Ya'll this chapter is kind of stupid but I had so much fun writing it enjoy
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We get to work immediately after Noah's demonstration. Marvel and I dig, while Cato piles supplies in the center of the clearing in a big pyramid. Noah is left to tend to the mines, and he very tentatively places them into the shallow holes me and Marvel dig.
He explains to us that the mines are triggered by a set weight that pushes upon them. We strategically leave a mine-free path leading to the camp we've set up beside the Cornucopia.
When it is all finally set up, I take a step back and admire the fact that we've managed to pile up the supplies and rig them so quickly. If I'm thinking correctly, it is late afternoon on the sixth day.
Six days. It has barely been a week, but to me that feels like eternity. I make my way back to the camp, where Marvel has an early dinner cooking on a pot over a fire.
"What is it?" I ask.
Marvel twirls the wooden stick he's using as a spoon around in his hand artfully. "A Sanford family specialty," he says fancily.
I wrinkle my nose up and glance in the pot. It looks odd, a brown mush with small green bits in it. I sit down on my respective log and twirl a knife absently in my hand.
"Not impressed, I see." Marvel winks at me. "Well, we'll see what you think when you taste it. Right, Gizmo?" He gives Noah a friendly shoulder bump, and the boy laughs nervously and nods.
Cato returns to our little circle shortly, sitting down and viewing the dish Marvel has prepared for us, which he scoops into small plastic bowls taken out of the supply pile. I watch as Noah scarfs his portion down, not even coming up to breathe. I think about the fact that he's probably never really had a proper meal in his life.
"See, he likes it," Marvel grins.
I allow a smile, and take a spoonful of the stuff. It's canned beans, refried, with some sort of tangy green snippets in it. I can't deny that it's good.
"I found some wild parsley growing near the Cornucopia. Adds some flavor to the canned stuff."
"It's good," Cato remarks. "Maybe in another life you could have been a chef." Then he glances at me, and in the dying daylight and the flickering embers, his face looks oddly gaunt. Like he's aged.
"Hey, how about a game?" Marvel proposes. "It's one we played back in my District. It's called Rock or Jewel."
"A game, seriously?" I mutter, taking another bite of my food.
"Could be fun," Cato mutters with a grin. That cocky smile is the first semblance I've seen to the pre-games Cato I'd known, so I have no choice but to give in.
"So it goes like this." Marvel picks up an unremarkable stone from beside him and tosses it up and down in his hand. "You toss the stone to one person in the circle, and ask them to chose rock or jewel. If they chose rock, they have to do something you want them to. If they chose jewel, they have to truthfully answer any question you ask them."
"Sounds dumb," I say.
"Why so negative, Clove?" Cato asks teasingly. I look at him in surprise, wondering why he's suddenly changed his attitude. And the way he's looking at me makes me nervous. Instead, I shrug it off and shoot back.
"Oh, maybe because I don't want to give up my secrets." I see Marvel smirk out of the corner of my eye, probably because that mischievous bastard wants something to happen between Cato and I.
Even Noah pipes up, with an emotion on his face I can only describe as happiness. "I never thought I'd get to play a game in the arena!" He chirps.
Marvel weighs the stone in his hand, then tosses it to Cato. "Cato, rock or jewel?" he asks.
"Rock," Cato responds without hesitation.
"Ok. Why don't you...ask our sponsors for some liquor?" Marvel breaks into a toothy grin.
Cato gets to his feet, cups his hands to his mouth, and yells, "Two bottles of whiskey, please!"
I laugh, not expecting it to work, but in maybe thirty seconds a large padded box floats down from the sky, revealing within it two large glass bottles filled with the amber substance. Marvel and Cato give whoops of joy and take a shot each.
"Cmon, Clove, you too," Cato croons, holding the bottle near my mouth. I snatch it from him and tackle a swig, trying not to cringe at the burning sensation. "Look at that! Hope you can handle your liquor, Clove."
I role my eyes. "It's your turn, dumbass," I mutter.
Cato gets a malicious look in his eyes, and tosses the stone to an unsuspecting Noah, who fumbles to catch it. He blinks, looking both excited and terrified, waiting for Cato to ask him.
"Rock or jewel?" says the bulky blond. "Pick rock."
"R-rock," Stammers Noah.
"Take that bottle. I wanna see two big gulps out of you." Cato slaps his knee in amusement as Noah's eyes nearly pop out of his head.
"But-"
"It's the Hunger Games kid, for fuck's sake. Have some fun!" I start laughing as Noah tentatively takes the bottle and only gets a gulp in before retching in disgust. Marvel, Cato and I burst into laughter, and we each take another shot of the stuff.
Noah tosses the rock to Marvel, who he seems the least afraid of. "Marvel, rock or jewel?" He asks.
"Jewel."
"Umm...have you ever kissed a girl?" asks the young boy curiously.
"Yeah, duh!" Marvel slurs. He throws the stone to me. "Clove, rock or jewel?"
"Rock," I giggle. Did I really just giggle?
"Go kiss Cato. And I mean, like, make out with him."
"Gross!" Noah chimes.
"No way," I mutter, feeling the dizziness of the alcohol in my head.
"Cloveeee..." Cato calls. "I'm waiting for my kiss." His voice is so jangled I can barely make out what he's saying.
"Oh, alright," I mutter, and walk (or stagger) towards him, and plop down in his lap. Cato then presses his lips to mine, and I kiss him back passionately. I can hear Marvel's joyous shrieks and Noah's protesting whines, but god, am I enjoying this. Cato's lips taste like whiskey, and I know he's had a couple more than I have. It's when he slips his tongue into my mouth that I feel Marvel pull me off him.
"Guys!" He shouts. "Too far!"
I just let out a drunken laugh and flop down on the soft grass. The night goes on and the whiskey bottles drain out, until finally all of us are too tired to go any further.
YOU ARE READING
Gladiators -- Clato
Fanfiction"you can try to take us, but we're the gladiators," Clove, the girl who never misses. Cato, the pinnacle of Career power. Trained since childhood to be ruthless, cold-blooded killers. At least, that's what the Capitol wants them to be. What happens...
