(So, for the record, I'm sure I'm going to have most of this in Cato's point of view, but I am still debating on switching him out with the OC for PoV so please stay with me XD Also, the plot starts just a month before the Hunger Games Tributes are picked and the setting is District 2)

Training, training, training. That was what most of my day consisted of. Of course it did. After all, my father is a living Tribute. Everyone around expects me to go into the Games and win. I even expect myself to do so as well. Hell, I trained enough for it. All my life, ever since I was old enough to wield the lightest blade, my father taught me how to fight and defend myself. That's just the way I was brought up. And now, I'm eighteen. It's my last year. If I don't get picked, everyone expects me to volunteer.

And I mean, maybe I do want to go in there and win. I know for sure if I do go in there I'll give it my hardest and pull through. After all, the winner gets money, fame, all the girls they want, and probably more. What else could I possibly want?

But, when I think of it. Being trapped for days, weeks, maybe even months, in a arena, it leave a knot in my stomach. Of course, I never show this. I wear the hard mask my father has beaten onto me. Any time I would show any kind of fear, even as a child, I was punished. Weaklings never win the Games. You may pretend to be weak, but if you are truly a Victor, you have some kind of evil inside you. Just like my father does. And just like I do. I may not be a Victor yet, but I will be.

Cato the Victor. Heh, has a nice ring to it.

Huffing I place my sword back on the rack that holds a few other weapons and walk out of my home. It's a big home, with plenty of rooms. This room my father gave me to train in. He even often watched me train in it. But today, he's gone, on business somewhere. And I have to go pick up his new sword.

Outside, the air's cool, just like it always is in our mountains. I walk from the Victor Village and into the town. Our town was originally known for mining, and still does really, but not as much as it used to do. Some of our people's jobs include Stonemasons, Concrete Finishers, Bricklayers, Brickmasons, Plasterers, and Blacksmiths. Though, these jobs don't even make up a tenth of our population.

That's because most of out populations are Peacemakers, Trainers, or Peacemakers in Training. Our Distrcit is the one that trains all the Peacekeepers that get sent to the other Districts.

But, today I'm not going to watch the Training like I do when I'm bored. I'm going to the Blacksmith that lives in our area of the District.

His home is small, just as most houses are in the south of the District. It's run down too. But of course, he doesn't make hardly any money, so that isn't much to be surprised about.

I knock on the door and wait. No answer. I give another knock and still there is no answer. Sighing, I push the door open. He was always hard of hearing. But, I don't find the Blacksmith. The sword is there on the old beat up couch though. So, I walk over and leave the money there, when I hear something that brings a grin to my lips.

Light and pretty humming, coming from the kitchen. Immidiently I replace the grin with my same mask that I always wear before I walk into the kitchen. I've seen her quite a few times before. She's about two years younger then me, so we aren't in the same grades, but I've seen her around the school, and at the Blacksmiths sometimes, helping her father. But right now, she's at the stove, cooking, humming to herself in a melodic tune that just makes me stop and listen for a moment. She doesn't seem to notice me. Probably can't hear me over the noise of the pans she moves around and the steam whistling on the stove.

So I move froward and slam my hand on the counter top, making her jump ad turn, wide eyed. I glare down at her, "Where's your father?"

She looks a little surprised, but manages a steady look, "He has to work late. Your sword is on the couch." Then she turns to go back to cooking, but I move in front of her.

"I need to play an order for a dagger. It has to be taken today so I can get it by the end of the week."

She gives a sigh and nods. Going over to the other side of the kitchen, she manages to rummage around in a drawer and find a sheet of paper and pencil. She write its down exactly what I tell her. A jagged blade made of black stone, so that the blood won't show, and a leather bound hilt, "I'll give it to him." Then she turns to finish her cooking.

I leave her be and watch her for a few moments. She always seemed to hold a grudge against me, though, I never understood why. Every other girl in the District loves me. But not her. Which is a shame, because with her fiery red hair and her piercing blue eyes, she's quite a looker.

I glance at the meal she's making. It's small. Very small. And I know that it's to feed her, her father, and her younger brother. I turn to walk out and on my way to the door I set a few extra coins on the couch.