Song Suggestion: twenty one pilots—"Heathens"

A/N: Sorry about the long wait. No excuses. I hope you enjoy it, though.

Training Day

Brutus woke her up early by ripping the blankets from the bed. She attempted to curl up and ignore him. The night before gave her little sleep, and she did not feel ready for the day.

"Get up, or I'll dump the water next."

She opened her eyes to find Brutus above her with a glass situated above her face. He began tipping it.

"Okay, okay," Prim grumbled. "I need some privacy."

"I'm coming back in ten minutes. I want you scrubbed, dressed, and ready for the day. "

Brutus exited the room. Prim stretched out after he left, letting her hand reach out just enough to grab the piece of paper under her pillow.

The note she found disturbed her. As much as she tried to interpret who it was from or why they were watching her, nothing came to her. It was too early to think about it anyway.

Prim did not like threats, and even with only four words, she found the note threatening. Whoever left it had access to her room. Someone had to have slipped it under her pillow. It could have been an Avox, but something told her it wasn't. Something about the note seemed familiar. It nagged at the back of her mind that she was missing a piece to the puzzle, an obvious piece that stared her back in the face.

She shook her head and walked to the bathroom. Upon entering, she dropped the piece of paper into the toilet. It melted in the water on contact.

"I will not be intimidated." Prim flushed it.

After taking a quick shower, Prim dressed in training clothes and walked out to find Brutus and Gale eating breakfast. Prim reached over and picked up a doughnut. Before it could enter her mouth, Brutus slapped it out of her hands.

"No tribute of mine will eat that crap. Here," he held out a banana and a bowl of oatmeal, "Eat this instead."

"On second thought, I'm not very hungry."

Brutus gave her a glare somehow without looking up from his food.

"One second you're gorging, the next you're on a hunger strike. Both are stupid and pointless. Damn, irrational woman. We've a long day ahead of us. Now eat."

She frowned, but did what he said and sat back down to eat.

Twenty Minutes Later

They entered the training room bright and early. Brutus tried to get them to be the first ones there, but someone beat them. Upon arriving, Prim already wished she could exit.

Jacen Hartline stood in a corner, sizing up the weapons available to train with. Prim's heart jumped with memories. She could smell the room he caught her in. It was amazing how the brain can torture an individual after a traumatic event, that just the memory of cat piss and mothy sheets made her want to retch.

Jace finally picked up a machete. He grinned as if it were a lover.

Prim wished she could hide from him, but there was no escaping his eyesight when he turned around. Gale and she were the only other ones there.

When he saw her, his grin faltered for a millisecond. Darkness passed his eyes before he covered it with a smile.

"Dear little Rosie... you have no idea how good it is to see you again." He rubbed the tip of his finger over the edge of his blade, testing its sharpness. "I have thought about you a lot since our last encounter. We have some unfinished business to attend to. Unfortunately," he pointed to the black cameras above them, "the setting doesn't offer privacy as an amenity."

He began to walk towards them. The machete dangled from his arm. The Gamemakers did not make her feel safe and neither did Gale. Jace was too unstable a personality to place under rules. He'd be just as likely to snap her neck before the games as during. Prim wasn't sure what to do. She couldn't run. That type of weakness would not be overlooked, even during training.

She stood her ground as he came closer. As the space between them disappeared, the scars on his face grew more pronounced. An empty socket gaped at her. Something had ripped its way into his eye. The ragged, angry lines continued across his face. They resembled claw marks, as if a beast made them. However, it looked like no wound she had seen before. No animal she knew of could do that.

What things did Snow have in the Pit?

Prim shivered.

"Who is he?" Gale asked beside her, "And what is he talking about?"

Jace was close enough now for him to hear it. He stopped a few feet away from her and cocked his head to the side, willing her to answer the question.

"His name's Jace, and he's of little importance or worry," Prim answered back, not breaking eye contact with Jace, "A strong man, sure, but incredibly dumb. Most tributes from district 1 follow a simple formula: big muscles, tiny brain."

