So, I'm back with like a new chapter. Its short but I have two chapters already pre-written and a plan with how this story is going to end. You all might be surprised, you might not. Who knows? Uhh, I don't think I have much to say in this chapter. Let's get everything out of the way. Right now. -deep breath-
Warnings: Obscene language, bad grammar(all mistakes are mine. I only have a partial high-school education, don't blame me), random stuff, angry huffy Cato, blue balls, overuse of language, arrogance, and all that mess, uhh, short chapter and stuff.
Disclaimer: I disclaim anything recognizable especially the HG. God, I hate the series anyway... no, that's not right. I hate the series and all of the characters minus BeeTee.
Review Replies: Anonymous
YODELL: I can't exactly make sure that happens. Thanks for reviewing.
Guest: Roti does have a pistol. Hey, one guy was allowed a flamethrower. I think Roti can have a pistol. Thanks, I'm glad you like it. Thank you for reviewing too.
As usual. I love my alerters, favoriters, reviewers, stalkers, and lurkers. You guys are so awesomesauce.
Hey...
School starts after Labor Day. Someone kill me. This year is going to be so boring, its only a placeholder... ahhh, I hate math. Wish me luck on my learner's permit test! Yeah! I'm that young. For all you males that may be reading my story, this is a serious question... what the fuck are blue balls? . I don't wanna google it, I might be scarred. You can PM the answer if you want.
MY AWESOME BETA HIME-KOI BETA'D THIS. ANY MISTAKES YOU SEE ARE MINE!
Fragments
Chapter Eleven: Ken Plays with Barbie
Training has officially ended. The Capitol has us attend a lavish dinner with President Snow and his entourage. It comes as a silent agreement amongst us Districts to act as animals. We bang our silverware and eat as wild ravenous dogs; our mouths are open and food falls from the orifice like rain. We laugh in shrill tones and obnoxious snorts, our jokes are crude and downright dirty. We throw caution to the wind with obscene language and gestures. Our escorts turn their noses at our less than improper dinner manners, but we do not care.
We never let up until President Snow commands us to leave twenty minutes in. Graciously, we thank our hosts, falling over ourselves and spilling food to the carpet. District Eight's boy bows 'clumsily', toppling to the floor with the scarlet tablecloth in his grasp. Glass, drinks, and priceless items crash to the ground. At last does our glorious President Snow stands. "Out!" he roars and we all scramble with a smile.
Once outside all Districts go to their quarters, elation on their once forlorn faces. Even I, who long to see all of them fall to the ground lifeless and cold, is happy to allow them a day of entertainment, a last day if you will. My original pack surrounds me, waiting for further orders. Ms. Prissy and Clove are free to leave but I have business with Barbie. "Cato - " Clove starts.
"Save your self the embarrassment. He's clearly found a better replacement to fuck then some chestless, ugly, freckly bint," Barbie says haughtily. Clove glances at me and I shrug. I couldn't say it isn't true. I wrap an arm around Barbie's waist. We step to the elevator and Barbie cheerfully waves as the glass door shuts us in. She presses the silver button with a bold one inscribed.
Barbie kisses the side of my neck as we make our journey to her rooms. The elevator dings and the glass door slides open. I take in the main area. It shiny and bright with jewels pasted on the light purple walls and paintings full of people dressed in fancy clothes of which I've never seen. The couches are plushy and most likely expensive and it seems everything has an outlying trim of gold. "Beautiful, is it not?" Barbie says airily. She grabs my hand. Her giggles are excruciating to my ears, but I allow them. Barbie is good for one thing.
She leads me to what I presume is her bedroom. I'm not at all shocked to see it as girly and materialistic as her. I shut the door not bothering with the lock. Barbie giggles again. She shimmies out of her emerald cocktail dress and sits on her large bed with only a pushup bra left on. Again, it bares no shock that she doesn't wear underwear, her shaven pussy in full view. She twirls a strand of her long blonde hair with a finger in what I assume is a sexy move for her. I keep myself from showing any outwardly revulsion.
"Tie up your hair in a tight bun, no strand is to be left out," I say leaving no room for comments, either she does this or I leave. The choice is hers. Barbie complies, she needs no mirror only a hair tie and she's ready.
"Happy?"
