Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.

Note: And here's a more reasonable-sized chapter.

Training Scores
Look Like the Time

Malchus Fritz
Hunger Games Host

He wished he could show them more.

Malchus leaned back in his chair, hands clasped in front of him as the numbers beside the camera counted down. This was it. The moment everyone in the Capitol had been waiting for all day. For several days, actually. No one outside of this building had seen the tributes since the parade.

Not that they would see the tributes now, of course. Not until the interviews. But this was the first taste, the first hint that the sponsors would get of who might be more promising and who might not fare so well once the pressure was on. It was only that, however: a taste. A hint. In the end, he was just giving them numbers right now; that was all. And numbers didn't tell the whole story.

Malchus shook the thought from his head. He would get a chance to tell the whole story – or at least more of it – later. Once he actually had the tributes onstage with him, he would be able to pry out more details. Or, at least, he hoped he would. This was his first year. His first chance to make an impression. He owed it to the audience to give them a show, and he wasn't going to let them down.

Three. Two. One. A light indicated that he was live. All of Panem was watching. "Hello, hello!" he called to the unseen audience. "Hello and welcome to what promises to be a very interesting night. For the past three days, these tributes have been working harder than they ever thought they would, finding talents they never knew they had. Today, that training has paid off, and I have the pleasure of presenting the fruits of their effort."

Numbers. They were just numbers. But at the moment, they were all he had. All any of them had to go on. For now, they would have to do.

For now, he would just have to make the most of it.

Consus Caepio, 15
District One

Mae Swenson, with a score of five.

Consus Caepio, with a score of four.

Genevieve Odele, with a score of five.

Justus Freeman, with a score of six.

It didn't look like he was kidding.

Consus stared at the screen, not quite believing it. He wanted to believe it, yes. He wanted to believe that the Careers – his own district partners – weren't really going to be much of a threat this year. Occasionally, a particularly inept Career would score a seven, but a six was unheard of. And a five was laughable.

None of his district partners were laughing. Justus was shaking his head and muttering quietly to himself. Whether he was upset with the Gamemakers for giving him such a low score or upset with himself for whatever he'd done during his session, Consus couldn't be sure. Genevieve's mouth hung open as she stared at the screen, completely baffled. Mae seemed to be taking her five in stride, but the audience would probably attribute her mediocre score to her age.

Justus and Genevieve didn't have that sort of excuse. Consus had been watching his district partners closely enough to know that the others were looking to Justus to lead the Career pack. Would a six be enough to make some of the others question his leadership? Maybe, especially if the other Careers scored higher.

They would just have to wait and see.

Etora Nanovi, 12
District Two

Etora Nanovi, with a score of nine.

Darian Travers, with a score of eight.

Annemae Carty, with a score of ten.

Leonardo Choi, with a score of five.

Margo Devereaux, with a score of seven.

It was beginning to look like she'd made the wrong choice.

Etora shook her head as she stared at the screen. She had suggested to Justus at the start of training that the Careers should have some sort of test to see who would be able to handle being part of the pack. Maybe this was why Justus had refused. Maybe he'd known that neither of his district partners would make the cut. Not that his six was much better. Annemae and Margo, on the other hand…

She'd been expecting Darian's score – or, at least, near enough. He hadn't had as much training as her, but Career training was quite lacking this year. Even more so than she'd thought if none of the District One tributes had impressed the Gamemakers. But Annemae and Margo had kept to themselves during training. They hadn't approached the Career pack wanting to be part of it.

But why? Clearly, the Gamemakers thought they had what it took. Margo's seven was higher than any of District One's tributes, and Annemae had gotten a ten. A ten. Etora glanced over at Darian, who shrugged. Maybe she had been wrong to dismiss them. Etora fought back a sudden churning in her stomach.

Who else had she been wrong about?

Dinah Peralta, 18
District Three

Merrik Haims, with a score of one.

Dinah Peralta, with a score of six.

He didn't look like he'd been expecting this.

Dinah glanced over at Merrik, who was shaking his head, alternating between staring at the screen and looking helplessly at Miriam, hoping for an explanation – an explanation she clearly didn't have. Dinah turned her attention back to the screen. Maybe he'd panicked like he had during the reaping. But if that was the case, he would have expected a low score, wouldn't he?

