Clio's revenge has been planned out perfectly ever since the words existing victors left the president's mouth. Nothing will go wrong and everyone she will finally get what they deserve. For revenge is a dish best served drenched in the blood of those who try to stop you.
Book One of Five - COMPLETED
Follows Clio and Cato in the Quarter Quell, with the subsequent books to acting as prequels to follow them in their separate games, and the war they never wanted to be involved in.
This may also be posted on my AO3 and wattpad accounts under the same username: twobraincellkentwell.
READ ON AO3 HERE. COMPLETED
MASTERLIST
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
PART NINE
PART TEN
PART ELEVEN
PART TWELVE**
PART THIRTEEN
PART FOURTEEN
PART FIFTEEN
PART SIXTEEN
PART SEVENTEEN
PART EIGHTEEN
PART NINETEEN
PART TWENTY
PART TWENTY-ONE
PART TWENTY-TWO
PART TWENTY-THREE
PART TWENTY-FOUR
PART TWENTY-FIVE
PART TWENTY-SIX
RELATED WORKS
Prequel (74th Games)
Prequel (73rd and 72nd Games)
Sequel (76th Games ;) onwards)
IMPORTANT SERIES INFORMATION
The timeline has clearly been altered for this series. Cato wins the 72nd and Clio wins the 73rd. A side relationship with Luna and Finnick is also featured.
This story is mainly set in the Quarter Quell arena but obviously involves some chapters and scenes in the relevant districts. I'm using some canon and it will largely follow the plotline of both the Catching Fire book and movie, but I'm going wildly off script given that the books aren't written from Katniss' POV and since she isn't the most reliable narrator when it comes to things outside of District 12, I've given myself lots of creative freedom and created lots of relevant district lore.
This book started out as a short fic but ended up turning into a whole series. I am planning on having five books revolving around Clio and Cato so you'll just have to trust the process a little. Yes the order of having the Quarter Quell in the first book is a little unusual, I promise it will all make sense in the end ;).
I GOT LOCKED OUT OF MY ACCOUNT UGH, I AM BACK I PROMISE FR THIS TIME. THE SERIES IS COMPLETE AND I AM ONTO THE NEXT. I WILL POST ONE A DAY TO CATCH MYSELF UP!!!
Hello friends, just popping in here to say that the second book is all published on wattpad and ao3, I just forgot to upload on here because Iâve neglected the app. Iâll try to do one a day until Iâm all caught up!!
Summary: Clio's first year as a mentor was always supposed to be easy; lapping up attention in the Capitol and learning the ropes of securing sponsorships. She was never supposed to be helping her sister through the ins and outs of the arena, but what's done is done. She'll just have to make sure the nation is ready for their second Kentwell sister in succession.
Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the nature of content in some of the chapters. Reaping. Mentions of President Snow. Ebony deserves her own warning.
Word Count: 2.1k
A/N: Happy Hunger Games to you all I guess. Happy Haymitch's Games being written. I really want to know everyone's theories for the POV etc...
Reminder to read book one (A Game Called Revenge) first for the intended order.
The justice building had hardly changed since last year's reaping, only an additional golden notch added to the top of the gable to signify the district's newest victor. The check-in desks are swarming with teenagers, each having their blood drawn and being ushered into the usual places within the crowd. Parents of the selected volunteers are waiting in the first row of spectators, loudly hyping up their children's skills to the gambling addicts lingering around the square - who are already preparing to place bets on the tributes. Clio adjusts her maroon blouse, fiddling with the twist at the front of the halter neck and smoothing down her slim-fitted black trousers before brushing her hair back and tightening the half ponytail. She walks alongside Cato through the aisle in the middle of the square to reach the side of the stage where the other victors all wait, passing her sister at the edge of her row where the best performer in each year group always waits.
Then as the clock tower chimes out for two o'clock, the mayor steps forward to begin his speech, playing the usual video for the district, one that everyone over the age of fourteen could recite word for word. Clio waits for the mayor to conclude this speech, eyes trained on her sister's form in the crowd until the man begins to introduce each of the District Two victors. One by one they step forward, waving to the crowd before taking a seat in the chairs lined up at the back of the stage. As Clio sits down and the crowd returns to silence, Xanthe Corvus, District Two's escort, replaces the mayor at the front of the stage, tapping on the grille of the microphone to focus everyone's attention. Her navy blue beehive bounces as she walks and complements her indigo ensemble, dress hanging from one shoulder and extending outwards into an opulent purple balloon made of chiffon and silk. Her giant navy shoes are so tall that even she wobbles slightly while she walks, seemingly defying gravity to reach the bowls. Her smile never falters, wide and beaming and glistening in the sunlight, as her enthusiasm carries throughout the square.
"Hello, my dears." Xanthe says jovially, leaning forward into the microphone with a bend of her knees and clasping her hands in front of her. "May I wish you all a very happy Hunger Games!"
The cheers of the district makes Clio smile a little. Even the smallest of the children standing with their parents at the back of the square move their little hands together to join in the series of claps and cheers as Xanthe moves towards the bowl filled with girl's names. Clio watches from her seat as Xanthe's hand dives into the glass ball, her manicured fingers swirling around the pieces of paper - as if it really mattered when the name read out wouldn't be the girl entering the games, unless it was the volunteer.
Clio doesn't register the name that Xanthe reads out, instead she finds herself counting.
One. Okay, that's normal.
Two. Don't panic.
Three. Shit.
Four. Come on Ebony.
Five.
"I volunteer!" An all too familiar voice calls out of the crowd of girls all packed together to the left side of the stage. Shit. No. Fuck, Clio thinks, making eye contact with her sister and she watches her raise her hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches the girl whose name was read aloud let out a held breath before her gaze finds Ebony who stands at the edge of the row at the front of the seventeens and she scowls at her. If looks could kill then District Two's academy would have one less seventeen next week. Xanthe smiles at Clove as she is ushered to the stage, still smiling as she walks up the stairs to join her at the top. Clio's face is pale.
"What's your name, dear?" Xanthe asks expectantly as the attention of the whole central population is focused on the stage.
"Clove Kentwell."
Xanthe gives an over exaggerated reaction as she jumps up and down a little, stumbling a little in her ridiculous heels. She claps as the district cheer at the sound of Clove's voice. "Oh how wonderful, Clio's little sister. If you're anything like her then I'm sure that the odds will be in your favour."
Clio smiles at the crowd, at the praise, well aware that the cameras and their eyes would more than likely have flickered to her when her name was mentioned, and now that Clove has volunteered, she can't betray her sister by looking anything less than pleased. Then she watches Clove, the smile on her face so wide that it looks as though her cheeks could crack before focusing on Xanthe as she moves towards the other bowl. The district quietens down again as her hand fishes around in the bowl again, leaving Xanthe to pull a slip of paper and read a name out.
Ajax Dumont volunteers immediately. His words ring out across the square and all eyes follow his movements as he steps forward from his spot at the back of the crowd with the other eighteens. His expression changes from the excited smile to the usual stoic look; it's clear he's spent hours perfecting it in the mirror. The crowd continues to watch him as he makes the long walk to the stage, all cameras trained on him. When he climbs the stage he joins Xanthe at the front, and stands with his feet shoulder width apart and hands folded behind his back, executing the same posture as most - if not all - of the male volunteers from Two. Clio watches him carefully as he introduces himself to the district, he's large, incredibly muscular and at least six feet tall. She knows him - of course she does - and she knows he's been waiting for his moment for the past three years, beaten to the chance to volunteer by his two best mates; Cato in the seventy-second, and Evander - who she beat to take the crown - last year.
