A/N: So, I definitely didn't expect to update this soon, but your feedback really motivated me to keep writing. Studying for my exam can wait. Oops.

I switched to writing in third person in case anyone noticed a change. I just find it easier this way.


The next time I see Katniss, I almost fall out of a moving chariot. Thank god for Clove latching on to my arm as I stumbled, giving me a reproachful look at my sudden clumsiness. I glare back, daring her to say anything, which of course she won't. She still has the gall to smirk at me as she turns away, though. Stupid brat.

The opening ceremonies are an event I always loved to watch back at the Academy. Each tribute is dressed by their stylists in costumes that are supposed to represent what their District specializes in. Our District makes weapons, so we usually have the most liberty when it comes to costume designs. District 12 tends to dress their tributes in skimpy outfits that resembled coal, and I prayed to whatever deity that exists that they decide to stick to the same routine this year. As my team prepares me for the ceremony, I fantasize about how Katniss would look in a tight black tank top and shorts with a headlamp, the outfit that their tributes have been wearing for three years in a row. I hope her stylist doesn't decide this year to be little original. Unless it involves less clothes. That would work for me.

This year, our designers dress us as Roman gladiators. I am not exactly sure who the Romans were, but they had some pretty fucking sweet outfits…and I get to carry a sword. Too bad it wasn't real metal, but I'll have my hands on one tomorrow. I can't wait to show off my skills. And now I actually have to work to impress someone, a girl, nonetheless. This is new territory for me, as many girls swarm around me on their own accord. I have a feeling that Katniss won't be like the other girls back home, and I am not exactly sure how I am going to get her to fall for me. I mean, obviously I am drop dead gorgeous, but I'm not the best when it comes to talking to people. There is no need for talking in the Academy. Besides Clove, no one in District 2 really wanted to talk to me after my sister died, anyways.

The gold outfit complements my blonde hair perfectly and makes my blue eyes look even more intense (or at least that's what my stylist says). I just know I look even better than usual, which was saying a lot considering how sexy I am on a daily basis. Regrettably, I wasn't able to convince my stylist to take off the upper body armor to show off my abs and broad, muscular arms.

"You'll have plenty of time to show off your body in the Arena, Cato," she chuckled, dancing around my arm as I tried to swat her away from my face. She kept trying to put some sort of gunk on me ("makeup" she had called it), insisting that all the men in the Capitol wear it. I told her very clearly that I was sorry she didn't get to work with Clove, but I was not to be made up into some sort of girly man to compensate for her personal dilemma.

Sometimes coming from District 2 has its disadvantages, especially tonight. Our chariot was the second one to move down the city streets, so I am unable to check out the other competition in their chariots. Turning around to stare behind me for the entire ride would probably lead many sponsors to think I was weird, and who wants to sponsor the weird, creepy kid? Naturally, I know none of the others would look better than me, but I still want to see Katniss. Resigning myself to the fact that I'd have to wait until the parade was over to see her, I set my face into my typical stoic mask, and focus on the back of the chariot in front of me. I wasn't going to demean myself and wave at the Capitol idiots like Clove and the other tributes did. I want them to eventually realize that I am better than them, and I know it. They aren't worthy of my attention, no matter how many of them sponsor me.

However, my interest is caught when they start chanting my name way half way down to the City Circle. I look up to the television screens, expecting to see my own face reflected back at me, but I am startled to see one of the District's chariots had set on fire. Panic rises inside me as I realize Katniss's costume was on fire. What the fuck had her stylist done?

Listening harder to the chants of the crowd, I realize they aren't saying my name, but hers. And it isn't in fear or despair, but in sheer, blazing excitement.

Upon closer inspection of the screens, I am able to see that her costume has been purposefully lit, and the fire is contained. She doesn't seem to be in pain, so I can only assume this is a legitimate part of her outfit. Noticing that the District 1 boy in front of me has turned around to get a glance at her, I decided I could get away with stealing a peak too. I almost lose my balance when the chariot turns a corner, though, so I decide instead to watch her on the screens above me.

By the time my chariot reaches the City Circle to listen to President Snow's speech, I am getting a headache from the blaring noise of the crowd. Even I can admit she was absolutely breathtaking, stunning, dazzling, whatever complements you want to pick, but I don't see what the huge commotion was about. I mean, I look fucking sexy too, and no one is yelling their self hoarse for me. I look up at the screen one last time as her chariot rolls to a stop, and that's when I figure out what has the Capitol fools up in a roar. She and Kicked Puppy Boy have their hands held tightly together as they wave to the crowd, standing as close together as physically fucking possible to put off a united front. How fucking charming.

I spend the entire speech fuming silently to myself, tuning out President Snow and his bullshit address about rebellion and some useless motivational garbage about odds being in our favor.

Who the fuck does this kid think he is, suddenly putting moves on my girl? Granted, she isn't mine yet, but in a few days time she will be. Nobody can say no to me. I mean, why would they even want to? I am sexy, strong, and can easily provide for her in the Arena. I will find a way for us to win together; it was all a matter of plotting and planning. I will make it work. He, on the other hand, looks like he'll die in the first day. That, of course, may be my own personal bias, but whatever.

I had watched the Reaping one more time before the ceremony, and I could tell from the way she barely spared him a glance that they didn't really know each other. And now suddenly, he's all best buddies with Katniss, my Katniss, and they are going to be some terrific team from District 12 who are going to take the games by storm and win it all for their loser District? Over my fucking dead body. That kid will be the first to go, I vow vehemently to myself.

