peeta was reminded of all the blood he'd seen spilled in the Games. Of all the lives that had been lost, and the ones he had taken and he unleashed a muffled moan. Gale jumped from his spot to Peeta, a piece of cloth already torn from the sleeve of his shirt to press against Peeta's cut calf. A breeze worked its way through the trees and cooled their overheated bodies.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought that up."

"No, it's okay. It really is."

Peeta watched Gale wrap the cloth around his leg and couldn't help, but notice the smudge of dirt at such a close range. He reached out and wiped it off with the pad of his thumb. It glided over the sweat-slicked skin of his nose in one smooth motion, the dirt coming clean off. Gale gazed at him critically, but said nothing.

"Maybe we should head back now…"

"Yeah, okay." Gale agreed and cleared his throat. He stood and offered a hand to pull Peeta up with him.

And now Peeta took to the woods by himself in the afternoon to practice alone since Gale could only come with him on Sundays. It felt like a private lesson with Katniss as he used her bow and she guided him through each shot. Even though he had made a promise to Gale that he wouldn't volunteer to go back in, he still couldn't knock the feeling that it wasn't going to work out that way. The Capitol had plans and Peeta was sure the 'boy on fire' factored into them greatly.

Worry was now a constant presence in Peeta's life. Worry over the future and the safety of his loved ones. Worry over the outcome of the reaping and worry over the future of Panem. And now worry was beginning to build over himself. Some days, like today, he felt off. There wasn't any one feeling he could pinpoint as to being different, but something deep within him didn't sit right and he couldn't place it. He caught himself zoning out every now and then, and when he tried to think back on what he had been doing he couldn't quite remember. It was nothing serious, but it was frustrating when it happened because he knew he had been doing something, but now the memory was lost. It was like it was trapped beneath the water's surface and whenever Peeta tried to look at it too closely, the ripples of the water distorted the image and hid it from view.

The sun was a little more than halfway across the sky meaning it was mid-afternoon and the hottest part of the day. Sweat rolled down Peeta's back and his blue t-shirt looked tie-died with blotches of sweat darkening the material. He needed to head back now if he wanted to make it in time for supper with the Everdeen's. He had trekked far into the woods today and it would take more than an hour to get back. And in this heat, it wasn't going to be pleasant or easy.

As he ripped the arrows from the tree bark and put them back in his quiver, he heard a faint rustling of dried leaves. Something was trudging through the forest and displacing the sun scorched leaves. It might be a deer—sounded big enough—so Peeta pulled an arrow free and took aim, moving cautiously forward towards the sound. He moved, ready to fire as he came around a large pine tree when he froze face-to-face with two Peacekeepers.

His heart did a violent back flip. How had they found him? They were sure to punish him for being caught breaking the biggest rule in 12, not to cross the fence. He was steeling himself for a fight when the smaller of the two Peacekeepers screeched in fear and moved behind the larger one. The older of the two women was astonished. Her eyes were wide open and her mouth gaping before she fumbled with the inside of her pocket.

"Don't move or I'll shoot!" Peeta warned, fearful she would draw a gun on him and his advantage would be lost. But then she did something completely unexpected.

"D-don't! Please!" She begged and pulled from her pocket a broken cracker piece. She held it out to him with a trembling open palm.

Confused, Peeta hesitated. The drawn bow and arrow strained in the ready position as he stepped forward for a closer look at the odd cracker. Embedded in the center of it was a design. It didn't make sense to be there and even less sense that she was presenting it to him as her defense. It was the image of a Mockingjay.

"What is that?"

"We're on your side! It's your symbol. The Mockingjay." The woman said. Her voice was scratchy and parched.

His arm slowly relaxed and the bow lowered to his side. Peeta finally took the time to take a second look at the two women. Now that he thought about it they looked nothing like Peacekeepers. The younger girl was in the white garments of a peacekeeper twice her size; even the shoes were ill fitting. Both of their costumes were marred with dirt and tattered around their feet, like they had been hiking through the wilderness for days.

"You're not Peacekeepers, are you?"

"No!" The younger girl piped up. She looked close in age to Peeta with wild black hair and dark ebony skin. The other one looked to be similar in age to Haymitch with piercing green eyes.

"We're from District 8! We ran away." The older one explained now that Peeta wasn't pointing an arrow in her face. "I'm Twill, this is Bonnie."