"Wonderful!" Xanthe cheers. "Let's hear it one last time for our District Two volunteers!"
Clio watches as Ajax glances down at Clove with a smirk as they shake hands, but smiles to herself when her sister doesn't falter under his gaze. They both turn to face the crowd, lifting their interlocked hands above their hands and smiling at the crowd as they begin to applaud. The two volunteers shake hands with the mayor, before nodding at Brutus, Enobaria, Cato and finally Clio as they step forwards to stand as their mentors. And then they are ushered off stage by two peacekeepers - who are older graduates of the training centre that Clio vaguely recognises - and into the justice building.
Clove and Ajax are escorted into the rooms where they will say their goodbyes, whilst the other victors all congregate at the front of the building foyer. Clio watches as a few people sit on the solid stone benches either side of the large room, waiting until the one person she wants to see enters the room. Ebony. One of Clove's friends in the academy, and the supposed volunteer. When the tall, black haired girl approaches the bench, Clio ignores the other mentors and seizes the girl by the lace collar of her dress, fingers gripping the fabric with a mixture of anger and urgency. She drags Ebony, who is caught off guard, along to the far wall, the shuffling of their feet against the polished feet mingling with the girl's shouts as Clio shoves her into the wall and presses her hand to her shoulder to keep her in place.
"What the fuck was that?" Clio shouts, face inches away from the other girl's. She's pleased when Ebony blinks in fear, despite being six months older and six inches taller than Clio. "Why'd you hesitate, you coward?"
"I- I didn't - I didn't mean to." Ebony stutters as she tries to defend herself against the victor, attempting to shrug off Clio's hands. "I didn't think she'd actually do it."
"That's the worst lie you've ever told." Clio spits, before Enobaria moves her arms from Ebony's chest, announcing her presence to Clio before grabbing her shoulders and pulling her away from the taller girl. Enobaria drags her down the hallway, nodding her head for Brutus and Cato to follow, until they reach the stairs and Clio turns back over her shoulder with a shout. "I swear, I will make sure you never live to see her crowning glory!"
Enobaria practically drags her down the stairs and into the train car, pushing through the crowd that have gathered during the time the tributes say their goodbyes. Clio lets her, but only since she's not really paying attention - she feels no particular need to just yet. Her mentor, or co-victor Clio supposes, leads her through the train, practically throwing her down in a dining chair and sitting herself at the head of the table. Brutus sits at the opposite end of the table, shaking his head when Cato moves to sit next to his girlfriend and wordlessly persuading him to sit nearest him on the other side. The two older mentors attempt to speak before the sound of the train doors can be heard as they slide open and peacekeepers accompany Clove and Ajax into the dining car. The two of them stare as they step further into the cart, mouths dropped open as they look around. Clio stifles a laugh at the look of amazement on her sister's face because it's the same look that covered hers last year and she knows that Clove has never seen a room as lavishly furnished as this cart - not even her house in Victor's Village has such over the top furniture.
"Both of you sit down." Brutus says, and the two tributes immediately do as he says; Clove slipping into the chair beside her sister and leaving the remaining seat for Ajax. A pair of Avoxes bring the six of them plates, six large plates of lemongrass chicken resting atop a bed of coconut rice and servings of potatoes, vegetables and other complex carbohydrates are placed on the long wooden table. It's certainly nothing like the elaborate feasts Clio has learnt that the outer, poorer districts receive, those who need to eat a few good meals to survive even a day in the arena, but it's a good large meal that will focus on keeping their protein intake high.
As they eat, Enobaria clears her throat and speaks up, directing her words at Clove. "Who in fuck's name gave you the authority to volunteer? This was not your year, Clove."
Clove simply shrugs, pushing another forkful of rice into her mouth. "Clio did."
All eyes flick to Clio. "I did not."
Enobaria pinches the bridge of her nose between two fingers and narrows her eyes at the two sisters. "Clio. Please tell me you didn't."
"She did." Clove pipes up, smiling behind her fork. "Ask Cato. He was there too."
"Oh you're evil, Clover." Cato groans, trying his best to ignore Enobaria's glare. "But I believe Clio's words were fucking forget it, you're too young."
"But you would say that, Cato." Clove rolls her eyes. "You have three working brain cells on a good day but somehow you can remember Clio's exact words this morning, sure."
"I remember everything she says toâ"
"Alright, everyone shut up!" Brutus slams his hand on the table to command the attention of the room. "There's nothing we can do about it now, so we'll just have to do what we can to appease the victor affairs division since they've already been busy briefing our most reliable sponsors for the partnership between Ajax and Ebony."
Enobaria points towards Clio and Cato. "We'll deal with the two of you later and I hope you know that you've both earned yourselves the grunt work."
As the couple begin to protest, the door to the dining car swooshes open and Xanthe enters, her brow wrinkled with worry as she watches something on a tablet embossed with the seal of District Two. While the two tributes continue eating their last course, the four mentors look up at the interruption and once they take in the distorted look on the usually overly perky escort they realise something is clearly wrong. Enobaria is the first to ask her. "Is something wrong, Xanthe?"
Xanthe glances down at the tablet in her hands, and looks as though she can't form the words. When Enobaria raises an eyebrow at her, the escort swallows heavily. "The live reapings have just finished and there's something you should see. Come, the recaps are starting."
Summary: Clio's first year as a mentor was always supposed to be easy; lapping up attention in the Capitol and learning the ropes of securing sponsorships. She was never supposed to be helping her sister through the ins and outs of the arena, but what's done is done. She'll just have to make sure the nation is ready for their second Kentwell sister in succession.
Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the nature of content in some of the chapters. Knife throwing. Siblings.
Word Count: 2k
A/N: I completely forgot that in order to have a fic on here, I actually have to post it whoops. It's updated without fail every Tuesday on Wattpad and AO3 (Same user and fic name) if you'd prefer to head over there. But I'm going to finish it here too, only about four left on wp.
Friendly reminder that this is a Cato fic so obviously I'm not going to be subjecting my mans to the dogs (I'm not that cruel), and so the name of the male tribute is completely made up but also somewhat developed (you'll see ;) )
Second reminder to read book one (A Game Called Revenge) first for the intended order.
Clio lets herself into her parent's house - it's not hers, not anymore - and throws open the door to Clove's room. The children in the academy are permitted to sleep in their own homes the night before the Reaping if they live within the immediate vicinity of the district's principal city, and given that the Kentwell's have lived just a few minutes walk away from the main square for decades, it's something that Clio, and now Clove, have always done despite hating growing to hate their parents. Even if you aren't selected to be the volunteer, Reaping Day is a national holiday and so it's one of the few days of the year where the members of the Academy can sleep in. Seeing her sister still sleeping, her thin blanket pulled up to touch her chin resting on the pillow, Clio throws a cold glass of water right onto her bed to wake her.
