Know Your Enemy - Chapter 5


"Remember, Peeta, you can't let the Gamemakers ignore you. You're one of the last ones up, and they might be distracted by the time you get there. You're probably going to get irritated." Haymitch grimaced at an old memory. "Crane's a fair man, though, he should give you a reasonable score. You just have to show them respect whilst making sure they notice you. You have to give them something special or you won't get the good score that is essential to work with the Careers. Good luck, kid."

Haymitch's words echoed around his head as he nervously tapped his foot on the hard concrete floor beneath him, waiting anxiously for the Gamemakers to call on him for his turn.

The day had passed in a blink of an eye: he hadn't had enough time to prepare for this. He needed to impress the Careers and he could only do that if he had a good score. What if he messed up? What if he got it all wrong and made a fool of himself, landing himself with a score like 5? Then even Clove would be unwilling to accept him readily, if at all. Even though she might make allowances, Marvel probably wouldn't and Cato... well, he's the one Peeta was trying the hardest to impress. As for the the blonde girl, she would just agree to whatever Cato said. If this went wrong, that would be all four of them against him.

Glimmer really was stupid, Peeta mused. He could easily make a better Career than Glimmer.

Marvel had approached him in training today. Perhaps this was only because Clove had told him to, but whatever the reason, the outcome was still favourable. Marvel had been impressed with Peeta's ability to light a fire, being pretty much inept at it himself. Peeta had expected that - from what Clove had told him, the Careers' training schedule didn't leave much room for learning basic survival skills. Maybe that would give him the edge in terms of joining them.

Peeta was so nervous he couldn't even bring himself to speak to his District 12 counterpart. She must have felt the same, though. She always got nervous. When Peeta looked up at her, he noticed that she had a delicate tinge of green staining her cheek.

"Peeta Mellark." The automated voice rang out suddenly and he jumped. Clearing his dry throat, he stood up shakily before inhaling a couple of deep breaths. He could do this. He exhaled deeply as he puffed out his chest ever so slightly. If he wasn't confident, he at least had to act it. When he got to the door he spun around to Katniss. He didn't know what made him say it, but he wished her a quid "Good luck," before opening the door and slipping into the training center.

As he walked into the room (quickly, as he only had fifteen minutes to prove himself) he heard the raucous laughter of the seemingly drunk gamemakers. Now he understood what Haymitch said about not getting angry; Peeta found himself seething. How dare they not pay attention to him? After all the hard work Peeta had put into this plan to stay alive, it would all be useless if they didn't pay attention to him. This was crucial.

He forced himself to swallow his feelings and act pleasantly. Fine, he thought. If they wanted to ignore him, he'd use this time to practice for a couple of minutes. That way he could show them later exactly why they should be paying attention to him.

He practically ran to the training dummies and picked up a knife, beginning to experiment with one in faux-combat, swinging the knife wildly to see just how much damage he could do. Upon inspection, he hadn't done a bad job. If the guy were real, he would have certainly been fatally injured. Then, running through his options, he decided quickly what show he was going to put on in his next ten minutes.

Then he sauntered over to stand right in front of the Gamemakers.

"Excuse me." He said politely, an attempt to show respect. None of them turned round. He waited a few seconds before trying again. "I said," Peeta raised his voice to a shout. "Excuse me!"

Every head at the table turned, and he noticed Seneca Crane surveying him with interest. It was unheard of for tributes to interrupt and try and converse with the Gamemakers, the people who could change his odds, his life and his fate with just one number.

"Thank you. Now if you wouldn't mind, I'd prefer it if you were to actually watch me in the pathetic ten-minute slot you allotted me - you wouldn't want to misjudge the next victor now, would you?" He smiled at them cockily and a few of them, Crane in particular, laughed a little.

"I'm sure we wouldn't. Go ahead." Seneca Crane's lips turned upwards at the ends as he spoke. He arranged his fingers into V-shape before propping his chin upon them. He looked interested, intrigued even, like he ready to watch whatever show Peeta was about to perform for them.

