Unfortunately, Father, Juna, and Enobaria were not allowed on the train to 12 with me. There would be no Training Center in 12, but I was allowed two swords and six knives for practice. The rest I would have to make myself. Even then, the weapons would be kept under guard by two armed Peacekeepers.
Before the Games, you can train all you want. Hell, maybe Haymitch will train with you.
Bad idea. The train ride was listless and quiet. There was a trunk of clothes Willose had made for me and my only notable possession was my wallet. It was a nice, leather wallet with plenty of slots for money and such, but I only had a few dollars. Inside my wallet were two pictures. My mother and Juna. The wallet had been my memento into the Arena.
"Mr. Arckenson, we've arrived." A Peacekeeper said and I nodded, standing up.
My arrival into District 12 was without any pomp or circumstance. All of my belongings were moved to the Victor's Village and I got a house on the left side of a fountain.
I undid my trunk and found a gloves, a loose short-sleeved shirt, and pants. Changing into them, I stepped outside into the snow and began to run. I decided to get familiar with the surrounding area and ran nearly the entire Victor's Village. I circled the marketplace and ran through an area with a few dingy buildings.
There was a nice field that was frozen over.
That would make a good training ground.
I continued to run.
Good. You're fine when you exert yourself. Keep up, Cato.
I opened the front door to my new house and felt the hot air rush over my freezing knuckles. I pulled an old duffel bag from my trunk and walked outside. There, I began filling it with dirt and rocks. I zipped it, and put the bag in another and tied it to the ceiling in the back porch. There, punching bag.
The house was nice. Much smaller than the ones I had lived in, but still too big for one person. I put a pot on the stove and heated water. After adding some ingredients for soup, I had a pot of burnt nothing.
"Shit..." I muttered and cracked my neck. Living alone was going to be very hard. I found fruit and vegetables in the refrigerator and made a small lunch of that.
You should hire someone to clean and cook, seeing as that you have no skill in either.
I glared at the ground.
There's no use hiding it.
I sighed and laid down on the sofa in the living room. The walls were cream colored and had green trimming.
I closed my eyes and felt sleep overcome me. Instantly, a dream overtook my mind.
I was in the Arena again and it was right after I'd killed Rye. This time the three baker's boys were there.
"Murderer."
"Murderer."
"Murderer." They called me and I tried to move, but my legs were tied. "Murderer." I saw a sword within my grasp and reached for it, but it only moved away further. The baker's boys were drawing closer. "Murderer."
Suddenly, they grew claws and began shredding my skin. Tearing, ripping, biting. The boys; faces turned into the muzzles of wolves as they tore me apart. Blood, there was blood everywhere, and it spattered too and fro. I never felt anything towards blood, but this was my blood. My body's sustenance.
"No... stop! Stop!" I yelled and jolted up. Sweat beaded my forehead and I was panting for breath.
It was a dream. It was a dream.
I shivered and looked at the clock. 2 a.m. I had slept the entire day and woken up at the worst time possible. Suddenly, the house seemed too large and I pulled a jacket and long pants over my clothes. I found two knives and put them into the pockets of my jacket.
I walked around town and watched as nothing happened. The District was quiet and only a few Peacekeepers milled around. I walked all the way to where all of the poor people resided. The houses were poorly made and most were subject to the cold. I frowned.
You could employ one of them. Who knows what kind of things a woman could cook here.
But I didn't want any woman. This place reminded me of Mother too much. I ran the entire way back home and shut the door.
"Dammit! Dammit!" I yelled and ran to the back porch. I began mauling my homemade punching bag. I released all of my pent up stress into it and roared with every punch. I could feel the rocks smashing into my knuckles and breaking the skin. For hours I beat the hell out of the leather bag and cursed with every punch. I felt my stress melting with every punch and every drop of blood that fell onto the white snow on the patio brought reality down upon me.
I heard the footsteps before they reached me.
"You need to calm down." Haymitch slurred and teetered. I stopped my aggression to the bag and glared at him. "Yeah, I know relieving stress is great, but do ya have to do it from 2 a.m to 5 a.m? Those are like, optimal sleeping hours for me!" He spit onto the snow and chuckled. "Put some ice on those knuckles."
"Why are you here?" I growled.
"Well you woke up the bloody neighborhood. Well that's only me, but still! Let a man get his sleep?" He swept a strand of pale blonde hair aside.
Ask him how he does it, sleep normally.
"How do you do it?"
"Do what? Sleep? S'not too hard, y'just close your eyes and wait-"
"No, I know how to fall asleep, I was wondering how you sleep. Don't you get dreams?" I demanded, rubbing ice on my knuckles. Haymitch shrugged and sat down on the steps.
