Whatever it takes // Cato

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Darkness draws over the arena demanded by the deaths of twenty two children. Somewhere within a frigid freezer lays their bodies frozen forever in time. Among the fixated faces of the fallen two belonged to denizens of District Eleven. One was swept under the seas of scarlet swiftly where the other fought valiantly until late in the twisted game.  Neither soul was sewn to any of the three victorious families but each still stung with sheer sadness. Another year of dreary and daunting delivery home. Another year of shattered families and angered citizens. Another year of failure. 

Upon the screen rain spews in vast amounts from the death drawn darkness in the sky. Two tributes waver through the storm secretly praying their survival out strengthens the other's. In a matter of mere moments they would clash beneath the terrible thunder and the living lightning. Their screams would shake the foundation of the arena from where they stand. Their blood would soggily stain the spewing rain as each of their weapons would soon cut deeper than any physical blade. Their entire lives were either about to come to a dismal pain driven death or an unwanted hellish existence within Snow's shackles. However, the chance to live a slave is always more seductive than the alternative. 

Kirito's fingers furl digging his nails into the layers of his palm's skin. As the two tributes teeter towards each other through the struggle of the storm he is returned to his own scarlet storm. Flashes flicker like gun shots through the factory as heavy breaths berate the interior. Outside a storm slaughters the stained arena while blood seeps from the wounds of Kirito and Wyatt. Shredded armor scatters across the sodden floor among the swirling streams of red. Large streams are supplied from Kirito's stolen eye and slashed chest. From Wyatt his neck glistens with the red of a deeply thrown axe. A book splashes across the factory floor, Wyatt's words whisper through the war. “Sorry it’s only page six, the other were lost somewhere between the method and the madness, but my mother always told me that was a side-effect of sadness.” No words slip from Kirito's lips, only a sword glistens through a lightning's flash. The memory dies. 

Kirito shakily rises from his place on the couch and turns away from the sadistic screen. Quivers tread across his hands as he looks around the empty floor. Katelyn is no where near to quell his demons, for often she is very distant now a days, a sigh leaves Kirito's lips. On his way to the elevator Kirito spots himself in a mirror. His hair is slick and his red suit styled elegantly, but his eyes lay haunting like stones within his skull. Here in the Capitol Kirito is too far to fully feel the love of Oasis. Too far to keep him from shuddering from seas of sorrow which sometimes drown him. 

The decent is short and soon reveals a long agonizingly white hallway. Portraits hang across the entirety of the walls. Shining scenes of Victors surviving their struggles. Patricia endowed in light as lava burbles around her and Galaxy lays silent on the stones. Leon laying upon soaked soil looking lost towards the crying sky with a knife falling from his hands. Cricket with fire flying from her face lighting the jungle and her opponents ablaze. Himself fallen to his knees as lightning illuminates the factory. Kirito's eyes fall to the floor focusing only on his footsteps. 

Voices fill the air as Kirito enters a common Mentor meeting area. Several others sit speaking among themselves while many are as he just was, locked away within their floors packing for a long ride home aside two coffins. Kirito looks to the screen as it divides revealing each tribute surging through the storm. In one frame is the District Ten boy, one Kirito is ecstatic to see still surviving. It wasn't that Kirito knew the boy only he was happy for Mace and Saffron, this boy could possibly end their long suffering, even if for just a year. On the other frame was the Mortuus girl from District Twelve. In a sense Kirito was satisfied District Twelve was finally back in a chance to succeed. In another sense Kirito's soul was still, he could never forget what Celia had done to Carrita, he could see now how anger District Eleven would be if she arrived there as victor. Kirito's fists clench as he pushes the thoughts away, whoever the victor was they were going to be apart of a world only other victors know. Kirito would accept either one. 

Walking through the sea of tables Kirito joins Harbinger at a table and leans forward on his elbows as he sits. "I've been thinking." Kirito says softly enough to still he the rain pelting the game's cameras. "We need to do something, we have to find a way to save some of our tributes before we turn into a District Twelve situation. But what can we do?"