The boy walked over to the dummies again, allowing a slight swagger to influence his step. He reached the station and picked up three knives at once, slipping one into his pocket for easy access. He prepared himself to be able to aim accurately at the dummies' most vital 'organs' before he launched into attack, letting a snarl creep out between his lips as he twisted the neck of one dummy before entering his knife deep into the others skull. He kicked out with his left foot as he would to a human, which would have weakened their stance as he slammed into its knee and drove his knife into its neck, before sending a knife through the final dummy's chest.

Three slaughtered dummies lay broken on the floor.

He smirked triumphantly down at them then walked to the weights section, wondering how much time he had left. The gamemakers were still silent, he was pleased to note. But then, how could they not be? Peeta had even had the audacity to speak with the Head Gamemaker.

A part of him began to wonder if he'd gone too far, but Haymitch had told him that the man was fair. Maybe this would work to his advantage. He shook his head slightly to clear them of worrying thoughts and grinned up at the table once more.

"Keep watching, because I'd say this might just swing the eleven over to a twelve." He laughed arrogantly, and picked up the second heaviest ball, one that he had seen Cato struggle with a couple of days ago. The thought made him laugh. He guessed Cato was a bit weaker than him.

He easily picked up another in the other hand and swung them around above his head, getting a feel for the weight of them and allowing his muscles to lock into place before launching them to the other side of the room, where they collided with the paints at the camouflage station and sent them flying, a rainbow of colours splattering across the walls.

"Sorry." He smirked up at the Gamemakers, his tone making it clear he wasn't apologetic at all, before lifting up the heaviest weight available, which even the trainer had been apprehensive about using. It didn't cause him too much trouble, but he felt a slight ache in his arm as he began to swing it in his right hand. He let it swing for a moment, testing it's capacity and getting used to the dull ache that came from holding such a heavy object between his fingers. All in all, it was quite easy for Peeta. He'd lifted heavier weights at the bakery before now.

He targeted the ceiling in the farthest corner of the room from where he was stood now as his goal. He narrowed his eyes and inhaled deeply. This was one shot he could not afford to miss.

With one last swing of the ball, Peeta spun around before launching it at the spot he had aimed for. He stood straight, as he was before, and ignored the impulse to massage his arm until he saw it hit the mark exactly. The huge metal spikes that circled the edge of the ball caused it to stick up there momentarily before finally crashing down, emphasising its weight as it made a slight dent in the hard floor.

He grinned proudly towards the Gamemakers, only hesitating slightly before he enquired, "How much time do I have left?"

Seneca Crane pulled out his pocket watch. "Four and a half minutes." They were interested to see what he could do next.

Peeta found that he was too, if he was honest.

After a moment of deliberation, he decided to show them his best talent. Maybe it wasn't his most impressive one, but he was the best at this. Heading over to the scattered remains of the camouflage station, he began to work with the debris that was there. Adding swirls of colour, he began to paint a kaleidoscope of greens and browns on his arm, mixing with deep oranges and whites.

This was therapeutic to him. It reminded him of the solace he earned when he was allowed to decorate the cakes at home with no one to interrupt him, just him alone with his frosting. He worked quickly, glancing up every now and again at the tree that had been provided for inspiration at the camouflage station for anyone that was bothered with it, trying not to smile too hard at the outcome. He was just about done.

"I know that probably wasn't the impressive grand finale you were all hoping for." He announced, smiling at them before he continued. "But I think we've already established that I'm a good fighter and I am going to be able to kill and harm others easily in the arena." He punctuated the statement with a pointed glance towards the wrecked dummies, the dent in the floor made by the weight and the paints swirling around his feet.

He then placed his arm on the tree at the part it almost blended into, being the exact same shade and having the right contour lines to become almost invisible. Peeta did have an artistic eye, he must admit. "I thought I'd show you I have a range of skills, and maybe that's just enough for you to give me that high mark I deserve. I want everyone to know that I'm not just any tribute."

He kept his eye upon the Gamemaker table. They were still silent. A few were nodding in approval, some were looking shocked, but all had a common feature: they were impressed. He let his eyes shift to Crane, who smiled back at him.

"Good job twelve." He said, his eyes glinting. "You are dismissed."

