Author's Note: So I should definitely be studying for APs instead of doing this right now…oh gosh, what am I going to do. Oh, and Peeta and Gale don't really exist in this story. They'll be mentioned here and there, but I don't love them as much as I love Cato, so…..yeah. This chapter's a little slow and kind of long, because it's the kind of transition into the actual Games themselves.

And for the person who asked me where I got Reid's name from, one of my best friends is named Reid and is a huge fan of THG. And he told me I had to name a character after him. Who had to be a badass. But the (physical) description of him from the first chapter is pretty accurate to what he's like in real life! I know, lucky me ;)

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Chapter 2 (four years later)

Cato Herrington squinted his eyes at the dummy, sweat trickling down his forehead. He slightly bit his bottom lip, just like he did every time he was about to attack. His trainer, Hector, said it made him look like an animal. But Cato didn't care. That was a part of who he was—part animal, part demon. And hell, the girls that swarmed around him every day didn't seem to mind one bit.

Ever since his brother Reid had won the 71st Hunger Games at the age of sixteen, there was immense pressure on Cato to live up to the family name. Bring honor and glory, blah, blah, blah. Cato's family had once lived in a luxurious home next to the mayor's mansion (whose daughter Cato liked to sneak out with at times), but after Reid emerged as victor, the Herringtons were moved to an even bigger house in the Victor's Village, where their neighbors were also former victors—Brutus, Enobaria, and around thirty others. And Cato had to win. No one understood, but he had to. He couldn't let himself walk in Reid's shadow for the rest of his life.

Cato's mind whizzed with ideas on how he would attack this dummy. He could easily slash its throat, or jump and dig his sword into the dummy's shoulder—an instant kill. But he had other ideas, too. He cleared his mind of thoughts, and focused all his attention on the blue stuffed mannequin fifty yards from him. And he ran.

Sprinting as fast as he could, Cato threw one, two, three knives at the dummy. One in the stomach, one in the heart, one right in the—well, let's just say the dummy wouldn't be having any dummy children anytime soon. And with his smallest, most lethal weapon, Cato threw it at the dummy's eye—adding injury to insult.

"Impressive."

Cato whipped around at the sound of the familiar voice. He was supposed to be in here alone, it was way after the training center's closing hours—or rather, too early than it's opening hours. What time was it, anyways?

"What the hell are you doing here, Kat?"

Katniss hadn't seen Cato in a little less than two years—it was partially her fault, partially his. He was always so busy training. Whenever she'd write him a letter or anything, he'd just answer with "I'm training for the Games." But that had only been the first few months. She knew he was trying to contact her, too, but she had ignored him and spent her weekends with Gale Hawthorne, another guy from District 12 who she had befriended over the years. He wasn't as good as Cato, but then again, no one was. Except Cato himself.

"I went to your house and you weren't there. Reid said you'd probably be here. You know it's six in the morning, right?" Katniss sat down on a bench next to the obliterated dummies.

Cato took a towel from a rack near the locker rooms and made his way over to Katniss, standing approximately twenty feet away from her. "I know. But I'm—"

"Training," Katniss finished his sentence. "Yeah. I know."

There was an awkward silence between the two as they looked each other up and down, and trying not to hide the fact that they had missed each other so incredibly much during their hiatus.

As Katniss looked at Cato, she began to realize how much he'd changed. He was 18 now, and believably so. His sandy blond hair was styled in a more mature way, gelled and slightly tousled, and he towered over Katniss now—he was 6'1, maybe even 6'2. His blue eyes were still as bright as ever, but had a distinct iciness to them, no doubt from training to become a killing machine. And worst of all, he wasn't wearing a shirt. He was built like a Greek god and his looks didn't hurt, either.

"Will you quit checking me out?"

"Oh, um, what?" Katniss quickly stood up and darted her eyes to his. "I wasn't checking you out. And go put on a shirt, no one wants to see that, anyways."

Cato gave his classic smirk—the one that made the girls swoon and made the other boys hate him. "Mmhmm. You sure did."

The tension in the air could have been cut with a knife. Thoughts swam through Katniss's head as she looked for a way to respond. Why did she come here, anyways? Think that maybe they could restore the friendship they once had when they used to hang out by the lake? How stupid could she have been? He was training for the Games—he was a Career.

"Katniss."

Damn it, Katniss thought to herself. Why did he always catch her off guard? "Yeah" she asked, her voice slightly cracking.

Cato smiled, and opened his arms. Katniss stared for a second, and followed her instincts and ran into his inviting arms as he wrapped them around her. He smelled her hair, the ever-so-familiar scent of woods and fresh leaves, as she closed her eyes and basked in his warmth.

Cato pulled away, tucking Katniss's loose strands of hair behind her ear, as he once always did. "Why are you here? Or better yet—how did you even get here?"

"I walked," Katniss said. "District 2 isn't guarded any more heavily than 12 is. And I knew where your house was located from the letters. Plus, your peacekeepers aren't exactly very smart."

Cato laughed. "You know, Katniss, you always had a way of finding trouble."

"And a way for always getting out of it, too," she reminded him.

