How Cato and Clove Won The Games

PG-13 for slight cussing, violence, gore, and some intimacy

Copyright © 2012 All rights reserved. All my stories, including chapters, prologues, epilogues and all associated content is copyrighted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights are reserved by the owner and creator of these works. Any unauthorised copying, broadcasting, manipulation, distribution or selling of these works constitutes as an infringement of copyright and is punishable by law.

Chapter 3

Chariot/ Training

"What the hell are we wearing?" I ask Cato through clenched teeth as I climb onto the chariot, using Cato's outstretched hand to help.

"Some kind of gladiator, gold shit." Cato replies, looking straight forward at the large black doors before us. He fidgets with his helmet irritably.

"This is stupid. What does this have to do with our District?" I ask him, baffled as to what District 2 had to do with this gladiator uniforms.

"Your District produces the most competition along with us! You're dressed like that because you guys are fighters." The blond girl from District 1 tells us as she walks to her chariot. She's only in silver mist, coloured completely. She smirks and jumps on the chariot, eyeing Cato as she did so.

I glare at the back of her head. I feel Cato's eyes on me, but he doesn't say anything. I turn my attention to him when the silence begins to bother me. He's eyeing me intensely.

"What?" I finally mutter, looking down. Did he know I didn't like the girl already? What was he thinking?

"Relax. You look angrier than usual." Cato tells me, and I look up at him. I try to decipher the message in his eyes, but I can't. Then the boy from 4 gets his attention and begins to talk to Cato like old friends.

I can't help but feel jealous of the boy from 4, easily taking Cato's attention away from my own. I swallow hard and look down at the gold shoes I wore. How ridiculous can this outfit get? I mean, every year the tributes are dressed in stupid clothes...but gold gladiators?

"I'm Marvel, who are you?" Someone says to my right. Are they talking to me or someone else?

I glance swiftly to my right with my eye, and see that the silver boy from 1 is looking right at me with smoldering eyes.

"That's Clove." Cato says from behind me, wrapping his arm around my waist, sending a very clear message to Marvel.

Marvel just smiles easily, his eyes cool, and takes my hand smoothly, and kisses it gently, sending warm tingles up my arm, "It's very nice to meet you, Clove."

I swallow and set my jaw, unhappy with the feelings that arose. What were these feelings? Anger,annoyance, and a little pleasure.

Cato's grip on my waist tightened just a bit, "Shouldn't you be getting into your chariot, Marvel?"

"Oh, no, we've got a few minutes. I hardly know Clove yet. So, Clove, how old are you?" Marvel says dismissively to Cato, smiling again.

"17." I reply stiffly, holding Cato's arm that was still draped around my waist protectively. It made me feel warm inside.

"I'm 17 too. Nice costumes, by the way. Golden fighters, nice." Marvel compliments, nodding slightly as he said it.

"Marvel," the girl from his District slips her hand on his shoulder, watching Cato closely as she spoke to Marvel, "We should get on the chariot. We're the first ones out, after all."

To say that she annoys me is not enough. Her voice, her looks, her eyes...they make me want to kill her with my Case Integral Hunter.

"Right. Well, Clove, I hope to see you...later." He winks and wraps his arm around the girl as they walk back to their chariot leisurely.

"I don't like the girl." I snap at the same time Cato says he doesn't like Marvel. We both turn to face forward, his arm still wrapped around my waist.

"Let's just focus on being vicious for the crowd, alright?" Cato whispers in my ear, sending tingles through my body violently.

I grip his torso possesively as the tributes from 1 are released to the roaring crowd of crazy Capitol citizens.

"I hate her!" I whine to Cato, my head on his chest as we lay in bed. His chest is bare and I run my fingers along it longingly, but District 12 has me in a rage.

"I know, Clove. But it doesn't matter. We'll be the ones to kill her. In fact, when we get her, we'll make it entertaining for the crowd." Cato says maliciously, but also in a caring way.

I sigh, deciding that this would have to do. My feelings of hatred toward her will most likely fade when she stops breathing.

In the morning, Cato is already awake and watching me, his head leaning on his fist. I smile tiredly and blush when I notice his eyes trailing downward.

He pulls me in, close to him, and I sigh into his chest, "Did you sleepwalk last night?"

"I don't think so. Do you remember me getting up?" Cato replies nonchalantly, his hand lazily tracing circles on my bare back.

"I don't remember you getting up. I really hope you don't sleepwalk in the arena." I voice my worry.

"I'm counting on you to wake me up if I am." Cato replies, and I hear the smile in his voice. I'm about to reply when I hear the door open.

"Clove, Cato, training today at 10. Get ready please and please stop being so loud in the night. We all need our sleep!" Enobaria growls at us, covering her eyes, and then she leaves the room, slamming the door shut.

We're silent, until we both burst out laughing at the same time. I hold onto him and hope, once again, that I won't be the one who has to kill him.

"Aye, Clove, broski!" Marvel bounds up to us as soon as we enter the Training centre. Cato obviously doesn't like being referred to as 'broski'.

"Just call me Cato." he snaps, and Marvel shrugs, passes him, and walks right up to me, "Nice to see you again."

"Yeah." I allow myself to reply. What else do I say to that?

"So what's your weapon of choice?" He asks, changing subjects so fast that you'd think he had a list of conversation starters.

"You'll find out soon enough." I say dismissively, crossing my arms and turning my head to look at Cato. He had his arms crossed as well. His jaw was set and his muscles kept flexing.

"Ooh." Marvel says in a voice that was almost seductive. His eyes raked my body as he said it.

"Marvel." the girl from his District coos, coming from from behind him and putting her hand on his chest from over his shoulder, and she slowly reels it back up to his chin, making him look at her.

"Ajax, the boy from 4, wants to meet you. Nova's pretty excited too." Her voice is like a cat's purr, either from years of practise or it's a natural thing to do for harlots.

Marvel and her exchange a deep glance with their eyes, and he says slowly, "Alright, Glimmer. Talk nice with Clove while I introduce Cato to them."

Marvel nods at Cato to follow him, and turns so briefly to look at me and slip a wink. Cato's jaw sets even firmer and he follows Marvel with a scowl.

Glimmer trains her emerald eyes on me. "So how long have you and Cato been dating?"

I hate the way this brings colour to my cheeks. I swallow a bit and say, "We're not dating. I've been his best friend since we were 7."

Glimmer smirks, "Then stop acting like you own him, darling. You're too small for him, anyway." She turns around and walks back to the group of them.

The only other tribute pairs there are 5, 7, and 9. I clench my fists and march right up to Cato. I poke his arm hard and he flinches, looking down at me.

Glimmer watches us closely with amused eyes and a small, hardly noticable smirk.

"We're phucking after this." I demand, and I can't hide the frustration in my voice. This was the first time either one of us really mentioned it.

"Sweet." He nods casually,squeezes my waist, and jumps back into the conversation about making the alliance.

"So we'll ally with you guys." The girl from 4, Nova, tells us, a confident air about her. She's well fed but still lean and fit. Her eyes are a dead green and her skin was tanned. Her hair was up in a bun. Ajax, her District partner, nods.

"M'kay. No killing each other, okay?" Marvel says, smirking. Nova laughs, either at the way he said it or the thought of killing us.

I glance at Cato and see his expression is the same as mine. It's clear that we're thinking the exact same thing: Oh, baby, we're killing them, don't worry.

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