"Thank you for your consideration." Peeta gave them one last smile then bowed politely before exiting the room.

He was almost certain that he'd pulled it off perfectly.


One thing Peeta would surely miss when he was in the arena was Capitol food.

Back in District 12, he'd always considered himself beyond lucky that he had two meals each day and a father who could easily cook up a treat. It wasn't until he came here that he realized that all that paled in comparison. Everything was so much richer here, so much fuller and thicker, bursting with flavours and spices that people where he came from couldn't even afford.

Licking his chocolate-covered spoon clean, he loaded up his plate with another slice of the thick, creamy cake. He'd seriously miss the Capitol food.

Across the table, Effie bustled about busily with a bundle of papers, frantically ticking things off on her numerous checklists. He watched her affectionately as she fussed over pointless things, knowing that it was because the Tribute's scores were aired in twenty odd minutes. She was nervous.

She wasn't the only one.

Katniss sat sulking on the couch in front of the TV, curled in on herself angrily. She was a different kind of nervous now, not the kind where she shook in her skin and stuttered but the kind where she was clearly furious. Her showcase in front of the Gamemakers hadn't gone too well. Of course, this was indirectly all his fault, hence the sulking: It had taken them so long to clear up the mess Peeta had made that by the time she got there, they were already tucking into their meal and didn't pay her or her perfect shooting any attention.

She had stormed out of the room afterwards absolutely fuming.

Haymitch had made a vague attempt to comfort her, but she wouldn't be consoled and he gave up pretty fast. Now he sat on one of the plush leather chairs near to her, feet kicked up onto one of the glass coffee tables (in spite of the numerous amount of disapproving glares this earned him from Effie) and a small glass of wine clutched tightly in his hand. As reluctant as he'd be to admit it, he was nervous too.

The only person feeling at least somewhat relaxed was Peeta. He thought he'd done well, the best he could, and he knew that he'd impressed the Gamekeepers. He was generally feeling very pleased with himself, and Haymitch had been nothing short of delighted when he recounted the events to him. His favourite part was the dent Peeta had made in the floor, laughing even harder when Katniss confirmed they hadn't been able to amend before she got there.

As he finished his dessert, he reached for the hi-tech remote control and flicked the TV on as he settled down beside Katniss on the couch. They were airing a replay of the reapings before they aired the scores, just to remind everyone of what all of the Tributes looked like.

It seemed like so long ago that he'd just been another face in a crowd, another name in a glass bowl, and just another observer to Katniss stepping forward to take her hysterical sister's place. Now here he was, reliving the moment from behind a screen with the miserable girl sat next to him.

At the time, he had pitied her. Now? Not so much.

"I don't want to watch this." Katniss interjected from beside him.

"Tough luck that I've got the remote, then, because I want to." She made a grab for it but he was quicker, tucking it out of her reach behind a cushion and then sitting on it. Maybe he was being a little childish about it. "Just close your eyes or something. It's nearly over anyway."

She glowered at him, her expression murderous, and he smiled back. This felt so familiar to him that it was almost comforting.

His reaping was the last shown, a close-up shot taken of his look of despair as Effie called out his name. He could barely even remember what had happened after that, couldn't recall being lead to the stage by the Peacekeepers or made to shake Katniss' hand up on stage, but the evidence to show that he did was playing out on the screen right in front of him.

Then suddenly the anthem was played and Caesar Flickerman's familiar face floated into view. He was the Capitol's most popular presenter and he'd been doing the commentaries for The Hunger Games for as long as Peeta could remember. This year, his hair was a pale shade of cerulean blue.

"Here's the moment you've been waiting for!" The announcement was directed to the crowd in front of him, but Peeta knew that it applied to Panem in its entirety. Back home, everyone would be stood before the screens with bated breath, hoping that their District would be in with a good chance of victory.

He hoped they would be, too.

As each score was announced, an image of their face hovered across the screen to remind people once again exactly whom it was they were evaluating. Glimmer received a 9, Marvel a 10 and Clove a 10 to match. As Cato's face appeared, he felt his body tense up.

