The Hunger Games: Entropy (A Clato Fanfiction: NTI Series, Book 2)

Chapter 4

CATO'S POV

As I sit in silence and let my heart rate return to normal on one of the benches nearing the sparring ring, I notice a few scrapes on my arms that don't need serious medical attention. Probably from the abrasions I received while fighting.

I head over to the nearby water fountain and grab a quick drink, knowing that I haven’t had anything to drink in hours. Doing all of this Victor stuff in one day feels just as difficult as training.

I then open one of the vaults in the side wall and withdraw a small roll of bandaging and antiseptic, making sure to carefully patch up the wounds on my limbs. Battle scars are badges of honor, but infections are no laughing matter. They're not uncommon in training academies because of trainers that forget to clean up after some clumsy tribute bleeds out during an accident.

I also grab a roll of duct tape and wrap it around my forearm in order to remove any shards of ceramic material wedged into my flesh. I prepare for the pain sure to follow and yank the tape off with brute force.

**********

After I endure the painful sensations that go with pulling a bunch of hair off my arm, I proceed to wrap up the remaining wounds.

I'll probably have to let the remaining shards fall out on their own. Not fun stuff.

Straker and Kreiger return with Brutus to the ring, allowing him to lean on their shoulders.

They certainly did a good job patching up his nose, despite the obvious evidence of his injury. At least he’s back on his feet again.

I approach them with caution, still wondering why they dragged me into an organized and lawless fight with my own mentor. Both of them let go of Brutus to greet me.

“Well done, broski,” Straker offers me a half-hug.

“Killed it, dude!” Kreiger rejoices, patting me on the shoulder. “Welcome to the club, kid. You’re in.” He offers me his hand.

“What was that all about?” I demand. “I never signed up to fight my own mentor.”

“Oh, the fight?” Straker answers. “That’s for Brutus to tell you. He'd like to see you.”

Both of them let me go as I prepare to stand ground with my mentor turned sparring partner. I feel uncomfortable approaching him after he attacked me.

“You alright?” I hesitantly approach Brutus, his face covered in a layer of white fabric and a couple of visible scratches. I think I broke his nose with that last kick.

I almost wish I hadn't done it, but he was the one that threw the first punch. That makes me 0% responsible.

“A little shaken,” he replies, “but nothing I can’t handle.”

At least he didn't take it poorly.

“Why didn't you say anything about a hazing before now?” I try my best to get to the bottom of this spur-of-the-moment sparring session.

“It’s our little secret, boy,” he explains. “We honor the precedent that Marcus and Jonas set for us so many years ago. It’s also our way of fully initiating you and other newly-crowned victors into our circle.” They must have done this with everyone else that returned home.

“You mean the first two victors of District 2?”

“Right, boy.”                                             

“But I didn't really want to fight you,” I assert myself, trying my best to show him some respect.

“It's tradition, boy. If we told you about the fight itself, you may have chickened out on us. We couldn’t have you doing that.”