Disclaimer: The Hunger Games is not mine.

Note: Yeah, quick update. I actually had both this chapter and the previous one written over the weekend, but I was at a Shakespeare festival - which was awesome - and didn't have internet access. So here's another chapter. :)

Training Scores
Civilization

Constance Juniper
Hunger Games Host

She usually hated the numbers.

Constance forced a smile as the cameras began to turn towards her. Her father had hated this night, as well – as much as one could hate any night during the Hunger Games festivities. He had always said it bothered him to see the tributes reduced to a number. A quantification of their chances in the Hunger Games, based not on their drive or determination or will to survive, but on a simple fifteen-minute session. A number subject to the whims and prejudices of the Gamemakers. A number often assigned simply to create drama, to turn tributes against each other, to lead them to believe certain tributes were more of a threat.

But this year was different. This year, the numbers represented something solid. Something objective. Something that – finally – had nothing to do with whether a tribute had the misfortune of being picked as one of the 'replacement' tributes. There was no special treatment. No bright, fancy costumes for one group and rags for the other.

Just numbers, pure and simple. No more accurate, no more relevant, than any other year. But something familiar. Something constant.

Constance grinned as the cameras counted down to zero.

Jaime Gloire, 18
District One

Inviticus Cassiano, with a score of six.

Jaime Gloire, with a score of ten.

"There must be some mistake."

Jaime glanced up at Inviticus as the four of them stared at the screen. Her score was somewhat expected. Jade, Stellar, and Jasper had all scored tens. So although quite well-deserved, a ten wasn't exactly a surprise. But Inviticus … His heart hadn't really been in his performance in the training room, but she hadn't thought he was that bad.

Inviticus stormed off immediately, still grumbling. Jasper followed, trying to cool him down. "You know why they did that, don't you," Jade said, his voice low.

Jaime nodded. It was rare for a Career to score so low, but it wasn't entirely unheard of. Sometimes the Gamemakers gave low scores to half the Career pack in an attempt to split them. But if Inviticus' score was the only low one…

"They know there's tension," Jaime said quietly. "And they know he's the source. They want us to go after him at the start. It'll give them a good show, and maybe give the rest of us a better chance of sticking together. They're baiting us."

"They are," Jade agreed, clearly proud that she'd figured it out on her own. "The only question now is whether you're going to take the bait."

Jaime nodded. She knew what she wanted to do. But convincing the rest of her alliance – that would be the tricky part. She might be able to take on Inviticus alone, but she didn't want to risk her life in the attempt if she didn't have to. But if she had the others' support...

Jamie nodded a little, then said something she had never thought would come out of her mouth.

"I'll have to talk to my allies first."

Septimus Drakon, 18
District Two

Septimus Drakon, with a score of nine.

Naella Sareen, with a score of ten.

"Well done, both of you."

Septimus glanced at Naella, who barely registered Harriet's praise. At the moment, she was much more concerned about her ally's peculiarly low score than her own high one. She had expected to do well.

Which was the problem, he had noticed, with so many Careers. They came into the Games expecting to do well. They'd always had everything supplied for them: the best trainers, the best weapons, the best conditions, the best opponents. They'd never truly had to fight for the privilege they considered theirs. So they simply waltzed into the Games expecting more of the same, expecting victory to be delivered to them on a silver platter.

He had never expected it to be easy. He was fighting an uphill battle, and would continue to do so throughout the Games. Harakuise had promised to help him, but even he could only be trusted to do so as long as it benefited his own tribute. As soon as Liana was out of the picture…

So he would have to keep her in the picture as long as possible. The rest of them were expendable, including the one he had known would be dead weight from the start. Once the Games began, that tie would be severed, as they all would, in the end. In the end, they were all dead weight.

It was just a matter of time.

India Telle, 17
District Three

Aleron Blanchet, with a score of four.

Horatio Connors, with a score of four.

Evander Mercado, with a score of five.

India Telle, with a score of six.

That was better than she'd expected.

India breathed a sigh of relief as her score flashed on the screen. Better than she'd thought. Better than any of her district partners. And tied with one of the Careers…

India shook the thought from her head. She had no delusions of being able to take on any of the Careers, no matter how poorly they had performed in a fifteen-minute session. Certainly not during the bloodbath, when they would all be together. Maybe later, if she managed to catch one off-guard or wounded. But not yet.

Other tributes, though – maybe she had a chance. As long as she could avoid the Careers – as long as they were preoccupied with each other – she might be able to fight her way in and out of the bloodbath. Just long enough to get supplies. Supplies that could save her life.

India clenched her fists, grateful that she didn't have to discuss the possibility with any allies. She wasn't weighed down by having to talk through every choice with them. There was no one to argue with, no one to try to talk her out of a decision.

