No Church in the Wild byKanye West

Human beings in a mob

What's a mob to a king?

What's a king to a god?

What's a god to a non-believer?

Who don't believe in anything?

Panem et Circuses

Chapter 4

The Capitol

Plutarch Heavensbee was guided to a seat by an Avox. He settled into the cushioned chair carefully, clasping his hands in his lap. He had been invited for tea to the lush, palatial home of the one and only President Coriolanus Snow.

The tyrant was not in the sitting room Plutarch had been shown into. He wasn't sure how long the old man would make him wait. But he did know that Snow did everything for a reason – to achieve certain desired effects. Plutarch was determined to stay calm and patient – to cheat Snow of his preferred outcome.

Snow entered the room after only five minutes – a vase of white roses in his liver-spotted, frail hands. "Good afternoon, Plutarch," he greeted genially, crossing the room to place the arrangement on the coffee table near the Game-maker.

"President Snow," Plutarch said pleasantly in response.

The old man smiled and shook his head, sinking into the chair opposite the other man. "Come now, Plutarch. We have known each other long enough to disregard such formalities," Snow chastised.

"As you wish, Coriolanus," Plutarch responded, a smile rising on his lips. "May I ask why I was invited here today?" he added.

Snow gestured to an Avox, snapping his fingers and pointing to the coffee table. "Can I not simply wish to have tea with an old friend?" Coriolanus asked innocently.

Plutarch shook his head as an Avox carried over a tea-set, placing the clattering tray of china on the coffee table. "Not you, Coriolanus. There's always something else." He responded. A smile lifted his lips – careful to stay positive.

Coriolanus waved the Avox away when she began to pour the tea – preferring instead to do it himself. "You take it with two sugars, correct?" the old man asked as he poured the steaming liquid into two delicate teacups.

"Yes." Plutarch answered simply.

Snow dropped two sugar-cubes into one of the teacups and slid it across the table so that it was within Plutarch's reach. "I did want to inquire after your plan. I was… curious as to how it was coming," Coriolanus admitted.

Plutarch plucked the teacup from its dish and took a sip. "Ah." the man hummed, his sharp eyes watching the tyrant add one sugar-cube and a slice of lemon to his own tea. He waited for Snow to settle back and take a sip of his tea before Plutarch began to speak. "It is going as well as we could have hoped. We are still ironing out some crinkles."

"Crinkles?" Coriolanus raised an eyebrow.

Plutarch set his teacup down on the saucer, wiping his mouth on his handkerchief. "Many of the subjects are… feeble. Their emotions are subdued." he explained.

Coriolanus dabbed at his mouth with a handkerchief as well. The pristine white fabric came back blood-spattered – but the old man deftly turned over the fabric so Plutarch wouldn't see. It didn't matter much – Snow's condition was no secret – at least to Plutarch. "Then concoct a new strain of steroids. It will take care of both problems." Snow suggested.

Plutarch furrowed his brows. "That will have adverse long-term effects,"

"Good." Snow remarked. At the expression of confusion on the other man's face, he explained further. "If and only if your subjects fulfill their purpose – they will be released – as promised. And they will have an expiration date. They won't have enough time to become a liability to us."

The Head Game-maker steepled his fingers, eyes watching the President warily.


Plutarch Heavensbee strolled along in his lab – arms crossed behind his back and scientists scurrying around him. On either side of him were two rows of twelve blue-lit glass tanks. Within each tank a body was suspended – tubes and wires connecting each subject to a screen in front of their tank.

The screens showed the subjects' vitals and endless information on their physical and mental capacity. Plutarch ended his stroll at the final two glass tanks – the two marked '12'. He glanced from one to the other.

The first tank marked '12' bore a male subject – tall and muscular with short blond hair and grey eyes. The second subject was female – with dark hair and sharp features. They were kept unconscious, with scientists carefully monitoring their neural activity.

'Soon…' Plutarch thought. 'Soon you will be awake and forced through another horror. I hope for all our sakes that you survive it,' He turned, drawing the attention of one of the scientists.

The scientist that came to Plutarch's side was a woman called Theta Yule – who bore short, silver hair and golden eyes. She had high cheekbones that had been surgically altered till they looked sharp enough to cut. "President Snow has suggested that we create a new strain of steroids. To solve the problem of the subjects' strength and stabilize their emotions." Plutarch told her.

Theta furrowed her brows and pursed her lips – making her already severe expression even more foreboding. "Steroids will only lend more problems – the subjects' strength will increase exponentially, but their emotions and personality will be extremely unbalanced. Not to mention the long-term effects," she responded incredulously.

Plutarch nodded resolutely. "I want you to begin immediately. Find a way to eliminate the long-term effects as best you can. I have already drafted a list of which subjects you may do your testing on and which must have the final product. It should be in your inbox," he ordered, beginning to walk away.

"Sir!" Theta called. Plutarch paused and turned to look at her expectantly. "It is my professional opinion as a doctor and scientist that these subjects be woken up and allowed to regain their strength the natural way," she said as she drew out her tablet device – allowing her to access her inbox.

Plutarch smiled disarmingly at the woman. "I agree completely, Dr. Yule. But we don't have that kind of time. Some of these subjects have been dead for more than thirty years – it would take years before they were ready. And-"

"We only have six months," Theta interrupted with a sigh. "I will take care of it, Head Game-Maker." she said resignedly.


Again, I wish to thank you for your reviews and support. I haven't gotten very much done lately, story-wise, but we are still ahead of schedule and I am seeing a light at the end of the tunnel (of schoolwork, for the time-being, that is). I've been cranking out Lesson Plans like no-one's business.

Please keep on keeping on - review.

Suz