Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins does.

Author's note: Sorry I haven't updated sooner! I was writing this chapter and a differently characterised Cato emerged so I had to rewrite it! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you to all those who have story alerted or favorited. I appreciate you taking the time to read my story. Jag, thank you so much for taking the time to review. Twice! I appreciate the feedback (and the requests to continue) more than I can say. So I think I'll dedicate this chapter to you!

This chapter will be from Cato's POV with respect to the recaps but I think things will start moving forward a little faster in future chapters, so please bear with me. We'll see as I go along really since the story is still all in my head.

Cato's POV

Finally, the Reaping over! Now we can get to the good stuff before the great stuff. Now that we're in the Capitol, in the sitting room on District two's floor of the training centre, I can sit, relax, and watch the Reaping of all those kids I'm expected to slaughter.

I was chosen to volunteer and, in District 2, tributes who volunteer are expected to be grateful for having been chosen and be proud. We are to bring honor to our District, nothing more, nothing less. I am Cato Thorin(*) a.k.a. Brutal, Bloody Cato and the victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games. I am a trained killer who takes pleasure in the prospect of slaughtering innocent children.

I was chosen for the Hunger Games this year since I'm by far the best fighter District 2 has. I am what they call a natural athlete. I am strong, agile, and fast. Training comes naturally to me. I have always been better at fighting than my peers and even some older trainees but I only had to do half the work. Naturally, I trained harder than most so I'm bigger, faster, stronger than everyone.

I'm flexible too, which is a big advantage over everyone else. At 6'2" I can touch my toes without bending my knees. My secret? Something they call yoga. It used to be popular in the dark days. They still show some of the classes on one of the Capitol channels. The Academy also offers some classes. Mostly girls take those classes and I was ragged on when I started attending some but they quickly shut up when it gave me an even bigger edge over my fellow trainees. The edge I got wasn't just in training either... Let's just say I was known for being, among other things, creative in bed. All of a sudden, the guys started attending the courses. The courses are quite popular now with both genders. Ha!

"You will be expected to ally with Districts 1 and 4", says Brutus my mentor.

The recap has finally started. District 1 is up and I'm not impressed.

"Seriously? We have to ally with these losers? They will get us killed faster. We can't rely on the ditsy blonde to have our backs!", yells Clove.

"Don't worry, Clovey, we'll have each other's backs until the end. We don't need anybody else."

Our reaping goes by but I don't pay much attention. I look good. Clove looks like a tiny psychopath, ready to kill anything that moves. Let's just say it's unheard of for a fifteen year old to get chosen to volunteer. She's vicious. Still not better than me though. Just decent competition.

A bunch of other districts go by and all I can think is dead. We just finished District 10 and I'm seriously fighting the urge to get up and go to bed.

"I wouldn't be surprised if these are the quickest games in history!" I scoff.

The District 11 girl is reaped and she's the first one I feel bad for. She's so small. She doesn't even have a chance. The boy tribute though...

"He's bigger than you, Cato!"

"No he's not. He just looks bigger because of who's next to him. That girl is tiny! And even if he is as big as I am, that means nothing. He may not have any real skills."

Hmm, he may actually be a challenge, if he can wield a weapon.

Urgh! District 12 is up now. Nobody worth noticing ever come out of there. Their tributes almost never get passed the bloodbath.

"Primrose Everdeen" says the ridiculous looking escort.

The poor girl. Another 12 year old – that's too young for the Games. Those two 12 year olds will be the hardest to k... My ears perk up disturbing my thoughts. Someone is yelling something... sounds like the girls name. She's trying to push past the peacekeepers.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

A volunteer? From 12? Hmm.. That's unexpected. And...brave.

Don't get me wrong, I'm psyched about being in these games but.. I've trained my whole life like the rest of Districts 1, 2 and 4. But, generally, being reaped is a death sentence for every other district.

The district's escort's voice breaks through my musings saying: "Was that your sister dear?"

I focus my eyes back on the tv and look at the tribute who is nodding at the escort. So she's volunteering protect her sister! I stare in awe.

I get my first real look at her, as she stands on the stage looking out at her district. She's thin but not like the rest of them in that district. She doesn't look like she could die of starvation any day. She's muscular, all lean muscle. She has dark chocolate brown hair, smooth olive skin, tantalizing full lips... and those eyes! Two silver orbs that are the opposite of cold. You can see the fierce determination in them. She wants to come back home. She will do anything it takes to get back to her sister. They have seen a lot, have lost any all traces of childhood, and have lost their innocence. They speak a thousand words. This girl can take care of herself. That's not right. I want to take care of her. She looks so strong, not muscle strength but from the inside. I want to see what's underneath that façade. I want to be strong for her. I'm faced with the overwhelming urge to protect her from everything that could hurt her. Which isn't right... is it?

The camera then pans to the rest of the district and the escort calls for applause for the girl because she volunteered. The boy who took her sister from her is looking at her with a mixture of sadness and admiration. There's a similar look on almost everyone else's face. Ha! Half the boys are at least a little bit in love with her. It's so obvious! And they don't have a chance. She's mine! That blond boy especially. He looks like a lost puppy looking at her up there.

Nobody clapped. Instead, everyone is silent. Then, as if it was planned, everyone brings their three middle fingers of their right hand to their mouth and rises them in the air, the thumb and pinky finger joined.

"Why are they doing that? What does it mean?" I ask Brutus.

"It's District 12's sign to say goodbye to a person that is dear to them. It conveys a fierce loyalty and respect for the person to whom, the sign is directed. Considering the context here though, I'm inclined to say that you both need to watch your backs. She'll be a contender I think. Especially if this is the Haymitch mentioned last year."

"Bah! That old drunk? He doesn't know anything. Look at him, just a few minutes ago. He fell of the fucking stage for crying out loud! I don't give a shit what he's said. I'll see for myself thanks."

"Enough Clove! You would do well to remember to respect your elders. Especially previous victors!"

"Yes Brutus. Sorry." Clove gets up and leaves, shamefaced.

"What did Haymitch say?", I ask. " Why was he talking to you about her?

Brutus is getting frustrated now. He sighs, "Cato, winning the Games changes things for most people. It changes your perception of others. I don't expect you to understand now. Enobaria here doesn't get it either. Do you know how Haymitch won his games?"

"No, sir."

"He outsmarted the Games and therefore the Capitol."

"What? How? Can anyone even do that?"

"Yes, it can be done but it's not recommended."

"Why?"

"You see Haymitch went far enough into the arena to get to the edge. As you know, there's a force field around the arena to keep the tributes in and everyone else out. But he figured out that if you threw something at the force field, it would bounce back. He used that to defeat the other remaining tribute and won the games. It was ingenious really."

That was pretty cool. "But why did you say it wasn't recommended?"

"The Capitol did not like the stunt he pulled, so they punished him by killing his family. That's why he always drunk."

"Oh." I look at him horrified. "So why was he talking about her?"

"We were discussing tributes and their prospects. He said that not many kids from his district could survive the Games, except this girl." He nods to the now dark television screen.

So she's a survivor. That's my girl.

*Sorry if this surname isn't great. I kept toying with a fitting name for his character. I figured Thor- the Norse god of thunder would be kind of fitting since he's super powerful and has the right look for it. Then tried to find a suffix for it and figured Thorin, which is also the name of the Dwarf-King of the lonely mountain (for those who don't get the reference, see The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien).

Thanks for reading this chapter! Any feedback would be appreciated...