Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men or The Hunger Games.

Note: Just a reminder to vote in the sponsor poll before the next chapter, because that's when the Games start. Wow. Feels like Hide Your Fires just finished, honestly; the summer has really flown by. Best wishes to everyone else in the "we're headed back to school soon" boat. We're back in person on Monday. It's going to be an interesting year, but in the wise words of Nick Fury, "Until such time as the world ends, we will act as though it intends to spin on." Keep spinning, everybody.

Training Day Three
Show

Vincent Reid, 28

At least he didn't have to put on a show for them.

For the first time in hours, Vincent relaxed a little as he finished his explanation of what had happened. The other three had come to investigate why he'd been gone so long, and had caught up to him before he'd reached the main hall. As soon as the other coaches had realized something was wrong, the four of them had made their way to one of the empty rooms, tailed closely by Judah in case … what? In case they were planning something? Maybe.

In any case, there was a fan in the room, which allowed enough motion in the air for him to read the others' thoughts. Maria was already brainstorming, already trying to solve his problem. What would happen if Kiara tried again to heal him, if she had a better idea of what was wrong this time? Would a hearing aid help? How much damage was there? Vincent knew the answers wouldn't bring either of them any comfort, so he let the questions wash over him, silent.

Ian's thoughts were angrier. Anger at the MAAB for putting them in this situation to begin with, and specifically at Lillian for not telling Vincent sooner what Fae was really capable of. Frustration that Kiara hadn't been able to heal him – even as Ian told himself that it wasn't really her fault, or Fae's. Apparently, Kiara hadn't been at all distracted during her session with Ian, so as far as she knew, her power had worked. As far as Ian knew, the others hadn't asked Henry anything about why they were late or what they'd been doing, so everything was clear on that front.

Penelope's thoughts were more collected, more contained. Disciplined – that was the word he was looking for. She was already thinking ahead, trying to determine how this new information about Fae's power – and about Kiara's – could affect the Games. What about the contestants' strategies would need to change? He could already hear her wondering how much she should tell her own contestants about what to expect.

That thought was floating in the back of Maria's thoughts, as well. One idea – the idea that Florence, Emery, and Kenji were planning some sort of move against Fae's group, and that they had figured out she was the one screaming – floated to the forefront. Interesting.

Vincent let that go, too. He didn't have the energy to worry about strategy right now. For the past few hours, he'd been running on adrenaline and necessity, and now it was all catching up to him. The imbalance he'd dismissed as nervous energy wasn't going away anytime soon, if Anita's medical opinion could be trusted. He'd sunk down into a chair as soon as he'd found one in the room and had barely moved since. That was helping a little, but he couldn't stay here forever.

But he could stay a little longer. Vincent shifted a little in his seat, soaking up as many thoughts as he could. It wasn't quite the same as being able to hear, but it was similar. And the voices in his head were familiar, at least. That in and of itself was comforting. Finally, one question came through stronger than the others, which was a good indication that Ian had meant for this one to be heard, and probably said it out loud, as well. Are you all right?

For a moment, he considered lying. Yes would be an easy answer to give, and one that he wished was true. He wanted to be all right. He wanted to believe that he could just keep on chugging along, adjusting a little here and there, and that things would go on as normal. Well, as 'normal' as things had been lately. But while he could hear their thoughts now, that would only last as long as the MAAB were feeling accommodating, and he hadn't given them a lot of reasons to help him lately. Of course, if he'd known this was going to happen…

Then what? Chances were, he would have done the same damn thing when it came to trying to protect Anita, because whatever she was doing was their only chance. But that didn't matter right now. There wasn't much he could do to help her anymore, and she was running out of time to do … whatever it was that she was planning on doing. Right now, he had other things to worry about. Not 'bigger' things, maybe, considering that what Anita was doing could potentially change the entire Games. But more pressing things. He had to deal with this.

Vincent shook his head. "Not yet," he answered, hoping his voice didn't sound as shaky as it felt. "I'm not all right yet. But I'll get there."

We'll get there. The response from Maria was immediate. She must have said it out loud, too, because agreement from Ian and Penelope washed over him.

Vincent swallowed hard, fighting back tears for a moment before he decided there wasn't a point. Maria's arms quickly wrapped around him, and Ian followed her lead. Penelope lingered on the edge of the group, uncertain, until Vincent reached out and gently drew her in. She stiffened for a moment, but then wrapped an arm awkwardly around his shoulders, wondering whether that would be a welcome gesture.

It was. Vincent took a deep breath, holding them close, absorbing their support, their concern, their love. "We'll get there," he agreed.

Vincent wiped a few tears from his eyes as the others' thoughts shifted. Judah must have said something about running out of time before the next session, because their minds were suddenly full of concern about how he was going to get through the rest of the day. "Already thought of that," Vincent assured them. "Judah and I … we have it covered."

The others shot a few surprised looks at Judah, who nodded and shifted his position so Vincent could hear what he was thinking – which seemed to line up fairly well with what he was putting into words. It's probably best for everyone if this stays quiet until the Games start. Could give some of the contestants an advantage if they figure out what happened. That sort of thing.

Vincent said nothing. That was the excuse he had given himself, too – that it was better not to let them know because of what they might do, how distracted they might be, what it might reveal about their competitors' powers. But the truth was … different. He wasn't sure if it was simpler or more complicated. The truth was, as long as he was keeping up an act for the contestants, as long as he was putting on a show, he didn't have to deal with this. Not really. As long as he was pretending everything was all right, then maybe this wasn't real – or at least not permanent.

But the other coaches … he hadn't been able to hide it from them. It had never really occurred to him to try. They deserved the truth, and they deserved his trust. They had earned that.

Vincent glanced over at Judah, who was holding out something in his direction. A staff – longer than the ones that Vi and Rick had been using to fight, but the same sort of thing. Thought it might help. The thought was slow, deliberate, meant to be heard.

Vincent nodded and took it, leaning on it a little to keep his balance as the others helped him to his feet. "Thank you."

Judah probably said something. Probably something along the lines of "No problem" or "Don't mention it." But Vincent didn't catch it, because what Judah was thinking was, We've got our work cut out for us, don't we. Vincent nodded. They certainly did.

But they didn't have much of a choice.

Evelyn Hong, 17

There didn't seem to be much of a choice anymore.

Evelyn picked at what was left of her food as a bell signaled the end of lunch and the start of the next session. She, Kylena, and Makenzie were sitting with Elio, Lea, and Jaime, but as she stood up to head to her session, only Kylena and Makenzie followed. "Coming?" Evelyn asked. The other three had tagged along to Kylena's session earlier, which she'd taken as a hint that they were officially working together.

Not that there was anything wrong with the three of them, and there was certainly an appeal to what they were trying to do. She liked the idea of sticking it to the MAAB, and if they could do it without having to fight, all the better. Of all the trouble she and her friends had gotten into, they'd never really done anything that could be considered violent. A few pranks, a little shoplifting, but no one had ever really been in danger.

Well, okay, there had been the occasional fight. A bloody nose, bruised ribs, knuckles that had throbbed for hours. But that was different. No one had ever been seriously hurt, and no one had ever been killed. Certainly no one had even thought of taking it that far. This wasn't like that. This was different.