"There was a rebellion." Peeta stated, suddenly remembering that night back in Two when he was in the Mayor's office.

"Yes! How'd you know?" Bonnie asked.

"He's the Mockingjay, of course he knows." Twill said.

"The mockingjay?" Peeta asked, confused. They recognized him, of course. But he had never been referred to as that. It was always the boy on fire.

"Yes, you've become the symbol for the rebellion. If you wish to signify to others you're part of it you show the mockingjay." Twill motioned with the cracker again before safely storing it in her pocket.

"You're not being followed?" He asked, worried. He knew what happened if one of the hovercrafts found them. They'd be killed or mutilated and made into an Avox.

"No, no. We've been out here for weeks. You're the first person we've seen. I can't believe it, Peeta Mellark!" Twill said with a shake of the head.

Peeta suddenly realized that this was his chance to learn more about what was happening elsewhere. What was the outcome of the uprising in Eight? Where were they going? Were more joining the fight? Any ideas of an uprising had been stalled in District Twelve since the riot after the Victory Tour. He motioned for them to sit and then pulled out a bottle of water, crackers and cheese he had brought with him as a snack. The girls sat with him, huddled together and devoured the offered nourishment gladly.

"We worked at one of the factories that made peacekeeper uniforms in Eight," Twill explained around a mouthful of cheese. "Everyone thinks we died in the factory explosion, it's only sheer luck we weren't. We had to get out of there. It was too dangerous."

She explained how discontent had been growing ever since Peeta's actions in the Games. He gave them hope that they could fight the Capitol. That it wasn't all-powerful if a boy could change the rules of the game and stand up to them. That's when the wishful thinking of rebellion turned into a reality. The factories were a perfect place to for word to pass safely as the loud machinery hid their whispered plans. Twill worked for a month to steal the necessary pieces for of the uniform. Originally it was to be her and her husband that left, going to spread the word of an uprising.

They used the Victory Tour as a practice of sorts and then the night of Peeta's engagement, when it was mandatory viewing and they had an excuse to be outside the uprising started. They secured weapons and most peacekeeper strongholds, overwhelming them in surprise. But then the Capitol pushed back hard. Thousands of troops overran them and bombs rained down non-stop. Bonnie's whole family died and so did Twill's husband. They barely escaped in the chaos.

He couldn't believe it. He hadn't thought much of their uprising that he saw in the Mayor's office since. So much else had happened and he got distracted, their attempt at an uprising quickly flushed from his mind. But he had held out hope that maybe they succeeded; maybe they found a way to beat the odds. It was enormously disheartening to know they were crushed in two days.

"You're out. So what are you going to do now?"

They were a long way from Eight, that was for sure.

"We're headed to District 13." Twill chipped in.

"But that was destroyed. There's nothing left. We've all seen the footage on TV." Peeta stated in disbelief. Why on earth would they want to go there? It was still toxic and uninhabitable. They'd be better off making a go of it in the woods.

"Yes, but it's the same footage! Over and over!" Twill explained anxiously. "If you look closely you can see the same mockingjay fly by on the screen. There's life there I know it. They're hiding something and they just don't want us to think it's safe to go back there."

It was a wild idea, and Peeta couldn't help but be tempted by it. But it was too much to pin their hopes on, that the Capitol would let Thirteen survive. The girls tried to convince him its possible, that they were left alone because of Thirteen's nuclear capabilities, but Peeta couldn't allow his heart to be swept away by such notions. If there was a District Thirteen, what were they waiting for?

Peeta bid them goodbye and left them with all the food he had brought with him for the day. The girls seemed in much better spirits now that they had the chance to meet the boy on fire—or, he guessed, The Mockingjay. It was weird to think how much he meant to people. But even more, Peeta realized Snow had played him. There was no way he could have tamed the rising spirits of the Districts during his Tour. He may have provided the spark of fire, but the fuse was already there and willing and once lit he could never have stopped it.

Thoughts of the possibility of District Thirteen and war swirled through Peeta's mind as he trudged back to the weak spot in the fence. He stashed the bow in the same spot he always left it, next to Gale's, and then moved cautiously and quickly towards the fence. The sun was setting and the air was finally cooling. Peeta was drenched in sweat and would need to change before going to the Everdeen's for dinner. Thankfully, his ears picked up the odd vibrating sound before it was too late otherwise his preoccupied mind might have never noticed the fence was electrified.

