A/N: The character for this oneshot, Amadeus, was created as the grandfather of the antagonist in my first fanfic, "Second Time Unlucky". I know I've gone into a lot of detail with him, but there's a whole story in which his family is heavily involved. For this one, the musical influence is minimal. The lyrics of the song (Granite)suggested a corncuopia scene. After that, I abandoned any inspiration and just wrote about a character I created four months ago (as of March 2013).
I hope you enjoy Amadeus, I think he's my favourite character of my own creation.
"You can hide your eyes, you can dim the lights
But they are watching
This is a new time with a different kind
They are the future, the one
This is the final call
For the setting song as they get closer
Now with a fall from grace thy will be done
The show is over, it's a new dawn."
- Rob Swire, 2008.
The 8th Annual Hunger Games
Amadeus Hadrianus Cato (18), District 2 Male
Pendulum - Granite (2008)
As the initial blinding light fades, I become aware of my surroundings. The arena. The place where all my family's ambitions will be realised.
I'm not a District 2 child; not really, anyway. Eighteen years ago, I was born a Capitol citizen. My grandfather, Tobias Flint, was the vice-president of Panem, under the control of President Shawcross, just as it is today. But when I was one and a half, there came the August bomb plots.
A group of fanatical anti-Capitol terrorists (in the pay of District 13, I may add) had an assassination attempt foiled. Many of the senior ministers in Capitol government were agents of Thirteen, but one of the few honest ministers was framed; my grandfather. Framed by one of the traitors, Valentin Greenwood. And to this day, his crimes go unpunished. Now Greenwood is vice-president, and he denies any interaction with District 13.
Shawcross couldn't see past the accusations, and at only just over a year old, me and my family were exiled for a life in the districts. Sent to District 2, my grandfather decided to make his own stand against the Capitol. He would prove his worth to them; so that the Capitol would be faced with regrets over the issue, now recognised to be the beginning of the end of pre-war Panem.
He didn't stop there. When war broke out openly after an altercation between District 4 and their quarterly fishing quota, my grandfather enlisted in the military, and over the next six years, he quite literally was willing to give his life for the cause, taking control of countless missions with near-zero odds of survival. Then during the fifth spring of the war, his makeshift base in District 9 was bombed by rebel forces. Despite severe burns on his upper legs, Major Tobias Flint pulled seven of his fellow officers from the burning wreckage before collapsing due to exhaustion.
He received a medal for his bravery. But no apology for him being unfairly accused. Surely they must know.
My grandfather was released from the military and spent the remaining fourteen months of the war slowly recovering. But he would make the Capitol sit up and take notice of him, even if his wartime actions didn't give him the respect he deserved. So he changed tactic. And his name.
In the Capitol, male children are traditionally named in a foreign language, from a place that our historians call Rome. Latin, I believe their language is called. And to prove that my grandfather was as Capitol as anyone, my grandfather changed his name to a traditional Roman name; Tobias Augustus Cato. No name could be more perfect than Cato, which means wise. He certainly thinks that the Capitol lacked wisdom with his treatment.
And Tobias Cato made it big in District 2. A politician turned businessman, he had an eye for money. By my fourteenth birthday, shortly after the victory tour for the 3rd Annual Hunger Games, in which my district member Augustus Holt had emerged victorious, my grandfather was a rich man; rivalling the mayor, even. And yet the Capitol still didn't notice him.
In April, three months before the Games, Augustus Holt came and spoke to our eligible children about the prospects of letting the district's strongest volunteering, to ensure that we get another victor. Augustus spoke of a lifetime of not wanting; food, money, you name it, a victor gets it. But this didn't interest me; the Cato family had plenty of money. But Augustus also spoke of eternal glory for the victor; a career as a celebrity. Tonnes of media attention. And I was hooked.
This was how we could make the Capitol take notice of us. By defeating their twisted Games, on the greatest stage of all, in front of the whole nation. I would have to prepare myself, but by the age of eighteen, I would be strong enough to volunteer.
Naturally, I'm well-built, tall and muscular, but training is as important as strength. Of course, training for the Games is illegal, but Augustus did all he could to bend the rules. After building up a friendly relationship with his fellow victor, Fraser Reynolds of District 4, the two victors-come-mentors agreed to get their tributes to ally, increasing their chances of survival in the arena. Since then, the alliance has reached the latter stages of the 4th, 5th, 6th and 7th Games.
Of course, part of that is due to the fact that Augustus and Fraser have taken risks to train their own tributes for the Games. For a couple of years, I attended Augustus' small-scale Training Centre, which has slowly grown each year. Then Augustus received a surprise visit to his Centre from none other than President Shawcross. From what me and my fellow trainee Ignotus overheard, the President has agreed to turn a blind eye to the Training Centre. After all, everyone in Two knows about it, and even if the Capitol audience find out, they won't care as long as the Games are entertaining. That's all the President cares about, really. As long as his Games are a success, he doesn't mind how or why.