It wasn't her problem, though. Not really. Right now, she had to focus on her own chances. Her own score was pretty high, especially considering how low some of the Careers had scored. Dinah felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Percival shaking his head. "Don't get too cocky now. Careers are Careers, and low scores just make them more desperate to prove themselves."

He was right, of course. She hadn't exactly been planning to attack the Career pack, though. Even if they weren't quite up to par, there were seven of them. She and Orphelia were only two tributes. Still, it was nice to know that the Gamemakers had seen something in her. A six was just about right – high enough to prove herself but not high enough to make her a target.

She just hoped things kept going this well.

Ronan Callaway, 18
District Four

Aleyn Tillens, with a score of three.

Arabel Ford, with a score of six.

Emmett Darsier, with a score of four.

Ronan Callaway, with a score of nine.

Things were starting to look a little more hopeful.

Ronan couldn't help a grin as Imalia gave him a high five. "Look at that," she beamed. "That's exactly what I got. They must have been impressed."

Ronan chuckled. "Well, you had some tougher competition. Real Careers, I mean. Still…" Still, a nine was pretty impressive. He had a right to be proud of that. He'd earned it. Beside him, Arabel was nodding, impressed. A six wasn't too shabby, though, especially for a younger tribute.

Aleyn, though, looked like she was trying not to cry. "I thought…" She trailed off, her voice breaking. "I just thought I did better than that."

Bierce wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Hey. Scores aren't everything, and everyone knows it. The girl who won last year? She got a three, too."

"She was twelve," Emmett scoffed. "Of course she got a three."

"Twelve-year-old got a nine this year," Ronan offered.

"A twelve-year-old from Two," Emmett countered. "A Career. What's your point."

What was his point? Ronan wasn't sure. He'd just wanted Aleyn to feel better. "Point was, like Bierce said, scores aren't everything." But even he knew how empty that sounded. Maybe they weren't everything. But they were certainly something.

And he was pretty proud of his.

Vashti Rii, 16
District Five

Retro Liu, with a score of three.

Vashti Rii, with a score of two.

Macauley Tierney, with a score of eight.

Elliot Stone, with a score of eight.

It looked like they knew what they were doing, after all.

Vashti leaned back in his chair as Macauley and Elliot exchanged high fives, trading a few with Sabine and Oliver, as well. Vashti had assumed the pair of them would be at the bottom of the Career pack, but the only one who had scored higher was the little girl from Two. Maybe the rest of the pack was just as inept as they were, after all.

Or maybe the Gamemakers were playing with them. It wasn't unheard of for the Gamemakers to inflate scores in the hopes of creating drama. But that was really only effective if they had some level of skill to begin with. Vashti glanced up at Harakuise, who shrugged. After what had happened during his session, a two wasn't much of a surprise. But what else could he have done?

After only a moment, however, the door opened, revealing Mariska, with her mentor Lander behind her. Shit. At least she had the sense not to say anything in front of the others. Lander motioned to Harakuise, who nodded and gestured to Vashti to follow them into the other room. Once the door was closed, Mariska turned to Vashti.

"Okay. What aren't you telling me?"

Charu Varma, 18
District Six

Lena Khatri, with a score of one.

Charu Varma, with a score of five.

It looked like the Gamemakers had figured it out.

Charu glanced over at Duke and Nicodemus, who were trying to work out what had gone wrong. By the way Lena's face was turning pale, she'd already figured it out. "They know."

Duke raised an eyebrow. "Know what?"

"When Merrik got a one, I figured it might be a fluke, you know? He said he panicked a bit. But both of us … It has to mean they know."

"Know what?" Duke pressed.

Lena simply stared at the screen, frozen. So Charu answered. "When Merrik came out of his session, I saw him whisper something to Lena. Didn't think anything of it at the time, figured maybe he was giving her a little last-minute encouragement. But then when Lena came out, she … she told us what was coming, with the rain and the wind and all."

Duke's face was growing red. "What? You did what?"

"I didn't think it was fair." Lena's voice was barely a whisper. "What they were doing … It wasn't fair. It wasn't right."

"Right?" Duke demanded. "Of course it isn't right. None of this is right. But do you have any idea what you've done? If they think you're trying to cause trouble—"

"I wasn't!"

"That doesn't matter! The only thing that matters is whether you look like you're trying to cause trouble. And believe me, that's exactly what it looks like."