"From District 2, we have Cato with a…" Caesar smiled into the camera, dragging the moment out for suspense. "An eleven, only one point away from getting the very highest score!" The crowd around him burst into applause, and Peeta felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Since he'd decided to make him an ally, he'd almost forgotten exactly how good Cato really was. If his plan failed, he could be dead in an instant.

Distracted, he barely noticed the rest of the scores. All of the Tributes that weren't Careers tended to get far lower ratings. Peeta couldn't help but snigger when he saw that Foxface had been awarded a mere 5. How embarrassing.

As it reached the outlying Districts, Peeta began to feel more anxious, keenly awaiting his score. As he watched, he was surprised to note that Rue had been awarded an 8, an extremely high score for someone of her age. Perhaps the Gamemakers were feeling unusually generous.

Thresh, her District partner, was awarded a solid 10. As Katniss' face appeared on the screen, everyone in the room held their breath in anticipation. There was a pause, before a seven appeared beside her, circling around her face almost tauntingly. A seven. The best huntswoman in District 12 had scored a seven, an even lower score than Rue. If she weren't sitting right beside him, he'd have probably laughed.

"That's okay," Effie reassured her. "We can work with that."

Katniss nodded as the image of her face was replaced by Peeta's. He gnawed down on his lip hard enough to draw blood as Caesar spun in his chair, stalling.

"Last but by no means least, we have Peeta Mellark who earned himself a score of… Eleven! That's the second of the night, folks, and the highest score anyone from District 12 has ever earned!"

He felt elated, like he was floating. Haymitch sprung up from his seat, placing his wine to one side as he embraced the boy. Effie wasn't far behind, wrapping her arms around the pair of them and rocking them from side to side happily.

It was like he was a little kid again, sandwiched between his two proud parents after he told them that he had come top of his class in the recent test or he had sold more cakes than his brothers that day. Over the years, moments like those had become less frequent, but he tried not to think about that now.

Instead, he relished the feeling of two pairs of warm arms around him. In that moment, he felt safe, cared for and warm but of course, just like the bitch she was, Katniss had to ruin it.

"Starting tomorrow, I want to train on my own." She said.


Backstage of Caesar Flickerman's show, there was a buzz of nervous excitement in the air. All of the Tributes stood dressed up and lined up for their interviews, from first District to last. Peeta stood at the very back, last in the queue, clad in a tidy blue suit that, according to Portia, really brought out the colour in his eyes.

Beside him, Katniss was doing that weird shaking thing again. This time, unlike on the chariot, he ignored her. There was no hand holding, and no whispered words of encouragement. At this stage in the competition, he just couldn't afford to act like that.

Everyone seemed to be psyching themselves up for the interview in a different way. At the very front of the line, Glimmer fiddled incessantly with her hair while Marvel flexed his muscles beside her, a member of their prep team wielding a mirror before them so they could admire their immaculate reflections. Behind them, Cato was doing his usual glare-at-everything-that-breathes sequence and Clove stood casually beside him, her expression quietly confident.

A little further back, Foxface had sat down on the floor in a full-lotus position, arms slightly raised as she closed her eyes and meditated. Weirdo.

Closer to them, Rue and her District partner Thresh were quietly discussing something, his thick arm resting protectively around his shoulders. He noticed with surprise that she didn't really look nervous to be going out on stage. She just looked like a kid who was too young and too small for a situation like this. They all were. Every fiber in his being wanted to tell her that it was going to be okay, that there was still a chance she could go home. He didn't, though, because there wasn't. Peeta felt sorry for whoever had the job of killing her.

"You're going out in three minutes," said a woman from behind her clipboard near the front of the room.

A nervous ripple spread through the line of Tributes. It was showtime. Foxface stood up, straightened her dress. Cato bared his teeth in a threatening manner, attempting to school his expression into one that was slightly less confrontational. Glimmer pouted into the mirror one last time. Katniss drew in one shaky breath, then another.

Even from where he stood, Peeta could faintly hear the cheers of the Capitol crowd as Caesar laughed and joked with them.

"Just meters away stand the twenty four people you are going to watch battle for their lives in the 74th annual Hunger Games and, in just few minutes, you're going to meet them!" He called out to them loudly, and an anxious hush fell over the room. "Are you excited?" he asked. The answering screams reverberated through the walls.

