"Today we're competing in a unit readiness test," Boggs explains. We are exactly a week out from deployment. All the squads are lined up in the field house, gathered in blocks. We've been assigned color-coded shirts. It's the first time I haven't worn gray since arriving in 13. I look down at my worn, burgundy tee shirt. It's not new. Nothing here is new. I wonder who wore this shirt before me. When Haymitch strolls up beside me, I give him a smirk.

"You joining us today, old man?" I whisper under my breath. He rolls his eyes at me. I want to turn around to see where Peeta is standing, but I'm not supposed to move. I'm not good at obeying orders. I'm not a soldier. I'm doing these drills, I'm running and taking notes and learning weaponry because it gets me one step closer to my own objective – killing Snow. Maybe Coin thinks she's conditioned me into one of her obedient disciples, but what she doesn't realize about the victors is that we adapt to survive.

"There are four parts to the exam: a written tactics exam, a test of weapons proficiency, an obstacle course to assess your squad's physical condition, and a simulated combat situation in the Block," Boggs bellows out.

I've never been in the Block. It's the final phase of combat training. From what I've heard from other soldiers, they've simulated a Capitol city block, including pods and Peacekeeping forces. It's all non-lethal. The weapons shoot packets of liquid dye, and if you are tagged, you are dead. It also stains your skin and you wear your tag like a badge of shame for the next couple days.

The written exam is surprisingly simple, although when my eyes dart to my periphery I see some of the novices struggling. I've clearly retained more than I thought I did. Most of the green squad is eliminated. The weapons proficiency test is by far the easiest for me. After weeks I can finally assemble a rifle in decent time, and my marksmanship is impeccable. Our burgundy squad sails through the first two courses, but more and more initiates from other squads fail to proceed. They start calling us the Star Squad in a begrudged whisper.

I spy on Peeta as he assembles his weapon and completes the target course. Even Lyme is nodding in approval from her place with Boggs and the other squad leaders.

The obstacle course leaves me panting, but I finish with the fastest female time, and beating a far majority of the men. Finnick flies through the course as if gravity doesn't have any effect on him. He smiles at me smugly when I drop to my knees next to him. Haymitch tumbles through the last obstacle and is heaving for air, but he finishes.

"Don't start with me, sweetheart," he wheezes.

I look up and see Beetee fitting Peeta with his new leg at the far end of the course. His pale pink shirt reminds me of the sky in the Quarter Quell Arena. Peeta keeps his face still and serious, nodding occasionally as Beetee talks with him. Peeta hops up and down a few times. He seems agile. Young. He stands in line next to Xander and waits for the adjudicator to blow the start whistle. When it sounds, Peeta is immediately sprinting through the course. The obstacles seem like no challenge and at all, and he arches and curves his body over and around them. His strength is an advantage, and he scales the walls without hesitation. Even Finnick is holding his breath as Peeta leaps across a gully, not acknowledging the competing team's soldiers who couldn't make the improbable leap captured in the safety net below. Peeta finishes the course and smiles. He smiles.

"Well if I had a super leg, I could do that too," Finnick badgers him playfully.

"It felt like… it felt like it belonged to me," Peeta says, beaming.

"It looked that way," I offer.

Only our two squads advance to the Block. We sit in groups on the floor and listen to Boggs as he explains the wargame. He is outfitting one of our soldiers with a vest and firearm.

"Each member of your unit will enter the Block alone. In the scenario, your squad has been separated and you are entering an ambush. Each of you can communicate to your squad leader, me for the burgundy team and Lyme for the pink team. You will not have comms with one other. The objective is to breach the bunker established on the east end of the Block. No team can lose more than three squad members or you will be eliminated. There are Peacekeeping guards in the Block and the opposing squad should be considered hostile."

We stare at each other across the alley, sizing up our opponents. Save Mitchell and Homes, our team is primarily victors. Other than Peeta and Lyme, the opposing team is the elite of 13. It's almost like a test to see what better prepares you for war – a lifetime of military training or an Arena.

Our team heads toward the north entrance. I dare a glance at Peeta, who is moving toward the south of the Block. His eyes dart up and find mine, then he turns back to his team. Finnick and Gale are loading on their vests, and I follow suit. I check my firearm and arrows. The arrows are non-lethal, the arrowhead replaced by a dye packet. I assess it.

"It won't break any bones or anything, but it's not going to feel good," the instructor tells us as she shows us how to secure the vests.

"I don't plan on finding out," I respond, and I see the corner of her mouth smirk.

"You each go in individually. Line up here. I'll tell you when to enter. You are to go to your designated start point provided in the paper on the breast pocket of you vest. Once you've reached your start point, wait for the order to commence to play over the loud speakers," she says. My eyes lock with Finnick. It's too much like a Launch Room. Too much like standing on a metal disc while your life counts down in front of you. I run my hands over my face.

