Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games.
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A/n: There may be daily updates from now on in - i'm home for the holidays. And to cheer everyone up, this one is not depressing. Enjoy!
35) Plutarch Heavensbee – Dart
"Alright, Plutarch, what are we meant to be looking at?"
Plutarch grins at his fellow Gamemakers. "My friends, this is the latest in developed technology." He opens his hand. "Take a look!"
They lean in. Then they step back. Plutarch smiles at them. Eventually, Hestia decides to ask.
"Plutarch," she says carefully, "this is the revolutionary weapon, right?"
"Yes."
"The one which will provide our viewers with an excellent show in the Games?"
"Yes."
"It's a dart."
"Aha!" Plutarch's smile grows wider despite the apparent impossibilities of this. "That's the brilliance of it! It's small but deadly. Like a snail."
The Gamemakers trade looks. "Snails aren't dangerous," one of them ventures.
"Ever stepped on a poisonous one?"
"No..."
"Probably why you're still alive then, if you take that attitude to them." Plutarch looks at their incredulous faces and laughs. "Anyway, this isn't just a dart, my friends. It's so much more. If you set it under the ground, it can explode on a set timer and destroy everything in a fifty metre radius. They can be programmed to chase people and hitting their arms will inject venom so potent, they will be writhing in pain for an hour before dying."
"And?"
"What do you mean?"
"Do they do anything else apart from explode, inject poison and give you nice snail analogies?"
"Well ... you could probably get a game of darts in if you were bored."
"How much does this cost to make?"
Plutarch quotes the price. The Gamemakers raise their eyebrows in a movement not quite synchronised but still somewhat similar.
"So, Plutarch, let me get this straight," Demetrius says in his dry voice. "This little dart will do the same job as a mine or a bomb and the same job as poisonous gas – but not at the same time."
"Given time, I'm sure I could overc-"
"In addition to this, it will cost more than both of those items combined will to make," he continues, ignoring Plutarch. "And its only redeeming feature is that, if the tributes are bored, they can have a nice game of darts."
"When you put it like that-"
"Hands up who's in favour of not allowing Plutarch's snail dart?"
Nineteen hands go up. Plutarch sighs.
"Fine," he grumbles. Then he smiles. "But I have more to show you. Just wait here."
He turns around to find his next weapon. When he turns back, everyone has disappeared. He groans.
"Not again," he mutters. "Why do they do this every week?"