"Then, without further ado, please welcome your Tributes!"

At this, the clipboard woman began to usher them forwards, ensuring that they trailed onto the stage one-by-one to take their seat in front of their audience. At the back, Peeta watched as each of them disappeared on to the stage. Ahead of him, Katniss stumbled out clumsily, nearly tripping on the hem of her long, flowing dress. This made him chuckle a little, in spite of himself.

He was still grinning when he stepped out in front of the crowd. They cheered for him and he waved back, blowing one particularly hideous woman a kiss and laughing more when she practically fainted.

Sitting down in his seat, he tried to make eye contact with as many of the people in the crowd as he could while Caesar bounced about the stage, introducing them and leading them over one by one to be interviewed.

The more people felt like they had made a connection with him, the more likely they were to sponsor him.


As he watched the rest of the interviews, Peeta grew increasingly nervous, but made an effort to make sure nobody noticed. All of the other Tributes seemed to know exactly what they were doing and exactly which game they should be playing.

Glimmer strutted out to greet Caesar first. She giggled throughout her entire interview and fluttered her long eyelashes hard enough to make every man and at least half of the women in the audience swoon. When she was asked if she was ready for the games, she gave a confident smile and nodded.

"I know I may look like just a pretty face, but there's far more to me than that. I'm lethal, I know what I'm doing and I'm ready for this."

After her, Marvel cockily boasted about his strength, going as far as lifting his shirt to show off his firm abs to the audience. Clove followed him, speaking to Caesar seriously. She was practically channeling cool and collected confidence. None of this was particularly surprising to Peeta, just a little unnerving.

Then Cato stood up, his tight-fitting suit shimmering gold as he made his way towards the interview. For the first time since Peeta had met him, he looked almost human, as if there was an actual person living under the cold exterior.

He beamed a pearly white smile to the audience, winking towards a few of them them as he took his seat and Peeta couldn't help but watch him, transfixed and completely enthralled by the way the frosty-natured boy had transformed himself so completely.

Caesar welcomed him warmly and they shook hands, exchanging an apparently genuine smile. Peeta hadn't known he was even capable of those. "So, tell me Cato," the man began, his hands folding together in his lap as he studied the boy. "How are you finding your training?"

"It's very… tiring." Cato admitted, and then laughed. "It's really cool though, I get to spend so much time doing what I love. Practicing with weapons and sparring against the trainers has been really great for me because I've really been able to push myself to my limits. Hopefully that will pay off in the arena."

He spoke with so much enthusiasm as he explained all about his favourite kind of weapons, from long swords to tridents, miming how they were used as he talked. He looked like the little kids did when they walked past District 12's lone candy store, his eyes lit up so brightly they sparkled.

His slot was finished far too quickly for Peeta's liking and soon enough he was back in his seat, his personality reigned back in to its usual cold and controlled state. For the rest of the show, Peeta found that he couldn't pay much attention to the other interviews. Instead he found himself wondering absently which side of Cato was the true Cato, whether either of them were an act of if the boy was simply a combination of the two.

For some reason that he couldn't quite fathom, he found himself hoping that the Cato he knew from training was the act.


Before he knew it, Katniss was standing up from her perch beside him. She wobbled in her high shoes, legs shaking as she made her way towards the cheering crowd and Caesar's smiling face.

This snapped him back into gear, his mind suddenly alert at the realization that he was next. It was his turn next. He went over his plan with Haymitch quickly. Be confident. Impress the Careers. Pretend to like Katniss. It was simple enough. He could do this.

As the girl began to speak, Peeta leant forward in his chair as if he was enchanted by her, allowing a small smile to play about the corners of his lips. As usual, she was nervous, but Caesar tried to help her along as best she could. She slowly began to relax into the interview.

It wasn't until she was asked about their fiery entrance that she really shined, though. Literally, she shined. Standing up from her seat, she twirled about the small stage, the tail ends of her dress bursting into bright orange flame. The crowd went wild. Peeta would bet anything that backstage, Effie would be pretty much swelling up with pride.