The next two years of my training let me stand out from the average trainee. Taller. Faster. Stronger. I would be perfect for the arena. Six weeks ago, I won the trials; mock Hunger Games held in the Training Centre. The victor wins the prize of being able to volunteer for the real thing. Of course, I won the boys' mock Games easily. And then I volunteered.
As with previous years, I'm expected to join the alliance of trained tributes, nicknamed the 'Careers' by all those other than Districts 2 and 4. Even District 1, who became a part of the alliance two years ago, call themselves Career Tributes. Some stupid nickname one of the tributes from the outlying districts gave us. Then again, it doesn't matter what we're called; we're still going to kill them.
The six of us this year are quite varied. My district partner, Tulip, is the weakest of us. Only scored a six. How she won the female trials back home, I don't know. She's useless.
Both tributes from District 4 are quite weak this year, too. I could see this on the first day. I haven't even bothered to learn their names. All I know is that neither of them are particularly talented, and both scored sevens in training.
Then there is the girl from One, Ruby, who whilst having a decent skill with ranged weapons, her strength is so pitiful that she'll never win. Despite this, she scored an eight; higher than half her allies.
Then come myself and the boy from District 1, Nova. I outscored him by one training point, an eleven to his ten, but we are evenly matched, and so much stronger the other twenty-two. We've not told our mentors, but we've turned our back on the alliance. We don't need to work with them; we just have each other, and that's all we'll need. They are just high-value targets. I don't plan on any of our other so-called allies surviving the bloodbath at the cornucopia. That is one thing that I'm definite will occur in these Games.
Now that my temporary blindness has faded, I can get a good look at the arena. It's warm, and the sun shines down every bit as strongly in the arena as it does on a summer's day in District 2. The landscape itself is barren; largely sand and dirt, with sand dunes rolling into the distance, as far as the eye can see. There is a slight wind, and when it picks up, I have to put my hand in front of my eyes to shield them from flying sand.
As ever, the twenty-four pedestals are situated around the golden horn that is the cornucopia, where the choice supplies are stored. Other less necessary or lower quality supplies are strewn in the space between the pedestals and the cornucopia, increasing in value the closer into the horn they are. I'm planning on going straight in, so it doesn't matter to me where anything is; I should get the choice, anyway.
Looking around for my ally, Nova is four pedestals to my left. Tall, just an inch shorter than me at six foot one, and with long blond hair, Nova is easily recognisable.
Looking around for my other 'allies', both of the tributes from Four are almost opposite to me, and Ruby is near them, too. My district partner, Tulip, is six or seven pedestals on my right, near the boy from Four. They have no idea what's coming. The greatest betrayal in the history of the Hunger Games is about to occur. I need to make these Games memorable for my family, and what better way than silencing these incompetent fools? It's as though they're asking for me to kill them.
Then the gong sounds, and I'm plunged into chaos. I immediately tackle the girl next to me to the floor, who's indecisive on where to go. Leaving her winded on the floor, I quickly stand over her, kick her hard in the head for good measure, and move towards the cornucopia. I'll come back to her later. She won't have moved anywhere, after all.
Entering the cornucopia, I see Ruby leave, armed with a bow and arrow. I watch as she calmly shoots down two short girls before I enter the horn.
Inside, the boy from Four is organising weapons. He holds two swords in his hands.
"Amadeus!" he calls. I feel slightly guilty realising that he knows my name, and I know nothing of him. Then I have to remind myself that I don't care; he'll be dead soon, anyway.
"Want a sword?" he asks, as I attach a sheath to my belt. I nod in reply, and he throws me a sword.
Two seconds later, I'm pulling the blade from his chest, catching his limp body as the red-headed boy falls. I crudely shove the body behind a supply crate and throw his sword behind another box.
As I return to the exit of the cornucopia, I watch Ruby shoot down the boy from District 7 before cleaving her in half from behind with my sword. I didn't even think twice about killing two of the tributes who should have been my allies.
I sheath my sword, and bend down to Ruby's decimated corpse and take her bow, putting her quiver of eight arrows over my shoulder. As I look up, I watch Nova's spear penetrate my district partner just above the collarbone. Even though she was my only connection with home in this arena, I'm emotionless as I watch her falling backwards into the sand, screaming.
Looking around, the best part of ten tributes must be dead. Two more are fighting nearby, and I watch as Nova scythes through the pair, who I believe were from Five and Twelve, with a sickle that he must have taken from a dead tribute. He runs over to where I stand in the mouth of the cornucopia.
"Got a sword?" he asks as he arrives next to me, sweat pouring down his face. Only seeing the perspiration on his face do I realise how hot it is. Suddenly my clothes feel drenched in my own sweat. But there's no point complaining; the arena was never going to be an easy ride.
"There's one at the back, but I hid it," I reply. "Just look around the bodies and the crates, and you'll find it."
"Bodies?"
"Yeah, District Four," I say casually.