Feeling a finger dig into my side, I look over to Clove who has her eyebrow raised at me.

"You still alive in there, Cato?" she hisses, as our chariots moved into the Training Center.

"Just plotting some deaths," I remark truthfully, glad this stupid ceremony is finally over. What a waste of precious training time.

"You look a little more murderous than usual, I hope you have a plan for those disgusting District 12 freaks. I mean, fire, really? I was disappointed when they didn't burn to death, especially the girl. She isn't even pretty," Clove rages as we walk towards our mentor and prep teams.

"You'll see soon, Little One," I mock, using the pet name I gave her when we first met. She hates it the most, so naturally it's my go-to when I feel like getting under her skin. Which is often. I silently smirk at Clove's obvious jealousy of Katniss, ignoring how she stomps on my foot in agitation. She hates being shown up, even more than I do.

I glance around for Katniss, ignoring how our team is assuring Clove that we are still the best looking tributes and that we will still have plenty of sponsors. It's moments like these that I remember just how young my fellow tribute is. She's like a petty thirteen year-old that needs to be consoled by her mother when a boy she likes asks another girl out. It's pathetic, and if she doesn't change her attitude soon, then her irrelevant problems are going to get her killed.

I glare fiercely at Puppy Boy, who is still holding Katniss's hand as they talk with their mentor and prep teams. He must feel my eyes boring into his skull, looking up from his conversation. He has the common sense to look scared at least, I think smugly, as I subtly puff out my chest and flex my biceps to intimidate him further.

Seeing the change in her partner, Katniss finally turns her eyes towards me, and I feel like my heart is about to stop. She is even more beautiful in person, and I am glad the fire on her costume was put out. I still can't shake the feeling that she almost died right in front of my eyes before the Games even started. Pretty sure I would have been the shittiest protector in history if that had happened.

I mentally kick myself as I realize I am staring dumbly at her. I have been training for years to fight off people who want to kill me, and I am suddenly scared of a 16 year old girl? Get your shit together, Cato, I reprimand myself, don't be a pussy.

I give her one of my cockiest smiles, the one that wins over all the girls back home and flex a little harder. She blinks, and then actually laughs at me.

What the flying fuck just happened? She is supposed to be falling all over herself to come and talk to me like the other girls do. And they do that when I don't even try. She is NOT supposed to be laughing as she turns back to face her team and then walk away to the elevator.

I watch, seething, as she giggles with About-To-Be-Dead-Puppy Boy as they wait for the elevator to come down. And then she leans over and kisses his cheek, and he's blushing and stammering out some shit, and I see red. Pure, blood red. I don't care if it's against the rules to lay your hands on another tribute before the games start. Rules are meant to be broken, and this kid is going to fucking die.

In seconds, I'm across the room and have him slammed against the wall.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing 12?" I roar, pushing harder on his throat.

I ignore the commotion around me, our Capitol escorts shouting random shit about rules and manners. Clove yelling at me to drop the kid before I get my ass kicked out of the games and sent home, a failure like my parents already think I am. The Career tributes from District 1 cheering me on, telling me to end his pathetic life. Katniss telling me to drop him before I get hurt. I laugh to myself. I like her attitude.

I can see the life leaving his eyes as I press even harder, the blood coursing through my veins. This is what I was born to do. This is what I am good at and the only thing I know how to do. I am a killer. Brutal, monstrous, Cato, getting his first kill before the Games even start. How fitting.

Before I can finish my task, the Peacekeepers swarm around us and pull me off him.

"Calm down, son," one barks at me.

"Do you want to get sent home, 2?" the other one leers, trying to intimidate me into submission. Apparently, he has a death wish, too. I growl at him, struggling to break free from their grip.

"Cato, STOP!" a voice snarls over all the noise.

I stop struggling as I turn towards my mentor, a fierce woman who I haven't seen much of since the Reaping.

Enobaria is not someone to mess with. In her own Games, she had used her teeth to rip out a tribute's throat. Despite the grossness of her actions (who knew what their blood was infested with?) I still admire her ferocity. Since winning, the Capitol allowed her to sharpen her teeth into fangs with gold points at the end. They are fucking awesome. Scary, but awesome.

Enobaria pushes her way into the elevator, dragging me behind her, and I decide to steal a glance at Katniss before I am swept to my apartment for the night. She's sitting next to Almost-Dead Puppy, running her hands through his hair as he tries to regain his breath. Just as the door is about to close, she meets my glance and gives me one of the fiercest glares I have ever seen, especially for a seemingly peaceful girl. Taken aback by the fiery hatred I see in her eyes, I bang my head on the wall of the elevator as the doors shut, frustrated by how our first encounter went.

I guess trying to kill her fellow District 12 tribute before Training has even started isn't the way to her heart. I guess I'll have to come up with a better plan that does not involve murder. I guess I am fucking screwed.

"Damnit," I groan, as I stumble into my apartment.

My training has not prepared me for this.


A/N: Poor Cato, he is just so socially awkward. I have a hard time believing his next plan will go any better, but who knows? :)

Anyways, keep reviewing! I love your feedback and comments. Does anyone know any good songs that remind them of Cato or Cato/Katniss? I would love to incorporate some song lyrics in the beginning or end of each chapter.