A Game Of Justice ✭ Cato Hadley

Nine - Fight Club

"You're excused, Mr Hadley." The Capitol official informs Cato, gesturing towards the door of the office.

Cato follows his instructions and walks towards the large metal door of the office, pulling it open quickly and testing the added weight around his ankle from the tracking bracelet that the official has now secured around it so tight that it's going to be hard to adjust it at all. It's lightweight and beeps every hundred steps, something that is already infuriating Cato as he exits the office and walks through the empty halls of the Academy building. It's mid-way through the lunch hour and so all the students are all either in the food hall or lingering in the square outside. As the heavy entrance to the Academy swings inwards automatically when Cato nears it, he finds himself grateful that all the years spent there has given him the foresight to step backwards, otherwise he'd have received a face-full of metal.

Outside, the twelve o'clock sun is obscured by thick dark clouds that linger in the sky like an omen. Strong winds now blow the black cover of clouds over the peaks of the mountains, and the beginning droplets of rain make contact with the solid stone pathways and leave small streaks of rainbow coloured rays across the white. The umbrellas are still erected above the trainers on guard but the increased Peacekeeper presence seems to be only that of a myth because there's maybe one in the entirety of the square as Cato steps outside and tries to find Brutus.

Neither Brutus or Enobaria are anywhere to be seen though, neither is Lyme, but the older six victors are standing in a huddle to the right of the Academy building near the alleyway. The alleyway has been blocked off in the past week, something that Cato hadn't noticed until now considering he has barely left his house unless absolutely necessary. The group of older victors, now consisting of four men, including Atticus, and two women, are conversing in hushed tones and unlike in previous years, they don't immediately shout out for Cato to join them. Instead, they glare and point and whisper, obviously speaking about him. The hype around his second win is barely recognised by any of the older Academy students as they don't crowd him like they did after his first win; they all keep their distance and he can't help but wonder what the trainers have been filling their brains with. Some of the younger ones point and stare in awe but he still can't find Brutus and so he walks over to the group of victors, able to hear the older three talking about someone.

"He doesn't want to celebrate." The shy victor of the fifty-sixth Games tells the group.

"He doesn't deserve to be celebrated." Atticus sneers to the others.

"Do you want to say that to my face?"

Atticus turns around and smirks. "You don't deserve to be celebrated. You're a disgrace, just like your girlfriend was."

Rage fills Cato instantly and on pure instinct, he slides forwards in two easy strides and sweeps the oldest victor to the stone ground beneath them. One hand tightens around the collar of his dress shirt and the other rears back to punch him in the throat as his anger only continues to build the more that the man writhes underneath him. The old man is a skilled fighter, Cato knows that he wouldn't have won the first Quarter Quell other, but his hands instantly move to protect his head and throat and all offensive moves cease. Shouts and hollers fill the square as the crowd realises what's occurring, and hoards of people begin to crowd around the two victors as the other five attempt to stop the fight before concluding that it's futile to properly get involved. If there's anything District Two victors have plenty of, it's survival instincts, and right now it's easier for them to watch one of their own being jumped than to step in and risk it happening to them too. They're no fools. Cato is much stronger than they are, fresh from the Academy and from two Hunger Games in quick succession, and none of them stand a chance.

With the enclosing crowd, Atticus just about manages to get to his feet and a smirk spreads across the older man's face as he clings to the hope that Cato's rage is dwindling. He might be old but he's not incompetent and he dodges a few hits, managing to land a couple of punches in return. The distance between them decreases. "What a shame Clio couldn't be here to see this, hey?"