The Unmatched Beauty (Cato Hadley) - Currently being Rewritten -

Dix-Sept

We ended up hogging all of the weapon stations, which meant that our intimidation tactic was working. It wasn't exactly amusing to see other Tributes about to wet themselves at the sight of me, but it did make trying out new things easier. No lines and all, of course.

I groaned as I missed another bullseye, not by far, but still not even close to impressive seeing as I've been stuck with this weapon for the past hour. Long distance was obviously not my forte.

"You're supposed to aim higher than where you want it to land on the target." Marvel said from behind me.

I strung up a new arrow. "I know that." Miss. "Besides, what do you know about archery?"

"More than you, probably. I am better than you in projectiles." He plucked the bow out of my arms and mockingly held it above his head, away from my reach.

"Marvel! I was practicing! Give that back!" My height was pathetically shorter than his.

"No, you've been here too long, it's my turn." He stuck out his tongue, as he went to collect the mass of arrows embarrassingly found either on the floor or on the outer corners of the target.

Accepting defeat, I left him alone to check out the knife throwing station, before deciding that I'd suck at that too. That, and Clove expertly throwing the weapons was not even close welcoming. I walked up to the hand to hand combat station instead. Looks like close range would be my main go to.

Cato was already there. It seemed as if there was no escaping this guy today. With a yell, he painfully pinned the trainer down. Pure brute strength. He definitely had technic and skill, but they were all built on the fact that he's made of pure muscles. The only one here who could rival his scary physique would be the Tribute from 11, but Cato still had Academy training, so it was a safe bet to assume he'd win that fight.

Both men, done fighting, got up. The blond ultimately started to stretch, having gained a few sore muscles, it seemed. The trainer, on the other hand, while obviously in agony from the crunching fall, resumed sparring position. Boxing, I noted.

When Cato got into place, it was different. A style I've never seen before. He waited for the trainer to strike first, which he did. As soon as the trainer punched, Cato grabbed his arm and flipped him over onto his back.

I internally winced at what this poor man was going through.

Cato let go of the man's arm, and his eye caught mine, a smirk taking place on his sweaty face.

"You want to fight, Nini?"

I glanced at the trainer, who was obviously out of commission. "With you? I don't think we're allowed, 2."

He held a hand to his chest as he got down from the ring in mock hurt. "We're back to District numbers, Nini? I thought we were friends."

I sighed. "What do you want, Cato?"

He smirk grew wider. "Shouldn't I be asking that? You're the one who came to see me, no?"

A blush crept its way up my neck. "It wasn't for you. I wanted to train. Well, that won't be possible now, seeing as the trainer's passed out."

And it was true, the medic team had come to lift an unconscious man out of the ring.

"Oh, I'm sure if we asked specially, we could come to terms. I really want to see how you fight. Your sword skills are impressive, I'll admit. Not as good as me though. And I've seen you shoot." His grin was now infuriating me.

"You want to fight?" I stepped up to the ring, waiting for him to come join me. Peacemakers started to make their way towards us, but the head trainer, Atala waved them off.

With what seemed to be an actual smile, Cato got into the ring.