Wasn't it?

Yes. Yes, of course it was different. It was just that six seemed like a rather large number of people, and it had all happened so fast. One day, they were inviting the others to join them for a little first aid, and now they were all working together in the Games in the hope that, somehow, they could all survive. It all seemed like a bit much, on top of the fact that they'd only found out a few days ago that they were competing in a fight to the death. But there didn't really seem to be a way out of it now even if she'd wanted one.

Except Elio, Lea, and Jaime still didn't seem to want to come along to training. But what made her session with Ian any different than this morning's session with Maria and Anita? Something, apparently, because Elio shook his head. "You go ahead without us."

Jaime, too, seemed content to stay in their seat. But Lea was shifting a little. "I think I'll come along – to watch, at least."

That made sense. Lea's power was all about watching, after all – watching and copying other people's motions. Jaime's involved transferring pain from one person to another, or from people to animals. Probably the other way around, too, though it didn't sound as if they'd tried that. And Elio … well, she hadn't been entirely clear on what Elio's power was. Something to do with praying, it seemed.

Evelyn shook the thought from her head as the others followed her outside. It wasn't as if there was anything wrong with prayer; it just didn't seem like the most useful power in a pinch – even compared to hers, Makenzie's, and Kylena's. At least they could physically do something, even if it was just folding up a bit more than most people.

A lot more than most people, she kept having to remind herself. Most people couldn't fold themselves up nearly as small as she could, which could be useful. She could fit into places other people couldn't. Might be helpful if they needed to hide. But hiding around, waiting for something to happen … she liked that thought even less than the thought of fighting. If they were hiding, there was nothing to do but think about all the things that could go wrong.

Sort of like training.

Evelyn kept that thought to herself. Training had been going about as well as she'd expected, but she couldn't shake the idea that, aside from a little first aid, she hadn't really learned anything. Oh, floating around inside one of Kylena's bubbles was fun, and they'd learned that she could fold herself up faster than she could unfold, but as far as actually learning anything new … she hadn't. And it didn't really seem like Makenzie and Kylena had, either.

But maybe that wasn't the point – the real point – behind training. Sure, it was useful for contestants who didn't really know what to do with their powers. She'd had years of practice, after all, which was probably more than most of them could say. But even for those who hadn't learned much in terms of new skills, it had given them time to think, to plan, to prepare for what was coming – mentally, at least. That was better than nothing.

Except she still didn't feel prepared. In some ways, she felt even more confused, more adrift, than she had the first day, when she, Kylena, and Makenzie had decided to team up during the talent show. That had been simpler. It had almost been fun.

Now things were getting real. The Games were less than twenty-four hours away, and she wasn't ready. She just wasn't. Evelyn unfolded a little as Ian waved them over, delighted that they seemed to have added a new member to their group. She wondered if he already knew that they had actually added three. Or maybe the other group had added three. Did it matter who had joined who?

She couldn't help thinking that maybe it did.

Vi Voclain, 18

"Maybe it doesn't matter whether you can control it."

Vi dodged Judah's knife again as the sky above them grew cloudy. Rick grunted in frustration. "How does it not matter whether I can control it? Every time I get upset, something like this happens!"

Vi raised an eyebrow. "And you really never noticed that before?"

"Well, I guess things back home didn't upset me as much as the idea of dying," Rick snapped, but Vi knew the anger wasn't directed at him. The knives they were fighting with weren't sharp at all, but that hadn't stopped Rick from getting frustrated that Judah was still kicking their asses.

Vi nearly dodged Judah's next blow, the dull knife scraping across his knuckles as Vi lunged forward, trying to tackle Judah. Judah dodged, and Vi tumbled to the ground. Judah quickly swept Rick off his feet, as well, then helped them both up. "So what's different? Between yesterday and today?"

"We're fighting you instead of each other," Rick grumbled.

Judah nodded. "What else?" After a moment, he answered his own question. "What happened is now you have something that looks like a weapon rather than a toy. Feels a bit more real now, huh?"

They were both panting too hard to do anything but nod, but that was enough for Judah. "Good. That means you've got a bit of sense. You get hit with a stick, most of the time, the worst you've got are some bruises. If these were sharper, they could do a lot worse than that. One cut in the right place, and you're down for good. You've got to be a bit more careful than with sticks." He shook his head. "But not too careful. Sometimes you have to be willing to take a blow in order to get a better one in. The trick is knowing when that is."

Rick shook his head. "And how do you know?"

"Years of practice," Judah muttered.

"Instinct," Vincent countered, taking a few steps closer, leaning a bit on the staff he'd been fiddling with since the beginning of their session. "You don't have years of practice, and unless one of you has been hiding some pretty impressive time-traveling powers, you're not going to magically acquire years of practice in the next few hours. So trust your instincts. Just remember, everyone else is going to be doing the same thing. These aren't professional killers you're up against; they're kids, just like you."

Rick shook his head. "I'm not a kid."

"But a lot of them are," Judah pointed out. "There are kids here as young as twelve. You've been fighting each other, and you're pretty much on the same level, but you could end up fighting someone younger, someone smaller, and then you'd have an advantage – an advantage you have to take."

Vi swallowed hard. He was right. If he wanted to win this thing, he had to be willing to fight anyone, even if they were just little kids. And hidden behind Judah's words was a reminder – a reminder that they could turn his collar off at any time if they didn't think he was moving things along fast enough, and then he and Rick would be in real trouble.

He and Rick. The thought had floated to the surface that way without any forethought. They were a team. If things went well, that meant they could both survive. But if things went badly for him, then…

Vi shuddered. There was a reason he usually avoided getting close to people. The few times he had, things had gone very badly. After what had happened to Alex…

No. No, that wouldn't happen again. Besides, he and Rick weren't that close. Not really. They were teammates, not friends. They couldn't be friends. Not here, not now.

But maybe when this was over.

Maybe.

The voice caught him by surprise. Vincent. How much of that had he heard? Enough. Vi shook his head. With the way the wind was swirling around, it was no wonder Vincent could both hear him and respond. Whatever he'd done to make them keep his collar turned on the day before, apparently it hadn't mattered long. That thought got a mischievous smile out of Vincent, and Vi turned his attention back to Judah, who was waiting for them to attack again.

Rick, meanwhile, was still distracted by the clouds overhead. "Vi's right," Vincent said at last, probably responding to something Rick had thought. "You don't need to control it all the time. And it's probably better if you're not constantly trying. If you're focusing all your energy on trying to control the weather, you can't be completely focused on anything else that you're doing. Especially in a fight. When you're not fighting, then you can worry about the weather. But if you're fighting for your life, it's probably best not to worry about your power, and let it do whatever it can to help you."

When you're not fighting. Vi hadn't really given much thought to that. Yes, this was a fight to the death, but the Games last year had lasted days. He wasn't exactly sure how many days, come to think of it, but none of the contestants had spent the entire time fighting. There would be time in between to worry about the weather. Vi clapped Rick on the shoulder. "He's right, you know. Just focus on this for now. You can worry about the rest later."

But they were running out of 'later.'

Manaka Shizue, 16

They were running out of time.

