Stone Cold Killers: the Tributes of District 2

Hero of War

Clove's POV

          I watched as Cato made his way through the crowd of 18 year olds. I had already found my place in the crowd of ages 15 to 16, and knew that this would be my last time in such a gathering. The experience was saddening to a degree, but only slightly. Honestly I was exited to go into the arena, doing the one thing I do best. Even if I don't win, the least I could do was give the audience a show.

“Welcome, young men and women of District Two.” Jacob Bale announced to the crowd.

          He was the official who came to our district every year to oversee the reaping. Honestly, I've stopped listening to him a couple years back. Each year it was the same old speech about the Capitol, and how the districts of Panem overcame The Dark Days. He wore a dark suit with dark glasses, and spoke in a deep rough voice.

“And then, an era of peace followed,” The stalky man continued. This speech always took the longest. I tuned out long enough to inspect the rest of the crowd and skip out on the history of Panem. When I was done scanning the people in front of me, Cato pointed to the man just in time for me to hear hear him say the oh, so familiar words.

“Ladies first.”

          Without even paying attention to the name of the girl called up as tribute, I made my way through the crowd and up to the front stage. I made sure to show nothing but confidence and determination. It wasn't hard to do, those feelings came naturally to me. I shoved the thirteen year old girl aside as she took center stage.

“Clove, District 2. It is an honor to volunteer as tribute.” I announce to the crowd, almost in a hurry.

      I searched the crowd for familiar faces. Sure enough I could see Cato in the second row from the stage, smiling as he shook his head with his arms crossed. Mr. Bale, being used to volunteers coming up every year, simply cleared his throat and continued to address the male tribute. He adjusted his large dark glasses with orange trim.

“Apollo Carmineus.”

          Before the boy could even be identified, Cato lunged forward to volunteer. He pushed through the boys in front of him, placed his hand on the ledge, and jumped with both feet onto the stage. We stood face to face in front of the entire district.

For the first time I noticed how he towered over me in height.

“I will be tribute this year,” Cato announced, “Mr. Bale.” he waved at the official in a taunting manor.

“Your name, son?” The man whispered behind his hand, Ignoring Cato's arrogance

“Cato. Cato of District 2.” Cato proudly turned to the crowd, getting several cheers from familiar faces.

No one in all of District 2 would be able to imagine the entirely different side of Cato I have seen.

          I have seen the beaten to the point of breaking side of Cato. I watched him evolve over the years. Not many would think the best-trained-future-tribute spent his nights looking for a way out of his life of being a monster. He knew he was powerful. He could snap a neck in a split second, slice the heads off of multiple dummies in a matter of moments. On campus he was respected by everyone because of his best student status. Not based on conduct, but on what he has learned over the years. Every day he trained from sunrise to sunset, being pounded by our coaches and instructors. He never showed any signs of breaking though. He was too proud to let any emotion show. He knows how good he is, and is proud of it. Emotion is his flaw. 

          I have seen the delicate side of Cato, however, and I knew it was his weakness. That and his mental unstability, which, when combined, make a devastating combination. He his hot-headed, compulsive, acting on impulse. Cato, being brought up a warrior, doesn't know how to show his emotion. Not many of us careers do. And this, along with his unpredictable actions, has made him volatile. A simple sentance said at the wrong time was enough to throw this boy into a rage. And his fighting capabilities meant bad news for whoever set him off.