abugsaunt- Coin is a bitch, just like in the original. Sometimes you just can't mess with Collins' perfection. And your subtle hint is right on the money ;)
Insanitywriter- Of course I had to kill them. Hunger Games fanfic; people must die. And your instincts were right. I'm pretty sure if you were in the rebellion you'd kick some major ass.
Guest- Hopefully that omg was a good one. Not an "omg, this story is shit." Although, it's okay if you think that :)
Pale Is The New Tan- RIP Foxface, such an underrated character. I'm using the mutts from the first arena, not the ones in Mockingjay. Not that it matters, but the ones in Mockingjay creeped me the fuck out. I hate them.
In the darkness of the sewer, fatigue was setting in as the sniper team of Peeta, Boggs, and Mitchell trudged forward. Bogg's Holo gave light and projected the simplest path to the mansion amidst a complicated network of drainage pipes and shafts. No one was aware of who was alive after such a disastrous explosion of pods and parachutes above ground. Even in the dim glow of the Holo, Boggs could see the exhaustion in his two soldiers' faces.
"We still have a considerable distance to go," Boggs declared. "I don't believe anyone saw us enter the sewer. Hell, I don't believe anyone knows if we're even still alive. I think it's safe to rest. We want to be at our peak when we infiltrate the mansion."
The men hunkered down and Peeta volunteered to take first watch. Amid the light snoring of the older men, Peeta's mind wandered to a different time, a different place. As he mindlessly chewed on some dried rations, he found himself reminiscing about his life before the Games. The blue-eyed baker thought a great deal about his family as he sat in the silence of the underworld city. His older brothers were the typical annoying bullies, but he had plenty of good memories with them. Now they were dead and would never be a day older than the day the bombs hit 12. They were denied the chance to grow old. Peeta thought that if he somehow managed to survive all this, in just a couple more years he would officially be older than his older brothers. It shouldn't ever be that way. Peeta then thought of his mother. The woman was a temperamental shrew, hitting Peeta and his brothers over the stupidest shit when they were younger. She hadn't hit them since they had grown up and became so much stronger than her, but it didn't stop her from the constant nagging and yelling she did up until Peeta was reaped. Still, he loved her. She was his mother and he remembered the good times with her too, no matter how few and far between they were. Hell, he smiled at the thought that her crude behavior was like a special type of training he endured. He could use the coping techniques he learned from dealing with her if he was ever captured and tortured. My mother, the preparer for Capitol torture, Peeta chuckled to himself. He had to appreciate that, in the very least, she had toughened him up.
Peeta finally thought back to his father; a quiet man, but his affection for his family was as clear as the day was long. Every ounce of love for life and the beauty Peeta saw in it he felt he owed to his father. Although the old man was quiet, he was always understood. His jovial demeanor was a guiding light for Peeta as he grew up in the shithole that was district 12. Peeta would only get to see that light in his memories now; memories that slowly fade, despite how hard you fight to keep them. The baker's son promised himself that whatever life he had left to live, he would spend it cherishing those memories and living it to the fullest, the way his father had always wished for him.
As night fell, Peeta was suddenly pulled from his silent memorial by low growls in the distance. His head jerked to the sound and his pulse hastened. What the fuck? He thought, alarmed. That was no human. He quickly roused his team and the older soldiers strained to catch what their young comrade had heard. The growls were clear, but they were far away. The team gathered their supplies and hurried forward, determined to keep the large gap between them and whatever ominous creature was making those sounds.
As the team gained ground towards the mansion, they heard the echoing of marching boots from ahead. Growling still behind and boots now ahead, the men silently agreed to face forward to the more familiar threat. As they turned the corner, they were met with the source of the boots; a small but armed group of peacekeepers. The firefight ensued as the team took cover behind hanging pipes. Boggs discovered a narrow shaft to his right.
"This way!" He ordered his men as he headed down the shaft. Peeta and Mitchell followed suit while the peacekeepers stayed hot on their trail.
