Hello there! I am back for another chapter if the Superwholock Games! I hope you enjoy it. I would really like some feedback for this story, so I would love it if you would leave me a review! Thanks :)
Chapter 3
The sound of the cannon pounded in Castiel's ears and he took off for the cornucopia, just like he was taught to do. Pretty much everyone in District one and two were trained to compete in the Games, that's why they were called the 'career tributes', but Castiel didn't want that. He had hoped he wouldn't get picked, but now here he was, ready to kill innocent people for his own survival. At least he felt remorse when he murdered people, unlike the other tributes from Districts one and two, Meg Masters, Michael and Lucifer. Castiel had never really liked Meg, even if she was from his District. She had always been a major flirt and came on too strong. Castiel hated thinking about it this way, but Meg was kind of known for being the District whore. Castiel had never been one for labels though.
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Castiel had gotten dressed and simply walked to the reaping. There was no worry on his face, no fear in his eyes as he strode toward the mass of people crowding around the stage. He was from District one after all, he was made for this. Just like every year, a thin, scruffy looking man named Alastair was on the stage. "The time has come to select tributes for the 183rd annual Hunger Games."
He fished around the bowl a bit for a slip of paper and Castiel almost rolled his eyes at how Alastair was trying to build up tension. "Castiel Novak," he called out, voice rough and raspy.
Castiel held his head high out of instinct and made his way toward the stage, but he couldn't help the sudden wave of panic that clawed its way up his throat. He stood completely still and professional as he heard another name called. "Meg Masters."
He saw a girl with dark curls and eyes as black as the night sky saunter up on to the stage, a smirk on her face. She did a quick once over on Castiel, sizing him up before finally flashing him a wink.
"Your tributes, Castiel Novak and Meg Masters," Alastair called out to the audience. He turned to them, smiling wolfishly. "May the odds be ever in your favor."
Castiel had begun to walk toward the building when he felt Meg's hand on his arm. "Hey there Clarence," she drawled.
"I don't understand that reference," Castiel told her, pulling his arm away from her grip.
"Your name is Castiel. Castiel is the angel of Thursday. Clarence is the angel in the movie 'It's a Wonderful Life.' Make sense?"
"I guess…" Castiel muttered.
"Well Clarence, since we're both in the Games and we're both careers, it seems we'll have plenty of time to…" she trailed off, leaning closer so she could whisper in his ear. "Get to know each other."
Castiel pulled back and fixed her with a glare. "No thanks," he looked her up and down before settling his gaze back on her face. "You're not really my type."
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Castiel grabbed the first backpack he could get to and slung it over his shoulder, making his way toward the horn for weapons. He dashed to the nearest knife and bent to pick it up when he felt a hand grabbing his shirt. He spun on his heel, grabbing the arm as he whipped around and thrust the knife forward. Martha Jones stared up at him for a couple seconds before Castiel pulled the blade out of her gut and she collapsed into a lifeless heap on the ground.
He dashed through the crowd of tributes, running for the forest. He had all the supplies he needed and he honestly didn't want to get mixed up with the other career tributes. He only stopped when he heard a cry of pain. He turned to see Dean, a knife protruding from his shoulder, trying to fight off Lestrade with his one good hand. Before he knew what he was doing, Castiel was behind Lestrade, digging the knife into his flesh. As soon as Lestrade fell, Castiel held out a hand to Dean. Dean flinched and scrambled backward, a whimper escaping his lips as the knife in his shoulder ground against bone. "Let me help you," Castiel whispered awkwardly.
Dean glared up at Castiel, green eyes piercing blue. "You're going to kill me."
"No, I won't," Castiel pleaded. He didn't know why, but there was something about Dean that made Castiel want to protect him. Even during training Dean had the ability to make Castiel's heart stop with one glance. "I promise. But we don't have time to argue, or we'll both be dead. Just take my hand."
Castiel didn't know what made Dean change his mind. Maybe he saw something in Castiel's eyes that made Dean believe him. He was being sincere after all. So Dean took Castiel's hand. And against everything Castiel was taught about the Hunger Games, he didn't kill Dean. He helped him.