And she had just made one.

Brevin Tolett, 17
District Four

Brevin Tolett, with a score of nine.

Auster Maverick, with a score of ten.

Jarlan DuMorne, with a score of nine.

Imalia Grenier, with a score of nine.

Mavina Perrot, with a score of eight.

Kendall Rios, with a score of ten.

At least it wasn't a six.

Brevin smiled a little as Auster actually reached over and patted him on the back. He had spent three days of training assuming that he was the weak link in the Career pack, that he would get the lowest score and there was nothing he could do about it. And, sure enough, Jaime, Naella, Auster, and Kendall had racked up the only tens awarded so far.

But Inviticus had scored lower.

Brevin glanced at Jarlan, Imalia, and Mavina, who seemed content with their nines and eight. And quite right, too. After all, out of fourteen Career Victors – fifteen if Camden counted – how many had scored a ten? None from District Four, he was pretty sure. He turned to the group of mentors sitting behind them. "What did you get?"

Naomi answered first. "Eight."

"So did I," Kalypso nodded.

Bierce rubbed the back of his neck, as if uncomfortable or perhaps even embarrassed. "Nine."

They all turned to Mags, who smiled almost sheepishly. "Six."

The tension in the room diffused almost instantly. With the way both the tributes and her fellow mentors treated Mags with respect, it was easy to forget. Mags hadn't been a Career. She had won her Games at fifteen, without the benefit of training. And that afforded her a different sort of respect altogether.

And if she could do it, then why couldn't he?

Zachary Travelle, 17
District Five

Zachary Travelle, with a score of eight.

Liana Kinney, with a score of seven.

Two of the lowest scores so far.

Zach shook his head. Not lower than the tributes from Three, of course. And not lower than Inviticus. But Inviticus wasn't their problem. Two of Zach's allies had scored a nine, but not him. It was almost as if District Five was still a joke to the other Careers.

Camden immediately shrugged, trying to lighten the mood. "Not bad. You know who else got a seven, don't you?"

Zach nodded. Of course he did. Camden had scored a seven only three years ago. He was already one point ahead of his mentor. But, somehow, that didn't make it any better.

Harakuise tucked his hands behind his head. "That's nothing. I only got a five."

Camden rolled her eyes. "You were fourteen."

Fourteen. For a moment, Zach tried to imagine that – being in the Games at fourteen. Of course, the year he was fourteen would have been the year Camden had won. He would never have made it out of those Games alive.

So what had made him think he would make it out of these ones?

Zach tried not to flinch as Camden gave his shoulder a squeeze. He had wanted to do this. For her. For District Five. For all of them. But, now that it came down to it, he only wanted one thing for himself.

He wanted to go home.

Presley Delon, 13
District Six

Paget Astier, with a score of five.

Alexi Merista, with a score of three.

Delvin Flynn, with a score of seven.

Presley Delon, with a score of six.

Nadine Olliston, with a score of three.

Cordelia Astier, with a score of four.

She hadn't earned it.

Presley slid closer to Nicodemus as the seven of them watched the screen. Eight if Vernon counted, but he was passed out on one of the couches. She had tried. Tried not to do anything that might set her apart. Tried not to stand out too much. A thirteen-year-old who got a high score in training, after all, was sure to be noticed.

But it hadn't mattered. They had given her a high score, anyway. Because they knew. They knew what she was capable of, even if her fifteen minutes of swatting the other tributes with wooden staffs hadn't shown it. At least they hadn't given her a ten, but even a six was the highest score in her alliance, and only one point lower than Delvin, who was five years older.

Maybe Alexi and Nadine had the right idea, after all – sitting down and playing around with fire while the others fought each other. No one would notice a pair of threes in District Six, and they seemed content with their scores. Cordelia and Paget, as well, seemed happy with a four and a five. Even Delvin looked more relaxed, knowing his score had matched at least one of his allies.

Suddenly, Paget met her gaze, an eyebrow raised curiously. They had been in the same training room. He knew how little she had done. How low a score she deserved. And yet she had scored higher than him. Presley swallowed a wave of fear and put on her sweetest, most innocent smile.

"I guess somebody likes me."

Audra Trevaille, 18
District Seven

Domingo Ibanez, with a score of five.

Fallon Ladris, with a score of two.

Ciere Renole, with a score of four.

Audra Trevaille, with a score of seven.

Maybe she could do this, after all.

Audra breathed a sigh of relief as her score appeared. Her seven tied both Liana's and Delvin's. It was no match for Septimus' nine, but she hadn't expected it to be. It had been clear from the start that he considered himself the strongest member of the pack. Clearly, he had every right to.