"All Victors get dreams. Some more than others. You just have to imagine a better place than this hellhole. A place where you didn't kill anyone." He suddenly looked sober and thoughtful.
"That's harder than it sounds."
"Damn right. I still get dreams, but not as frequently. You just gotta... hell, I don't know. I'm just an old drunk who can't seem to get a kid out of an arena alive." He guffawed and I sat on the other side of the steps.
Do you think he knows why Snow sent you here?
"I don't know know what I'm supposed to do here. Do you?" I said. He sighed.
"You think I got any idea why the President sent you? The Games aren't for another five months, and I'm still drunk and you're working out at the devil's hour. We got to up our game, boy. You got food?" He asked and I nodded.
"I can't cook though." He raised an eyebrow.
"Then how did you... oh that's right. You're a Career. Ha! They teach you how to wield a damn sword but don't care about what keeps you running! Ha!" He chortled with laughter and sighed. "But you gotta eat so I suggest going into town and hiring yourself a woman to cook and clean." I nodded.
"I guess I'm not allowed near the bakery then?"
"Why would- oh. Eh, I don't see why not. Man's got to work to feed the family." I looked up at where the sun was beginning to rise.
"When was the last time you trained?" I asked and he shrugged.
"Some twenty years ago before my Games. Why?"
"I did bring two swords and a few knives." I raised an eyebrow and he shook his head.
"I haven't touched a sword in twenty one years. I'll watch you train for a while, but I'm not fighting you." He said and I stood.
"Is there anywhere to get breakfast here?" I asked and he pursed his lips.
"I would say go to the bakery, but seeing as you're not gonna go there... Mrs. Grace Quinston's place does make some nice sausages." He nodded and we agreed to meet in the town in twenty minutes.
Haymitch arrived with a canteen. He lead me to a small shop with tables. I glared and sat down at a table and Haymitch sat in front of me.
"Mrs. Quinston, we'll be having two plates of everything!" Haymitch yelled and took a swig. I shook my head,
"You really drink at any hour of the day, don't you?" I asked and he shrugged.
"Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. Now, crazy boy, what do you think about this year? What kind of arena, tributes... Careers." He grinned and I snorted.
He is a crazy old drunk.
"I don't know. I suppose the tributes will be small and scrawny maybe one or two big ones but the Careers will dominate. Maybe District 4 will win this year. The boy and girl they've chosen to volunteer in 2 are both way too stupid to make it out." I said and Haymitch nodded.
"You got all your statistics down. Now, let's see... I think the kids will be from the Seam, that's the poor area here, and the girl'll cry and the boy... we'll see about him." He said and a lady came over with two huge plates. She set them down in front of us and nodded.
"Dig in."
I looked down. On the plate were sausages, eggs, toast, potatoes, and an apple.
Well, District 12 does know how to keep a tribute alive. Eat and then you can see if Haymitch still doesn't want to train.
"Is there a seamstress here? I need targets and dummies." I asked, shoveling potatoes into my mouth.
"To what? Mutilate? Sure. Pay 'em and they'll give you a couple dummies. Or you could go the easy way and just order them from the Capitol."
Wait, you can order things from the Capitol? That's cool.
"I can do that?" He nodded.
"How else do you think I get clothes? You think I buy them? Nah, they send someone from the Capitol once a year or so to get my measurements and a week later, a trunk full of jackets and pants arrives." He said with a mouth full of eggs. I nodded.
Ask him if he wants to train.
"Do you want to train?" Haymitch pursed his lips.
"I might like to toss a knife or something to look cool, I guess." He nodded.
"How's the food?" Mrs. Quinston asked and looked at Haymitch, refusing to make eye contact with me.
"Could I have some tea?" I asked and she nodded while Haymitch guffawed.
"Who knew crazy boy drank tea?! Ha!" He then began to poorly mimick me in a deep voice. "Here let me chop your limbs off while having a nice cup of chamomile. I'm a big strong Career that has to have some lemon before starting my day! Can't chop off limbs on an empty stomach. Is that why Brutus sent you a thermos of tea and coffee every morning?" He asked. I nodded. Haymitch flew into a burst of uncontrollable laughter.
My my my. The drunk is good at imitating you. Who knew? You should say something funny. You look like a constipated mannequin. Seriously!
I rolled my eyes and continued to eat.
"Here." Mrs. Quinston set a cup of water and a few leaves down for me. I could hear her footsteps and I heard parts of what she said to her husband.
"Capitol must be crazy... murdered... Mellark's boy... murderer." Haymitch shook his head.
"They wouldn't understand. Me and you, we went through more stuff than anyone else. So, who're you gonna try getting out of the arena alive?" He asked as I stirred my slowly browning tea.