"What the fuck?" Clove startles, bolting straight up and shaking her head to send as many droplets of water flying at her sister as possible. The water drips in her eyes and Clove pushes her ponytail back to stop it from soaking through the front of her pyjama top. Her damp skin comes in contact with the air - it's not a cold day, but that's up for debate when you're soaking wet - and glares at her sister. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Besides the fact that you're obviously deranged!"
"Get up." Clio says, ignoring the insult and placing the glass of water on the bedside table. "We need to talk."
"It's a holiday." Clove whines but she gets up anyway, grumbling as her parents rush into the room, still with sleep in their inner eyes.
"Clio?" Her mum says, watching the way that her youngest daughter pries her wet top from her chest and wrings out her hair. Onto Clio's feet. "What are you doing here so early?"
"It's half eight." Clio shrugs. "That's not early. Besides, I need to talk to Clove."
"Early enough for a public holiday." Her dad scolds, landing his gaze on Clove before moving to Clio. "The reaping doesn't start until two, you can continue her training later on. She wasn't good enough to volunteer this year so you will have plenty of time to talk."
Clove rolls her eyes, pulling an athletic top and a dark pair of leggings from her wardrobe as her dad leaves the room with a huff. She'll have to change before the Reaping but she's not about to tear her new, expensive, white lace dress that is courtesy of her sister's new victor's payments. The sun is creeping higher and higher in the sky with every passing moment and they can both practically feel the tension in the air as the entire district seems to be holding their breath, waiting to bid goodbye to the two selected tributes. The younger girl rushes to throw on her clothes, ignoring the shouts from her parents and following her sister out of the door. They don't have to go far, walking quickly past the plaza in the centre of the city which is being decorated for the afternoon's reaping, and into Clio's house in Victor's Village. Clove trails behind her sister and she follows her down the stairs into her basement. In the month she spent on her victory tour after her win, the Capitol, funded by one of the highly-paid head gamemakers, converted her empty basement into a rage room fit with moving targets and a knife sharpening block.
"I know that the younger kids would die to be in here, given that you're like their new hero but then again most of them don't know that you're actually a huge bitch who enjoys ruining her sister's mornings off and depriving her of her desperately needed rest." Clio says, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why am I here and, you know, not asleep."
"I spoke to Ebony last night." Clio replies, watching as her sister freezes under her glare. "Is there anything you need to tell me?"
"Nope!" Clove chirps, reaching to pull one of the knives from the rack beside the targets, flipping it in her palm, eyes focused on the polished blade. "Nothing to tell you. So, if you'll just leave. Let me use this time-"
Clio pinches her nose between two fingers and Clove has to duck her head to hide the grin spreading across her face as she throws one of the knives at the stationary target on the wall. "I'm serious, Clove. You can't do this."
Clove freezes for a second, turning to face herself and looking closely at her sister. Dark circles are present under Clio's eyes, looking exhausted and tired as she looks at her baby sister in a way that could make her feel small under her gaze, despite the fact that the older sister is three inches shorter. She shrugs, attention returning back to one of the blades in her hand. "I'm more than ready. I'm nearly sixteen, and have had more than enough training. You don't learn anything past now anyway, otherwise they would never have let you and Cato volunteer."
"That's the point, Clove." Clio snaps, the fire returning back to her voice. "Just wait your turn and then you can receive the ultimate glory from winning a quarter quell. There'll be kids from District Twelve older than you."
"I don't see why it matters how old I am." Clove counters. "And you've been training me for the past eight months since your win. You've told me yourself that I'm good."
Clio puts her hands on her hips, scowling at her sister with eyes as cold as ice, just wishing that she would - for once - listen to her. The same scowl on her face that she wore all through her Games, fed up with the idiots she was allied with. "Can you please just trust Enobaria's judgement on this one."
"She let you go in at sixteen so no I won't trust her judgement until she gives me a reason why I can't. You're my sister, of course you don't want me stealing your limelight." Clove puts her hands on her hips, purposefully mirroring her older sister, spotting an eye roll from her when she realises what she's doing as she drops her arms back to her sides. Her grin only gets her another eye roll in response
"It's not about the bloody limelight Clove." Clio sighs, "It's about you not being ready for this."
"Now you sound like dad."
"You take that back!" Clio smacks her sister's bare upper arm with the back of her hand. "It's not that I don't think you are, it's just that if you didn't win the tribute trials you can't just go out there and volunteer. Sure, you placed first but you weren't given the role."
"Well, that is what you think, isn't it."
Clio narrows her eyes suspiciously at her sister who is trying her best to look innocent. To anyone else it would look like she's doing a pretty good job, but Clio knows her sister too well, and she's not buying it. "What I think," she says, slowly. "Is that you're not listening to a word I'm saying."
"I am!" The younger sister protests, watching Clio's lips twitch as she lets out a half-cough that sounds suspiciously like she's trying to hold back a laugh.
"Fine." Clio relents. "If Ebony hesitates for five seconds, which she won't by the way, then you can raise your hand."
"Deal-"
"And only if you can hit every single one of these targets." Clio cuts her off, pointing to the various targets around the room, holding a knife out in her palm.
Her sister takes the knife from her, and Clio moves to the far right hand corner of the room to start up the moving targets on the track that runs parallel to the door to the basement. She moves back to stand behind her sister, watching her every move as Clove assumes a stance that is both relaxed and ready, with her feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent just a touch and her shoulders square. Her gaze locks on the two moving targets and her muscles tense when she draws her arm back, knife becoming an extension of her right wrist. With a flick of the wrist, the knife spins gracefully through the air until it embeds itself with a satisfying thud into the wooden surface of the target and the track stops rolling and another knife is launched in the opposite direction in quick succession. Clove looks at her older sister for approval. Clio nods and silently gestures for her to go again. She does. And again. For at least two hours.
"How long has she been down here?" Cato says as he enters the basement level of his girlfriend's house, announcing his presence.
At the sound of another voice in the room, Clove spins on her heel and a knife leaves her hand, flying through the room towards Cato's head. Fortunately, having grown up with the two Kentwell girls, he has already predicted that a knife would more than likely be slung at his face and he has already twisted out of the way, and the knife lands in the wall. "What time is it?"
"Just gone eleven." He replies, moving to stand beside his girlfriend, who watches her sister's expression intently as if she can read her thoughts, and wraps an arm around her shoulder.
"Go home and get ready, Clover." Clio says as her sister turns off the target track. She glances her up and down as she turns back to start her walk home, choosing to ignore the disapproving scrunch of her nose at the nickname and gives her a soft squeeze on the shoulder. "I'll be home in a few weeks time and we can talk about next year."
"Butâ" Clove protests, eyebrows shooting up in indignation.
"No. I'm not just doing this for the sake of it, Clove. It's for your own good."
"But you saidâ" She tries again.
"I know what I said but fucking forget it, alright?" Clio snaps back, the hold she has on her infamous anger slipping slowly. "You're too young."
"I don't know how you can stand there and say that when the both of you volunteered at sixteen." Clove screams back, making her sister roll her eyes, and making the younger girl wish she could take a swing at her. She might, just to prove a point. "You both went and got all the fame and love at sixteen so why can't I? I'd turn sixteen in the arena!"