But she couldn't help feeling that she had finally earned her right to be part of the group.

Audra glanced over at Domingo, who was justifiably proud of his score. She had knocked him down quite a few times during their session, but, apparently, the Gamemakers had been impressed with his willingness to get up and try again so many times. More impressed, at least, than they had been with Fallon's attempt at a fire or Ciere's nosebleed.

Ciere, for her part, didn't seem at all bothered by her score. Hazel was equally undeterred. "I got a four, too," she pointed out, though she neglected to mention the fact that she had been twelve at the time.

Fallon, on the other hand, seemed quite upset. Her fingers were playing with the air around her head, as if her nervous habit hadn't quite adjusted to the fact that her hair was gone. Audra wrapped an arm around the younger girl, trying to comfort her. For now. For now, she could afford to be kind.

But, once they were in the Games, there was nothing she could do.

Jediah Bouvier, 15
District Eight

Baylor Alanis, with a score of three.

Louis Soren, with a score of three.

Jediah Bouvier, with a score of six.

Adelia Luciano, with a score of five.

Gadget Test, with a score of six.

Ivira Spielreyn, with a score of five.

"We all beat Kit's score."

Jediah sighed, almost wishing the Games would start just so he could punch Gadget in the face. But Carolina jumped in before anyone else could. "I only got a three."

Lander leaned back in his chair. "I got an eight."

Ivira nodded. "True, but the baseline was lower back when there weren't any Careers. Someone had to score high, or there wasn't much point to giving scores at all. What sort of score do you figure you'd get now?"

"Higher than you."

Carolina sighed. "Lander."

Lander rolled his eyes. "Fine. Maybe I'd get higher. Maybe I'd get lower. Doesn't really matter. You know why? Because I made it out. Once you're in the arena, your score doesn't matter. Kit got a two. Care got a three. But both of them are sitting here, just like me. The numbers are just that – numbers. They don't measure what's really going to happen in the Games." He turned to Gadget. "You're the walking encyclopedia. How many Victors scored a ten?"

"Five," Gadget answered without any hesitation. "All of them Careers, except for Ivy. And seven got a nine – five of them Careers. Five got an eight – three of them Careers. Six got a seven – three of them Careers. Four got a six. Five got a five. Five got a four. One got a three. Two got a two. One even scored a one. So there's hope for you two yet," she finished with a pointed glance at Baylor and Louis.

Jediah would have been annoyed, but he'd stopped listening around the sixes. Four Victors who had gotten a six. That meant there was hope. Hope that, maybe, he would be the fifth. So far, he had scored higher than all his allies – and, barring a surprisingly high score from Myrah, that pattern would hold. His allies would be looking to him for help. For protection.

Hopefully, that was a good thing.

Myrah Lanhart, 14
District Nine

Thane Hayer, with a score of seven.

Myrah Lanhart, with a score of five.

Melody Anson, with a score of five.

Sariya Charsley, with a score of six.

Not bad at all.

Myrah nodded, satisfied, as her score flashed on the screen, followed by Melody's – just as high. Or just as low, depending on how one looked at it. But a five – that wasn't bad for a fourteen-year-old from District Nine. Eloise had scored the same, despite being older during her Games. Crispin had scored lower.

Thane cocked an eyebrow, confused. And he had a right to be. He and Sariya had soundly defeated Myrah and Melody before leaving the training room. But they hadn't seen what happened afterwards. She and Melody had continued sparring for at least twenty minutes, working up to a good pace, spurring each other forward faster and faster. Helping each other instead of trying to outshine each other.

Myrah had even thought about asking Melody to join her alliance. But she already had an ally of her own, and didn't seem particularly interested in adding to that number. Besides, taking both Melody and Baylor into their group would put them at eight tributes. It was certainly unusual to see a group that large.

Of course, in a regular year, eight would be a third of the tributes in the arena. Now, it would barely be a sixth. Did more tributes mean that larger alliances would be useful?

If so, she was certainly on the right track. Her alliance was one of the largest in the arena. Melody seemed to be going for the opposite strategy, hoping that she and Baylor would go unnoticed for a while. Maybe there wasn't one right answer.

They would just have to wait and see.

Beckett Furlan, 16
District Ten

Beckett Furlan, with a score of seven.

Elizabet Brower, with a score of two.

Calantha Harlyn, with a score of three.

Indira Serren, with a score of seven.

"What do you think about the Careers' offer now?"

Beckett looked up, surprised they were still having this discussion. From Indira's tone of voice, she seemed to think that their scores would change his mind somehow. But, as far as he was concerned, it changed nothing. The Careers weren't interested in him, or Indira, except as a means to get Shale to join them. Once the Games began, they would be discarded at the earliest opportunity.