Peeta's head snapped up. He searched the length of the fence with a frown for the cause of the noise before picking up a stick and chucking it at the chain-links. The piece of wood hit the fence and a sharp zap followed by a small explosion of sparks and smoke. Shit.

Peeta raced to the right of the fence, looking desperately for a way over. Why was the fence on? This never happened and Peeta didn't have an alternative way over if he couldn't peel back the weak spot of the fence and climb through. He couldn't linger on the other side of the fence for too long, or someone might pass by and see. Finally, he spotted in the distance a tree that grew close enough to the fence that he might be able to jump over it. It was going to be risky, but he didn't have another option and there was little time. If the electricity was on, they probably knew Peeta was out here and they were sending a message.

At the base of the large oak tree, Peeta struggled to pull himself up to the nearest branch, some five feet above his head. He used the knobs and small growths of the trunk of the tree to work his way up until he was able to get his arms around the branch. Then he lifted the rest of his body up. He needed to climb a few more branches up until he was level with the top of the fence. Peeta pressed down with his foot against the branch, testing it for its sturdiness. It was a good fifteen-foot drop to the other side and he didn't want the limb to break before he was across the fence.

Slow and steady he went, working with small shuffling steps across the tree limb, using the ones above him to keep him steady. The buzzing of the electricity that flowed through the fence crackled and snapped like it anticipated his failure and was hungry for his flesh. The branch began to bend down towards the fence the further out he got. Soon after he passed over the dividing line of the fence, the branch groaned from his weight. He didn't have much time, but the drop was daunting. He would definitely hurt himself if he didn't do this right. He dropped to his knees and then swung his legs over the edge and twisted so he could grab with both arms and dangle from the branch down towards the ground. That cut the fall by a little, but it still seemed to far.

"Okay, you got this," Peeta talked himself up. "Just tuck and roll. One, two, three…"

He hung on a little longer, his resolve wavering before he heard a snap and knew time was up so he let go and fell. The contents of his stomach rushed up his throat and his legs impacted the dirt with a jarring force that rocked up to the roots of his teeth. He tried to tuck in and roll with the landing, but his right foot still bore the brunt of an awkward landing and something twisted. A sharp pain flared up his right calf like tiny wires laced the skin and pulled tight, strangling the muscle and lancing the skin.

"Fuck!" Peeta groaned and rolled onto his back, his knee bent towards his chest and his hands holding his ankle.

He remained there for another few moments catching his breath and waiting for the searing pain to dissipate before he moved.

"Oh my sweet, sweet Peeta."

A voice spoke, breaking the silence of the humid evening air. The voice raised the hair on the back of Peeta's neck and stuck a chord of fear in his heart. It wasn't real. He couldn't be here.

Except when Peeta opened his eyes and looked to his left there he stood. His harsh face and scrutinizing eyes remained the same, but his beard was trimmed and his hair had been buzzed. It was Darius.

"Didn't expect to see me again, did you?" He smiled, and Peeta shuddered at the memory of that hungry smile.

"What are you doing here?" Peeta demanded, but he didn't really need an answer. He saw the Peacekeeper clothes that he wore and knew he was reinstated.

He pushed himself up and stood on both feet, biting back the pain he felt in his sore right ankle. He couldn't allow Darius to see he was injured.

"I'm glad to see the Capitol patched you right as rain. I just couldn't stand myself thinking I had hurt you," Darius spoke conversationally like he was catching up with an old friend. "But you know you hurt me too."

Suddenly, Darius' eyes sharpened and the smile fell from his face. He moved forward with a predatory nature and Peeta stepped back only to remember the electrified fence behind him. He was trapped. His eyes kept flicking to the gun in the holster of Darius' belt.

"Now that I'm back I'd like to try this again."

"You're a psychopath and there's nothing further we have to do with each other," said Peeta. He held his head high and refused to back down, even though he was terrified on the inside. "You lied to me and lured me to your place on false pretenses, then took me hostage and shot me. You don't get to try again."

"So say you, Peeta. But…" Darius came to stop mere inches from Peeta and took in a deep breath. Peeta fell away from him with disgust, but Darius's hand flung out like lightning to restrain his left arm in a vice like grip. "I will finish what I started. Because like you told me that night, I'm mad—mad about you and I WILL have you."