One of the peacekeepers tracking them rubbed up against the narrow walls of the shaft and triggered a pod. The effect was immediate as light ascended from the sewer floor. The fluorescent beams seemed to have a paralyzing quality to them as every soul trapped within the light froze on contact. Peeta watched in horror as Mitchell became trapped in the light, his body stiff like wax. And just like wax, the flesh of the imprisoned men began to melt off their bones. All the peacekeepers were reduced to puddles of warm goo, but it had cost the rebel team a dear and true friend.
Peeta felt the rations he ate earlier coming back up when Boggs grabbed him violently and stared him dead in the eyes. Peeta saw his own terrified reflection, but it was distorted by the tears welling up in his commander's steely gaze.
Boggs choked out to his young soldier through gritted teeth, "Now's not the time to fall apart. Take the horror and hate you feel and use it as fuel for your fight. We've got a war to win in Mitchell's honor!"
The men continued forward with infinite resolve but the danger was far from over. They took extra precautions to keep from triggering more pods, but all the earlier commotion had drawn the growling dangerously close.
Peeta suddenly heard the growls coming from right behind him and his mind flashed to a pivotal moment from his past. A 7-year old boy, running through the woods outside of 12, crying for help as feral dogs descended upon him. Haymitch and the other rebels from 12 had saved him that day and introduced him to the rebellion. He had told them he was indebted to them forever, and he intended on paying his debt. He wasn't that little boy anymore. There was no more running. It was time to make his stand.
The teenage rebel turned to face not feral dogs, but giant wolf-like muttations barreling towards him and Boggs. The two soldiers stood their ground as they fired their weapons into the unforgiving stampede of beasts.
The shots echoed throughout the sewer and reached the Careers. "Did you hear that!" Clove exalted. "That has to be them!"
"The mutts must have just gotten to them. We have to hurry!" Marvel shouted.
The Careers sprinted furiously through the underground maze towards the sound of the shots. They cared neither for the reckless splashing of their boots nor for the peril that lie ahead. Trained from childhood to stare death in the face, each Career faced danger with a vigor that would shame the toughest of men. As they raced forward, they eventually reached the entrance to the shaft. They heard the shots from inside and entered the narrow tunnel to find themselves stepping into puddles of human remains.
"What is that god-awful smell?" Clove gagged as she shined a flashlight down on the ground. Amid the pools of boiled blood and melted flesh were remnants of white peacekeeper uniforms. The Careers made a correct deduction from the reeking evidence at their feet.
"Holy Shit!" Marvel cried. "What do you think happened to them?"
"Who gives a fuck," Cato retorted. "They're one less problem for us now. We have to keep moving. We're getting close." The brute continued forward, unfazed by the ghastly demise of his enemy. Nothing would stop him from finding Peeta. He would move mountains for that boy. Marvel and Clove followed quickly, oblivious to the one puddle with bits of burnt rebel armor.
As they finally arrived at the scene, they took in the intensity of the fight. Peeta and Boggs were backed into a corner, rapidly running out of ammo as they unloaded their fury on the staggering number of beasts. Staying true to their old fighting techniques, the Careers instinctively formed a phalanx and moved forward, back to back so that no one was left vulnerable. They opened fire on the muttations, catching the creatures by surprise as they turned around to face their new foes. The Careers blasted their way through the swarm of mutts, reached the exhausted sniper team, and circled around them, protecting the two soldiers from the beasts.
"Cato!" Peeta rejoiced. "What are you doing down here? You were supposed to stay behind where it's safe!"
Between bursts of gunfire, Cato turned around to smugly smirk at the boy. "I believe a certain someone told me once that I was never one for blind obedience. I think he hit the nail on the head with that one."
"Sounds like this 'certain someone' knows you pretty well," Peeta smiled.
"Yes, he does. He's the only person I've ever let in before. And there's no way in hell I'd ever just stay behind and let him go."
Despite the darkness and pandemonium surrounding him, Peeta's signature blush glowed underneath his dirty cheeks. He drew his weapon back up and he and Boggs joined the Careers as they took down more mutts. Cato sensed someone staring at him and when he looked over, it wasn't Peeta; it was Boggs.
