CONGRATULATIONS KRIKANALO! YOU ARE MY 100TH REVIEWER!

For your prize, you get…

(::) (::) (::) (::) (::) (::) (::) (::) (::) (::) (::) (::) (::) (::) (::)

COOKIES!

Stolen right from Petronius, who thought that I was ignoring him while picking on Caius, hence growing slack in his defense against cookie thieves. ^_^

Petronius: (walks into room) Sky, do you know where my cookies went?

Me: (hides cookies under table) Whaaaaaaat are you talking about?

Petronius: (folds arms) You stole them again, didn't you?

Me: Noooooo…oh my gosh look at that! (points at something across the room)

Petronius: What? (turns around to look) What is it?

Me: (hissing to krikanalo) Quick! Take them! Now!

Petronius: (turning back around) I don't see anything…

Me: Oh, of course you don't Petro. (grins evilly, but only on the inside so Petronius doesn't see)

Chapter 33

When Artemis came to, she found that she could not see. Nor could she move her arms or legs, as they were held down by some sort of metal restraints. She was laying horizontally, on a cold, uncomfortable metal platform of some sort. The clothes on her body did not seem like the clothes she had worn in the arena. They were thinner, lighter. A tunic and loose pants were all she could feel, and if she was right, they were cotton. The blindfold around her eyes was stiff, thick, and itchy.

What had happened? The last thing she remembered was standing up after the explosions had abated, and a strange pricking feeling in her thigh. A tranquilizer dart, no doubt. They had knocked her out? Why? She hoped that the others had gotten better treatment, seeing as she was probably the least wounded of the nine. If they had refused to treat Iris's potentially fatal wound, and if the smaller girl had died, Artemis swore on her life that the second they let her out, she would kill the ones who had refused it of her.

She couldn't let any more tributes die. She absolutely would not allow it. Too many had died because of her. Titania, whom she had killed herself. Claudia, who had eaten the nightlock that Artemis had meant to merely be sarcasm. Lystria, who had died while running from the ones that Artemis had inadvertently led to her allies. Romulus, who had been killed by the muttattion spider meant for her. The other eleven, whom she had failed to save. If Iris died because of Artemis's bold masterstroke of sedition, she would never forgive herself or the ones who had let the girl die.

"If you don't tell me where I am and why you have restrained me," she said calmly, her voice cracking from disuse, "I will scream. And I think we all know how loud I can scream."

There were the scuffling sounds of her guards –– naturally, there just had to be guards –– as they realized she was awake, and then silence. Artemis was getting ready to open her mouth and let loose one of her signature screams when she heard a door slide open, and someone walk in. Actually, quite a few someones.

"There are seven of you," said Artemis. "Two guards, judging by the sounds of their boots. Four men in fine shoes, judging by the weight and sounds of your steps. And a woman in heels, but heels no higher than two inches."

"Not bad," said a familiarly cynical voice. "Your deduction skills are as sharp as ever."

"Hello, Mr. Abernathy," she said coolly, as if she was not blindfolded and chained to a metal table. "And Mr. Mellark, Mr. Heavensbee, and Miss Everdeen."

"How did she know?" hissed Peeta to Katniss, who just shrugged.

"Ah, Miss Everdeen," sighed Artemis in the same pleasantly polite tone. "The Mockingjay, the victor of the Seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games, the Girl Who Should Literally Be On Fire. What a pleasure it is to have you come to witness my helplessness."

"How did you know I was here?" asked Katniss.

"It's simple," replied Artemis. "Mr. Abernathy is here, so I deduced that you, since you are one of his few female friends, must have also come. And if you are here, Mr. Mellark must also have come. And Mr. Heavensbee… well, truth to be told that was a blind shot."

"With percentages of…?" inquired Plutarch mockingly, not expecting a real answer.

"Seventy-five or lower."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I reasoned that you would not let Mr. Abernathy, Mr. Mellark, and Miss Everdeen come alone, and that you might like to speak to me about my incident with the control disk."

"Which is exactly why I'm here, isn't it?" said Plutarch. "Now answer your own question, Miss Gossamer."