Manaka gasped for breath as he and Marcus finished another lap around the building. They only had a few minutes left in their session, so they'd decided to finish off with a little sprint. Well, 'little' by their standards; they would have left anyone else far behind. And that was the idea, because as much as they'd practiced speeding time up over the past few days, the truth was that slowing it down would probably be more useful most of the time. It was just that both of them already knew how to do that pretty well.

Still, it was good to finish off with something that they were both good at. He'd gotten the hang of speeding time up a bit better than Marcus had, but Marcus could slow it down more consistently, and seemingly without any side effects. Manaka still couldn't keep up this sort of sprint for more than a few minutes at a time without a massive headache. He'd been trying to keep that part quiet, and hadn't been running long enough during the talent show for it to take effect. But Marcus had been a bit sullen after realizing that Manaka could hold his breath longer, so he'd finally fessed up after that.

Marcus, of course, had said that it didn't matter, that they would only need a few minutes to put a good distance between them and anyone else around them. But he'd also seemed more relaxed afterwards, less concerned that Manaka might decide he wasn't worth teaming up with. Which was absurd, really, because what other choice did they have right now? It was the third day of training. The Games started tomorrow. Either they stuck with each other, or they risked going it alone.

Alone. That was something he definitely didn't want to do. Manaka flashed Marcus a smile as they raced past Maria one more time, doing their best to dodge the rain that seemed to have come up suddenly. No, not just rain, he realized as he slowed down a little. There were small pellets of hail landing all around them.

"Just in time," Marcus muttered as the bell rang. The two of them headed for the building to dry off, passing Maria's next contestant on their way out. "I guess we know what at least one of the other contestants can do now," Marcus reasoned.

Manaka looked up. "You think someone was doing this?" He gestured to the hail at their feet.

Marcus shrugged. "Unless you think this is normal weather for March."

Manaka hesitated. It certainly wasn't normal for March in Japan, or in Massachusetts. March. Manaka couldn't help a little chuckle as he realized.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "What's so funny?"

"It's March. March 19th, I think. Right?"

Marcus did some quick math in his head. "It was the 15th when they took us. One day for the talent show, three days of training … Yeah. It's the 19th. Why?"

Manaka shook his head. "It was my birthday yesterday. I didn't even remember."

Marcus chuckled. "Well, I can't imagine what else you might have had on your plate. Happy birthday."

Right. Happy. It was a silly thing, maybe, to worry about his birthday when there was so much going on. Of course he'd forgotten. It wasn't as if he'd been planning on having a party back home or anything, after all. It was just him and Lei, after all.

Lei. He hoped Lei was all right. More than that, Manaka hoped he wasn't doing anything stupid, anything reckless. The two of them didn't really have anyone but each other. He'd been so focused on the Games, he hadn't really given much thought to what Lei might be doing – not after writing him a letter the first day.

Marcus gave his shoulder a squeeze as Alvin handed them some towels to dry off, muttering something about unintended consequences. "Sounds like you were right about the weather," Manaka offered. "Someone is doing this."

"Good to know," Marcus agreed. "But there's not really anything we can do about it – except get the hell away from any weird weather once we're in the Games."

Manaka nodded. For most people, that would be easier said than done. But he and Marcus could probably stay well ahead of any unusual weather once the Games started. Or if not, they could at least stay ahead of the other people who were trying to get away from it.

That last thought sent a shiver down his spine. What if he and Marcus survived because they were they only people who could outrun a storm that was wrecking everything around it? Would that still count, even if they didn't kill anyone? Maybe that was actually the best thing that could happen. It was still horrible, but at least it would mean they hadn't killed anyone.

That was still a long shot, though. If there was a contestant who could control the weather, chances were good they would be able to escape their own storm somehow. That was how it worked, wasn't it? Lei could control electricity, and that also made him immune to its effects, so he couldn't be electrocuted. Weather probably worked the same way. Probably.

But he had no way of knowing for sure.

Liv Holle, 18

It was too bad controlling storms didn't make her waterproof.

Liv stifled a grunt as another hailstone hit her – this one a little bit larger. She'd been trying to calm the storm, but it only seemed to be growing worse. Which probably meant that she wasn't the one causing it. There was someone else who could control the weather.

She'd begun suspecting that yesterday, with all the rain. Wind could be explained away – she had no idea what sort of weather was usual for Wyoming, but she'd always imagined it being pretty windy – but rain, and now hail? All around the same time of day, shortly after lunch? No, that was too much to be a coincidence. Which meant that there were someone here with a power similar to hers.

Similar, and maybe even stronger. She hadn't been trying to summon more than a little rain earlier, of course, because what would be the point? It wasn't as if she was going to be able to direct a lightning strike at somebody or plow a tornado right through one of the other groups. She didn't have that sort of control, so she'd figured it was best to stick to making sure her group had plenty of water.

Apparently, someone had different ideas – either that or very little control. Or both. Liv ran through the list in her head. She'd glanced at it the day before, and most of the contestants who had sessions immediately after lunch had participated in the talent show. There was the boy who could create things with words. He was working with the one who turned things to goo but also one who hadn't demonstrated anything, so that was a possibility. There was the girl who could fold herself up, but all of her allies' powers were accounted for – the girl who could manipulate her shadow and the one who could create bubbles. Then there were the two speedsters, and the last group was two boys who hadn't participated. That narrowed it down a bit.

A bit, but not enough. If she could figure out where the storm had appeared – over Penelope's area or Vincent's – she might be able to narrow it down even farther. But right now, it seemed to be everywhere. "Maybe we should head inside!" Lee called to Ian.

Ian shook his head. "Won't be able to do that during the Games. As far as I know, there's not going to be an inside."

No buildings. That was good to know. Of course, Ian was probably guessing just as much as any of them were, but that probably meant there hadn't been any buildings on the island last year. She hadn't remembered any, but she hadn't really been paying that much attention. She usually did her best to ignore unpleasant news, especially if it didn't have anything to do with her. How could she have known she might need that information now?

Liv glanced at Ansel, who was concentrating. That probably meant he was trying to spark a brilliant idea somewhere. Elena shook her head as hailstones bounced off metal. "Now would probably be a good time to try to get rid of this storm, Liv."

"What do you think I've been doing?" Liv snapped. "It's too big! I can't calm it down."

Lee took a step towards her. "So don't."

"What?"

"Don't calm it down. Just … give it a little nudge in that direction." He gestured away from the building. "We don't need the storm to stop; we just need it to leave."

Oh. That made sense. Liv shook her head, annoyed that she hadn't thought of it. It was a good idea. Maybe that meant Ansel had been concentrating on Lee. Or maybe he'd just had a good idea on his own. She wasn't really sure which. Not that it really mattered, but she had to admit that it bothered her a bit – the idea that they couldn't be sure which ideas had been their own and which had been a result of Ansel's power.

Still, if that was the worst result of his power – a little discomfort – they were still doing just fine. Liv took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and faced the direction Lee had pointed – the direction she wanted the storm to go. That way. It didn't need to calm down. Hell, it could even get bigger if that was what it wanted. It just needed to do it over there.

Of course, she had no idea what was 'over there.' It could be a town, for all she knew. She had no idea what they were close to all the way out here. But that wasn't her problem. If the storm caused a little damage, well, that was the MAAB's problem to clear up. It was their fault that any of them were here, after all. They could clean up their own mess.

