So, the next chapter for you. I've decided to keep the 2nd person, it's fun to write... and different too. Oh and just a note, I've gone with the film's training scores for the Career tributes, since I don't think Katniss mentions them. Personally, I wouldn't have given Glimmer a 9, since in the book at least, I think she's pretty useless, but well, whatever.
Enjoy xx
Disclaimer: I do not own Cato or Clove or any of these characters for that matter. It's a shame, but it's true.
Training is probably one of the best experiences of your life so far.
The endless supplies of glorious weapons, the terrified stares of the other tributes, the hesitant compliments from districts 1 and 4 whenever you hit the bullseye... although Cato just laughs at you on the odd occasions you miss.
The evening of training day three is the evening of your private sessions with the Gamemakers. You aren't nervous and neither is Cato.
Whilst you wait with the rest of the tributes outside of the gym, you eye them interestedly.
Glimmer is shifting anxiously from foot to foot, tapping her perfectly manicured nails against her thigh. Your gaze moves to Marvel, and after a second, he catches you looking at him. He shoots you a wink and you roll your eyes.
You are so going to kill him.
Glimmer is called into the gym then, and your focus locks onto District 12. The boy – blonde and strong looking, but a total sap – is leant forward in his chair, his arms resting on his thighs, his eyebrows lowered into a nervous frown. And the girl – Katniss Everdeen – just sits quietly, her grey eyes raised heavenwards, her expression contemplative. Oh, how she irks you. You can't work out why, but she just makes you want to hit something.
Speaking of people who make you want to hit something...
"Nervous?" Cato whispers teasingly, his lips brushing against your ear. You jerk away, glaring at him.
"Of course not." You snap. "I'm the best here."
He smirks but in his eyes, you see real irritation. He can't stand it that you're just as good as he is.
"I wouldn't start planning your victor's celebrations just yet, sweet cheeks."
You stamp on his foot. Hard.
You're satisfied to see the killing machine that is your district partner's nose twitch and forehead crease. His teeth clamp together and only you hear the small grunt of pain that slips through them... And then he straightens up and leans back in his chair, arms folded, jaw tense.
He doesn't say another word to you.
You don't care. He's much less annoying when he keeps his gob shut.
Marvel disappears into the gym and you know you are next. You swing your legs idly, clicking your tongue. You realise the girl opposite you – District 5? 6? You don't know and you don't care – is watching you silently. You smirk at her and she shrinks away, wrapping her arms around her middle and folding in on herself like she's made of paper. Weak, you think scathingly.
And then before you know it, you hear your name announced over the speakers. You stand, giving your arms a quick showy stretch, and then you set off towards the gym, your movements confident, your head held high.
You strut through the gym doors and the Gamemakers turn at the sound.
"Alright Clove," Head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane, says as you saunter to a stop in the centre of the room. "Show us what you've got."
And so you do.
You are in your element, whirling and spinning, knives flying from your hands and hitting target after target... near, far, still or even moving. You are graceful, you are lethal, you are brilliant. You are so completely absorbed in what you're doing, the endorphins racing through your veins so intense you feel positively high, that Seneca Crane has to call your name four times before you stop, a little dazed, a knife still clutched in your hand.
"You are dismissed, Clove." Crane continues neutrally and you manage a nod. Slowly, you put down the knife and make your way from the room.
Enobaria meets you outside.
"How did it go?"
You shrug.
"Good."
She frowns at you.
"Are you sure? You look at bit... out of it?" You glare at her and she smiles, her pointed teeth glinting wickedly. "Ah," She chuckles. "That's more like it."
You shove past her and stalk back through the entrance hall into the elevators, slamming your fist into the button for level 2.
You're starting to worry that you didn't do enough. Your knife throwing was flawless, but maybe you should have done something else; shown off your talents with a spear, perhaps, or even your passable skills with a sword. Maybe you should have illustrated your speed, your versatility, your flexibility.
And won't the fact that you got so absorbed in murdering dummies you didn't hear Crane call out to you count against you? You were almost hypnotised, completely mesmerised by the stretch of the muscles in your arm, the sound of the knife hitting its target, the dizziness of hitting dummy after dummy... But you should have caught hold of yourself, you should have paid more attention, stayed more focused and detached.
But it's too late now.
You already know your interview angle is going to be 'utterly terrifying' and that's fine, you can do that... but you also know that to make it convincing, you'll have to get an outstanding skills score.
And if Cato beats you... Your hands clench into fists just thinking about the smug smile you know he'll give you.
The elevator doors ping open and you storm into your bedroom, flopping face first into the bed. You haven't blown it, you know, but you think you might have knocked a few points off the perfect score you really really wanted.
Of course, it isn't long until you hear Cato arrive back in the apartment. You stay where you are, hoping he'll be smart enough to leave you alone.
No such luck.
"Clove?" He calls from just outside your door. You let out a snarl, muffled by your pillows, but don't answer. "Clove, I know you're in there." Cato continues and you can hear the restrained laughter in his voice. "I heard you growl." You say a rude word and this time he does laugh. "Can I come in?" He asks.