"Duke." Nicodemus' voice was quiet as he lay a hand on the younger man's arm. "Calm down. What's done is done, and screaming about it isn't going to help."

"I wasn't—"

"I know you're scared. It's okay."

Duke immediately fell silent. He opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. So Nicodemus continued. "Lena, come with me. We need to talk to Merrik and Miriam, figure out how we're going to spin this."

"I didn't mean to—"

"I know." He squeezed her hand gently in his crooked fingers. "Believe me, I know. But right now, we need to stop this from getting worse." He wheeled himself out of the room, and Lena followed.

Duke turned to Charu. "Great. Just great. You were always our best shot, Charu, but now you're our only shot."

Charu felt a knot forming in her stomach. Lena hadn't meant to hurt anyone. She wasn't trying to start a rebellion. She'd just made a mistake. They wouldn't really target her because of one little mistake.

Would they?

Thomas Elliot, 18
District Seven

Nephelle Sorena, with a score of six.

Thomas Elliot, with a score of four.

They certainly wouldn't look like much of a threat now.

Thomas glanced over at Nephelle, who nodded. It had been her idea – purposely holding back during his training session. And from the look of it, they'd made the right choice. There were three of them – him, Nephelle, and Aven. Three older, stronger tributes. If they scored too high, the three of them might make a tempting target for the Careers.

Now … not so much. Sure, they might not look like much to sponsors, either, but sponsors would take notice if they lasted long enough. Right now, it was more important not to draw attention to themselves. And from the look of things, the Careers would have their hands full trying to prove themselves to the audience.

Or, at least, the Careers from District One would. District Two was looking pretty good, and the older tributes from Five had both gotten eights. Even one of the boys from Four had gotten a nine.

Thomas leaned back on the sofa. He couldn't help wondering how he would have scored if he hadn't been holding back. Probably not as high as the higher Careers, certainly, but maybe a seven or so? Maybe it was better that way – just being able to imagine that he would have done well, pretend that he could have scored just as high as any of them.

Now there was no way to know for sure.

Mariska Vasile, 16
District Eight

Mariska Vasile, with a score of seven.

Klaudia Almasy, with a score of two.

They must look like quite the pair.

Mariska shook her head as her score flashed on the screen, her seven a stark contrast to her ally's two. But now she knew why. Mariska crossed her arms as Vashti finished explaining. A blood disorder. Maybe she should have seen that one coming. She wanted to scream. To demand to know why he hadn't told her sooner. Why he'd been keeping this a secret when the first thing he'd insisted was important in the Games was honesty.

Except she already knew why, even if he wouldn't admit it. He hadn't wanted to look weak. He'd wanted her to believe that he would be a useful ally, that he had something to contribute. And he certainly did, but this … this changed everything.

Didn't it?

Mariska hesitated a moment before responding. "You have to tell the audience."

"What?" Vashti asked flatly.

"The audience. During the interviews. Do you really think they aren't going to bring it up? The audience has to be wondering what a sixteen-year-old could have done to end up with a two."

"Your district partner got a two."

"My district partner fainted at the reaping. If they know why you scored so low, the sponsors will understand, and maybe they'll be able to do something once the Games start."

Vashti scoffed. "Like what? Pool their resources and find a cure for hemophilia?"

Mariska rolled her eyes. "I meant maybe they could send you some armor or something. But if you want to aim high…"

"What makes you think we'll get sponsors in the first place?"

"Maybe I'm just an optimist," Mariska teased.

Vashti actually burst out laughing. "Bullshit. If I tell the audience, I tell the other tributes. If they know—"

Mariska cut him off. "Don't you get it yet? It's not a question of if they find out. Just a question of who they're going to find out from. Are they going to find out from the host at the interviews, or are they going to hear it from you?" She shook her head.

"It's up to you."

Aven Faraday, 16
District Nine

Barlen Rimmonn, with a score of two.

Triticum Bulgur, with a score of five.

Aven Faraday, with a score of six.

It looked like Nephelle's idea had worked.

Aven nodded as Crispin clapped her on the back. Just right. A six was just about right, and their pair of sixes would be enough to balance out Thomas' four in the audience's eyes. But all the other tributes would care about was the four. Thomas was the oldest and strongest in their alliance. But an eighteen-year-old who scored a four … well, that was nothing to worry about.

Ti seemed content with his score, as well. Barlen, on the other hand, was well past content and was beaming up at Basil. "Second! Not bad for a thirteen year old kid!"