"Wow, Katniss, that really was something." Caesar looked suitably impressed as the girl flopped back into her seat beside him, face flushed and giggling. She looked exhilarated, but came down from her high quickly when she was asked about her little sister, Prim, and what it was like to say goodbye to her.

"I don't want to think of it as a goodbye. I want to think of it as an 'I'll see you soon.' I told her I would try to win. I told her I would try to win for her."

"Of course you did." Caesar pressed a hand to his heart, as if this were the sweetest sentiment he'd ever heard. "And try you shall." He offered out his hand to help her climb to her feet, which she took gratefully. She wasn't shaking as badly when she headed back towards her seat, shooting Peeta a small smile.

Then Caesar called his name, and for a minute it felt like the whole world had come to a stop. The faces of the crowd stood frozen in time, pulled into an array of excited expressions. He stood up slowly, glancing around. Cato was staring at him curiously. He bit his lip, straightened his suit jacket and took a deep breath as he strode forwards.

It was show time.


Up close, Caesar looked different. His teeth seemed bigger, as if they were about to burst out of his face, and his hair was a deeper shade of blue than it appeared on camera. His palms were warm and soft between Peeta's fingers when they shook hands.

Peeta couldn't help but feel immediately at ease.

"So, Peeta, you're our final Tribute of the night. How have you found watching the other contestants in their interviews?" Every eye in the room was trained on him, waiting for his answer. This moment was crucial. He knew he had to answer this right, to come across as confident without being arrogant.

"Well, I've heard it said that they always save the best until last." He winked at the audience here, and they laughed. "It's been interesting to watch everyone else get up here. I don't mean to put a downer on the night, but the more I know about these guys, the better chance I have of beating them."

"Do you think you have a good chance of doing that?"

"I'd like to say I have a pretty good chance." Peeta smiled. "I mean… Well. Let's just say a lot of the tributes here will probably want to overlook me." He let his gaze drift over to Cato, hopefully without it being too obvious. "But, honestly? I think the fact that I'm from District 12 should intrigue people rather than put them off." He spread his hands widely as he laughed. "Maybe Haymitch is in for a new neighbour."

Caesar laughed, tipping his head back and positively roaring. "Yes...yes! And what a good point. I mean, a simple thing such as your District should have no effect on how people perceive you. Am I right?" He demanded of the crowd with a grin, who met the question with a chorus of whoops and cheers.

"So, Peeta," Caesar leaned forward and Peeta grinned at him, waiting for him to continue. "We've heard some rumours...about you and another tribute?" He winked and the crowd went wild.

This was the time to decide just how much he 'liked' Katniss.

"I don't know what you mean, Caesar." He feigned innocence before winking at the crowd. "Well, do you think you can all keep a secret?" He asked in a stage-whisper.

"You can trust us, Peeta." The crowd screamed in assent.

"I do like someone here." He let a smile fall on his face as he quickly glanced over at Katniss, who blushed and ducked her head, still not quite at peace with the idea. "But," he raised his finger as he continued. "It's the Hunger Games, Caesar. I'm not an idiot." He smiled somewhat sadly. "I know nothing will come of it. So I think we're just going to have our fun while it lasts." He waggled his eyebrows, which caused another onslaught of screams from the audience. "But when we get in the arena...we're all opponents, aren't we? And I'm taking that seriously. I want to win, Caesar. And you can bet she wants to aswell." The crowd cheered him as Caesar leant forward.

"Well, I think I speak for everyone here when I wish you good luck, Peeta Mellark! And may you and your..." He looked over at Katniss and winked "...let's say 'secret girlfriend'... have the best of fun before the arena!"

At this, the two stood up, and shook hands. Peeta winked again at some faceless member of the crowd who screamed and clutched the person next to her. He laughed as he bowed, then walked off stage to sit beside Katniss. Thank God that was over.

Now he just had to find Haymitch and Effie to see if he was okay.


A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry it took longer than usual for an update, we had some technical problems but they're resolved now and we're working on getting the next update out as soon as possible - it's the one you've all been waiting for! They're going into the arena next chapter! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story so far and let us know what they think, all of your comments are so helpful to us and truly appreciated.