"Because you don't have to!" Clio yells, walking towards her sister as she stands on the first stair. Her voice is quieter when she continues. "I have enough money to support you for the rest of your life. You can come and live with me and you can learn to cook properly like you want to. You don't have to go in to prove dad wrong. Who cares what he thinks?"
Clove takes the dismissal for what it is and heads up the stairs, ignoring the footsteps of the two victors behind her; purposefully ignoring her sister. She continues to ignore Clio as she walks through the kitchen, not even flinching at the sight of a giant basket of cinnamon rolls on the island that wasn't there earlier in the morning. "See you at the Reaping, Cato." She says and slams the door behind her.
Summary: Clio's first year as a mentor was always supposed to be easy; lapping up attention in the Capitol and learning the ropes of securing sponsorships. She was never supposed to be helping her sister through the ins and outs of the arena, but what's done is done. She'll just have to make sure the nation is ready for their second Kentwell sister in succession.
Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the nature of content in some of the chapters. Not really any warnings relevant for this chapter. Maybe the threat of stabbing?
Word Count: 3.7k
A/N: Hello hello, I've finally got around the posting the first chapter of book 2, which is technically a prequel but I prefer my order because I just love building suspense. Friendly reminder that this is a Cato fic so obviously I'm not going to be subjecting my mans to the dogs (I'm not that cruel), and so the name of the male tribute is completely made up but also somewhat developed (you'll see ;) )
Second reminder to read book one (A Game Called Revenge) first for the intended order.
"The tributes representing District Two in the seventy-fourth Hunger Games are..." The district mayor says slowly, watching as every academy member hangs on his every word and the parents of the potential tributes each wait impatiently for the decision. "Ebony Stein and Ajax Dumont."
Cheers fill the square as the chosen volunteers walk to the front of the plaza to shake hands with the mayor after he pats them both on the back. Ebony looks confused, the seventeen year old failing to hide the bewilderment of being selected on her face as she looks between the line of twenty girls and the automated scoreboard above her. In each of her trials, the young girl has placed second and the board providing a summary of the trials also has her sitting in second, only behind the fifteen year old Clove Kentwell. The same fifteen year old who is staring daggers into Ebony's head as she takes in the praise she is surrounded with. Ajax, on the other hand is smiling ear to ear and his father can be seen with his hands in the air celebratorily. The young children in the temporarily erected stands are clapping for their volunteers whilst the mayor speaks about the two tributes who have the potential to bring the victory home from District Two for the third year running. No one mentions the scoreboards whilst the two tributes choose their mentors for their last three months of training. To no one's surprise, Ajax chooses Brutus but doesn't fail to mention that he wants Cato to help him and Ebony chooses Enobaria. The expressions worn on the line of the unselected make it evident that this year, as with every other year in the past twenty, someone will try to take out the volunteers so that they can be replaced. "You may return to your homes, the Academy will remain open for those of you who live in the outskirts of the district but I encourage you to spend time with your families if you can."
As the lines file out, Clio watches out of the corner of her eye as her sister stands to the side of the plaza to wait for her and after excusing herself from the various district officials, she approaches. "Clove..."
"I placed first!" She declares in frustration, one hand pointing harshly in the direction of the scoreboard. "I thought you and Enobaria wanted me to continue what you started."
"Of course we do, but it's not always the worst thing to wait another year. Trust me, Enobaria always overrides the scoreboard for a reason."
Clove rolls her eyes as she retorts, "but I'm not in love with Ajax so it's not like it matters to me who I volunteer alongside."
"Ajax has been waiting to volunteer for three years." Clio reminds her, hoping that making a demonstration of the boy's patience will help her sister snap out of her anger; she hopes that refreshing Clove's memory of the fuss the boy kicked up when he wasn't chosen last year will help her realise that having to wait isn't the end of the world. But she also understands how she is feeling, remembering back to two years ago when she threw heated words at Enobaria after the mentors decided to switch up the partnerships and send Cato into the arena with Thalia instead of her. Several of the other girls and boys who weren't selected stand beside them, clustered in small groups and surrounded by family.
"Clio, sweetie, I am so happy to see you," the Kentwell matriarch muses as approaches, her voice warm and light. The woman is beautiful as always but both sisters can easily detect the coldness in her eyes as she tries to bring her eldest daughter into a hug. "You didn't come around on your birthday, you must still be too busy for little old me."
Her words, to the outsiders around them, seem lighthearted and teasing but Clio knows better. She was putting on a show to the other prominent families. The truth is, Clio hasn't spoken to either of her parents in the two months since her victory tour; only conversing with them once or twice since she returned from the arena, yet here she was casting the same old doubts that shrinks Clio back to the little girl would refuse to use up her homestay days at the academy or hiding in her childhood bedroom for afternoons at a time in hopes of not seeing her parents. "We have to go," Clio says as she looks into her mother's eyes. She wonders if she has ever loved her at all, or if she has always been just a means to receive glory and fame within the district and all of Panem.
"She's supposed to be sleeping at home tonight." Her mother addresses Clove indirectly, her lips tightening as her eyes bore into Clio's.
"We have to go." Clove repeats her sister's words, head barely turning in her mother's direction.
"She said that already." Their mother snaps as the façade falls from her face, turning her into the cold hearted bitch who raised two equally as stone cold girls with a thirst for blood and an innate need to prove themselves. She shrugs as if her daughters are inconveniencing her as she snaps her fingers to prompt them to answer.
Clove is the one to answer, watching carefully as her mother and older sister stare each other down. "We're going to go and train some more whilst the others head home. I'm going to stay at Clio's tonight but I'll have to come grab some of my clothes from my room."
"Well, don't let me stop you. Clio, darling, it would be nice if you could pay us a visit some time too."
Clio rolls her eyes as they walk the short distance to the training halls of the academy. Several of the younger children playing outside the building almost part like the sea to make room for Clio to walk through, as they have the past year. Being a victor has its perk, one of which is having access to the white cinder-block training facilities, and Clio leans towards the security system for it to scan her identity via the recognition of her retina. Flashing green, the magnet releases the heavy, stone door inside. The building is deserted as they walk through the corridors, an unnatural silence replacing the clang of weapons that are present on most days in the academy. They pass through the giant double doors hidden behind the stone staircase, leaving them to shut on their own behind them as the sisters walk straight into the top left hand corner of the centre; both scoffing at the large, professional portrait from her victory tour hanging on the wall. The gold foil of the crown reflects the lighting into the late afternoon as they each pick several blades from the rack beside the target. Without looking at the target, the two of them each throw a knife into the dummies opposite them, glancing over once they hear them hit the figures. Each landing dead centre, Clove's in the middle of the chest whereas Clio's hits the space between the eyebrows. Her signature. Clio's knife hit the target slightly earlier than her sister's but she isn't going to mention that. Not today.
"You didn't have to join me." Clio says. "I'm not going to be here long, I just needed to let out some of my anger after that conversation with our wonderful mother."
"I wanted to stay behind with you. There's no point going and speaking with Ebony yet. Now are we going to throw knives or just stand here?" Clove responds.
"I'd hate to show you up, but I suppose you could do with the practice." Clio smiles sarcastically when her sister rolls her eyes. She slings her knives at the target board. Each one they both throw hits the middle of their respective targets precisely.