A thirteen year old kid who had run screaming out of his session after only a few minutes. But he probably didn't even remember doing that. Aven shook her head, not even looking at her district partner. If he couldn't even remember how the scoring system worked…

Not her problem. She'd been telling herself that ever since her district partners had turned out to be a pair of younger boys. Ti seemed to be doing pretty well for himself, but one of his allies had already scored a three, and the other didn't seem particularly competent. But none of that – none of it – was her problem. If she wanted to survive, she couldn't waste time worrying about her younger district partners.

No matter how sorry she felt for them.

Connor Sawyer, 15
District Ten

Connor Sawyer, with a score of five.

Skyton Tate, with a score of seven.

It looked like Skyton might actually know what he was doing.

Connor shook his head, still staring at the screen. Maybe a seven wasn't terribly impressive, but it certainly wasn't what he'd expected from someone who had spent the entire three days training at various survival stations. Skyton hadn't so much as laid a hand on a weapon, and he'd earned the highest score in their alliance. Connor clapped his district partner on the back. "Not bad."

Skyton smiled. "You, too. Looks like our alliance is doing pretty well. I got a seven, Arabel got a six, you got a five."

Klaudia got a two. He wanted to say it, but he didn't. Skyton hadn't picked Klaudia because he thought she would be an incredible fighter. Connor just hoped the survival skills she and Skyton had picked up would be enough to make up for what they lacked in brute strength.

Connor finally managed a smile. It would be enough. It had to. There were four of them; that made them the largest alliance aside from the Career pack. Well, tied for the next-largest alliance. That had to count for something.

Maybe it would be enough to give them an edge.

Shanali Theisen, 17
District Eleven

Wes Bartoshesky, with a score of three.

Kilian Romane, with a score of seven.

Shanali Theisen, with a score of eight.

It certainly looked like their alliance was one of the stronger ones.

Shanali avoided Wes' gaze as she gave Kilian a high five. "Look at that! Seven, eight, and Ronan got a nine. Looking good, Kilian!"

"Feeling good, Shanali," Kilian beamed.

"Don't get cocky, you two," Tamsin interrupted. "Those scores will get you noticed by sponsors, but they could also make you a target for the Careers."

"The Careers we just outscored," Shanali chuckled. "All of them from One, at least. And I tied three of the others."

"That's what the Gamemakers are counting on," Elijah pointed out. "They want you to believe they're on par with the Careers. Believe me, you're not. You're good, but they've had years of training. You're not prepared to take them on right away."

"Were you?" Shanali countered.

"No," Elijah answered immediately. "Which was why I decided to leave them. Trying to join them was a mistake. Trying to confront them immediately would also have been a mistake. Don't make that mistake."

"So you're saying we should run?" Kilian asked.

"I'm saying you should be smart," Elijah corrected. "With scores like that, the audience will be expecting you to accomplish something during the bloodbath. The Careers will be expecting you to try. Just don't aim too high right away. Don't bite off more than you can chew." He shook his head.

"It might come back to bite you later."

David Abadi, 14
District Twelve

David Abadi, with a score of seven.

Orphelia Mykonos, with a score of six.

It looked like their gambling had paid off.

David beamed up at Brennan as the last of the scores faded from the screen. "I guess we made the right choice, after all."

"There are no right choices," Brennan answered softly.

Orphelia looked up, confused, from the plate of cookies she'd been finishing. "What do you mean? We were both honest about knowing about their plan ahead of time. We both got pretty good scores. I don't see the problem."

"I'm sure you don't," Brennan agreed. "Here's the thing. You never told me which tributes told you something was coming, but from the scores I just saw, I bet I can guess. They didn't get zeroes, but that could just be up to the individual Gamemaker."

"Wait," David interrupted. "You're saying that's our fault?"

Kyra shook her head. "Not entirely. The Gamemakers probably already knew something was going on – or at least suspected."

"Your actions didn't cause what happened, but they contributed to it," Brennan explained. "And that's something you'll have to live with. Was it the best choice for you? Almost certainly. But was it the right choice?" He shook his head. "Things usually aren't that simple. There's always a price." He laid his good hand on David's shoulder.

"It's up to you to decide whether the price is worth paying."

"Your face, my thane, is as a book where men may read strange matters. To beguile the time, look like the time."