It was one of the bravest things Prim had ever said and possibly the stupidest. Jace wasn't a genius, but he wasn't an idiot. His cruelty made him a force to be reckoned with, a direct threat to her life. She just poked a bear with her words. However, it was necessary to show she did not fear him, even if it was a lie.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. It brought his mangled face to life.

He smiled again. This time it told no lies. It threatened her.

"Don't worry, my little Rose," the machete fidgeted by his side, "I'll be sure to find us some time alone in the games for us to catch up."

Ten minutes Later

Gale wouldn't leave her alone after that. He followed her to the knot tying station. She sat Indian style in front of the instructor. He showed her a few techniques and then left her to her own.

"He was a victor, wasn't he?" Gale asked. "I feel as if I should know him."

Gale had the same problem as she did when it came to recognizing victors. He never watched the games either, preferring the woods to the spectacle of death. For this once, she was glad he did not recognize Jace. It would only cause him worry and anger.

She didn't answer him, but he kept talking.

"And what did he mean by catch up?" He demanded. Again, she was silent. "Come on, Prim. We're in this together!"

Something built inside her, a monster full of rage.

"No we aren't." It was firm, but said in a whisper.

"What do you mean?" He looked a little taken back, maybe a little hurt.

"Together implies that both of us will survive."

"Prim—"

"No, stop, please... I won't have you making any more promises or enemies on my account." She suddenly couldn't sit anymore. Her legs popped out from under her, "Please, just... just... stop asking!" She walked off, leaving him at the knot station.

Twenty minutes later

Theodora found her next, or rather Prim found her as she turned a corner around the fire building section. They collided, and both their armfuls of sticks flew up and clattered on the ground.

"Omph," Theodora excluded, "Watch your—"

Theodora stopped when she realized who she spoke to. Her eyes rounded themselves, and then narrowed, shuttering some sort of emotion.

"Prim."

"Hello," Prim smiled.

Whatever she said seemed to infuriate her.

"Don't think it will save you."

"What?" Prim asked, confused. Theodora intimidated her then and now. Her anger made her want to hide.

"This," Theodora motioned her hands up and down. She still held several lonely sticks in her hand. "All of this. Whatever angle you think you're playing with me."

"I'm not playing any—"

"Ugh, just stop. It's over," she shoved the remaining sticks at Prim and stomped away.

Ten minutes later Prim was sitting rubbing two sticks furiously together to no avail. A toe of a boot touched her thigh. Prim stopped, secretly grateful for the interruption, and turned, finding Theodora looking down her nose at her. Her curly hair stood on end, adding inches to her already impressive height.

"Look, Theo-" Prim began, but was silenced by Theodora's stormy expression. It took several seconds but she finally filled the thick silence.

"I always wanted a friend. It's hard in my position, as a victor." She swallowed hard, "So you see, when you came I hoped… well, it doesn't matter anymore. What matters now is that we can't be friends."

Prim felt she had to add something, soothe her, but realized Theodora was right. They might have had a brief moment where they could connect, but that moment passed when she volunteered.

"I know."

Theodora nodded.

"Listen, it's nothing personal. If anything, I like you. But I have to choose between evils, and I'll kill you if I must."

"I understand," Prim sighed, looking at the ground, "Though you should know that I don't know if I could do the same. Kill you, I mean."

Prim looked up to see her teeth clenched, as if hesitating.

"Then you need to stay away from me in the arena. I made a promise to both bring Cato and myself home, and that's already one person too many."

Thirty Minutes Later

Prim went to the edible plants training section next. She had no need to be there, but it was situated far in the back. The cool and quiet soothed her, as she sorted through the plants, having no need really to identify them. The instructor stood back, understanding without telling her that she needed to be alone.

She sat cross-legged in front of a pile of greens, carefully picking them up and placing them in piles. She sniffed a few, counting their leaves. With plants it was either right or dead, there was no room for error. The simplicity attracted her.

Cold steel touched her neck.

"Don't flinch." Cato said behind her, "It could cut you."

Prim withheld her shiver, but all the skin on her body tightened in warning. She knew he would show up some time, but she still did not feel ready to face him. She wasn't built to lie, and she was afraid she couldn't keep up the appearance of disinterest. Not when her heart beat so wildly.

"What do you want?"