Peeta twisted and tore his arm free before stumbling back a few paces from Darius. He swallowed down the fear in his throat and kept his eyes glued to the enemy. Darius plastered on his carnivorous smile and gave a facetious salute before slipping between the clustered shacks of the Seam and out of sight. Peeta finally released the breath he had been holding since Darius took hold of his arm.

The sound of shattering glass like a million pennies scattered across the floor woke him in the early hours of dawn. He shot up in bed, knife at the ready, his mind steeling itself for bloodshed. Cato had taken to sleeping with a knife ever since the Games. He just didn't feel safe without a weapon at the ready at all times, even in his bed. Life after the Games was like a life in constant withdrawal from morphling, twitchy and paranoid and frantically desperate—although for what he wasn't quite sure.

The knife under his pillow didn't seem so paranoid now as he crept down the stairs of his home. His pulse beat like a hammer through the main artery of his neck and sweat trickled down his back. His eyes swept from corner to darkened shadow, ready and waiting for an attack. It never came. Instead, he found a cinderblock atop his kitchen table and shattered bits of glass streaked across the floor like glittering diamonds. He sighed and sat the knife down on the table, now going to the pantry closet for a broom to sweep up the mess. Things had deteriorated in Two for Cato since the Victory Tour and faster still now that the Quarter Quell had announced old victors would be chosen as tributes. The nasty glares had turned to nasty words. Some shop owners refused to accept his business and often times Cato stayed shut in his home brooding and cursing the fates for such a sore deal. Worse still was the brick wall Peeta and he had hit in their relationship, but that was something he didn't want to think about. He knew that was something he fucked up all on his own and he didn't know how to rectify it from a thousand miles away.

By the time the room was cleaned of the treacherous bits of glass, the rest of Two was awake and beginning their day. The sun remained hidden behind a thick layer of clouds the color of deep purple bruises. The day seemed all too happy to join in and reflect in Cato's battered mood. There had been a note attached to the brick, which he refused to read on principle, and Cato wondered if this was only the first in the beginnings of a campaign to harass him back into the Quarter Quell, where his luck would surely run out.

The chiming of his clock alerted him that it was nine o'clock. He was supposed to walk his sister to school. He made sure never to miss it, even on days like today where all he wanted to do was lock himself away from the world or maybe break things. The ornate knob on the staircase banister tore off in his hand when he pulled his body up the steps in a hurry with brute force and he decided that yes, today was a day he'd like to break things. He chucked the knob from his sight and hustled the rest of the way up to throw on a rain cloak and some shorts then made for his sister's. His father was already waiting at the door with Cassadine, a dissatisfied look resting on his wide face like he expected nothing less than his son to shirk his responsibilities to his impressionable sister. But Cassy couldn't have cared less, blowing a kiss to her father and taking Cato's much larger hand in hers as she skipped off down the street, tugging him along.

"Did you talk to Peeta last night?" She asked with an expectant look that she could have only learned from their father. It was a look that said she already knew the answer and was disappointed by it.

"No…"

"But Catooo," She dragged his name out in the way only kids can, seeming to make the word endless in length. "If you never talk to him talk to him then you'll never fix anything!"

Cassy was a big proponent of their relationship. She was immediately taken with Peeta upon first meeting him and so each morning on their daily walks she made sure to remind him how stupid she thought he was being. And so she was utterly exasperated with him. It warmed his heart that she cared so much, but it wasn't enough to fight the cold that built like an encroaching winter in his chest, bitter and harsh, killing even the most hopefully persistent of weeds. Everything seemed lost to him anymore.

"I know that Cassy, but things are complicated. You wouldn't understand." Things like how he couldn't stop from blaming Peeta for this mess even though he knew it was undeserved and he was taking it out on the one person that knew exactly what he was going through. How he felt like something was happening, that Peeta was changing, leaving things out—on purpose—and he didn't know what.

Cassy suddenly wrenched her hand free of his and came to a halt in the street. The bruising clouds overhead were beginning to unleash their contents, just a light sprinkle, enjoying the build up to the real storm.

"That's only what grown-ups say when they don't want to have to explain difficult things that make them uncomfortable. And that's no excuse not to do something."

She stared him down with arms crossed. Her red hair was pulled up into a tight bun today, probably their mother's doing, and it made her look all the more strict. He sighed.

"You're right."

"Of course I am."

"Hey now, lets not go getting a big head now."