"Hey!" The younger sister objects to Clio's words a few seconds after they sink in, turning towards her to ask her a question. "Instead of hogging my time, I want you to try and distract me while I throw."
Clio doesn't even blink at Clove's request. The two sisters have gone through the same routine every day for the past year because learning to ignore potential distraction is something Clove needs. Clio knows that behind the confident front her sister puts up, her emotions can sometimes leave her slightly off her game; which is a vital aspect of why Enobaria has decided that she needs another year of training before entering the arena. She'll be more than ready by the time the Quarter Quell rolls around. Following her sister's instruction, Clio walks to the side of the throwing station, standing to the left of the dummy that is Clove's target for the next hour, watching her sister launch the knives directly into the centre over and over again. Now in her line of sight, Clio removes the patched jacket from around her upper body and waves it in front of the target.
Clove's concentration wavers for just a moment, her brow furrowing as she registers the distraction. Clio continues to twirl the jacket, the bright red hues dancing through the air in a vibrant contrast to the monotonous black and white of the training room; as the atmosphere hums with the rhythmic swish of the knives and the dull thuds of them finding their mark on the dummies. Just as she raises another knife, poised for the next throw, Clio shouts a loud interjection. The sound catches Clove's attention just as she lets go of the knife, and the weapon hits to the right of the centre, causing Clove to curse.
"Hey, it would've still been more than enough for a kill." Clio reminds her when she recognises the scowl on her sister's face, moving to stand in front of the target and lifting her arms above her head, connecting her hands to make a gap for Clove to aim at. "Throw it again."
Clove throws the knife directly into the space between Clio's head and her hands, landing just centimetres above her ponytail pressed against the target. She knows that Clove would never throw the knife at her face. Her aim is far too good to actually kill her. And it's not like she wouldn't catch it anyway. Okay maybe I wouldn't catch it, Clio laughs to herself, but I'd at least I would see it coming and be able to move.Â
"Now come on," Clio laughs as she pulls the knife out from the space above head. "I've got a birthday meal to have."
Clove sighs but places the knives back on the weapons rack. "I better go and collect my stuff from mum and dad."
"I have stuff you can use." Clio nudges her sister as they leave the academy's training facility, trying to swerve them in the direction of Victor's Village.
"No offence, Clio." Clove starts with a laugh, "but the twelves could fit into your clothes. I'd much rather be comfortable in my own stuff."
Clio relents, allowing Clove to steer them back towards the road which leads them to their parent's house. The walk down the cobbled stone paths of the richer area of District Two's capital, past all the white stone houses and perfectly crafted gardens. Their neighbours stand at the corner of the street, waving enthusiastically to the sisters as they walk and causing Clio to have to craftily avoid conversation by quickly explaining that they're visiting their parents for a little while and promising to return if they're still speaking once they are finished. Satisfied with her answer, the neighbours allow them to continue down the street until the familiar sight of lavender that edges the border of her parent's land. They walk up the stone steps and push the door open slowly, careful not to slam or rattle the door frame so as not to anger their parents any more than necessary. The scent of pinewood candles fills their noses as they walk through the foyer and begin to head towards the staircase when a shout comes from the living room. "Clove!"
Clove steps backwards off the first stair and follows the sound of her dad's voice into the living room; Clio following a few paces behind. As they enter they find their parents relaxing on the couch whilst a trashy Capitol provided television programme plays in the background.
"Dad." Clove says. "What's upâ"
"Clove Sevina Kentwell." Their father bellows her full name, still leaning against the couch with his arms stretched across the back. "I honestly cannot believe you. I can't believe that after everything we've talked about in the past year, you continue to disappoint us."
"I don't know what you're talking about, dad. I placed first in the trials, I'm not sure what else I could have done to have them pick me."
"Something is missing if the mentors don't think you're good enough to be selected. I thought we went over this?" Their dad's worse is hoarse and disgusted as he spits the words out, turning to look at his youngest daughter.
"I'mâ I'm sorry, dad!" Clove stutters slightly under the scrutiny of her parents.
"Are you lazy, Clove? Tell me, are you lazy in training?"
"No!" The youngest Kentwell protests, "I try my hardest everyday, I thought that placing first would prove that."
"It did nothing but suggest that you won't ever be ready to volunteer. Your skills are slipping, don't think we didn't notice you were off on three of your throws. We left after that but I bet your performance with the spears was just as mediocre, worse probably. Have you even been attending your training?" Their father shouts whilst their mother nods her head in agreement, silently judging her daughter.
Clove sniffles, blinking back the tears that are threatening to spill past her waterline and hoping that neither of her parents would catch her emotions and call her disgusting for having them. "I have, of course I have!"
"You're not good enough Clove, you need to do better!" Her mum voices her opinions for the first time. "You'll never be able to win if you can't convince them to let you volunteer."
"There must be something wrong with you if your own sister didn't give you the vote of confidence." Their dad hisses.
"There's nothing wrong with her." Clio snaps, making her parents turn their head to look at her standing in the door frame. "I don't have the power to make all the decisions. I only won last year, so my words don't carry much weight."
"Who do you think you're talking to?"
"I'm talking to the people who have done nothing but treat my sister like shit ever since I won. Forget me, I don't care what you've said to me but don't try telling her that I don't believe in her." Clio says, the calmness of her voice scaring her sister slightly. She reaches into the pocket of her jacket and throws a small bundle of bills onto the coffee table. "Take my money and lay off her."
"Treating her like shit?" The man scoffs. "We're trying to toughen her up. What do you think we've been doing your whole lives? It worked well enough with you, you're a victor right now because of everything we did to help you and so you have no right to speak to us that way."
Clio chuckles darkly as she looks up at the ceiling. "When I first started at the academy, all I ever wanted to do was make the two of you proud, but you know what? I'm fucking done now. This is exactly why I didn't bother coming to visit you on my birthday. Do you even have any idea how old we are?"
"Iâ Nineâ no, eighteen." Her mother stammers.
"Seventeen yesterday, mother," Clio rolls her eyes. "And Clove is only fifteen."
"Fifteen is plenty old enough to become a victor." Their father chooses to ignore Clio's admission of their ages as he instead focuses on the topic of Finnick Odair's winning age yet again. As their father turns to face the television screen once more, Clio nudges her sister and motions for her to quickly escape the room so she can head upstairs and pack a bag with enough for a few nights stay in Victor's Village.
"You're supposed to love and care for us yet all you wish for is another victor. I'm not your child, I'm just a paycheck." Clio picks up the wad of cash from the coffee table, swatting away her father's hand as he tries to grab her wrist. To prevent her from removing her money no doubt. "I don't owe you anything, fuck you."
As she reaches the front door, Clove appears at the bottom of the stairs, with a small duffel bag in her hand; half zipped up and jumper sleeves spilling out over the sides. Ignoring her parents' shouts, Clio grabs her sister by the hand and pulls her out of the door and down the stone steps, through the lavender bushes and they run across the cobbled stone paths that lead them towards Victor's Village. Once they pass the dark, wrought iron gates at the bottom of the little village, they run down to the eleventh house in the cul-de-sac, immediately pushing open the door to Clio's new home. Inside, Clove heads straight upstairs to claim the large spare bedroom that she usually sleeps in by throwing her duffel bag onto the mattress whilst her older sister steps into her kitchen. There's a cinnamon roll with a candle placed on the middle of her kitchen island, and she laughs to herself before realising that everything has been put neatly away and that her sister hasn't joined her in the kitchen. A small shuffling noise from the direction of the living room catches her attention and she instinctively pulls out her knife from the heel of her boots, poising herself for an attack if necessary.