So maybe it was okay to make a little more mess.

Savannah Kingston, 19

The storm was definitely making a mess.

Savannah ducked beneath the roof as the hailstones grew a bit bigger. Coburn and Lilith had already taken shelter near the door, but Penelope was still standing out in the middle of the storm, absorbing the energy. "Try it again!" she called over the clanking of the hail on the roof. "I'll be fine! Don't worry about me."

Savannah fought back the urge to tell Penelope to get out of the storm before she hurt herself. Yes, the girl was six years younger than her, but she'd already made it through the Games. She could handle a little hail – especially when her power meant that she wouldn't be harmed by the storm's energy. And it had been Penelope's idea to use herself for target practice, after all.

Savannah glanced at Coburn, who shrugged. He probably hadn't meant for Penelope to volunteer herself, but he had been the one who pointed out that it was easier to hit a dummy than a real, moving person. So now Penelope was moving back and forth in the middle of the storm, hailstones falling here and there, and Savannah was supposed to try to hit her. The storm was distracting, but that was the whole point. Once they were in the Games, there would be plenty of distractions.

Focus.

Savannah took a deep breath and aimed. The lightning shooting from her hands went in more or less the right direction – or at least the right direction for where Penelope had been standing a few seconds before. "Damn it," Savannah muttered under her breath. No matter what she did, she couldn't seem to get it right.

"Can I try?" Coburn asked. Savannah shrugged. Might as well, if she wasn't getting anywhere. "Are you sure it's all right?" Coburn called out to Penelope.

Penelope nodded. "Whenever you're ready." Immediately, she started sprinting back and forth again. Coburn took a deep breath, aimed, and a line of fire shot out almost directly towards Penelope. She managed to dodge, but he'd certainly gotten closer than Savannah had.

"How'd you do that?" Savannah asked.

"Physics," Coburn muttered.

Savannah raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"It's physics. She was running at a more or less constant speed. By now, I have some idea of how fast the fire goes – although I think the storm's messing it up a bit. But you have to aim for where she's going to be, not where she is. Just like a quarterback throwing a football. The receiver's not going to be in the same place as he was when you threw it."

Savannah blinked. Right. Sports. But what he was saying made sense. She focused on where Penelope was running. She did seem to be moving at more or less the same speed. Okay, then. Physics. She had been pretty good at physics, but this wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind when someone in class had asked when they would use it in real life.

Real life. This still didn't feel quite … real. Any of it. But in less than a day, it would be very, very real. She would be fighting for her life, and in the heat of the moment, was she really going to have time to work out exactly where someone was going to be by the time the lightning hit them?

No. No, she wasn't. But maybe she didn't have to. Okay, then. No one had said it had to be only one lightning bolt…

This time, a barrage of lightning bolts came shooting from her hands, in more or less the direction that Penelope was running. Most of them flew harmlessly by, but one struck her squarely in the chest. Penelope didn't even flinch; she simply turned back to the three of them, smiling a little. "There you go. I was wondering how long it would take for you to think of that."

Savannah could feel her face flush. It shouldn't have taken that long, but they'd spent the last two days trying to hit specific targets, trying not to let their powers simply run wild. "I guess I didn't think that was what we were supposed to be doing," she admitted. "It's not what we've been doing."

Penelope nodded as she approached the three of them, not even singed. "You're right; it's not. And precision has its time and place. If, say, Lilith had been standing next to me, you wouldn't want to do what you just did. But if someone's charging at you and you know you won't have time to aim properly, then it's best to just let loose. And speaking of letting loose…" She stamped down, channeling some of the energy she'd gathered into the ground, away from the buildings. The ground shook, but there wasn't any damage – at least not as far as Savannah could tell. Still, it wasn't hard to believe the girl had essentially destroyed an entire island.

It was just hard to believe she might end up in the same position.

Lilith Haywood, 23

It was still hard to believe anyone had that sort of power.

Lilith blinked as Penelope casually brushed a few hailstones out of her hair. "Ready to go again?" she asked, not even stepping under the roof and out of the storm's way.

"Where did all that energy go?" Lilith asked. It had to have gone somewhere, didn't it? Coburn had said something about physics, and that was a physics thing, wasn't it? Energy couldn't be created or destroyed – just transferred from one place to another.

"That way." Penelope gestured vaguely away from the building. "Trust me, there's nothing in that direction; that's why they picked this spot. There's nothing for miles. Plenty of room for it to spread out so it doesn't do any real damage."

Lilith nodded, but her brain was still having trouble processing it. Penelope's power, along with Coburn's and Savannah's … they made hers look a bit mundane by comparison. Seeing Savannah shoot dozens of lightning bolts out of her hands just now … it didn't quite seem real. It seemed like something out of a movie, like the mutants Lilith had occasionally seen on the news, the ones she and Meghan had once dreamed of joining.

Lilith shook the thought from her head. If this were a movie, it would have a better ending. It would end with the MAAB realizing how wrong they were, and the world accepting mutants for who they were and embracing the good they could do for humanity. It would end with mutants like Penelope absorbing the energy out of earthquakes before they could do any damage, with mutants like Coburn employed putting out forest fires. It would end with someone like Savannah using her electricity to jump-start broken-down cars on the highway, and with someone like her … what? Maybe helping mutants learn how to use their powers.

Still helping. Still on the sidelines, making sure others' powers functioned properly, boosting their skills, lending a hand. That was what her power was good for, after all. Lilith laid a hand on Coburn's shoulder and focused. The hail seemed to be letting up a little – or at least moving off in a different direction. If they wanted to get in a little more practice during the storm, now was the time.

Fire shot from Coburn's hands in one swift, controlled burst, nearly making it to where Penelope had been running away from them, getting farther and farther from the building. Lilith clenched her teeth as she realized what Penelope was trying to do. Coburn couldn't shoot his flames that far, and neither could Savannah. She was trying to coax Lilith into boosting their powers instead of dampening them, so that they could reach.

No. No, she couldn't try that. Not now. Not when it was the last day of training. If something went wrong, there might be no time before the Games to fix it. She wasn't sure exactly what could go wrong, but the last time she'd tried to amplify her sister Meghan's ability to turn into water, Meghan hadn't been able to change back for a month, and Lilith had fallen into a coma herself for almost two weeks. If that happened now…

What would they do? They wouldn't send someone into the Games if they were in a coma, would they? But at the same time, she knew better than to think that would get her out of this. Maybe they would postpone the Games until she woke up, or maybe they would keep her around until the next Games, which would give her a whole year to worry about what might happen. And that was if she woke up at all.

And if it happened during the Games … well, that would be even worse. It wasn't as if they were likely to stop the Games, retrieve her, and wait for her to wake up. No, they would probably just leave her there until someone killed her, or until she starved to death, or some hungry wild animal decided she looked like a snack. Someone would probably find her first, but she wasn't entirely sure. How long had the Games lasted last year? It hadn't seemed like long – a week at the most, maybe. But that had been on an island. The contestants had been contained. Here…

Not for the first time, Lilith glanced around at their surroundings, wondering where the Games might actually take place. The terrain here was mostly flat, grassy, bare, but she could see some mountains in the distance. At the very least, it wasn't likely to be an island – at least, if the Games were anywhere nearby. Of course, there were no guarantees of that, either. There were no guarantees at all.