"What?" Cato demanded in defense over the roar of gunfire. "You gonna reprimand me for not following your orders, Commander?"
"Not at all, soldier," Boggs called back. "In fact, quite the opposite. I was wrong about you. I'm glad you're here with me... I'm glad you're here with Peeta."
Cato just stared, affected, at the older man before simply nodding and the two alpha males went right back to fighting, as if nothing happened.
"I think now's a good a time as any to tell you guys that Beetee paid us a visit," Marvel interrupted as he shouted to the sniper team. "He believes Coin sent those parachutes. He says they were actually his design. The whole 'Star Squad' arrangement was a trap to reign us in and kill us."
"What!" Peeta exclaimed in shock. "What are you talking about? Where is this coming from?"
"It's true, Peeta," Cato fumed. "She's been holding secret meetings to assassinate any and all tributes and victors. Why? We don't know yet."
"There has to be some mistake," Boggs bit back defensively. "Those parachutes not only endangered us, but that second wave killed countless natives of 13. Madam President would never do that to her own men."
"Are you willing to bet your life on it?" Cato challenged. The older man turned forward then and fell silent.
"Let's just focus on one problem at a time," Peeta suggested, though still very distracted by the news. "Trap or not, we made it this far. I'm getting Snow if it's the last thing I do."
"Well you and I are running low on ammo," Boggs informed the younger boy. "We won't make it to Snow if we don't get out of here now."
"We got this," Clove assured her commander. "Go on ahead and we'll catch up as soon as we smoke the last of these freaks."
The Careers continued firing while Peeta and Boggs retreated behind them and checked their supplies. When a path was cleared, the two made their break for the exit. As they departed, Peeta turned to look back at his savior. Cato was furiously firing away but managed to glance up and catch the younger boy's gaze. He gave the smaller blonde a wink and noticed Peeta was trying to tell him something. What he was saying, Cato wasn't sure but the smile on Peeta's face ensured it must be something good. When the Career glanced back up again, Peeta was gone.
The mutts just kept coming as the Careers reloaded and took them out. After what seemed like an eternity, the last of the vicious beasts were finally struck down. The rebel teens were exhausted, but victorious.
"Shit. That was intense," Marvel got out in between huffs.
"We can't stop now," Cato ordered. "We have to meet up with Peeta and Boggs. They might be going back up above ground soon and we don't want to lose them."
"Kay," Clove submitted, "but don't get mad if we move a little slow. I'm fuckin' wore out."
The group moved through the mass of furry corpses, trying to make their way to the exit of the shaft. As they stepped over the bodies, one began to silently move and rise up from the dead.
"Cato!" Marvel shrieked as he fumbled with his tangled gun strap to lift his weapon. Cato turned swiftly and was met with giant claws that pierced his flesh. Before the beast could take another swipe, Clove intervened with a quick barrage of bullets and the mutt collapsed on her district partner. Her and Marvel rushed to Cato's aid and hoisted the dead creature off him. The wounded boy was desperately clutching his neck, his hands gripped tight on his throat and gushing through his fingers was blood. So much blood.
"Fuck! Cato!" Clove whimpered, trembling. She was panicked. She didn't know what to do. She held her district partner tight, elevating him and holding his throat to try and slow the bleeding.
"It's okay. You're gonna be okay," She stated firmly, as if willing it so. But her courage and confidence faltered as soon as she felt the involuntary seizing overtaking Cato's weakened body. Her little hands, slickened with blood, kept slipping from his seeping throat. Marvel took over, applying pressure to the deep gashes while Clove gently stroked the platinum wisps of hair from her partner's forehead. She took in the paleness of his lips, his green eyes glassing over, and began to sob. Cato's eyelids grew heavy. He was so cold now. So tired.
"Don't go to sleep," He could hear Clove pleading to him. Her voice seemed so small; distant even. It faded into whispers and he felt himself slipping. He heard another voice call out to him. Peeta? "Stay with me... Please... Cato... Stay with... me..." the voice drifted off as Cato drifted away.