Slowly she walks out of her kitchen and through the open frame leading her towards the sofa. The room is in complete darkness but before she can flick the lights on, a chorus of voices call out "surprise!"
The dagger in her left hand flies across the room, embedding itself into the stone wall at the far end of the living room, and then the lights flash on and she is greeted by several familiar faces who finally pop out from around the room. Cato, Clove, Brutus, Enobaria as well as Cato's mum and sister gather around the couch, each with a bright smile. Clio can see there are two huge balloons shaped 17 and red and gold party streamers adorn the book shelves and walls.
"I told you this would happen." Clove laughs, running to engulf her sister in a hug. "Never try and surprise Clio."
"We're just lucky we didn't stand up any earlier." Brutus chuckles, waving away the little concern in the room.
"Did you organise all of this?" Clio narrows her eyes jokingly at Cato once she realises what is going on.
"I had five helpers but most of it was me." He replies, walking to her side and allowing her to wrap her arms around him. "It's not big and I wanted to do this yesterday." He directs a glare at Enobaria. "But I promise that we'll go all out next year for eighteen."
"How did you manage to not tell me about this? You tell me everything." Clio sighs in disbelief, shaking her head before looking up to meet his eyes. "How long have you had this up your sleeve?"
"Hardest two weeks of my life." He teases, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Don't forget that they kept it from you too."
"You're all amazing. I don't know how all of you kept me in the dark for that long." Clio compliments, for once feeding their egos and thinking to herself about how they better savour this moment because compliments from her don't come often. "But what's so special about seventeen?"
"It's your first birthday as a victor." Enobaria explains, appearing from behind Clio and pulling her away from Cato and into her own hug. "It's the first year since I chose you that you actually have more birthdays guaranteed."
"Oh, I was always going to win." Clio laughs, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
Enobaria shakes her head but a small laugh escapes her lips as she squeezes Clio a little tighter for a second before letting her leave her grasp and turn back to the others. Clio gives everyone in the room a short hug, thanking them all again before she approaches Cato again. "Seriously, is all this because it's my first victor's birthday? You had yours in the Capitol, didn't you?"
He nods. "I did but I thought you'd much prefer to share a cinnamon roll with your sister than be surrounded by all those people again. Besides, we've spent the last ten years watching the tribute trials on your birthday, and then competing in them so it's not like we could just leave to party, unfortunately."
"I'm not sharing the cinnamon roll." Clio protests quickly before agreeing with him. "You're right, I would. I think I can get over my celebrations being a day late if they're always like this."
"Being the sibling of a victor makes you a liability. The gamemakers will make certain that Clove has an interesting games in order to avoid the appearance of any favouritism."
"You've got to be shitting me!"
Clio's first year as a mentor was always supposed to be easy; lapping up attention in the Capitol and learning the ropes of securing sponsorships. She was never supposed to be helping her sister through the ins and outs of the arena, but what's done is done. She'll just have to make sure the nation is ready for their second Kentwell sister in succession.
Book Two of Five - ONGOING
Read Book One HERE
Book Two in the Cato Hadley X OC "Game" series.
Takes place in the 74th Hunger Games.
This may also be posted on my AO3 and wattpad accounts under the same username: twobraincellkentwell.
READ ON AO3 HERE.
MASTERLIST
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN
PART EIGHT
PART NINE
PART TEN
PART ELEVEN
PART TWELVE
PART THIRTEEN
PART FOURTEEN
PART FIFTEEN
PART SIXTEEN
PART SEVENTEEN
PART EIGHTEEN
PART NINETEEN
PART TWENTY
PART TWENTY-ONE
PART TWENTY-TWO
PART TWENTY-THREE
PART TWENTY-FOUR
PART TWENTY-FIVE
PART TWENTY-SIX
RELATED WORKS
Prequel (74th Games)
Main Story (75th Games)
Prequel (73rd and 72nd Games)
Sequel (76th Games ;) onwards)
IMPORTANT SERIES INFORMATION
The timeline has clearly been altered for this series. Cato wins the 72nd and Clio wins the 73rd. A side relationship with Luna and Finnick is also featured.
This story is mainly set in the 74th Hunger Games (Capitol and Viewing Room) but obviously involves some chapters and scenes in the relevant districts. I'm using some canon and it will largely follow the plotline of both the first book and movie, but I'm going wildly off script given that the books aren't written from Katniss' POV and since she isn't the most reliable narrator when it comes to things outside of District 12, I've given myself lots of creative freedom and created lots of relevant district lore.
This book started out as a short fic but ended up turning into a whole series. I am planning on having five books revolving around Clio and Cato so you'll just have to trust the process a little. Yes the order of having the Quarter Quell in the first book is a little unusual, I promise it will all make sense in the end ;).
Right I know I said it was time BUT itâs officially my birthday (Iâm now the age that Finnick was in the Quarter Quell how disgusting) and so this weekend Iâm having a few minutes off from writing just to enjoy myself and go to the arcades with my best friend and loml.
Iâll publish book two (A Game Of False Fates - the prequel) on monday or tuesday.
If you canât wait then the first twenty eight chapters are up on AO3/wattpad alreadyâŚ
I think the Hunger Games series sits in a similar literary position to The Lord of the Rings, as a piece of literature (by a Catholic author) that sparked a whole new subgenre and then gets blamed for flaws that exist in the copycat books and arenât actually part of the original.
Like, despite what parodies might say, Katniss is nowhere near the stereotypical âunqualified teenager chosen to lead a rebellion for no good reasonâ. The entire point is that sheâs not leading the rebellion. Sheâs a traumatized teenager who has emotional reactions to the horrors in her society, and is constantly being reined in by more experienced adults who have to tell her, âNo, this is not how you fight the government, you are going to get people killed.â Sheâs not the upstart teenager showing the brainless adults what to doâsheâs a teenager being manipulated by smarter and more experienced adults. She has no power in the rebellion except as a useful piece of propaganda, and the entire trilogy is her straining against that role. Itâs much more realistic and far more nuanced than anyone who dismisses it as âstereotypical YA dystopianâ gives it credit for.
And the misconceptions donât end there. The Hunger Games has no âstereotypical YA love triangleââyes, there are two potential love interests, but the romance is so not the point. Thereâs a war going on! Katniss has more important things to worry about than boys! The romance was never about her choosing between two hot boysâitâs about choosing between two diametrically opposed worldviews. Will she choose anger and war, or compassion and peace? Of course a trilogy filled with the horrors of war ends with her marriage to the peace-loving Peeta. Unlike some of the YA dystopian copycats, the romance here is part of the message, not just something to pacify readers who expect âhot love trianglesâ in their YA.Â
The worldbuilding in the Hunger Games trilogy is simplistic and not realistic, but unlike some of her imitators, Collins does this because she has something to say, not because sheâs cobbling together a grim and gritty dystopia thatâs âsimilar to the Hunger Gamesâ. The worldbuilding has an allegorical function, kept simple so we can see beyond it to what Collins is really sayingâand itâs nothing so comforting as âwe need to fight the evil people who are ruining societyâ. The Capitolâs not just the powerful, greedy bad guysâthe Capitol is us, First World America, living in luxury while we ignore the problems of the rest of the world, and thinking of other nations largely in terms of what resources we can get from them. This simplistic world is a sparsely set stage that lets us explore the larger themes about exploitation and war and the horrors people will commit for the sake of their bread and circuses, meant to make us think deeper about what separates a hero from a villain.
