Chapter Thirteen
(For District Thirteen! Which they now know exists!) This is the end of part two. Stick around...next we're playing in the 75th Hunger Games!
William went into the mayor's office, but he doesn't see a purple man or any evidence he was there.
"Scipio! We need to talk…" William says, looking around. He glances at one of the rooms couches then has to do a double take as he sees a thick, blond, quite underdressed Capitol man. He has orange eyebrows and a purple vest underneath a black coat, but he isn't extremely notable. Not like Scipio and his eyelashes, or Agrippa and his teeth. William almost isn't sure he's a hologram until William notices that the man seems to be just levitating above the chair, clearly not really sitting in the seat.
"Your…Plutarch?" William asks. The man nods.
"Plutarch Heavensbee. Head game maker and closest friend you'll ever have."
"I feel like Scipio made a promise like that to me once…" William says, pulling up a chair in front of Plutarch, "Well, I expect something good since Scipio had to call on his boss."
"He told me he wasn't having much luck, so I told him to let me have a chance." Plutarch says. His Capitol accent is there, but nothing as outrageous as Scipio's. In fact, he seems reasonable when he talks.
"Alright then…"
"Let me ask you, do you remember when you were being held for execution? You should have seen a Quarter Quell."
"I saw the third through the twenty-seventh games. I didn't actually get to see most of them though, something about trackerjacker venom in my veins," William mutters, gritting his teeth.
"Agrippa was actually acting on his own when he did that. But I made absolutely sure he didn't inject you when the twenty fifth games played so that you could see what happened when your champion, Muscida won." William is draw back to the chaos which broke out after those games. He also thinks of Librae's revelation. If she knew about District Thirteen...
"Good, you saw the extended version then," Plutarch says, commenting on William's puzzled face, "The parts in which President Snow and my father were the only politicians who weren't dead by the end of it. And the part where Muscida, your champion, defied the Capitol by refusing to kill her competitor."
"Is that your plan?" William asks, "Are our rebellions, and even Katniss's defiance meant to be stepping stones in your scheme to take the presidency?" Plutarch gives a hardy laugh at this.
"William, I am not a politician. I'm a television producer. I tell stories with words and pictures. Governing is a job for someone else. Not one day in my life have I ever wanted to be President of Panem."
"No…that was for your brother and your wife." Plutarch smiles.
"Now you've got it. I'm from a family of politicians. All of whom are dead. Only the tv guy is left…" Plutarch says, laughing, but there is a hint of sadness in his voice. William sighs.
"Then what exactly is your goal?"
"Shouldn't it be obvious? I'm trying to make a show which is going to make a difference for the people of Panem. I'm going to make real the dream of your Muscida. We're going to bring down the Capitol and Snow through television…"
"The Quarter Quell…" William says. Plutarch nods.
"No program will ever speak to so many people across so many platforms. What better way to declare independence from the Capitol than during the tv show meant to prove the power of the Capitol? Everyone will be watching. And everyone will see, and be struck, by how terrible and awesome these games will be…" Plutarch says. William looks at him like he's crazy.
"This is about television? Muscida's plan, your plan, Scipio's strange instructions, the revolt in our district, it was all about television?"
"In Panem, everything is about television. It's all about how it appears, how it effects people's emotions, people's souls. And this is going to reveal Snow as the monster he is. But it's also going to prove how fragile and alone he is in this country…"
"So this Quarter Quell is going to cause a rebellion, like Muscida and the twenty-fifth was? Or Katniss in her seventy-fourth…"
"No, they will be so much greater. You know that District Thirteen is real, don't you?" William nods.
"I've watched the clips. The bird flies past the screen every time. They are reusing footage."
"Indeed. Well, the day Muscida had been planning for is here. District Thirteen is now strong enough to return to battle. Between me and President Coin, the leader in Thirteen, we've planted probably thirty agents in the inner circle of Snow, and we're going to host a TV show like never before seen which will not only bring down that terrible man, but it will bring up the Districts from their oppressive state…" Plutarch stands up and holds his hands out, "this will be the last and greatest Hunger Games ever!" William thinks the man is a lunatic but tries to draw the connections.
"So…you need District Four's tributes and mentors."
"They are essential. As are all Districts. I need Johanna. I need FInnick, and I need Beetee in particular. Replacements would suffice if necessary, Blight is strong and determined like Johanna, both Gerard and Wiress can do electrical work, and Ron and Librae are both potentially skilled enough to help our cause. But those three are already a team, and they will be essential for everything I've got planned."
"What in the world is going to happen in these games?" William asks, very confused. Plutarch puts a finger to his lips.
"You will find out when everyone else does. But if you plan on surviving your revolt, you'll rejoin Panem and help me make my television show. Are you planning on liberating the Districts or remaining oppressed?" Plutarch asks. William pauses for a moment, trying to trace the logic of their conversation.