"No." You reply, but the door opens anyway. You sit up, enraged. "Get out!"
He shuts the door behind him.
"Did you mess up your session?" He asks, ignoring your furious command.
"No!" You growl. "Now get out!"
"I think you did." He says teasingly. "You don't look very happy."
"I did not mess it up."
"Well then," His blond eyebrows raise. "What's the problem?"
"I just..." You falter. "I didn't show them anything other than my knife throwing."
He lets out a bark of laughter.
"Clove! You're brilliant at knife throwing. Why would you show them anything else?"
You blink at him, faintly startled by his compliments.
"What did you do?" You ask. He shrugs.
"I hacked a few dummies to pieces. Threw a couple of spears. Played around with an axe." He smirks. "Threw my sword a lot."
"See?" You flop dramatically back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "You showed them different things. You showed them you can use any weapon."
You hear him move across the room and then you feel the bed dip as he sits beside you.
"Yeah." He says quietly. "Because I'm not brilliant at one particular skill like you are. I'm good with everything, but you're amazing at throwing knives."
You lie there, unmoving, unable to think of a way to reply.
The room is suddenly very silent and the air crackles with a previously unknown kind of intensity. You're very aware of the heat of Cato's body near your thigh, closer to you than it has ever been without one of you wanting to kill the other.
You're about to stand up and leg it, when he speaks.
"But tell anyone I said that and you're dead." He tells you sharply and all of a sudden, the spell is broken and you let out a dry laugh, sitting up to look at him.
"Oh Cato." You say. "I'm looking forward to when it's just you and me. You're my only worthy opponent."
A grin spreads across his face.
"Why, was that a compliment, Clove?"
You narrow your eyes at him.
"Yes..." You say. "But tell anyone I said that and you're dead."
He chuckles as he hears his own words shot back at him.
"Fair enough, I guess." And then he stands and makes his way towards your bedroom door. He pauses in the doorway. "Oh but Clove?" He says, turning back to smirk at you. "I'm still going to get a higher training score than you."
You lob a pillow at his head, but he ducks out of the door, chuckling away to himself like a mad man. You flop back down on the bed, your lips pursed.
Jerk.
…
It isn't long before you're sat in front of the television, watching as that dude with blue hair reads out the training scores.
Glimmer gets an 9, so does Marvel. If you don't get higher than them, you swear you're going to smash something. And then your picture flashes up on screen, along with a...
A 10.
Yes.
Your chin lifts and a smirk finds its way across your face.
"Good work, Clove." Lyme says from next to you.
In the corner of your eye, you see Cato lean forward a little in his chair, tensing up as his name appears on screen. You know he wants to beat you. You hope he doesn't.
And then... a 10. He gets a 10.
He's not happy, you can tell. It's a good score, but it's not higher than yours. You let out a little cackle and he turns, glaring at you.
"What's wrong, Cato?" You ask innocently.
"How the hell did you get a 10?" He growls.
"Well," You say in a sing song voice. "I am amazing." You can't help it. You have to say it. "You said so yourself, Cato."
With a roar of anger, he lunges for you. But Lyme is there and she wraps solid arms around his waist, keeping him from tearing you apart. Of course, Cato is so flipping strong, it takes Enobaria, both of your stylists and a good deal of yelling and shoving to get him back in the chair.
You, however, haven't moved and have spent the last thirty seconds or so laughing loudly as everyone else grappled with your furious district partner. You should probably be scared, but you know he can't hurt you.
Not yet, anyhow.
And besides, in the arena, you'll have your knives to keep him under control. You don't want to have to kill him early on, but you're not completely opposed to it. After all, if he goes for you, you'll have to protect yourself...
But then Enobaria snaps at you to stop it, and so with one last chuckle, you subside, leaning back into your chair and watching as they fight to control Cato. A few seconds later, he stops struggling against them and slumps backwards, arms folded, positively steaming with anger.
"What the hell was that about?" Enobaria says. Cato shoots a glower in your direction.
"Nothing."
You think your mentor might be about to give him a lecture, when all of a sudden, every single person stills.
Because the blue haired guy has reached district 12 and if you've heard what you though you'd heard, then you may have a problem...
Your head snaps to the side to see Katniss Everdeen's face on screen. Along with a socking great 11.
11. The girl got an 11.
"How the hell?" You snarl.
Nobody answers. You guess nobody knows.
There's about ten seconds of shocked silence, and then all hell breaks loose, because Cato explodes.
You've never seen him so angry. Not even after the chariot rides. He rants like a lunatic, smashing his huge fists into artwork, vases, sculptures... anything that gets in his way.
You watch with a strange sense of detachment as he storms into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. You all stand silently, listening as he trashes his room.
Lyme sighs.
"They've only just cleaned his room up from the last time..."
They start talking about something or other, but you're not listening. You're too busy trying to work out how on earth that girl from 12 got an 11. She beat you. Heck, she beat Cato. She's got to have some sort of talent, but what?
You're furious about this, definitely. But not insanely furious like Cato is. Your fury is a kind of cold, slow burning fury... a fury that will ensure Katniss dies at your hand in the arena. And slowly too.