Thereâs a reason these books became a literary phenomenon. Thereâs a reason that dozens upon dozens of authors attempted to imitate them. But these imitators canât capture that same genius, largely because theyâre trying to imitate the trappings of another book, and failing to capture the larger and more meaningful message underneath. Make a copy of a copy of a copy, and youâll wind up with something far removed from the original masterpiece. But we shouldnât make the mistake of blaming those flaws on the original work.
WAIT IâVE JUST REALISED THAT I NEVER POSTED THESE PHOTOS ON HERE!!
I present you⌠Alexander Ludwig with myself (dressed as Clove). Doing my service to the clato fandom one photo op as a time!! And with my best friend (our Katniss - yes sheâd got roasted, no she didnât mind)
I know Iâm knee deep in about 3 series right now but wanted to gauge if theres any interest for a Bridgerton AU, either Hunger Games (Finnick, Cato, Marvel, Gloss, Peeta ?) or maybe even Slytherin boys (any of them). Would anyone be interested, Iâve been thinking about it for a while. Probably stand-alones.
The final moments in the hovercraft before they're taken someplace else, poles away from each other.
Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the nature of content in some of the chapters. Murder and death. Mentions of sex probably.
Word Count: 2.7k
A/N: Here we have it, the last chapter of this fic and an ending that is hopefully a surprise (I aimed for suspense lmao) and I promise I'll get on publishing the prequel as soon as possible. I want to just say my usuals, I have a favourite line so if you can find it then let me know :) reblogs, shares and comments always appreciated.
Screams ring through her ears.
Shooting straight upright on the floor, Clio struggles to regain her breath which escapes in explosive gaps from her lips, fighting viciously against the sedative being pumped into her body. She grasps the space beside her, looking for the comfort of Cato's body but her hands come up empty and the events of the past few days come flooding into her mind sickeningly quickly. She grasps tightly at large handfuls of her hair as she hears the screams of agony, only barely managing to hear the insults the screaming girl is throwing at someone in the adjacent room. Steady, metronomic beeps in the background, sounding wildly when she yanks at the needle and tubing in her right arm. Blood comes spurting from the puncture wound as she fights the effects of her drugging while adrenaline surges through her body to enable her to reach for the gauze and micropore tape on a silver side table beside the machines and tapes it to her arm as she pushes to her feet in preparation to meet the footsteps now pounding down the hallway head on.
The glass door slides open with a loud squeak as four guards storm the room, each in a form-fitting, lightweight black bodysuit covered by hard-panelled exoskeleton vests. They're unarmed, something Clio notices the instant they step inside, and the guard at the back presses a button on the wall beside the door to fix it shut, trapping them inside the room. The four guards came to halt in front of the glass panels that separate her location, from the main area of the hovercraft as if they want to make a show of incapacitating her before they encircle her with tense muscles. Clio stands tall, grabbing the needle she ripped from her arm that was abandoned on one the chairs and reaches for the lone pair of small nurses bandage scissors in an open container before kicking it to the side. The first of the guards lunges forwards, fist flying with blinding speed in an effort to hurt and disorientate her while the second reaches for something in his pocket. She dodges the punch, making use of her short stature to duck under the man's arm, countering with a strong kick to send him staggering backwards before turning her attention to the second guard; running the short distance towards him and kicking at his arm. The man is caught off guard and he drops the needle, likely filled with a sedative, to the ground. Clio quickly stomps on the sharp, sending liquid spilling out onto the floor around her, and shoving the man forcefully so that he loses his footing on the slippery surface and falls to his back, allowing her to send a fast kick to his chest which makes him flail and knock his head on one of the chair. Another of the guards makes his way towards her and she takes a low blow, kicking the man in his groin before driving her elbow into his windpipe when he doubles over in pain. With two of the guards on the floor, the fourth guard sneaks up on Clio from behind, grabbing at her shoulder and bending slightly to administer the sedative to her neck.
"Fuck." A jab hits the guards chest, hard over his armour. "Off." She punctuates her sentence with a shift spin in his hold and forces her thumbs into his eye sockets. Watching another syringe tumble to the floor she kicks the man again and his body hits the floor with enough force to break the vessel on impact and he screams in pain. The one remaining guard lunges at her again, outstretching to grab at her sides, when she sidesteps quickly and uses the force of her body weight to slam the large man into the glass. With his large size she struggles to keep him immobile against the divider, instead she reaches into his pocket to retrieve the sedative and pierces the skin of his neck. The man crumples the floor with a thud as his world fades to black. One of the guards on the floor has managed to crawl to the button by the door, pressing it twice to trigger some kind of emergency response and making red lights flash throughout the area. Kicking at the man's chest once more, Clio pushes the palm of her hand against the button to silence the alarm. She steadies herself before walking along the wall, before entering the main area where the shouts have now ceased when the doors whoosh open.
The low rumblings of conversation are immediately cut off when three heads turn to face her. Beetee, in a wheelchair, Finnick and Plutarch loiter around the control table of the hovercraft which has three red dots flickering in the same location and the coordinates of important spots in the Capitol highlighted with yellow boxes. Plutarch is still dressed in a three piece suit, whilst Finnick and Beetee are dressed in what she can only describe as slate grey hospital gowns, with their wrists and forearms strapped with white bandage wrapping, yet they still hiss slightly when they move.
"Do any of you want to tell me where the fuck I am and why the fuck I'm here?" She shouts, "I'm not involved in your stupid little plan so you can fucking drop me and Cato off in Two."
"We can't do that-" Beetee tells us softly.
"You can!" She yells, letting out a crazed laugh as she walks towards the table and scouring the buttons. "You press one of these buttons and direct this fucking hovercraft so we can go home."
"Clio-"
"You're a fucking liar, Finnick. You sat in on our alliance meeting and let me talk about how much I want to kill her only to stab us all in the back with your fucking trident." Her voice is shrill, breaking slightly from the volume but she couldn't care less as she continues. "It was my right!"
"I understand that, Clio but this isn't about you anymore. I had a commitment to this rebellion, and I couldn't let you do that." Finnick is unmoved, voice cold and stoic, whilst Clio's anger is like a raging current.
She can hear the thud of her heart in her ears, the tips of them red hot as she tries to breathe deeply to calm herself down; to try and understand Finnick's logic to protect someone he only properly met a few months ago over some of his friends no matter how flawed she believed it to be - least she thought they were friends. Now she isn't so sure.
"She was mine to kill." Clio seethes, her voice deep and almost unrecognisable as she strains not to let her anger explode through her throat.
"It had to be like this." Finnick offers with a clench of his brow.
"You expect me to believe that?" Sarcasm oozes from her as if it was second nature. As easily as her aggression does. "I've only ever asked for one thing from you, Finnick. You promised I could be the one to do it!"