Cato's icy blue eyes turned a brighter blue as he smiled at her. Katniss had grown taller, her hair longer but still in that damn single braid. She looked much more mature than the little fourteen year old he had last seen. A lot more…beautiful.

"Why are you even here, anyways? I didn't think that you'd come to watch me train this early, especially when you're so annoying when you don't get enough sleep."

Katniss punched him in the shoulder. If he wasn't as built and muscular as he was, it would've left a mean bruise. "I'm not annoying! And I'm here to see your brother."

Cato gave his old friend a quizzical look, questioning her motives. Or rather, his brother's. "My brother—my brother Reid?"

Katniss rolled her eyes. "No, your brother President Snow. Of course, your brother Reid! Or do you have any long-lost siblings I don't know about?"

Cato snorted. "Why are you seeing Reid?"

"We've been writing letters to each other. Ever since you and I stopped meeting each other at the lake."

"Uh…you did what?"

"Letters—I sent him a few when you weren't responding to the ones I sent you, and then we kept writing each other."

Cato braced himself for what he might hear next—he feared the worst. "So…what exactly are you doing here, though? Surely not to self-deliver a letter?"

Katniss's gaze dropped to the mat-covered floor again. "No, he…he invited me to have dinner with him. At a restaurant. A date."

Upon hearing the last two words, Cato's heart sank to the bottom of his stomach. He wasn't really sure why—he didn't have a crush on his friend from District 12. No, he had plenty of girls here in 2. Pretty ones. Hot ones. Tall, skinny blondes who draped themselves over Cato and whispered sweet nothings into his ears. But when Katniss had said that she was dating his older brother—it stung. His older brother, who had always been bigger and better and stronger than him at everything, was now going to be getting his best friend, too. Why did Reid have to get everything? All he did was kill some kids during the Games. Cato would, too. The damn thing wasn't fucking fair.

"Oh, so, you guys are dating now?"

Katniss's eyes narrowed at his cold words. "Maybe. And what's your problem?"

Cato slung his now damp towel around his shoulders and turned his back to her, making his way to the locker rooms. "Nothing. I'm sure you guys will have a grand old time fucking around."

Katniss ran in front of Cato, blocking the entrance to the men's locker room. "Tell me what's wrong."

The sight of Katniss, who was so much smaller than him, standing in front of the locker room with her arms stretched out wide made Cato laugh and ease up a little bit. "Nothing, Catnip," he said, though he didn't really mean it. "I've got to get home and eat, practice starts up again in just a few hours. Have fun with Reid."

Katniss sighed, frustrated. "Cato?" She looked up at him with her big, grey eyes.

"Yeah, Catnip?"

Katniss bit her lip, looking for the right words to say. "Reid told me—he told me that you were volunteering this year."

Cato nodded, fulfilling Katniss's fears. "I'm eighteen now, remember?"

"…Yeah."

Cato patted Katniss on the shoulder and gave her his signature crooked half-smile, half-smirk again. "Don't worry, I'm not going to die. I'm a Career, remember?" He made his way around her and entered the locker room, leaving Katniss in the middle of the training center.

He wasn't going to die. He was a Career. He wasn't going to die.

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(Later that day)

Clove Andersen watched Cato throw spears at the dummy before him, hitting the target every time, and continuing to throw spear after spear after spear until the stuffing in the dummy looked like it was going to fall out.

"Cato, you're destroying the dummy," Clove mentioned to her training partner. They'd been paired for the past couple of years, and were the ones who were to volunteer at the reaping this year. Though she was only fifteen, she was far better than the other girls in District 2 and was ruthless and lethal. Clove and Cato had an interesting relationship, a sibling-type relationship that Clove had longed for all of her life. She knew that Cato and his victor brother weren't exactly too chummy, and she was an only child. Cato was protective of Clove, and didn't let anyone mess with her.

Cato rubbed his eyes, pausing to catch his breath. He looked over at the dummy which was literally falling apart at its seams. "That's the point, Clover."

Clove sneered. She hated his pet name for her, it made her seem weak and small. And she wasn't. "What's bothering you, anyways?"

"Nothing."

"It's the girl, isn't it? The one from 12?"

Cato didn't respond, but Clove knew him too well.

"Get your head out of the clouds, Cato. You might as well stop thinking about her now, with the Games coming up so close. You have literally been thinking about her nonstop for the past, I don't know, twenty something months? I don't know why you're so obsessed with her, anyways. Focus, Cato."

Cato sneered at the tiny form standing next to him. "I am not obsessed."

Clove shrugged and chucked a knife at her dummy, and it landed square in between its eyes. "You can't afford distractions."

Cato went back to his dummy and took out the spears protruding from it. He couldn't keep his mind from wandering off to thinking about Katniss. What did she think she was doing, anyways? She knew very well that he would be training for the Games. And besides, wasn't she dating his brother now, anyways? He shuddered. The thought of his sleazy brother with Katniss made his stomach churn as he unconsciously grabbed the spear and balled up his other hand into a fist. She deserved better than Reid. He was better than Reid. Not that he fancied her, of course. No. Not like that.

Cato punched the dummy in the chest, sending it flying into the air and landing on a rack of newly-sharpened weapons. Clove was right. He needed to clear his head. He was the future victor, after all.