The Mentor. (Cato Hadley)

Chapter Ten.

I yawn in boredom as Atala, the Head Trainer, lists off the stations in the Training Center. Less than half the tributes this year have showed up to the Training Center, showing the simple facts that which we all know is true. We are all angry with the idea of the Quarter Quell.

I spot Katniss at the knot tying station, watching intently as Finnick heads over to her. Brutus is currently throwing spears with Peeta and Chaff, presumably imagining my face as his target. Katniss abandons Finnick at the station, moving to the fire starting station to work with Wiress and Beetee, from District Three.

"You're not going to go ahead and make new friends?" Cecelia smirks at me, watching the tributes. "I heard through the grapevine you aren't working with the Careers." Cecelia is a Victor from District Eight, her Reaping this year especially heartbreaking as she had to have her husband rip their three children off of her.

"Just Finnick," I say shortly, turning to make eye contact with her. "I'm not sure who else I could trust," I don't spill all of my secrets to her. But, I do have a way to get my information from her. "How are things in Eight?"

"Interesting," she states quickly, the look in her eyes confirming my suspicions. There isn't anything interesting about District Eight, not in the slightest, so her carefully placed word answers my rebellious question. I've been to District Eight once, on my Victory Tour. It's industrialized, no grass in sight. Barely any land, the smell of smog practically chokes you as you walk through the streets. Hardly interesting, but the loud machinery in the massive factories everybody is forced to do a four hour shift in every day makes for an easy way to talk rebellion. An easy way to plan rebellion. "Two?"

"Same old," to outside ears, we may just be checking up on each other. But, to someone well versed in the language of rebellion, we're spreading the word of hope in the districts. Communicating in a way that nobody else could understand.

I take this moment to measure up my competition. Cashmere and Gloss, the brother and sister Victors from District One, are focused on the knife throwing station. Peeta stands near, as well as Brutus, making me wonder if Peeta plans on making the same move as last year and teaming up with the Careers. Wiress and Beetee continue to start small fires with Katniss, much with the instructors help. Finnick and Mags work on the archery station, a skill Finn happens to be quite lacking in. Surge, the male tribute from District Five, is on the sword fighting floor. However, he isn't sword fighting, but he's instead throwing up at the training station while his district partner, Paula, looks on in disgust. The District Six tributes - two who have turned to Morphling in order to deal with their pain, spend their time at the camouflage station painting pink swirls on each other's cheeks. Johanna is in the wrestling ring, working on a scrimmage against her partner, Blight.

"Lunch!" The trainers announce, us tributes filing into the cafeteria. I look around, seeing where everyone will sit so I could figure out where to place myself. I raise my eyebrow as Peeta, Gloss, Finnick, Blight, and Jackson from District Nine push all the tables together so all twenty-four of us have to eat as a group.

It's funny, how in the previous Games, speaking to each other was not viewed as a priority. However, these people are friends, they've know each other for years and have built strong, solid, almost familial bonds. This isn't just us training for the Games, this isn't just us getting ready to step into the arena.

This is us, the Victors of the dreadful game where we're forced to fight to the death and kill other children. This is us saying goodbye to our friends, leaving behind our families, losing our lives all for the game. I can't help but think about how stupid President Snow may be to place twenty-four people who know exactly how to play this game, into the same arena.

The weeks of training pass by in a breeze, and I don't do much of anything during these weeks. I take my time to people watch, see what my opponents strengths and weaknesses are. I have a pretty good idea which tributes will survive the bloodbath, and which will parish. I don't have much hope for the elder tributes. I know most of them aren't quick enough or strong enough to compete against tributes such as Cashmere and Gloss, or even Finnick and I.

Anxiously, I stand behind Brutus in line for our private training sessions. The man hasn't spoken to me since he realized that I'm going to be aligning myself with Finnick, and not the Careers like I had done in my previous game. One by one, all twenty-four of us have our fifteen minute, private sessions, the ones that will give us a training score that will be coveted after.

I heard from Haymitch that Brutus had Enobaria speak to him about a possible alliance between him and Katniss. He was impressed with her skills she had with a bow and arrow, watching intently as Tax, the bow trainer, threw fake birds into the air and she shot them down. He's intently focused on winning these Games, and I know he'll have zero issue taking my life to do so.

Gloss goes first, then Cashmere, then Brutus. After forty-five minutes, it's my turn to impress the Gamemakers. Plutarch stands on the platform, wearing a deep purple robe that falls to the ground beneath me. He sends me a curt, almost unnoticeable nod. I respond to them by sitting on the floor. That's it. I sit in the middle of the training room, my legs crossed, staring up at the Gamemakers. The clock slowly ticks by with me sitting in silence, when an idea forms in my mind.

I jump to my feet, making eye contact with Plutarch Heavensbee. "You can't take my past," I sing, the words sung by the Tenth Hunger Games Victor coming from my mouth. "You can't take my history, you can take my Pa, but his name's a mystery, nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping. Oh, nothing you can take, was ever worth keeping. You can't take my charm, you can't take my humor, you can take my wealth, 'cause it's just a rumor. Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping. You can't take my sass, you can't take my talking." And, in true Lucy Gray fashion, I finish the song just as she did in the tape. "You can kiss my ass!" And with that, I take a bow, leaving the Gamemakers alone in the training room.

A/N: Marblyn out here staying heavy on the justice for Sejanus 🫶🏼 also, get excited because CATO IS COMING SOON