I nod. Honestly, I rather she cut off most of her hair and the rest to style in a boyish type of look. Her hair color is all-wrong; I wish it were an ashy blond, not some cheap knockoff shade of dirty blond. Adding to that, her body and eyes are all wrong too. Her eyes are a puke-green when they're supposed to be a bright blue. Her body is too curvy and feminine when it needs to be hard and compact, full of muscle. Perhaps, I should've taken Clove to bed. At least she knows to remain mostly quiet during sex this one does not. Barbie takes off her high heels and moves to take off her bra. "Leave it on." I grimace to add effect. Another thing that's wrong were her breasts. Clove has very little breasts and I'm happy about that. It's so much easier to imagine that way. Barbie's breasts are at least a D-cup, I rather she keep them in a hold.
She huffs but doesn't say a word. I walk over to the bed, slipping pieces of my tux off. I stop at my dress pants, hesitating with the belt buckle; I'm in a relationship with Peeta at home. I'd be cheating on him with this girl. Relationships are only between two people, but he doesn't have to know. It's only a quickie and I have blue balls. She doesn't mean an iota to me. In fact, I'll be fantasizing about Peeta this entire time. I'm doing nothing wrong, I repeat over and over again, drilling the words into my head. I climb onto the bed and the cotton sheets rustle. I'm aware of every sound. My ragged breathing, the mattress springs squeaking, even the soft purr of ventilation in the room.
Barbie crawls over to me, her red lips pucker but I evade her. Her face buries into the mattress as she falls over. She lifts her head glaring, "Cato. I was only trying to kiss you!"
"I know," I reply simply.
"Then why -,"
"Sex, that's all I want. Nothing more and nothing less. If you can't give it to me then I'll find it somewhere else," I say bluntly. Barbie shouldn't get any ideas of what this was. In two days time we would have our interviews and then we would be in the Hunger Games. The longest a Career Pack had ever lasted was two weeks and a day. A mistake duly noted by all Career Packs after that; in the early games, a lone tribute changed the rules. Careers only lasted a week if lucky. Barbie should know that unless she'd fall under my sword as all others.
She turns to the head of the bed, her head lulls from side to side and her blonde bangs hide her upper face, she spreads her legs and I shake my head. I make a face that would make my baby brother proud. I'm not putting my dick in there. "Turn around."
Barbie snaps up, skeptical. "What?"
"Turn around," I repeat.
"I can't believe this." She drops back on the bed. "No, Cato! I'm not doing that! Who do you think I am?" Barbie asks. I can't really tell if she's been sarcastic or not. "Cato. I'm not goin-,"
"You're not going to do what?" I cut in coldly, "I thought you were some whore from District One trained to suck cock in order to see your way through the Games. I see how easily you flirt, and shove your fake breasts at anyone who has a dick! Am I wrong?"
Barbie gaps and closes her legs, backing away from me. "Fucking bastard!" she screams shrilly, her delicate fists balling up.
"I'm the bastard, why? Because I rather fuck you in the ass than your rancid, fish-smelling cunt!" I yell right back. "Did I not tell you I only wanted sex? Nothing more."
Barbie laughs hysterically. Her red lips compress. "You have gall, Cato. Gall! I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I'm not fucking stupid!" I snort, but she still raves. "If its sex you want then why not take your partner? She certainly wants you, or what of the lower Districts? I'm aware of your sadistic streak, Cato. You can fuck anyone in these fucking games raw and they would let you. How could they fight you off? Why in the world did you pick me to have sex with you? Do I resemble someone you know? Someone you can't fucking have!"
I stare at her, struck. I'm struggling for words. What can I say?
"Ooh, I have hit a nerve," Barbie cackles. "I bet it's a boy since you rather fuck me in the ass than in the pussy. Dirty blond, porcelain skin, red lips as mine... and what of the eyes. Green or maybe blue? Tell me Cato, who do wish to fuck or perhaps love? We're allies after all," she taunts.
"Shut up!"
"Or what?"
I crawl over to her spot and leer over her, my shadow covers her entire body. Barbie doesn't cower nor does she show any type of fear. Instead she glowers and she sets her face. "I'll kill you first as soon as the pack ends. You won't even get the chance to scream."
Barbie spits on my cheek. The slimy saliva slides down my face. In disbelief, I swipe at my cheek, staring at the clear liquid. I glance up at Barbie and she bares her teeth. "Death comes to us all. I do not fear what is inevitable."
No more words pass between us. I grab my shirt and put on my pants.
Barbie's fucking dead.