"I didn't promise anything, Clio." Finnick takes a deep breath, his sea-green eyes flickering with some kind of pain, from what she isn't sure. "I'm sorry but I had to give Plutarch intel on your plan and couldn't risk exposing him."
"I knew I should've told Snow about this stupid thing the second I could. That's why I'm here isn't it?"
"Yes." Beetee answers curtly, raising a hand to try and placate her. "You knew too much about the plan for us to risk anything."
"So you fucking kidnapped me to, what? Prove a point?" she scoffs, running her hands through her hair as she paces backwards.
"You should be thanking us, Clio." Plutarch says, "If we had left you behind I can promise you that you'd be dead if Snow found that you knew."
"I'm not a fucking rebel!" She shouts. "I don't want to be here. I never have, don't you get it? I was going to die in that arena so just fucking drop me off before I tear your head from your neck."
"We can't." Beetee reinforces.
"You should be grateful we rescued you. Your boyfriend's little speech about the two of you not choosing to fight together has the beginnings of an anarchist written all over it." Plutarch tells her. "You would be begging to be killed with whatever torture the Capitol has in store for the rest of the rebels."
"The rest of them?"
The room falls silent as the three around the control panel all nod solemnly, their stances softening slightly at the head gamemakers revelation that they left behind some of the members of their team, their rebellion.
"They have Peeta." Finnick confesses, "and Johanna."
Her eyes widen, if they left their symbol's loverboy to be tortured and killed then there's not a chance they're letting her go home now and expose where they are hiding out.
"Where's Cato?" She questions.
"Clio-" Finnick tries.
Voice wavering, she tries again. "Cato. Where is he?"
"In the Capitol."
"You fucking cunt!" She screams as she launches herself full force at the ex-gamemaker, her nails coming to grip the man's throat before two hands wrap themselves underneath her arms and lift her off the floor away from her intended target. They took him. She flashes an angry look towards the man and towards Beetee who is watching with frantic eyes at the scene unfolding before him. "He's going to die. You've left him to fucking die!"
"If you're not the rebels we claim you are, then there's no reason to be worried." Plutarch spits out, clutching desperately at his throat and trying to find the location of the stinging cut that has been left by the sharp points of her nails.
"They're going to think he knows something because you took me. I look involved," she snarls, writhing in Finnick's tight grip as she fights to reach the man. To kill him. "They're going to kill him."
"There's no changing what happened but if you hadn't split up we might have been able to rescue you both. I'm sorry." Finnick tries.
She turns attention to him, struggling in his hold as she turns her head. Is he blaming me? She thinks, mouth hanging agape she tries to find the words, or even a sound that could come close enough to the anger she felt. Close enough to the sense of betrayal. She goes to take another stride towards Plutarch when Finnick's grip loosens marginally but his hands stop her as they come to rest firmly on her shoulders.
"Get off me," She spits, shaking off his hold and looking between the three of them, their figures becoming a blur as tears start to well in her eyes. Blinking them away as soon as she feels them, her voice cracks. "How could you, Finnick?" Her face crumples. "I trusted you. He was your friend!"
"Is..." Finnick says softly, "He is my friend."
"He was because he's good enough as fucking dead now anyway."
"Look I know it might not make sense right now, but we did what we could." Beetee says.
Clio shakes her head, her frown deepening as she steps away from her once friend, ready to go and find a high enough dose of sedative to knock herself out, maybe enough to kill her. It's then her attention is drawn to the far corner of the room where a tense Haymitch struggles to restrain a frustrated Katniss as the second round of sedation wears off; and who Clio now realises was the source of the scream that woke her up. He holds her back by her wrists while she kicks violently at his legs and claws at his arms so viciously that blood drips to pool by their feet. She is screaming again. The sound of her voice is piercing as she screams incoherently about how they left Peeta, her words slightly slurred from the sedative.
"I hate you." Clio hisses as Finnick snakes his arms underneath hers again to restrain her from attacking the symbol of their rebellion.
"The feelings mutual, sweetheart." Haymitch retorts, waving his hand in the direction of the others as he tries to hold Katniss back. "I did not advocate for your rescue, that was all them."
Katniss is the one shouting now, her voice breaking under the stress, "You saved her? Over Peeta?"
"You can drop the act, love. He's not here."
"Letting her go was never an option once she found out about the plan. It was the best option for all of us. She will remain in District Thirteen under the constant surveillance of guards until we have decided what to do with her." Plutarch answers for.
"What to do with me? I'm not some fucking cattle you can just decide to slaughter!" Clio laughs, "And by the way, you might want to get some better guards because there's four of them in the other room, probably unconscious or dead by now."
Plutarch swears under his breath, scurrying through the doors to go and check on the incapacitated guards in the next room over, while Clio delivers a swift kick to the side of Finnick's legs; bringing the man to his knees as she sees angry, pulsating red. The young woman from Twelve manages to break free from Haymitch's hold, only to be slammed into the metal wall of the hovercraft by her throat. Clio's left hand wraps around the base of the mockingjay's throat as she uses all her upper body strength to keep her pinned to the wall when her skull bounces against the metal.
"It's all your fucking fault!" She screams into her face, kicking at the taller girl's knees so that her feet dangle from the floor and all her weight is being supported by Clio's palm against her windpipe. "Why won't you just fucking die! I swear I'll do it right now."
Katniss shakes her head as frantically as she can with her range of movement obstructed by Clio's strength, an utterance of a 'please' slipping from her mouth.
"You took everything from me!" Clio continues to shout, "You couldn't have just killed the bread boy like you were supposed to or just been fucking grateful for once in your life?"
Katniss begins to claw at her hand, drawing blood as she desperately tries to break free and communicate with Finnick and Haymitch who are attempting to pull Clio off of her to no avail as they fear that the woman will rip her throat out if they even attempt to use her short stature against her and lift her off the ground. Katniss gasps for air, collapsing to the floor and grasping her neck in reprieve as she wills the air to return to her lungs. Finnick, careful not to further anger an already enraged Clio, gently places her feet back down on the floor as Katniss stands again, "I was just trying to survive."
"Oh boo fucking hoo, Everdeen." Clio mocks, "The world doesn't revolve around you and your desperate attempts to steal everyone's personality."
"I didn't-"
"Cato is gone. My parents are dead. Clove is dead!" Clio screams, willing herself not to let tears fall with her anger.
"Clove was a cruel, sociopathic narcissist that enjoyed the thrill of killing children." Haymitch rasps.
"She was a child. You're conveniently forgetting she was fifteen."
"She was a menace to society and I'm glad she's dead." He snarls back
Finnick's hands clutch Clio's shoulders once more, as Haymitch takes a step back from the girl lunging towards him with a venomous glint in her eyes.
"Don't you fucking speak about her." Clio shouts, pointing her finger at Haymitch.
"She tried to kill me. You tried to kill me." Katniss protests. "Besides I didn't kill her, Thresh did."
"And then Ajax killed him and you killed Ajax. Don't you think I know how it happened? I've watched it nearly everyday for the past year." When Katniss looks shocked, Clio continues, jabbing her finger angrily in Katniss' direction.
"She was my sister. MY SISTER! Not yours, not anyone else's. Mine. And you're the reason she's dead!"