"I've come to continue our conversation from last night. You shut me out just when it got interesting."

Prim's fingers raised and closed gently around the tip of a sword, resting on the concave of her neck and shoulder. She held it with only enough pressure to press it away from her neck without cutting her hand. After, she stood upright and turned as fast as she could.

Dealing with Cato meant facing him. Offering a back to a lion only made it easier for him to finish his strike.

"I've already said all I need to say," Prim tried to say calmly, though it came out in a squeak, "So do me a favor and don't bore me."

The lie came out easier and faster than she thought.

Cato licked his bottom lip and twitched his head to the side, cracking it.

"The little bird has gained a harder peck than I remember," Cato raised his sword again to rest against Prim's belly. Prim wasn't sure if it was meant to be threatening. The way he held it, and the way it brushed against her skin, almost felt like a caress. "You see little bird, I don't intend to talk. It bores me as well. I was planning on something," he walked forward, the sword leaving her stomach, "more physical."

He was close to her now. Closer than she felt comfortable. Her heartbeat thumped in her ears. She backed up, but he just stepped with her until her spine hit a metal pole.

Where was everybody else? The gamemakers? The instructor? She felt isolated in a room full of people, trapped with a person who could make her spill secrets with a touch.

"Caught ya," he grinned, placing a hand next to her head. "I won't allow you to forget me, Prim. I'll remind you why you're mine until you believe it again."

"And how exactly are you planning to do that?" She sounded breathless even though she hadn't run anywhere.

He just smirked and tilted his head, half-closing his eyes and leaning forward.

Prim took the opportunity and lunged out from under his arm, lips barely brushing against his. The brief contact rearranged her insides. She resisted the urge to press harder, make a solid connection, but Brutus' warning rung through her head. And the image of President Snow pulling Coral closer flashed in her memory.

Allowing him to kiss her could be a death sentence for all of them.

Prim sprinted across the training room to the center, a place Cato did not have as much power. Many of the tributes stopped what they were doing in curiosity. Prim ignored all of them.

Prim almost barreled into Gale. It wasn't on purpose, and she wasn't sure if she was glad to see him or not.

"Whoa," he steadied her with both hands on her shoulders. He stood next to the spears and sword section, though he didn't hold anything. Prim wondered if he had ever held a sword, if the weight would feel wrong in his hands. "What were you running from so fast?"

Prim's heart was still pounding, and it took her a few seconds to catch her breath. In the span of time it took her to gain her momentum, Cato already answered for her.

"She decided to play a game of hide and seek."

Cato stood behind her, sword swishing back and forth in a dangerous, careless fashion.

Several other people were at the weapons station. Most of them stopped their spars at the sight of Cato Carthage. A few even backed away, showing weakness in their fear.

Gale furrowed his eyebrows. He tried to place Prim behind him in a form of silent protection, but Prim shook him off as well. She did not want his protection at the moment. All it did was paint an x on his throat for Cato to aim at. -

"The game has become dull," Cato said in a way that was anything but playful, "I'm bored again. Who wants to entertain me?"

He raised his sword and pointed it at a shivering boy. Prim believed him to be from district 6, though she couldn't even recall his name. His face was covered in red bumps that even Capitol technology could not erase. He was not scrawny, but not large either, probably only about fifteen at the most. Cato dwarfed him.

The boy swallowed and pointed to his chest.

"Me?"

"Yes you, dumbass," Cato said, "Do you want to spar?"

The both swallowed again. His knees trembled.

"Well—I—you see—I just—"

"Oh for fucks sake, you're too easy of a prey anyway. Let me rephrase: would anyone like to challenge me?"

The boy looked at once relieved and insulted.

This time Cato's eyes met Gale's. They hardened.

"How about you, slum rat? Up for a spar?"

Gale stayed silent for a second.

"Don't—" Prim started.

"Sure," Gale answered at the same time.

"Perfect," Cato teeth glinted in the artificial light with his predatory smile, "meet me in the center."

Five Minutes Later

Cato and Gale stood across from each other. By now every person in the room had stopped what they were doing to watch. Cato had refused to participate for most of the day, so this was a rare show. Not that anyone needed a reminder of his skill, but there was something beautiful in the display.