"You are telling me…that the only way for the Rebellion to succeed is through the Quarter Quell. But we've already won, Plutarch. We are free! We breathe free air!" William says. Plutarch raises an eyebrow.
"Then why is it, I wonder, you came to speak to Scipio? Is it perhaps because this free air doesn't taste so sweet? Might something sour be fouling it up? Perhaps it's the wild dogs of war the Capitol wields, which Scipio and I are holding back just barely? But that would be too simple, there are too many ways around that…" Plutarch crosses his arm and pressing a few buttons, brings up a map of Panem on William's mayorial computer.
"Do you know…" Plutarch asks, "the story of the Dark Days, I wonder? You know the basic plot, that the Districts, led by Thirteen, rebelled against the Capitol, and ultimately were defeated by the Capitol's many weapons and powerful air force. But if they were defeated, why was it that District Thirteen was able to survive, while the other Districts remain under Capitol yoke?"
"I don't know, something about powerful weapons…that's what Scipio said…" William shrugs.
"Yes, powerful weapons. Weapons they could use to free their neighbors, weapons they could have forever destroyed the Capitol with. But they didn't. They signed a peace treaty with the Capitol, and have been left alone since then. They have been free, barely surviving, but free. And what have you all in the Districts been?" William considers this with horror, which Plutarch apparently sees on his face.
"Yes, Odair, you know what I'm going to ask. What are you going to do once Four is independent? Let's say you can negotiate your way out of Panem. What's next then? You go back to fishing, run your own power plants, weave and draw your own cloths, grow your own food. But what about the rest of Panem? They suffer, they toil, they die, while you breathe your free air, they play terrible combat games. Is this how you want your freedom? At the cost of your neighbors in Five, your son's friends in Three and Seven, Katniss in Twelve? Is your freedom more important than theirs? Are you as heartless, cold, and evil as District Thirteen was?"
"If…" William starts, his mouth dry, "District Thirteen was so bad…why are we siding with them…" Plutarch smiles.
"Because they are all we've got…" William stares the man down for a long time. Plutarch is patient though, and occasionally takes sips of what William assumes to be invisible tea. Eventually, William turns back to the map of Panem.
"Do I save my friends, or save my country?"
"Excellent question. And one I believe your friend Terrance claims, only you can decide…" Plutarch says. William looks back at him. Plutarch shrugs.
"Beetee's scanning device is old. It detects most cameras, but Snow had some undetectable ones invented. Of course…he won't see any of that footage, because you, me, District Thirteen, and Katniss are on the same side, ours. They say you can't pick your family, but sometimes, as it turns out, you can't pick who your friends are either…" Plutarch says. William sighs, the deepest, saddest sigh he's ever done.
"No…sometimes…it seems you can't," William shuts his eyes, begging that he is making the right choice, "No new peacekeepers, I hold on the Craven. Johanna is given peaceful re-entry into District Seven, Blight is let free, Finnick, Ron, Annie, and everyone in District Four are removed from any punishment for their decision to rebel. Finally, the council stays. Call it whatever you want, Capitol appointed, Capitol born, but we have a council."
"And you remain Mayor…" Plutarch finishes. He presses a few buttons, then looks up.
"Anything else?" William thinks for a moment.
"…Finnick…and Ron, or whoever, are not sold for sex during their final visit to the Capitol." Plutarch nods.
"I would never let something so despicable happen. I assure you…we don't have time for that anyway…" Plutarch says. William looks back to the map for a moment, then comes up with his final demand.
"If we're fighting for all the Districts, then I need an assurance you'll keep the Districts united. And there is only one girl I know of who can do it…" William says. Plutarch grins.
"Of course, I will continue to do everything I can to keep Katniss alive, and I hope you will too. Now, enjoy the show! Plutarch out…" The man bows to William, then fades out. William sighs again, even deeper than his previous one, and turns around to see Finnick at the door.
"What have you done…?" Finnick says. William looks at him, the pain of his decision starting to weigh on him.
"I've sacrificed District Four...to save Panem…" William says.
"I can't believe you sold me out Finnick!" Johanna says, adding a few curse words under her breath. Finnick sighs and pushes her forward. They are going to the northernmost point of District Four, where they'd been promised that Johanna would be peacefully taken from them and returned to Seven. Of course, Johanna was at this moment anything but peaceful, and it was starting to try on Finnick's nerves. It was clearly affecting Ron and Annie too, as he sighs with Finnick while Annie starts whimpering. Finnick turns around, takes her hand and gives her a long kiss on her cheek, which brings her back to reality, then turn and roughly grabs hold of Johanna.
"Look. We saved your life. As part of our re-entry into Panem, you've been freed from any charges."
"And you expect Plutarch to follow through with that? He probably would've promised you the moon if it would have gotten District Four back into Panem."