So why didn't Indira understand that?

"The same thing I thought before," Beckett repeated. "We scored lower than them."

"Not by much," Indira pointed out. "Mavina and Zach only got eights."

"They'll turn on us eventually. You know that, don't you?"

Indira hesitated. But, after a moment, she nodded. "I know. But that doesn't mean it's a bad idea. Maybe we shouldn't turn down an opportunity for stronger allies just because they'll turn on us eventually. Everyone in the Games turns on each other eventually. You and Shale and me … All of us know that can't last forever. But that didn't stop us from forming an alliance. Why should the Careers be any different?"

"Because they're Careers!" Beckett blurted out before he could stop himself. Was that it? It was no secret that the outer districts didn't like the Careers. They didn't trust the Careers. Every so often, there was a tribute who joined them, but, as a general rule, Careers and non-Careers didn't mix. But was he going to turn down an alliance simply because he didn't like the idea of Careers?

Was that a good enough reason?

Philus Polaine, 13
District Eleven

Pan Soya, with a score of four.

Philus Polaine, with a score of four.

Shale Avenheim, with a score of eight.

Elani Ingram, with a score of four.

Everyone already saw them as a group.

Philus glanced at Elani and Pan. His allies. His friends. Three identical scores. That couldn't be an accident. The Gamemakers were already lumping them together.

But at least they hadn't been lumped together at the very bottom.

Several tributes had gotten threes. Two had even gotten twos. But the three of them – three of the youngest, smallest tributes – had gotten fours. Only one less than Tamsin had herself. Sure, it wasn't an eight. But it was something.

It was a start.

Tamsin said something he didn't quite catch. Philus waved his hand in a small circle, a sign that they all seemed to agree meant something along the lines of Could you repeat that again, please? Tamsin turned towards him and repeated her words. At least now they know you'll put up a fight.

Philus nodded emphatically. She was right. The odds were still stacked against them. Even in the best scenarios – if one of them managed to come out – the other two would die. Chances were good that all three of them would die. But, if they did, they would go down fighting. Whatever was waiting for them in the arena, they would face it head-on.

And they would face it together.

Eleanor Marxs, 16
District Twelve

Barry Zephir, with a score of five.

Eleanor Marxs, with a score of five.

She had been hoping for more.

Eleanor shook her head as the last two numbers flickered on the screen. She'd had no reason to expect anything better. She and Barry hadn't done anything particularly impressive. But there had been so many fives already. So many average scores. Two more didn't seem particularly remarkable – or memorable.

Brennan shrugged. "Average. But average isn't bad."

Eleanor shook her head. "Average is boring. Average won't get us any sponsors."

"It's not all about sponsors," Brennan pointed out. "Oh, I know everyone always goes on about how important they are. And there are situations – occasionally – where a sponsor gift can mean the difference between life and death … for a little while. But a sponsor gift isn't going to save a tribute who is otherwise hopeless. And some people have won without receiving a single sponsor gift."

Barry crossed his arms. "Name three."

"Elijah, Nicodemus, and Tamsin," Brennan answered without missing a beat. "The year before me and the two years after. None of them were popular with sponsors."

"Were you?" Eleanor asked, trying to imagine what sponsors would have thought of Brennan.

"Not at first," Brennan shrugged. "There were only five of us left by the time I got my first – and only – sponsor gift."

"What was it?" Barry asked eagerly.

"A note from my mentor telling me to follow the music," Brennan answered. "I did, of course – not knowing that my district partner had received the same note. Our mentor lured us together so that one of us would kill the other. She had supplies – supplies she would have shared, I'm sure, but by then … It was too late. The Gamemakers weren't going to let both of us walk away."

Eleanor looked away, trying to picture herself in that situation. If there were only a few of them left, and she and Barry were both still alive … would she do the same thing? Could she? Could she kill him?

Brennan shook his head, as if clearing away the memory. "My point is, yes, the sponsor gift helped. It gave me a little direction, led me to supplies. But, by that point, I'd already made it to the final five. I was already a killer. I was already a contender. I got to that point without any sort of help from sponsors. Some Victors went their whole Games without seeing a parachute."

"Now, this doesn't mean you should ignore the sponsors," Brennan added. "And you certainly shouldn't give them any reason not to like you. But if you aren't the most charming, entertaining tribute in the arena … it's not the end of the world. Play the Game, make it far, survive, and, eventually, they'll notice you. Until then … being ignored isn't so bad."

Maybe it wasn't.

"You're just not looking at the big picture, Doc. You're still back in civilization."