A Game Called Revenge ✭ Cato Hadley

Eighteen - Lucky Ones

"ᴀ ʜᴜɴɢʀʏ ᴍᴀɴ ɪꜱ ᴀɴ ᴀɴɢʀʏ ᴏɴᴇ."

Clio rifles through the stacks of supplies inside the metal walls of the cornucopia in search of foodstuffs and fresh water. As she rummages through the items they've been provided with, the others sit at the front of the structure to watch the water idly, and she notices the lack of items that they are so used to having access to in their respective games and their training. There is no food, no canteens of cold freshwater, no matches to help cook food or provide warmth, no sleeping bags or rope; just piles upon piles of shiny, metal weapons.

"There's nothing in here!" She calls out to the others. "No fucking food and not even a drop of water."

The three of them push themselves to a stand, joining her inside to sort through the mountain of weapons. Each of them deconstructs a stack each, putting aside any of the weapons they could have a use for while carelessly throwing the useless items into a corner inside their shelter.

"Maybe someone got to the food before us?" Cashmere shrugs as she goes to sit on the rocks outside again.

"They couldn't have. The only people who got even close enough to the front were Finnick and Everdeen and besides they'd have put more than one bag in here if there was any at all." Cato answers her before he rests his sword against the wall of the cornucopia and takes a running start into the salt water so that he can wash the blood from his body.

"Speaking of the girl on fire. You were next to her, how didn't you catch her?" Gloss asks, venom dripping from his voice.

"She's a slimy little weasel, man." Cato answers. He dunks himself under the water again, running his hands through his hair and tugging at the ends to remove the red that tints the golden strands.

"You came up next to her? And you didn't kill her?"

"She's your kill, angel. I wasn't going to take that from you and it's fine, we'll get her tomorrow." He drops his shoulders dismissively before pulling himself from the water and laying flat on his back on one of the spokes. Gloss, still annoyed if his pursed lips are any indication, spreads out the fifteen available knives into three piles of five. He passes five to his sister, keeps five for himself and gestures that the final five are for Clio; who slides two over to Cato - knowing that although he would be less likely to reach for that style of blade it wouldn't hurt him to have backup incase he is, by some miracle, cornered without his sword.

"What about Romeo and Juliet?" Cato asks his girlfriend.

"Juliet's very dead. I made sure of that." Clio laughs, ignoring the confused glances being directed her way by her allies. "Romeo ran but I did promise her we'd kill him too."

"Romeo and Juliet?" Gloss questions with a furrowed brow.

"The stupid couple from Ten. Almost as pathetic as the fire girl and her bread man."

"We have to change our plan." Cashmere tells them after a beat of silence. "If Finnick's really run off with the Capitol's favourite couple then-"

"Second favourite couple."

"Yeah. If he's gone into the jungle with the Capitol's second favourite couple then he'll have told them all about our plans by now."

"Fuck!" Clio shouts, grabbing the largest of her knives and finding the nearest body, now discarded on the edge of the island. The male morphling. In a rage, she kneels over the top of the man, letting out an angry screech and digging her knife into the skin above his eyelids. Peeling back the skin she is met with the lifeless eyes of the man which she quickly plunges her knife into one and carves the other out with the tip of the blade severing the nerves and connective tissue in the sensory organ. She pulls the slimy ball from the socket and whacks it harshly in the direction of the jungle as if she was back playing rounders in the Academy courtyard as a child. She then hooks the blade underneath his neck, pushing through until the knife re-surfaces through his cupid's bow; the crushing sound of his upper jawbone like music to her ears. When she feels a presence next to her, she doesn't have to look up to realise it's Cato when the blade of his sword pierces the man's windpipe so forcefully that the sound of the tip hitting the rocks echoes throughout the arena. He brings his sword out and pushes it back in as her knife finds his chest, strategically managing to avoid the pre-existing gash. The sounds of the two blades ripping open wetsuit and flesh alike is all the four careers can hear as they take turns plunging their weapons into his body before the first cannon sounds, signalling for them to retreat from the morphling's already limp form and sit beside their allies to count the cannons.