"Well, he pretty much did. No clients for us, semi-autonomy, our current government, no new peacekeepers," Ron lists. Finnick does have to admit his father got a lot for the District, but they still didn't have freedom. Despite his father's promise of its eventually arrival, the fact that they had to participate in the Hunger Games one more time made their supposed autonomy feel quite hollow.
"Ron…" Annie starts, "You were…sold too?" Ron turns around, not even considering that Annie might not have known. He nods slowly.
"Yes. Not like your boyfriend there. Not anywhere as much as he was. But I was sold. In particular, one lady, Bella Trinket had a sick obsession with me. Her strange wish for my body ended up with her captured and held with the other hostages. I'm only sorry to see her returned," Ron says, probably thinking about choking the woman based on how tight his fists are. Annie touches his shoulder and he relaxes. Annie then looks to the woman being pushed by Finnick.
"Johanna?"
"What?"
"Were you…sold too?" Johanna turns around, but Finnick continues dragging her as she explains.
"Nope. When Snow told me to sleep with all those lustful, ugly men, I told him to **** off, and then that I would rather have my own ******* head cut off before I would **** a single one of those rich-*** mother******s." Johanna vulgarity gives the three District Four victors pause, and they stop and look at her for a while. She rolls her eyes.
"Oh, how pure and wonderful all you District Four sailors are! You never use harsh language, not like us stupid, vulgar District Seven lumberjacks who have no ******** choice!" Finnick grabs her arm and starts dragging her again.
"Its time for you to go back to District Seven anyway…" Finnick mutters. At that moment, the fence, a twenty foot wall of steel with electrified barber tipped wire on the top comes into view. This monster is enough to scare most District Four citizens away, but more than a few instances of District Seven people killed trying to scale the thing have been reported. Unlike most Districts' borders, there were no large woods or deserts or bodies of water to separate District Seven and Four, and because of this, there had to be this powerful, terrifying fence keep the Districts separate. When Finnick arrives, he pushes Johanna toward the door and then takes out his trident. Ron brings out his as well, and Annie takes out her small axe.
"What? You're going to kill me if I don't go?"
"No, we're going to kill whoever comes through there if they don't take you peaceably." Finnick says, holding his trident out. Ron raises his, ready to throw, and Annie stays behind Johanna. The woman, who now sees how among friends she is, rips the axe from Annie's hand and raises it, ready to throw like Ron. However, when the large metal doors of the fence open, the man on the other side is one they all recognize, and he nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees the weapons pointed at him.
"Good gravy!" Blight says, stumbling back. A tall, gorgeous, woman with jet black hair and a long orange dress on catches him, and pushes him back up.
"Come on, father, pull it together…" she says. Two peacekeepers, in old grey uniforms stand with her, and on her chest is the small M badge William wears too. Finnick can't believe his eyes. Neither can Johanna, and she grabs Blight's collar.
"What? So you lead a revolt and won, and didn't happen to tell me?"
"No Johanna," The woman says, touching Johanna's arm, "You lead it. As part of the deal of returning you safely, Plutarch assumed he would not convince you to go unless you had a strong incentive. This was the incentive. Blight and me free, and having me appointed as Mayor." The woman says. Johanna struggles to speak, but Finnick slaps her back.
"Good work, soldier Mason. Seems you've saved your District, and had your own victory over the Capitol. I expect great things from you…" Finnick says laughing. He nods to Blight, who waves happily at him and Ron. The woman comes forward, leaving her District and entering Four, while Johanna stomps back into Seven angrily. The woman takes Finnick's hand and gives it a kiss.
"I know you made an enormous sacrifice for Johanna and all the rest of Panem. We in Seven are immensely grateful. Capitol rule will not last forever. Together, we can defeat them." She says. Finnick assumes Blight's daughter to be some sort of great orator, and as she leaves, Ron comments as much.
"Wow, that lady has a way with wordd…must get it from her mother."
"Maybe. Johanna!" Finnick calls, "I'll see you in five months. With the last set of tributes ever."
"Last ones I'll deal with anyway. Snow is gonna die or I am after this…" Johanna yells back, then the gates start to close. Finnick, Ron, and Annie turn and start to walk back remaining silent and listening only to the sound of birds in the trees and the waves of the sea.
"You know…" Ron starts, "In all, I guess it makes sense…"
"What?" Finnick asks. Ron shrugs.
"We got so caught up with Scipio and trying to go against him, we didn't remember who the real enemy is…" Ron says. Finnick freezes and then looks to the two, the only two people he truly cares about in the world, the only two who if they ever died, he'd be alone and never happy again. Throughout all of this: his anger at his father, his hatred toward Marcellus and Agrippa, his disgruntlement with Scipio and Plutarch and his frustration with Johanna and her interrupting his relationship with Annie, he'd forgotten the most important thing, the thing his mentor had tried to teach him over and over again.
"He's right. No matter what happens next, no matter what comes for and during these games, we have to remember…" Finnick starts to quote Mags, "who the real enemy is…"