The Mentor. (Cato Hadley)

Chapter Six.

Rewritten 03.15.2023

The Training Center has a tower which houses the tributes, each district having a whole floor corresponding to the number of their district. This will be our home until the Games begin, District Two equaling floor number two. The walls of this elevator are made of crystal, allowing us to watch the people on the ground floor as the elevator shoots into the air like a rocket.

"You're going to have to get rid of Twelve," I say blankly, avoiding eye contact with either tribute as I keep my face sullen and emotionless. I can't tell them that the words regretfully coming out of my mouth right now are accompanied by thoughts of losing two more tributes are going to affect Haymitch. "That little stunt they just pulled at the parade is going to earn them Capitol sponsors, making them a greater threat than I ever imagined." Capitol citizens are able to pick a favorite tribute or district each year, and if they have the right amount of money, they can send them gifts while in the arena.

With using my abuse from the Capitol to my advantage, I've learned quite a few things about the Panem President. With most districts, the work starts when you're a child. District Seven, Ten, Eleven, et cetera. It gives them an advantage during the Games, with being familiarized with certain weapons and hard work from a young age. The only exception, the only place where the citizens are forbidden to work in the specialty until the age of eighteen, is District Twelve. The mining district has strict rules about who can enter the mines, including the rule of nobody under eighteen in the mines. This rule doesn't apply to any other district.

Coal mining is the main source of income in District Twelve. Making it so that you have to be eighteen to work in the mines does two things; first, it leaves Twelve tributes at a disadvantage. Secondly, it keeps them at bay. They don't make any money, they're severely underfed, and have no experience with any weaponry. Not being allowed to work until you're eighteen, the last age you're eligible to enter the Hunger Games is a personal vendetta Snow has for the people of District Twelve.

The only other Victor from Twelve broke Snow's heart, so now he has a revenge fantasy against the innocent people who have nothing to do with it. So, he made up this law solely to keep Twelve at a disadvantage, to keep punishing them year after year.

I step into the elevator with the tributes, Brutus, and Vibiana following close behind, squeezing my eyes shut tightly as we shoot into the air. I hate elevators, especially this one, I'm reminded as the elevator stops abruptly, slamming me into the back of the male tribute. He grabs me, holding on to me tightly so I don't fall onto the carpet beneath our feet.

"Sorry," I mumble, taking a step back and gripping the crystal wall in order to steady myself. "Every damn year," I roll my eyes as the memories of the past couple years run through my mind. My year of the Games, slamming into my district partner, who did not save me from slamming into the ground. Last year, I rode the elevator myself and slammed into the crystal wall, busting my lip. And now this year, getting caught by the male tribute - Cato.

Vibiana clicked her tongue, shaking her head as her eyes rake down my body in disapproval. "Oh, Marblyn, always so clumsy, how did you ever win the Games?"

My eyes shoot up to the escort's face as I slip a knife from my pocket. "I'm not sure, Vibiana, would you like me to demonstrate?" I step forward, fully intent on showing Vibiana just how deadly the deadliest Hunger Games Victor could possibly be.

Cato grabs my waist, pulling me back so my body slams against his once more. He holds me back, my strength unmatched against his. I hear Brutus laughing as Cato leads me away from the district escort, practically dragging me from the elevator. "Where am I bringing you?" He asks, his grip on my arm not loosening. His voice is gruff as he speaks, one of the few times he's ever spoken directly to me.