She was already on your 'to kill' list.
You move her to the top.
…
The next day passes in a flash (you spend most of it ignoring your mentors prattling on and on about 'interview angles' and 'smiling') and then it's almost time for your interview.
Your nitwit of a stylist puts you in a pretty golden dress, flat ballet pumps and a sparkly headband, leaving your dark hair to flow down your back. You look about ten.
Cato laughs so hard when he sees you that he can hardly stay upright, but you're the one laughing when his stylist produces a sparkly bow tie.
He throws a tantrum and after twenty minutes of wild ranting and red faced yelling, his stylist backs down and finds him a less ostentatious tie. You wish you'd kicked up a similar fuss, but you're aware that there are already cameras on you and a tantrum doesn't fit your image. Cato is hot headed and vicious. You are cool and calculating.
Enobaria warns you not to mess this interview up and you roll your eyes. Of course you won't. You are fully aware that sponsors will be vital in the arena, no matter how good you are with a knife.
After a last fiddle with your hair, your stylist sends you off and on your way, and then it's not too long before Glimmer is flouncing on stage in a see through dress. You're not even lying. It's actually see through. You can see everything.
Cato, sitting next to you, can barely tear his eyes away. Your lips press together into a thin line.
Of course, it's then that Cato glances towards you.
"What's wrong, Clove?" He smirks. "You look like you've sucked a lemon." You snarl at him and he laughs. "Jealous?"
"No." You spit. "She looks like a whore."
He shrugs.
"I'm not complaining."
Ooh, you want to smack him one. He makes you so mad. You have to clutch the arms of your chair to stop yourself from leaping on him and punching him in his stupid face.
Marvel goes on stage next but you don't listen because you're too busy glaring daggers at Glimmer who's now back in her seat at the edge of the stage and simpering across you at Cato. You're sure you're not really missing much, though. Marvel is a fool anyway.
Three minutes later though, Caesar Flickerman (because that's what you've found out the blue haired interviewer's name is) is waving Marvel off stage and calling your name. You stand, smoothing out your dress, and stroll on stage.
The audience cheers you as you take a seat and Caesar asks you how you are. He then comments on how cute you look. The audience laughs in delight as your face sets into a scowl.
The interview goes well from there on. You're cold, you're sour tempered, you're terrifying and the audience loves it. You're actually starting to enjoy yourself too (you're moody and snappish and no one's telling you off), and when the buzzer sounds, it's all too soon. Caesar thanks you and you give the audience one last cool smile, before heading back to your seat.
Cato is up next of course. He saunters on stage, calm and collected, shoot charming winks and smiles the women in the front row. They practically faint under his blue eyed gaze.
"Well Cato," Flickerman beams at my district partner as he sits down. "It's good to have you here."
Cato rests his ankle on his other knee, leaning casually back into the chair.
"It's good to be here, Caesar."
The interview continues in a like manner. Cato, relaxed and friendly, replying to Caesar's questions, laughing a little. He's lucky. He doesn't need to work to seem intimidating. His sheer size does that for him.
"Got a message for the sponsors?" Caesar asks near the end of the interview and Cato nods.
"Yes... Just that I'm vicious and raring to go. I want to win and I'll fight for it."
"I'm sure you will." Caesar smiles and then the buzzer sounds. "Well, thank you, Cato. Best of luck in the arena, although I'm sure you don't need it." The audience cheers excitedly as Cato struts off stage and he rewards them with a final winning smile and jaunty salute.
He takes his seat next to you, smugness rolling from him in waves. He's trying to catch your attention, you can tell, but you ignore him. If he's looking for adoration then he's looking in the wrong place.
He gives in eventually and leans down to talk in your ear.
"What did you think?" He whispers teasingly. You keep your gaze firmly fixed on the tribute on stage. "Pretty hot, wasn't I?"
You turn at that and find his face too close. You can feel his breath on your lips and it's unsettling to say the least. But you won't move away. That's too much like backing down.
"If you're looking for someone to sing your praises," You say steadily. "Then I'm sure Glimmer is available after the interviews."
He chuckles softly.
"You really are jealous, aren't you?"
You do your best to remain unruffled.
"No." You say, raising a brow. "I just think she's a fool. You two would make a lovely couple."
His eyebrows lower at that and you know you've irritated him.
Nothing new there though.
"Yeah, well." He mutters sourly. "I might just go find her afterwards then."
And then he turns away, leaning back in his chair and crossing his ankles. To anyone else, he seems calm enough, but you saw the annoyance in his blue eyes, you know you got to him.
And you don't know why, but getting to Cato is even more satisfying than sending one of your blades straight into a dummy's heart.
...
Ahaha Clove's a right one, isn't she? As you've probably guessed, Clove doesn't much like Glimmer. I know a lot of people write those two as friends, but I don't think that's as fun. And besides, in my mind, Clove hates everyone. Except Cato. Maybe. We'll see ;)
Oh and I forgot to mention, I've changed it so it's Lyme and Enobaria who are this years mentors. I'd originally put Brutus in there instead of Lyme. But yes, I have plans...
Hope you enjoyed this anyway. Please review xx