Nova just laughs and runs inside the horn. My attention returns to the remaining tributes of the bloodbath, and I ready my bow with an arrow. Although a sword is my strongest weapon, four years at the Training Centre has made me more than competent with a bow, too. I easily take down the short girl that I had tackled to the ground earlier, who had only just regained her senses. Now that I have a better look at her, I can see that she's from District 3.
Then Nova runs out of the cornucopia wielding a sword and brutally cuts down the final two tributes that remain who were fighting over a lone combat knife. It's not as though the knife would ever have caused much damage to either Nova or myself. Not in their incompetent hands, anyway.
We regroup, worn-out due to the heat, and assess the damage dealt. Even just at a first glance, I can tell that more have died in the bloodbath than usual, where the death toll is usually between nine and eleven. This year, there must be fifteen, at least. Suddenly, I hear a call from behind.
"Hey! Traitors! Over here!"
It's the girl from District 4. I thought she must have died earlier, but here she is, armed with only a hatchet. She must have some guts speaking to us like that, but I know she's scared, and rightly so.
Nova takes two confident steps towards her, his weapon at the ready, and I know what I must do.
The girl walks quickly backwards. Shaking her head and waving us away.
"No, I-"
Dead.
The girl collapses, an arrow in her right iris. I lower my bow and smirk slightly. I can't deny that I'm a good shot with a bow, but an arrow to the eye is flattering my abilities. Then again, I won't complain about it. After all, it gave me an easy kill, and it's bound to impress the sponsors.
Nova laughs as the girl falls and returns to me.
"Nice shot," he chuckles.
Then the first cannon sounds.
At the end of the bloodbath, each tribute that is now dead is marked with a cannon. Normally a cannon fires as soon as a tribute dies, but during the bloodbath, deaths are too frequent and it's hard to follow exactly what's going on, so the cannons are delayed until the bloodbath is over.
Nova and I stand in silence, counting the cannon blasts. One... Two... All the way up to sixteen. Sixteen! Never before has more than half the field been killed in the bloodbath. Me and Nova certainly did a good job of wiping out the opposition. Trying to work out how many deaths I was responsible for, I realise that I can't remember exactly what happened. I'd guess I killed at least five, but I don't know, and nor do I care.
Nova and I spend the next twenty minutes choosing what supplies to take with us. As there are only two of us, we don't want to carry anything unnecessary.
Finally, we are ready to leave and hunt down the remaining six tributes, excluding ourselves. We stand at the exit of the cornucopia, trying to decide which way to go.
"Come on, let's just choose a way randomly," Nova says impatiently. "We need to leave to let the hovercrafts collect the bodies."
"We?"
"Yeah, 'we'. We're allies, you know," jokes Nova.
I turn to face the boy from District 1, trying to keep my face and actions serious as I do so.
"Nova, I've got something to tell you about this alliance..." I say, trying to sound serious.
Nova tenses slightly.
"What do you mean?" he asks, slightly alarmed.
"I lied."
In the half a second that it takes Nova to realise what I mean, my blade is already at his neck. Half a second his later, his severed head is on the floor, his deep green eyes staring vacantly up at me, a picture of shock and fear on his face. I step aside to watch his body fall, and I laugh as his body lands chest-down on the sand.
I laugh to myself as I slowly walk out into the dunes alone. Did that fool really think I'd let him live any longer. I was planning on ditching him by the final eight, anyway. Maybe the final eight has come around sooner than I would have liked, but after that, Nova would become too much of liability. Too much of a threat. I needed to get rid of him, and quickly.
Even though physically he was a match for me, I knew I was more intelligent than him. And I'm ruthless. I'll do anything it takes to win. And I think that action will make my Games unforgettable if I win, securing the Cato name a place in history. Maybe my victory will return my family to its former glory. Maybe my victory will give our family enough notice from the Capitol for our exile to be ended.
All I need to do is win, and with only six more tributes standing between me and victory, all of them low scoring tributes from the outer districts, I wouldn't bet against me leaving this arena alive. Then again, I always thought that I would. For grandfather.
And at the rate that tributes are falling, I might even be out of here by tomorrow.
The 8th Annual Hunger Games set an all-time record for the shortest Hunger Games in history. With seventeen dead within the first half-hour, the field barely had time to spread from the cornucopia before Amadeus was on the hunt for more kills. Combining the quick depletion of numbers with the inhospitable environment, only five tributes made it to sunset. None of the other tributes dared travel too far into the desert. They felt tethered to the cornucopia by the fear of the unknown, and it was simple enough for Amadeus to clear up the survivors. Factor in the landslide of sponsor support that Amadeus received, it was a miracle that the Games weren't over on day one. But they lasted until sunrise, when Amadeus Cato of District 2 claimed the final kill to be crowned victor of the 8th Annual Hunger Games after just twenty-two hours in the arena.
Amadeus also set a then-record of ten kills in the arena, a feat that would not be equalled for almost two decades.
A/N: If you liked Amadeus, please read "Second Time Unlucky", the story for which he was created. There's some more of him in the later chapters of that story.