Lilith let out a deep breath as Penelope made her way back towards them, finally coming close enough for one of Savannah's lightning bolts to strike, and then Coburn's stream of fire. The storm continued to subside, moving off into the distance. Whatever had happened to cause it, it was apparently over.

But soon, a storm would be the least of their problems.

Ansel Moore, 21

A storm was really the least of their problems.

Ansel barely noticed as the last of the hailstones thudded to the ground off in the distance. As long as they could stand outside without being pelted, he wasn't too worried about the storm. So there was someone else who could control the weather. As far as powers went, he wasn't particularly concerned about that, because whatever they did to the weather, they had to deal with, as well. As far as he could tell, they didn't seem to be able to make it rain in just one spot. So if they caused a storm, they would get just as soaked as anyone else. They would have just as much a chance of getting pelted by hail or struck by lightning as anyone else in the Games.

Probably. Unless they had a better handle on their power than Liv did. She'd managed to nudge the storm in the right direction – away from them – but it had still taken quite a while for it to dissipate completely. Meanwhile, Lee was practicing adding color to Elena's metal skin, while she was trying to control which parts of her turned to metal. Ansel, meanwhile, had been practicing trying to use his power on himself.

It was harder than it sounded. Trying to inspire other people had always come rather naturally, but every time he used his power on himself for any length of time, he started to get a headache – a headache that got worse the longer he did it. But Ian had insisted that he at least give it a try, because there was no telling when he might end up alone in the Games.

Not if. When. Because even if the four of them managed to last a while, chances were good that they would have to split up at some point – maybe to search for food or shelter or just to get away from someone who was chasing them. And if that happened – no, when that happened – he would need to be able to come up with something on his own rather than relying on the others.

The trouble was, whether he was using his power on someone else or on himself, he didn't really have any control over what he was inspiring someone to do, or to think about. So what had immediately sprung to his mind the moment he tried was an onslaught of thoughts about different ways to kill people. But not just any people. His friends. Sure, Elena could turn herself into metal, but metal could be melted. Metal could be smashed. Or someone might kill her before she had a chance to turn into metal. Was it automatic? Would she turn to metal, say, if she was sleeping and someone tried to slit her throat?

Ansel recoiled from the thought. Elena was a friend, or at the very least, a teammate. He took a deep breath, trying to tell himself that his brain had only gone there so that he would be able to protect her – keep her away from hot flames or anything that could smash her. But that was … unconvincing at best. All of them should be staying away from flames and large objects that could crush them.

Because the rest of them were even more vulnerable. Liv's power was useful, certainly, for getting them water, but she didn't seem to be protected from the weather any more than the rest of them. And Lee was just as vulnerable, just as human.

Just like him.

It wouldn't be hard for any of them to kill him, either. All they would have to do was get their hands on a weapon. Would there be weapons in the arena? He seemed to remember some of the contestants the previous years having knives, and that was all it would take, really. A knife. A rock. A sharp stick. A pair of hands around his throat.

Stop it.

Ansel shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "Everything all right?" Ian asked.

"Yeah," Ansel lied. "Just … not exactly the inspiration I was looking for."

Liv raised an eyebrow. "What'd you come up with?"

Great. Now he had to come up with a good lie, because there was no way he was telling the other three he'd been imagining ways that they could kill each other. "Weapons," he offered. "I was thinking about whether there would be weapons in the Games." He turned to Ian. "So … will there? You know, for those of us who can't exactly vaporize someone with a thought or collapse an entire island or something."

Ian nodded. If he suspected that wasn't what Ansel had really been thinking about, he didn't let on. "There were some last year. Everyone got a backpack with some supplies as well as their parachute, and some of them had knives in them. Not particularly threatening as far as weapons go, but it's something. And you can always make weapons if you have access to some wood or rocks or … something."

That wasn't particularly encouraging. "They didn't really give that much thought, did they."

"Probably not," Ian admitted. "They probably figured quite a few of the contestants wouldn't need any weapons in order to fight."

"And the rest of us are just screwed?" Liv asked. "Is that it?"

Ian shook his head. "Not necessarily, but you'll certainly have to be more resourceful, and play it safe at the start. Don't charge into anything right away, before you've had a chance to arm yourselves somehow. Unless you come across someone you think you can beat in a fistfight. Remember, you're in this for the long haul." He clapped Liv on the back.

"Don't put yourselves in danger too soon."

Elena Burleigh, 21

She didn't want to be in danger at all.

Elena drummed her fingers on her arm, which was still solid metal, as Ian clapped Liv on the back. Liv shook her head. "There are four of us, though. Strength in numbers and all that. Don't you think we should make a move early on, start out strong, prove we're part of this competition."

"Prove to who?" Lee asked.

Liv hesitated. "The MAAB, I guess."

Lee shrugged. "What would that do? It's not like they have any way to get us to fight once we're in the Games. They don't have any say in who finds who, or how long it takes us to start fighting. What are they going to do?"

Elena stopped drumming. What were they going to do if it took a while for them to start fighting? Liv was watching Ian expectantly, but he only shrugged. "I'm not sure, really. They didn't have much of a problem with that last year. There were enough contestants who kept things moving, they never really got to the point where they had to do anything."

"Last year was on an island, though," Ansel pointed out. "There wasn't much room for them to spread out. What happens if we get too far away from anyone else, or if we can't find them? How are we even supposed to know how many people are left?"

"All the more reason to make a move early on, while we know where some people are," Liv suggested. "Once the Games start, we should find a smaller group we think we can handle in a fight, and…" She trailed off, as if she didn't want to say what they all knew she was thinking.

"And we kill them," Lee finished, his voice only shaking a little. "That's what you were going to say."

Liv nodded. "Well, that's the whole point, isn't it? That's what we're going to have to do eventually. There can't be too many contestants who are going to be willing to jump right in and fight right away. If we prove that we are willing…"

There was that word again. Prove. Liv wanted them to prove themselves, but to who? Maybe … maybe she was just trying to convince herself, to prove to herself that she had a chance. That they all had a chance.

Except it wasn't all of them. Couldn't be all of them. There were four of them, and only two could survive. Liv wasn't just trying to prove to herself that she was a contender; she was trying to prove it to the other three. Because however well they worked together now, this group wasn't going to last forever. Maybe she wanted to make sure that, if they split up, she would still have someone on her side.

"Maybe it is worth a try," Ian mumbled.

Ansel raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"

Ian nodded. "There's something we haven't really told the contestants, because we didn't think there was much of a pattern to it. But during the last Games, there were a few … packages. They were dropped from a helicopter flying over the island, addressed to a few of the contestants. Some of them did contain weapons. Just hunting knives, so nothing fancy, but it might be enough to give you an edge even though your powers aren't the most…"

"Useful?" Lee finished.

"I was going to say threatening."

"Sure."

Ian let that one go. "Anyway, it's a long shot. There were only a few of those packages, and the contestants they were sent to … there didn't seem to be any pattern. That's why we agreed it probably wasn't a good idea to tell everyone. Didn't want to get people's hopes up that they might be sent something when we don't even know for sure that they're going to do that this year. But if you're thinking about what it might take to try to impress someone anyway, and hoping it'll do some good … well, you deserve to know that it might."