"I hope you'll tell your boy of me!" she shouts from her bedroom just as I make it to the living room.
Yes, dead.
Her hands tremble as she works around me. The minor stylists chitter away as they work on my pants and shoes. My main stylist never stares at me in the eye, as she should. Her touches are but flutters and she finishes as quickly as she started. She snaps her fingers at the stylists on the floor and they all stand, the chatter ceaseless.
"Enough!"
The lesser stylists freeze at her voice. "Show some respect to your tribute! Is he ready?"
"He's perfect," the one with skin that resembles the night sky, crows. His spiky, platinum hair bobbing with every movement he makes.
"I've never seen anyone look better," the one who has white peacock feathers sprouting from her butt, praises, clapping excessively looking like she's won the lottery.
"The fangirls and sponsors will surely go wild," the last says meekly. He's nothing special. In fact I would go so far to say to he belonged in District Three with his geeky glasses and suspenders, not to mention the pocket-protector.
"Fabulous," my main stylist says listlessly. She points to the entrance hallway where all the other tributes, mentors, and escorts are waiting. I enter the hall where twenty-four chairs are lined up on stark white walls. Barbie and Ms. Prissy sit at the front with their crew, whilst my group is beside them.
Brutus, Enobaria, and Lyme don't say a word as I sit beside Clove. Clove on the other hand flips the bird in my direction. She doesn't even face me. That's fine. I only wait a minute or so until Ms. Prissy is called up first. He's dressed up in a tux as all male tributes are except rhinestones are on his coattails.
A large TV screen is set up directly opposite of us on the walls. It turns on and we all watch as the crowd roars at Ms. Prissy's stage introduction. Caesar laughs and pats him on his back. As always he's dressed in his color theme of this year, which happens to be all hues of blue. I don't particularly care to listen to Ms. Prissy's interview.
It'll only lasts five minutes and Ms. Prissy saunters off stage. Barbie's up next. Her style of dress is flirty and fun, all males both straight and bisexual will be drawn to her, but they won't be looking at her, just at her body. Barbie's garbed in a see through piece of cloth barely long enough to be considered a dress. There are hoots and catcalls, Barbie just giggles, answering Caesar's questions with a sultry tone and added in winks. She's nothing if not a crowd-pleaser.
She'll gain a lot of sponsors for a couple of days until she demonstrates her lack of abilities in the arena. Caesar sees her off with a grin and a whistle. Enobaria gestures up with her hand. I stand up and Enobaria fixes my red bowtie, patting me on the back once and then pushing me to the stage. The lights are blinding as I walk up step-by-step-by-step. The crowd goes crazy as soon as they see me, yelling and scream. I even see a few signs held up by some girls.
Caesar chuckles and offers me a seat next to him in a bright red, plush, sphere shaped chair. He makes a motion the crowd to be a silent; the giant black cameras are all aimed at me. "Welcome Cato!" Caesar greets jovially.
"Indeed, it is a welcome."
"So, Cato, you've established yourself among the tributes with your outstanding ten. Are you at all worried about any of the tributes?" He leans forward as if he's genuinely interested.
"Nope."
"Not even Katniss Everdeen who scored a rare eleven?" The crowd 'oohs' and whispers among themselves while Caesar raises a blue eyebrow.
"She is no threat to me," I answer coolly. Inside I'm a bit irritated that people are shacked up on training scores. District Twelve's Girl only got an eleven by fool's luck!
"Uh huh, so tell me about your home life. Family, friends, lovers?" Caesar snickers, waggling his eyebrows.
My posture is relaxed, my gaze blank. I stare at nothing as I answer his questions, trying not to give away too much. "There's nothing to tell, Caesar. I have a mother, father, brother, and uncle. My best friend in the entire District is Spartacus and as for my lover..." my mouth runs dry, a flash of Peeta appears and then it disappears as quickly as it came. "I have one." I smile thinly.
"Who's the lucky girl?"
"I'm afraid my lips are sealed. You understand, don't you?"
"I'm afraid I do! I'll ask no more, let yourself only be worried with thoughts of winning the Hunger Games!" Caesar booms and the crowd goes along with him. Hmm... so, they really do want me to win, and win I shall.
"Thank you for the wonderful interview," Caesar says, getting up from his seat. I stand as he does and shake his hand. "I hope we meet again," Caesar laughs, his weird smile creeping me out.
"Rest assured, we shall meet again because I WILL be victor," I proclaim.
