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

Chapter 37

CLOVE'S POV

Wake up...wake up...

I’m in my room, having a bad dream, trying to make whatever is causing this to happen to go away. I have to wake up...this isn't happening.

I pinch myself. I slap myself across the face repeatedly. I shake my head furiously in the hopes of ending this cruel nightmare. Come on…I just need a sign that this isn’t real…I HAVE TO WAKE UP!

Nothing happens.

The same backdrop that I faced earlier, the same setting that contained peacekeepers threatening civilians with weapons, the reality—is all settling in. The realization doesn’t even smack me in the face at all. I can’t escape from the cruel circumstances in front of me anymore.

This is real. Period. Paragraph.

Everything I spent the last six months building up has already started to decline. I knew what I needed to do to avoid this mess right from the very beginning. Just when it looks like the initial shock has passed and I gain enough confidence in myself to know that I can handle the situation, Cato just barges right in and screws it up, forcing me to witness and  wallow in the chaos the followed.

Every ounce of tension that I witnessed a few minutes before the procession has broken free of its shackles and manifested itself into the mess in front of my eyes. Everyone in the back has either fled the scene or gone into to the fray in an attempt to restore order. Cato’s only making it worse.

Cato approaches the barrier separating us from the crowd below and begins releasing the fury in his system through violent cursing and empty threats.

“YOU WANT TO TAKE IT OUT, HUH?” He screams at the brick thrower, whom the peacekeepers have already grabbed, muffled and taken away. I stare at the scene as the perpetrator clenches his muscles, struggles to break free and kicks against the will of the peacekeepers, only to disappear into the crowd. I couldn’t help but noticed the bloodshot look of fury in the man’s eye. Whatever the brick thrower had planned clearly wasn’t an accident.

“COME BACK AND FIGHT, COWARD!” Cato screams, the rage showing in his voice. “STAND YOUR GROUND, YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!” He watches as the crowd begins to fall victim to the frenzy. Some flee the scene in order to avoid the drama—others resume the protesting from earlier, clearly showing their support for whoever threw that brick at us.

“GO BACK TO THE CAPITOL, YOU PIG!”

“COME ON DOWN HERE AND FIGHT US, LOYALIST SCUM!”  

Before the situation can get any further out of control, Brutus rushes into the scene and forces Cato away from the violent confrontation before it happens. He kicks and screams, but he doesn’t go as far as to lose his self-control and escalate the situation by punching his mentor in the face. Then again, I’m not sure that Cato had any self-control going into today, considering how he behaved right before the procession. The sanity that our mentors tried their hardest to maintain seemed to go out the window—as if he totally threw his caution to the wind.

“YOU AIN’T SEEN THE LAST OF ME, PIPSQUEAKS!” Cato taunts at the protesters, clearly looking to pick a fight. He’s clearly not himself today and he’s definitely not scoring any points with anyone, be it Brutus, his family, or the Capitol.

He might have drugged himself again.

This supposed to be the Victory Tour—a time when the Capitol resurrects the joy and mirth felt when someone wins the Hunger Games. They told us that these two weeks would fully solidify the moment a tribute became a victor as a part of history. Only now am I beginning to realize the stark difference between what the Capitol wants to happen and what actually happens…