Who are you going to try getting out alive? Hm? 2 or 12?
"I'm going to try getting someone from this district out alive. Girl or boy." Haymitch coughed on his liquor.
"What? Hold... hold up, boy. You want to get one of my tributes out alive? Why?"
Why is right. Your mind is so imbalanced. You want to kill everyone in this room yet you want to give them hope at the same time. Why you? Have someone else do it. Then again, Haymitch is the only one that can give them hope, but he is a drunk... Carry on.
"Because I feel like it. District 12 hasn't had a Victor since the 2nd Quarter Quell, and I think it's gotten boring." I said and Haymitch nodded.
"You're not bad, kid. Not bad at all." I shrugged and sipped my tea.
"I'll take that as a compliment."" I muttered dryly and Haymitch slapped a few coins down.
"I'm paying." He grinned and drank more. I nodded and sipped my tea. Haymitch was not the best best company, but he was fun. I had to give him that.
You two make the weirdest team. A wise old drunk with no intention of doing anything with the rest of his life and a silent, cold, statue that finds no interest in anything. You need to get yourself a girl. Too bad Juna's not here. She would have made you smile in an instant.
We walked outside into the cold air. Haymitch left to get more liquor and I decided to walk around for the second time that day.
District 12 was bizarrely slow moving. The buildings were small and cramped, and the citizens looked awfully depressed. Many looked my way with fearful and angry expressions. I walked around the Seam (as haymitch called it) and looked for someone I could ask to work for me. Of course, nobody in their right mind would want to cook and clean for a Victor. I knocked on the door of a small cottage.
"May I help you?" A woman asked. She had dark brown hair and gray eyes. The woman was also very very thin. Something very normal around here, apparently. Her apron was dirty and her clothes looked worn, but she had a nice look in her eyes.
Ask her if she wants to work for you.
"Yes, I was wondering if you would like to cook and clean for me. I have money and I could pay you." I said and she raised her eyebrows.
"You're offering me money to just cook and clean?" I frowned.
"Uh, yeah." She looked almost overjoyed and nodded.
"I'll talk to my husband, um, are you from the Merchant's Village?" She asked and I shook my head.
"I'm from the Victor's Village. I'm the new Mentor from District 2." I said and her eyes clouded in fear.
"Oh. Oh, well, I'll talk with my husband." She nodded and hastily shut the door. I snorted and continued to walk. The entire place was glum and dreary.
"Shit." I muttered and stopped in front of my house in the Victor's Village. Why was this District so... so... without hope?
Because you see it that way. You're used to the bright colors of District 2 and the Capitol.
That was probably true. I opened my mailbox and saw a package inside. Inside th house, I opened it and saw a photo fall out.
Picking it up, I saw Enobaria teaching Juna how to hold a knife. They were an unlikely pair, but matched. The first letter was in the sophisticated calligraphy of Father. The letter had been written on his Capitol stationary, so it was signed with his name and title.
~Hello Cato,
How are you? The Capitol is different without you, son. Juna and Enobaria miss you dearly (although, Enobaria won't admit it). Juna threw her first knife in the Victor's Training Center and managed to nick Seneca Crane's ear. It scared the hell out of him and Enobaria and I had a good laugh. But enough of me, how are you? I understand 12 is a hard place for you to be in. I hope you are well, and I will see you when I can. We miss you. Sincerely, Father.
Signed, Domitius Arckenson.
Head Weapons Designer for the Capitol and Districts~
The second letter was from Enobaria.
~Hey Squirt,
How's 12? I heard you and Haymitch are friends. He's a pretty fun drunk to be around. Juna threw a knife at Seneca Crane and scared the shit out of him. It was hilarious to see him clutching his ear and whimpering. Are you getting your training in 12? I don't want you to get soft while you're there, so I've added a few workout plans and diets for you to follow while there. Stay safe.
Love,
Enobaria~
My eyebrows raised at the packet of workouts she provided and I smiled. Always look to Enobaria to come up with workout plans and diets. The third letter was the one I enjoyed reading the most. Juna had used a pink piece of paper and written with bright blue ink. Her messy handwriting was hard to decipher, but legible. Her spelling was very off, but I managed to decipher the big words she tried to spell.
~Hi Cato! I miss you a lot! Daddy says we can see each other in a few months when the games start again! Me and ant Enubria went to the Victors Training Senter and she tot me how to throw nifes. It was really fun and I axidently hurt one of the gamemakers. I miss you to the moon and back! See you soon!
Love, Junallia Rose Arckenson.~
My smile widened and I packed all three letters into the envelope they came in and began flipping through the workout processes. Enobaria was thorough, I had to give her that.