Liv nodded. "And the contestants who got the packages … what happened?"

"None of them survived, if that's what you mean," Ian admitted. "So it's not a guarantee of anything, and like I said, we don't even know if they're sending anything, but … maybe it's worth a try."

Elena shook her head. It still didn't sound like it was worth the risk of plunging into the fighting early on, just on the off-chance that whoever was in charge of the MAAB's package department was feeling generous. It was bad enough that they were about to be fighting for their lives. If their captors had any sort of say in who lived and who died, if they were the ones who really got to decide, then what were they even doing right now? Why were they even bothering to train?

No, this mattered. It had to. Whatever happened in the Games, it would be because of them, not because of the MAAB. If she won, it wouldn't be because the MAAB decided that she was worth keeping around.

It would be because she'd earned it.

Caihong Lee, 25

"So we have to do something to earn their help?"

Lee shook his head at Liv's suggestion. It was ridiculous. They were already doing exactly what the MAAB wanted by training and participating in the Games in the first place. The idea of doing anything extra to earn a little help along the way was preposterous, but Liv seemed to have latched onto the idea. It gave her a goal, something to work towards – and something a little more concrete, more immediate, than just surviving until the end of the Games.

Ansel, too, seemed open to the idea. "And you think jumping in and fighting right away – maybe even killing someone – would be enough to do that?"

The question was directed at Ian, but it was Elena who answered. "I don't think that's what he meant. He said there wasn't any real pattern to who got stuff. For all we know, it could have been completely random. We can't count on their help no matter what we do."

Lee nodded his agreement. "Exactly. It might even backfire. What if they were giving weapons to contestants who they thought needed them in order to fight? If we charge in fighting anyway, they might decide we're doing well enough without weapons and don't need the extra help."

"That's also a possibility," Ian agreed. "So I wouldn't base your entire strategy around what the MAAB may or may not do, what they might or might not send you if you do or don't do something. Don't let that be the thing that pushes you into action. But by the same token, don't let it keep you from doing something. If you want to charge in fighting, that's what you should do. If not, that's fine."

"That's helpful," Liv muttered.

Ian sighed. "Look, as much as we coaches may look like we know what we're doing, the truth is, we've only done this once before. This is only the second year of these Games. We have last year's experience to go on, and that's it. We don't know what's going to be different this year. Not really. They haven't told us much, and what they have, we've passed along to you. The best advice we can really give is that you should be prepared for anything – and be ready to adjust along the way if things don't go according to your plan."

"But we don't have a plan," Ansel pointed out.

Ian shrugged. "Then it should be even easier to adjust. The only thing we know for sure is that thirty of you go in, two of you come out. Everything else is just as much a mystery to us as to you."

Liv let out a frustrated grunt, but Lee nodded. It was easy to forget the coaches didn't really have that much more experience. He'd be willing to bet Ian wasn't even older than him, although he hadn't asked. Under different circumstances, Ian could be the one in the Games, and he could be the one coaching. Hell, Penelope was only thirteen. Almost all of this year's contestants were older than her, and she was the one coaching them.

Coaching. The word still sounded strange. Despite all the trappings of a sports competition – coaches, teams, different-colored outfits, and so on – this wasn't really a game. They could call it one as much as they liked, but games had rules. Games had penalties. As far as he could tell, the only rule here was that two of them had to survive. Everything else was negotiable. Nothing was out of bounds.

And he didn't like that any more than the rest of them, but at least the rules made sense. But Liv was trying to add a new one – that contestants had to make themselves appealing to the MAAB in order to get help. But she didn't seem to have the right idea of exactly what the MAAB wanted, either.

On the surface, yes, they wanted twenty-eight of the contestants to die, and they wanted them to kill each other. Simple enough. Except it wasn't. Because what they wanted – what they really wanted – was footage that they could use. Actions that would convince the world to be terrified of mutants. And whatever he did in the Games, his powers weren't going to fit that bill. They just weren't. Ansel was in the same boat. Ideas were useful, but they weren't tangible. The MAAB couldn't film someone having an idea.

Liv and Elena, on the other hand – that was something the MAAB could work with. There were all sorts of terrifying weather conditions that could be filmed. And the idea that a mutant could turn into a robot at any moment … well, at least that was something people could see. They could imagine Elena turning her power against them, even though Lee knew it was the last thing she wanted to do. The MAAB didn't care about what they wanted. They didn't care about any of their lives. They didn't even really care who survived their little death match.

They just wanted a good show.

Florence Roos, 114

They were all just part of the show.

Florence couldn't help a smile at Kenji's laughter as she shrank her bat form into a size small enough to fit between Emery's wolf ears. It was easier to maintain a bat shape closer to human size, but there were certainly times when a smaller form would be useful, as well. Stealth, precision, better camouflage – they were all benefits of being closer to the size of … well, an actual bat.

At first, she'd been surprised that her collar had shrunk to fit her new size, but maybe that shouldn't have come as much of a shock. They knew what she could do, after all; obviously, they'd prepared for it. One of the coaches had mentioned something about a contestant the year before turning into a bear, which would require the exact opposite – collars that expanded rather than contracted beyond their normal size. And she wouldn't be surprised if Frederick's collar, for example, also included some special coating so that he couldn't melt it.

No, trying to get the collars to come off was pointless, and would be especially pointless tomorrow once the Games started. Their collars would be turned off then anyway, and would probably remain that way until the end of the Games, one way or another. Because once the Games began, this wasn't really about how well they could control the contestants. It was about how the contestants would turn on each other.

It was a show. A sham. If not for the instruction that only two of them could survive, most of these people probably wouldn't lift a finger against each other. Yes, people did all sorts of nasty things when they were necessary, or when they were afraid, or when they'd been convinced that it was right. But dump thirty people into the wilderness together, and most of the time, their gut reaction would be to work together to survive. Most of them, at least. Working together and protecting each other was just something people did, and that was true of both mutants and regular humans.

But that didn't matter. That wasn't the narrative that the MAAB wanted, so it wasn't what the public would see. They would be getting a show, not reality, and no matter what she did, Florence couldn't shake the idea that the three of them were playing right into the MAAB's hands by planning to make a move right away. It certainly fit with what most people would assume about vampires and werewolves – that they simply couldn't control their bloodlust and would attack anything with a pulse that had the misfortune to be nearby.

The trouble was, there was some truth to that. She hadn't tasted blood in nearly a month, and the hunger was starting to get to her. But it wasn't uncontrollable. Not yet, anyway. As for Emery, she didn't seem to share the same hunger. Maybe it was because she was so young. That aspect of Florence's power had been one of the more recent to surface. Emery was only fifteen; maybe that was still in her future.

If she still had a future.

Florence hoped that she did. Emery was so young, and she hadn't really had the chance to live yet. Her whole life had been about survival, about trying to keep herself and her brother alive. There had been times when Florence's own life had been uncomfortable, or confusing, or frustrating. But for the most part, she had lived. She enjoyed life.

And she wasn't ready for it to end yet.

But they couldn't all live, the three of them. At best, only two of them were going to make it out of the Games alive. Which meant that if she wanted to live, either Kenji or Emery would have to die. But not right away. And in order to avoid that as long as they could, they would have to be willing to fight, willing to kill.