"Let's do this," I say. I enter the Block third, after Johanna. I open the paper in my hand and discover my starting point is on the third floor of a building adjacent an open square. I run to the entrance and take the stairs two at a time. I appreciate the bird's eye view of the space, but I'm certain there are Peacekeepers in this building. I might get eliminated before I even hit the street. I'm in the building for a few minutes before I hear a voice over the speakers. It's not Claudius Templesmith, but it might as well be.

"The wargame shall commence in 3, 2, 1. Go," it booms over us.

I load my bow and hit my comms.

I know what I would do here. Snipe the streets. Since this is an ambush scenario, I'd cause some kind of diversion to bring the Peacekeepers into the square and reverse the hand. They're no longer ambushing us, we're ambushing them. I'm about to send an arrow down to a leaking canister of gas I spy on the street corner when I remember I'm part of a team. I have allies. 13 will expect me to go into this test hot-headed and fiercely independent. I need to show them I can act as part of a team.

"Boggs, I have an aerial view of the square. What info do you need?" I ask. I'm clearly competing with other squad members checking in as he doesn't answer right away. After he asks for my visual assessment, he tells me to hit the street. I don't offer my plan. I don't argue. I simply hold my loaded bow in front of me and prepare for whatever personal ambush I find in the hallway.

I push open the door and a dye packet slams into the wall next to me, leaving an emerald mark. I watch the dye drip down the wall and for a moment I remember watching water trickle down the wall of our cave in the Arena. I shake my head. Get out of the Arena. Get your head in the Block. I know this isn't a warzone, not really, but I feel a coldness take over, one I'm familiar with. I'm ready to fight.

I turn sharply and spy my first assailant, letting an arrow fly. It slams into the Peacekeeper's chest and leaves a deep burgundy dye mar. He drops to the ground, eliminated from the game. I wait for a cannon. Get out of the Arena, Katniss. There are no cannons. I take cover behind my door and look around the room. This is supposed to be some kind of studio or something. I grab a pillow from the couch and chuck it into the hall. I see dye hit it from three directions. Okay then. I load my first arrow, slide gracefully through the door, and let it fly toward the Peacekeeper near the stairs. By the time he's raised his arm my arrow smashes into his helmet, his head dripping in burgundy. I don't hesitate before loading my next arrow and taking out the opponent at the end of the hall. The third has time to let out a defensive round, but I dodge it easily and smash the dye arrow in her throat. I flinch for a moment, knowing that must have hurt, but I move on. In the lobby I take out three more Peacekeepers before I hit ground level and force my way out of the building.

My limbs feel cold.

"Boggs, I'm on the street, now what?" I ask. I stare at the gas can. This would be easy. Light it up, draw them out, take them down.

"Rendezvous with Finnick at your two o'clock," he orders, and I take off without hesitation. I find Finnick hunched behind a trashcan taking heavy fire from across an alley.

"About time you showed up," he teases as packets of green explode in front of us. "Let's alternate. Cover, shoot, switch?" I nod and load my firearm. We spray the opposing alley until it drips with dye and the Peacekeepers have fallen silent. We meet with Gale and Mitchell and begin our progression east toward the bunker.

When we encounter Haymitch, he's not alone. He's being pursued by what appears to be some kind of Mutt. It darts gracefully from side-to-side, swinging through the air and clawing at the cement street. It's almost cat-like, but its mouth is full of rows of razor-sharp teeth, like some kind of fish that lives in the depths of the ocean too deep for light to penetrate. I load an arrow and send it down the Mutt's throat. It flickers, almost like when the signal is cutoff on a television, and then disappears, my arrow laying on the street.

"Pod?" I ask, and he nods as he catches his breath.

We find Homes and Johanna and move, Boggs guiding us over the earpiece. It doesn't take long to traverse the Block and we come upon a firefight. The pink squad has reached the east bunker first and is involved in a heavy battle with the Peacekeeping force. I wonder if we should engage, when out of nowhere Homes begins firing, giving away our position. The Peacekeepers split in two, diverting some attention to us. The pink squad is in better position. Homes may have just cost us the game.

We don't have a choice so we fire at will toward the Peacekeepers. We manage to avert the barrage of green bullets, but when I hear a thud I look up and find Johanna without air, pink dye sprawled across her chest. She drops to her knees, the wind knocked out of her. I take cover and drop my weapon.

"You can breathe. In and out," I say, and she nods.

"Come on, Katniss, we don't have time for that. She's dead," Gale shouts back at me, and I glare at him. Johanna manages to find a rhythm again, and her chest moves up and down. Dyed or not, I'm not leaving her huffing for air on the floor.

"Go, stupid, I'm fine," she gasps.

"You can breathe?" I ask, and she nods to confirm. "Okay."