"Please, I'll never have a big head if I stand next to you."

"Okay now you're just being mean."

He touched a hand to his head. He did have a large head, but everything about Cato was large. She slipped her hand back into his with a sweet laugh and they continued their way towards the town center and her school, raindrops flecking their cheeks like stray tears.

"Just being honest. Papa says you can never be wrong if you're honest."

She squeezed his hand and he pressed back, words like 'I love you' or 'you're one of the most important things to me' left unsaid because a squeeze of the hand was all they needed. As they neared the town center the buildings began to stack together and grow taller, more like a real city with the cobblestone streets and people bustling to and fro. He would have expected less people on the streets this morning due to the growing rain, but as they turned onto Justice way—the road that lead to the town center and the justice building—he was shocked by the lack of people. Where was everyone? Even Cassy noticed.

"It's awfully empty, did we forget some mandatory Capitol viewing?" She asked, looking up at him like he really was the big brother with all the answers.

"I don't think so."

Cato pulled her closer and quickened the pace. He wanted to get her to class already and off the streets. Something was off; his hunter senses tingled in the back of his mind like little spiders crawling up his spine.

"Look, up ahead!" Cassy shouted unnecessarily—he saw it too. A large crowd had formed in the town square. It was packed like it got for the Hunger Game viewings. "I wonder what's going on. Can we go see?"

"I don't think we should…" Cato slowed down, unsure if he wanted to find out what was happening. "Let's just get you to school. You don't want to be late."

"But everyone's there. Look, I see Asper with his mom!"

She tugged relentlessly and he caved, following alongside her as they closed in behind the large crowd. The rain was no longer a sprinkle, but coming down in a steady pulse of water. The summer air was hot, but the drops of water ice cold. The crowd was loud and riled up. People shook their heads vigorously while others chimed in with angry shouts and a shake of the fist. Then Cato heard Dreg's voice over the dull rage of the crowd.

"The Capitol is not the threat! They're our friend and friends take care of each other!"

The crowd burst into abrupt applause and cheered at that. Cato didn't like where this was going.

"But there is a real enemy out there and they want to destroy everything we've worked for, to throw us back, the whole country, back into the dark days!"

People stomped their feet and jeered. Men threw their fists in the air and cried out things like 'we'll never go back' or 'they must be stopped!' That's when Cato spotted Lyme among the crowd. She saw him and paled.

"What's he talking about?" Cassy asked, shielding her eyes from the rain. She strained to see anything over the crowd in front of her, but she was too small.

Lyme began to push her way through the crowd towards them shaking her head. She was trying to tell him something. Something urgent. Her usually strong and composed look replaced by one of anxious alarm. She waved with her arms at him and mouthed something. Something like 'go.'

But it was too late. Dreg was now shouting about the terrorists trying to subvert the message of the Games, people who used fear and tried to turn those being rightfully punished to their side. People like Cato Ryves and the boy on fire—he sneered and spat on the ground to great applause. Now he was screaming as the rain poured down his face and drenched the clothes he stood in. District Two needed to show its pride for the country of Panem, to give thanks to the Capitol and support it. To fight back!

"Cato I don't like this, I wanna go." Cassy tugged on his arm, trying to pull him away, but the crowd was now worked up into a frenzy, feeding off each other until they were working in a mob mentality. More had showed up behind them and trapped them in the throbbing crowd.

"RUN!" Lyme's voice rang out over the crowd for Cato, but there was nowhere to run too. The mob had spotted Cato and swarmed him like a tidal wave. Cassy screamed in fear. Cato tried to get to her, but they were forced apart as the horde bore down on him. He pushed as hard as he could, desperate to reach his sister and get her to safety, but it was like trying to swim through dirt, no one gave an inch. A woman spat on him. Another called him a traitor. They shoved at him, the rain drenched him in thick icy sheets and something hit him over the back of the head. He felt a dull throb and the hot release of blood down his neck. He started swinging, trying to take down anyone near him when another man locked Cato's arms behind his back. "Cassy! Cassy get out of here! Go!" He shouted, struggling like mad against his captor. Then a monster of a man moved in front of Cato blocking the rain from his face. It was the fearsome Brutus. He raised his arm and then brought a massive fist down on Cato's face. The last thing he heard was his sister shrieking and the cheers of the crowd. Then everything dropped away into nothingness and an explosion of white behind his eyelids.