That was part of the reason she had suggested moving against one of the other groups right away. Florence had killed before, after all; she was certain it was part of how they had been able to track her. Despite her efforts to forget, she still remembered the first time. She had come close before – including the incident that had driven her to flee the school where she had sought refuge – but the first time she actually finished a kill had been after that.

It had been, appropriately, a dark and stormy night. She'd been wandering a dark alleyway when a man had jumped her. Well, tried to. She'd turned on him out of instinct, claws digging into his skin, fangs sinking into his neck, draining him dry. Maybe some would have called it self-defense, but they'd be lying to themselves. She could have outrun the man. Could have injured him and then left. Instead, she had killed. And once that first kill had been made, there was always a quiet voice in the back of her mind. You did it once; you can do it again.

If she could get them to kill once, they would be willing to do it again. And the sooner that happened, the longer they would be able to survive. All of them. Well, two of them, at least. That was the best she could hope for, in the end.

It would just have to be enough.

Dr. Alvin Mendelson, 61

It would have to be enough.

Alvin watched as the last few contestants filed back into the room – Lee's group followed by Maria, and Jaime tailed closely by Vincent, who staggered the last few feet from the door to where the coaches' table had been moved nearby. The fans were all blowing in his direction; he could hear thoughts from all over the room, but not the other way around. Vincent eyed Alvin curiously as he took in the change, then nodded as Alvin's thoughts probably confirmed that, yes, that had been deliberate, as well as moving the table closer to the door.

Whatever he was picking up from the room, Alvin had no doubt that there was a good deal of apprehension and anxiety mixed in. Training was over, but how many of the contestants were really prepared for what was coming? The coaches had done their best, but it would never really be enough – not once the Games began. No one could really be prepared for that.

Which was, of course, what the MAAB was counting on. If they had trained these contestants for years to master their powers and then trapped them in a death match, things would be different. They wouldn't get what they wanted: the unpredictability and raw energy of uncontrolled powers wreaking havoc in unexpected ways. Be careful what you wish for, he had told them time and again. They hadn't listened.

They never listened.

Oh, they took precautions. Precautions they were convinced would be enough. The Games would take place far from anyone who could be put in harm's way. The few tiny towns anywhere nearby had been quietly emptied over the last few months, their residents well-compensated for their willingness to move somewhere else. Somewhere safer. The few who had insisted on staying were on vacation. One had won the lottery. Another had hit it big at the casinos. Nothing large enough to draw attention, but enough to convince them that a vacation to a warmer climate might be just the thing for this time of year.

The others thought that would be enough. Clear the area and let the mutants do their thing. It had worked well enough last time, after all. But last time had been an island. An uninhabited island, nearly a hundred miles off the coast. Whatever repercussions had come from the entire island being essentially obliterated, they hadn't reached shore.

Here, they weren't isolated. Couldn't be isolated. No matter what they tried to do, how much they tried to contain the Games, there would be repercussions. Unforeseen consequences.

But that didn't matter to them. They just wanted their show. Ladies and gents, this is the moment you've waited for.

"Been searching in the dark, your sweat soaking through the floor," came the response from behind him, half-mumbled, half-sung, just loud enough for Alvin to hear. Alvin nearly jumped. He was going to have to get used to this if Nicholas planned on keeping Vincent's collar off. That was a big if, of course, but for now, they needed him, and they needed him to function as well as he could.

But what would happen when they didn't?

Alvin winced as he realized Vincent had probably heard that thought, too. But he had to be wondering that himself, didn't he?

One thing at a time, Alvin reminded himself as Nicholas made his way to the front of the room. Well, no, this was more like a couple dozen things at a time, but there were still things that had to be dealt with first. Things that needed to be done more immediately than others. They could worry about what to do with Vincent later.

"Good evening." Nicholas' voice wasn't particularly loud, but it cut through the room nonetheless. Eyes turned in his direction – some angry, some fearful, some feigning indifference. "Dinner will be brought out momentarily and will be available for an hour. After that, you will be directed outside and given further instructions for the night. I'd advise you to use this time wisely."

Murmurs rippled through the room as plates were brought out. There was no rush, but one by one, the contestants decided they might as well eat something. Alvin glanced around the room. Any seating arranged by colors had quickly been abandoned in favor of smaller groups sitting together at their own tables. A couple contestants of the same color were sitting together, but most were intermixed. That had probably been inevitable. They had no reason to see everyone with the same colored outfits as teammates when the MAAB had made it clear that only two could survive.

Alvin shook his head as he helped himself to a hamburger. Out of the corner of his good eye, he caught Nicholas rolling his eyes at him, but he was hungry, and the rest of the MAAB probably wouldn't sit down for a bite until well into the night. Sure enough, an hour passed without any of the other board members having so much as a snack, and then Nicholas led them outside, where a bus was waiting.

"File on," Nicholas instructed, and there wasn't much protest as they did – just some confused muttering. All of their collars were turned on, after all, and there wasn't much point in causing a scene now. There were some dirty looks and upset words, but nothing worse. Nothing substantial. The contestants filed onto the bus and took their seats, which had been labeled with the numbers on their collars. They were followed by Nicholas, Alvin, Anita, and Judah, and then the coaches. Judah stepped purposefully to one side, apparently to make way for Nicholas, but actually to shield the coaches from sight as Ian helped Vincent up the steps.

Nicholas pressed a button on the side of the bus, and thirty compartments opened, one next to each of the contestants, each holding a small plastic bottle full of something that appeared to be juice. "There's a sedative in the drink," Nicholas explained before anyone could ask. "We have a bit of a drive ahead of us, and we want everyone to get some rest. Drink up, and we'll be on our way."

"And what if we refuse?"

The voice was Elio's. Of course it was. Nicholas shrugged. "Then we administer a shock through your collar instead that will achieve the same result; it'll just be a little more painful, and there might be some aching when you wake up. Personally, I'd go with the juice."

A few were already drinking obediently. One by one, the rest decided that juice was better than a shock in the neck. Not really a hard choice, when it came down to it.

Once the contestants were all asleep, Nicholas turned to the coaches and pressed another button. Four drinks appeared. Nicholas turned to Vincent, at a bit of a loss for how to get his point across without an air current, but Vincent was already waving a hand dismissively. "Sedative mixed in for the ride? Don't want us figuring out where we're at based on how long we've traveled, or which direction we're going?"

When Nicholas nodded, Vincent drank, and the other coaches quickly followed suit. Anita made a pass through the bus, making sure everyone was out. "All clear," she concluded, taking a seat near the front.

Nicholas and Alvin did the same, and Judah settled into the driver's seat. Nicholas let out a deep breath. "All right, then." He clapped Judah on the back.

"Let's get this show on the road."

Piper Galligan, 18

"They're on the move."

Piper barely nodded an acknowledgement of Linda's announcement. She'd been glancing into the future a few minutes at a time for at least an hour now, and had seen this moment coming. In a few moments, the first step of their plan would be put into motion. Once that happened, there was no going back.