My eyes shift focus from the Peacekeepers to the pink squad. I'm not sure who shot Johanna, but I'm not playing anymore. I grab my bow. "I'm standing," I shout to Gale, and he immediately provides me cover. I load two arrows in my bow and push to my feet, drawing back the string and letting them fly into the pink safe hold. I don't need to watch, I know I've hit my targets. Two pink squad members go down. If they lose one more, they are out of the wargame.

We move down the street, still engaging the Peacekeepers. By the time we reach our new position, the Peacekeepers have flanked the bunker door and spray gunfire out in the both directions. The burgundy and pink teams are on opposite sides, three rivals forced in a triangle. Then the real ambush begins. Mobilizing from behind us, a mass deployment of Peacekeepers floods the square. Both squads are fighting for our lives, shooting and taking cover, but the sheer volume of soldiers overwhelms us. My eyes dart across the square and I spy Peeta. He looks calm, focused. Reserved. He's still holding back.

We will lose. Both squads will be squashed if the fight continues how it is. We are severely outnumbered, and I don't have any incendiary or explosive arrows in here. Think. Think. I look to Haymitch. We come to the same realization at the same time.

"Boggs!" I call into my earpiece.

"Go ahead, Soldier Everdeen," his voice crackles in my ear.

"Do you have the holo?" I ask. I can hear his smirk through the earpiece.

"I do," he replies.

"Are there any active pods in the area?" I ask.

"You risk taking out your own squad," Boggs replies. "It's too dangerous."

I pull my hair in frustration. 13 is too calculated sometimes. I don't argue. I know that's part of the test. Following orders. I look over and see Peeta pulling away from his squad. Searching for something. I nudge Haymitch.

"Peeta," I say, and his eyes follow mine. Peeta's got the same idea we did, but his Commander is a victor. I see him raise his gun at a seemingly innocuous corner of a building.

"GET DOWN!" I scream to my squad, and we hit the ground in time to avoid an explosion of ink. It sprays the legion of Peacekeepers. I look up to see Homes, his face covered in yellow paint.

"Shit," he hisses, throwing his weapon to the ground.

We can only take one more hit. I assess the pink team but they have no causalities. Peeta stands from his shelter behind a stalled car and jogs back to his team. They hunch over as they sort out a plan. I stare at the entrance to the bunker. It's metal with a giant hole blown out of the bottom right corner.

"It's like a feast," I say to Haymitch, and Finnick nods. We all want something, but our enemies lie in wait, ready to shoot the willing. I remember Foxface, so clever, hiding in the Cornucopia overnight. I need something clever, but my mind comes up short. "Ideas?" I ask the team. Boggs remains conspicuously silent in our ears. He wants to see what we'll do.

I look at Gale and can practically hear his mind clicking. "We need to stop focusing on how to get into the bunker. We need to take out one of their squad. If they lose another, they are out," he answers.

"So are we," I say.

"Well then we better get them first," he says. It doesn't seem likely. Both squads are well protected behind their individual covers. It's a game of chicken. Gale's lips press into a thin line as he thinks. He assesses their position. They are huddled behind an overturned statue of President Snow. The front end is completely fortified, but their backs are exposed. I watch as Gale measures the objects behind them. "What is we bust that water main? The flood might force them out of their space, or at the least cause enough of a distraction for us to take someone out," he says.

Boggs buzzes over the earpiece. "Katniss, take out the main."

I'm not sure these non-lethal arrows have enough oomph in them to actually pierce a pipe. I shift my eyes upward and notice a hunk of desolated building rubble perched precariously over the main. If I knock it down, it will surely take out the main and flood the street. No different than apples and bombs, I think to myself. Gale watches as my eyes shift upward. I exhale and let the arrow fly. It smacks into the perilously unstable concrete and sends it hurdling toward the main. It smashes the pipe, bursting it open and exploding water onto the pink squad. Out of instinct alone, they leap from their hideaway like an earthworm surfaced by the rain.

Gale and I climb to the top of the pile of rubble our crew is hiding behind. Gale takes aim for one of the Leegs. Peeta follows his eyes and dives to his teammate, shoving her to the ground, hard. The pink squad is only distracted for a minute, and they scurry back over the statue, except for Peeta, who stands on the ground and hoists each of them up.

"Come on, we need cover," Gale yells and leaps back behind the banking. As his weight leaves, though, the rubble under me shifts and I go rolling down the hill. I hit the ground hard and pain shoots up my shoulder. I hear footsteps, and before I know what I'm doing I load my bow. Trained at the tip of my weapon is Peeta. He throws his gun to the side.

"Are you hurt from the fall?" he asks, still holding his distance. I try to assess my body. No, I'm not hurt, not seriously anyway. I shake my head. This is all too familiar. Peeta and I staring at each other, my weapon armed. When did the rules change on us again?