Theodora stood to one side of her. An old man, a past victor of district 9, stood on the other. He leaned on his cane to get around. Prim refused to think of his chances in the games. He would not get very far. She tried not to look at him, afraid that to do so, she'd grow attached to him. His fragility provoked her inner martyr. She didn't need anybody else that she'd want to keep alive.

Gale shifted his sword from hand to hand, crouched in a position Prim knew even from her limited experience was ill-balanced. His inexperience showed in many ways, including the way he twitched, giving away his discomfort. Gale was a hunter not a warrior. His primary weapon was his stealth. He stole upon his prey, becoming his environment.

Here in this sterile hall he was a shaved bear in the winter, defenseless against the oncoming storm.

Cato stood upright, not even in a position to fight. He continued to swing his sword carelessly by his side. He did not see Gale as a challenge.

"Are you going to fight me or what?" Gale asked.

Cato did nothing but smirk and swing his sword in the same lazy manner he did before.

"Have you ever killed a man?" Cato asked after a pause, "Hell, this is an equal platform; have you ever killed a woman?"

"I'm not a sick fucker like you, so no," Gale spat back.

"Well you have to be careful at where your sword enters the body," he twirled his sword in the air. Then, faster than a lightning strike, he slammed it at Gale.

Gale ducked just in time as it swung across his hair. The sword lodged itself into a wooden pole.

"Your sword could get stuck," then his fist slammed into Gale's jaw. Cato wiggled the sword out, his biceps flexing and backed away, allowing Gale to recover. "You must be prepared to kill your opponent with something he didn't expect. Rules of combat are important, but if you try to apply them to the games you're a fool. And fools die early."

Gale gripped his cheek and spit on the ground. Bright streaks of red came out with saliva.

The rest of the room buzzed with disbelief. To hit another tribute during training, especially drawing blood, was illegal. But after a few moments, with no one coming to Gale's aid, Prim realized the Gamemakers weren't going to get in the way.

Prim glanced up at the cameras, at the invisible gods of the games. The ones, who with just a push of a button, could determine your life to be worthless. In the end, they were the only ones to impress.

Every single one had swiveled its lens to view the fight. The silence was permission to continue.

"Do you want to know how I'm going to kill you?" Cato asked.

Gale raised his sword in response.

"Don't you want to surprise me?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Cato answered back, "The beast is more gruesome than the shadows."

Cato swung his sword down, not even bothering to keep correct form. His slices were more erratic than she had seen in training, as if proving his statement: in the game, the only rule is survival. The cheater wins.

Gale managed to dodge one and parry the other. The third time their swords met in the air, but Gale anticipated this and kicked at Cato's knees.

Cato stumbled backwards but kept his footing.

"I see you're a quick study," Cato said, standing out of reach of his opponent, "I prefer that with my prey. The fast kills are boring. However, you still stand no chance."

This time Cato did not hold back, and there was nothing Gale could do to stop him. He was feral, controlled, and powerful as he struck. Gale barely missed the blow, bringing the sword up at the last moment. The weight Cato forced on him capitalized on Gale's bad stance. Gale lost his balance and fell to the floor. Cato placed his sword to his neck, sneering with hatred.

"Gale," Prim called out in panic. It only made the situation worse. Cato tightened his grip, pressing down enough to nick the skin, and his sneer grew wider.

"I'm going to pin you like this, slum rat," he leaned down over him, immobilizing Gale's arms with his legs, "Then I'm going slice off a body part for every day I've hated you. And when I'm finally tired of your voice begging for mercy," Cato grabbed the back off his hair and wrenched his head back, exposing his throat, "I'll graciously give it to you." He ghosted the blade across Gale's throat, a promise of violence to come. "In the meantime, let it fester in your mind that your death will be both slow and painful."

Cato glanced up, staring straight at Prim as if no one else was in the room. Prim had a hand to her lips, stopping them from trembling. Sickness raced through her soul at what she just witnessed. She had forgotten this part of Cato's nature, this brutality. But now she remembered.

"Pick a side, little bird, or I won't give you mercy either."