Except that wasn't quite right. There hadn't been any going back for quite a while now – at least since she'd joined the others at New Sanctuary, and maybe even since she'd been chosen for the Games in the first place. Everything had led here, and it was too late to back out now even if she wanted to. But the thing was, she didn't want to. As dangerous or as futile as this might be, at least it was something. It was a chance.

And it was the only chance they had.

The MAAB were putting on a show, telling a story – a lie, but a compelling story nonetheless. People would latch onto the narrative, unless they were given a different one. Unless they were given the truth. Whether anyone believed the truth … well, that was out of her hands. But she owed it to the young mutants on the way to their deaths right now to at least put the truth out there.

"You're sure they won't be able to trace this?" Miles asked for what seemed like the hundredth time. He was pacing the floor of the trailer, and he would have worn a hole in the carpet if there was any. He was nervous, and rightfully so, but his presence would lend some credibility to what they were about to do. As far as the public was concerned, Piper was dead. As far as anyone could tell from her appearance, Linda was a hippie who had never grown out of it. As far as the government was concerned, Magneto was a terrorist, and Nightcrawler a would-be assassin. So the two of them were staying behind the cameras.

But Miles was a public figure. Someone the American people would recognize. Before he'd outed himself as a mutant, he'd been a rather popular vice president, as likable as was possible for a politician in most people's eyes, an everyman who just happened to also have a knack for politics. People liked him, and they would need that.

Which was also why her own parents were there. They were a family, the three of them – just a normal American family that had been put through hell. Piper glanced into the future for a moment and saw them standing in the corner. Her father gave her a thumbs-up sign, and her mother nodded her encouragement. Piper smiled. The two of them were clearly concerned for her, but they had been nothing but supportive over the last year. Still, she couldn't help a twinge of guilt over what they had been dragged into.

And they had been dragged, but not by her. She'd been dragged into this herself, after all. She'd never wanted any of this. She hadn't asked for it. And she certainly hadn't enjoyed it. But she had survived it – something the public was about to find out.

"No, we're not certain – not completely certain," Magneto admitted, tilting the camera angle a little with a wave of his hand. "That's why we're out here, rather than New Sanctuary. If they do manage to trace the signal, they only find us. And that's why we're mobile. That's why we're working out of a few trailers, not a house. We stay on the move, change our position often enough, and hope they don't work anything out too soon. After all, we have someone on the inside," he added with a glance at Linda.

Piper's vision snapped, and she nodded to herself as the vision played itself out in real time. Yes, they did have someone on the inside – two, in fact. One inside the MAAB and one inside the Games themselves. Anita was feeding them information, but Coburn might be able to provide them with something even more valuable – a way to communicate the other way around. Anita couldn't communicate with the contestants once they were in the Games, but Coburn…

Maybe. Cari had been trying, but hadn't really been able to tell whether she was getting through. She'd never tried to use her power over such a distance, so she wasn't certain it was possible. But if there was a chance, it was worth trying.

At this point, anything was worth trying.

Even this.

Piper took a deep breath as the last of the cameras clicked into place. They had practiced this. There was a white background behind her – nothing that could give away anything about their location. All she had to do was tell the truth. It was that simple.

Right. Tell the truth about how she had killed two other contestants – two other people – for the sake of the government's little experiment. She had killed to survive, yes, but the two people she had killed had done nothing to her. One she had strangled in his sleep. The other she had lured in, pretending to be hurt, only to turn on him and stab him in the chest. Neither of them had hurt her. Neither of them had even tried. But they had still had to die, in order for her to live.

"Piper?" Linda's voice cut through her thoughts. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Just start simple. Keep it brief. The footage we've hacked should do the rest."

Piper cringed. No one hacked footage. You hacked computers to get footage. Fortunately, Linda wasn't in charge of the technology. "All right, then," she agreed, adjusting her sunglasses. "Let's do it."

Linda probably nodded, because she started counting down. "Five. Four. Three. Two. One."

"Good evening," Piper began, directing her gaze to where she knew the camera was. "My name is Piper Galligan. Some of you may recognize me from an incident last year off the coast of Alaska. If you do, then it might be a surprise to see me alive, because according to the official record, I died there. That was a lie."

She leaned forward for effect. "That's not the only thing that was a lie. You've been told that those of us who were there on the island volunteered for an experiment – an experiment that went wrong. That's also a lie. The experiment happened exactly as it was designed to. The thirty of us were told at the start that what we were participating in was a fight to the death. We did not volunteer. None of us wanted to be there. What we did, we did in order to survive."

She took off her glasses, revealing the blackness in her eyes beneath. "The boy who did this to me was trying to survive. The two boys I killed, I killed because it was the only way I could make it out of there alive. When Penelope and I fought at the end, it was because we had been told that only one of us could survive. That was also a lie. Two of us survived. I was released into the Alaskan wilderness because they thought they could use me to track the whereabouts of a group of mutants. They failed," she added with a smirk.

"They released me," Piper continued, "but they kept Penelope in their clutches because she would be more useful for training this year's contestants." She paused for a moment to let the words sink in. "That's right. It's happening again. Take a look."

She didn't bother glancing into the future as the video cut to what she knew was live footage of a bus on a narrow road in the dark. "That bus contains this year's contestants. Thirty young mutants like me, twenty-eight of whom will soon be dead. But not because mutants are dangerous, unpredictable, or whatever else the government is claiming. Yes, mutants can be dangerous and unpredictable … but so can humans. So can you."

Piper slid her glasses back on. "But that's not why they will be dead. They will be dead because they have been told that only two of them will be allowed to survive. They will be dead because the Mutant Affairs Advisory Board, supported by the American government, believes that this will give them the leverage they need to relocate and imprison hundreds of thousands of people whose only crime is that they happened to be born a mutant. That is why this is happening. That is the truth. And we will continue to show you the truth, live, on this stream."

Almost there. "I know some of this is hard to believe. If I were in your position, I probably wouldn't want to believe it, either. But I'd like to think that I'd want to know the truth – no matter how ugly, how unsettling, how horrifying. The truth is sometimes frightening, but it is our hope – the hope of all mutants – that the truth will set us free."

The cameras clicked off, and Piper let out a sigh. She hadn't had the heart to tell Nightcrawler just how cheesy that last line was. They'd practiced it a few times, but it had never quite sounded right.

Maybe that was because, deep down, she was having trouble believing it. They could put the truth out there. Maybe some people would even listen. Maybe they would even believe it. But setting all of mutantkind free, free to live in peace, free to live without fear alongside normal humans … that seemed like such a long way from where they were, especially when the whole world seemed to be spiraling in the opposite direction.

A hand squeezed her shoulders. Three fingers. Nightcrawler. "Well done, Snowy Owl. Short, sharp, to the point. Just wait until they see that."

Piper nodded. They wouldn't have to wait long. She had been streaming live on multiple sites. The videos would probably be taken down as soon as the MAAB got wind of them, but that was enough time to direct people to their own website. They had backups of everything, of course, as well as a few cameras of their own in the area that was going to be used for the Games, in case the MAAB somehow managed to block their signal. One way or another, they would show people the truth.

But what would they do with it?

"Only we can protect each other ... We must be united and strong, and willing to deal with the humans as they would deal with us. [He] thinks we can hide in their midst like mice and hope for their understanding. This is not possible … If you think I'm wrong, then show yourself to them."