Suddenly Peeta jolts backwards and my stomach leaps to my throat, his chest gushing crimson red. It's not blood, it's not blood. He reaches his hand to his chest and it comes back covered in burgundy dye. I look back and see Mitchell standing on our barrier, gun in hand. He jumps down the rock pile and heads toward the bunker. The rest of the pink team throws their weapons to the ground in a huff while the victors strut by them toward the hole in the metal door. Haymitch walks up and puts his hand on Peeta's shoulder.

They must hit some kind of buzzer or checkpoint in the bunker, because a loud bell rings and the simulation fades. We leave the way we came in, dropping our vests on a table and ringing our sweat-drenched shirts in our hands.

At dinner, people chatter constantly about the wargame. Johanna's neck is streaked with pink dye, and she keeps tugging at her collar to hide it. I look across the cafeteria and see Peeta. He seems to be ostracized by his squad, most sitting at the far end of the table, except for Xander, who sits near Peeta and eats silently. The meal ends.

That night, Peeta and I are in my bathroom brushing our teeth.

"You should have shot me," he says casually, spitting in the sink.

"You should have shot me," I retort, but we both know it's pointless. I jump when the compartment door swings open and slams shut. I'm sure our entire floor heard it.

I hear a hammering fist on the other side, and Johanna shouts at the closed door, "Go away, Gale! I don't want to talk to you!"

"Jo, you are being ridiculous!" His muffled voice yells from the hallway.

"You have no idea, Hawthorne. Get away from my door or I'll shove your foot so much further in your mouth, you'll shit toe nails for a week!" she screams back, smacking the door with her palms.

I lean out the bathroom door, toothbrush still in my mouth. "Hey," I say through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Hey," she says angrily, kicking her shoes off and throwing herself on her bed. "I don't know how you put up with him for seventeen years, Katniss. He's an idiot," Johanna fumes before she notices Peeta's shoes next to the door. "Um…."

Peeta steps out of the bathroom. Johanna stares at his pajamas and back at me.

"Can you get me some water?" I ask Peeta. There is a drinking water station on every floor. Each room is allotted a certain volume based on occupancy. I push the practically full water basin into his hands. I don't need water.

"Um, sure," he says, eyeing Johanna and I before slipping on his shoes and leaving the room.

"Johanna, look," I start, but she cuts me off.

"This isn't a good idea," she states, whatever fight she had with Gale skidding from her mind. "Look, I get it. I'm all for you two spending time together, but, you know, supervised. With other people around. So we can make sure he doesn't kill you."

"He's not going to kill me. You saw what happened the last time he flashed. He was in control."

"So in control he had to have Gale knock him out!" she snaps. "How can you be so stupid?"

"He had Gale knock him out because he was in pain, not because he was out of control," I bite back.

"I want you two to work it out, but I want you alive more. If Gale found out he'd lose it," Johanna mutters.

"Maybe that's your problem, huh? Gale is still worried about me even though you are the one in his bed?" I retort bitterly.

I regret my words immediately. I don't even know where they came from. She glares at me venomously. "Well excuse me for finally liking having your skinny ass around! Maybe it's not obvious, Kit Kat, but you matter to me too, you know!" she says as she gets in my face. "It would kill Peeta, kill him, if he hurt you. I don't know that we'd ever get him back. You want that on your hands?"

I'm silent. I know he won't hurt me, but I don't deserve to be a part of this conversation anymore. Not after what I said. Not when Johanna's only concerns aren't coming from jealousy or bitterness, and I took a dig just to hurt her. I don't even recognize myself.

"You know it's wrong. If you didn't, you would have told us," Johanna adds, the emotion drained from her voice.

"Jo," I start, but she's not interested. There's a soft knock on the door and Peeta lets himself back in.

"Water?" he offers, and but I just stare at Johanna.

"I didn't mean that," I say to her. Peeta looks between us.

"I'm staying here from now on," Johanna replies, dropping herself onto her bed. It's not because of what's going on with Gale. They both have heated tempers, it will blow over. She doesn't trust Peet and I alone together.

After some hesitation, Peeta crawls into bed with me and falls asleep quickly. He's right. If today proved anything, we can't be in the same unit. One or both of us will get ourselves killed for the other. A battlefield isn't an Arena. He's a distraction. I'm a distraction. I stare at the ceiling and blow all the air out of my lungs. Peeta shifts his weight and tightens his hold on my waist, which he often does when he's only barely asleep. I know Johanna is awake, though, fuming silently in her bed.

"None of it matters," I offer quietly to the room. I hear her rustle under her wool blanket. "Even if he were a danger. It doesn't matter, Jo. We aren't going to survive this siege. You've got to know that." Her body stills, and I assume she's ignoring me. Staring at the wall. Instead, she pushes herself out of bed and slips out the door without a word, the latch clicking locked behind her.

I'm not the only one afraid to waste time.