"It wasn't a question," she said, partially just to annoy them, "it was a statement."

"Just answer," sighed Plutarch. "Why did you destroy the arena?"

"And spare the tributes?" replied Artemis. "Now I have a question for you, Mr. Heavensbee. Can you take off this blindfold and these chains? If you do, I will talk. Amendment: I will talk about relevant things."

She heard them muttering for a few seconds, then heard one of the guards walk over and unlock her restraints. Calmly she took off the blindfold, only to shield her eyes from the light with her hand. When her vision adjusted, she sat up and found that she was in a small silver room, with a metal door at one end and a bench on which Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch sat. One of the guards stood in front of the door, the other one stood alert next to Plutarch, who was standing and watching Artemis carefully as she swung her bare feet off the side of the table and attempted to stand. Her legs were undamaged but very skinny and a bit wobbly at first, but then she regained balance, much to her humiliation seeing as there were six people watching her.

"Surely you didn't think that I was any sort of a threat in this condition," she said sarcastically, meeting his gaze and showing her wolf smile. "How long have I been out? Two, three days?"

"Enough," snapped Plutarch. "I want to know why you did what you did."

"And before I answer to that, I also want to know something," replied Artemis.

Plutarch sighed, but this sigh was cut short when he heard her next words.

"Are my allies alive?"

He raised an eyebrow, then nodded.

"All of them? Including Iris?"

Another nod.

"Have they been detained in the same way that I have?"

"For the most part, they are still recuperating. Mr. Angelico we have put in a cell, but have not restrained. The others are being watched but not restricted."

"Release Caius. He had no part in my original plan, and what parts he played anyway were out of his control."

"But what was your original plan?"

"For twenty-four to come out alive, and not merely nine."

There was a nearly palpable silence, during which Plutarch and Artemis were locked in some kind of staredown. What are you thinking right now, Artemis? Plutarch mused to himself as he stared into the obstinate young girl's impenetrable eyes. Possibly of an alibi, or possibly how to present the truth in the right way? No doubt your thought process is far faster than mine. The mere fact that you were able to construct such an advanced piece of technology in under two years proves that much. And that verbal dissection of the Angelico boy as you were debating for the control disk? Absolutely brilliant, if I do say so myself. But I will not tell this to you aloud. No need to inflate your ego any larger.

I am thinking that you are probably wondering what I am thinking right now, Artemis reflected. Of course, she did not really know what the man was thinking; she was just deviating off the most probable thing that she assumed he would be thinking, which was in fact the correct case. Because we are, believe it or not, in many ways that much alike, so as to think very similarly. How would I know this? I do not; as most of my suppositions are, they are suppositions in not only name but absolute essence. For none of my theories have I ever been one hundred percent positive until proof is shown, and for an event such as this I am not capable of acquiring such proof. It is true that often I lie and claim percentages of five percent, or something of that pessimistic nature, when in reality I am over ninety percent convinced of its genuinity. But never in any of my suppositions have I ever been one hundred percent sure. Which is why I did not reveal to the other eight tributes the seventy percent probability that I overdid it with the virus and that the explosions of the technology in the arena would not only completely obliterate the arena but also the Launch Rooms underneath. Nor will I reveal this to Mr. Heavensbee unless absolutely necessary.

"The Seventy-sixth Hunger Games were held to be purely symbolic," said Artemis after that long silence during which they thought the above and much more. "Which makes me wonder –– if it is symbolism, and the symbolism was meant to portray the defeat of the Capitol, what does it symbolize when one tribute takes a stand for what she believes is right, and leads eight others out of the prison their captors have put them in? Who is the villain in this story? The rebels –– ?" She paused here, letting it sink in. Peeta started to nod, until Artemis continued by saying, " –– or the ones who imprisoned them?

"You see, the sides have completely switched. I will say it quite frankly –– you are the Capitol now; you are the ruthless executioners. I did what I had to because I believe that no one else should have to die. You must understand that political views matter nothing in this equation. Nor do the opinions of what 'justice' is to the rebels. At risk of sounding ridiculously clichéd, I will say that what do matter in this problem are the morals."

"Morals," sniffed Plutarch. "As if you would care about those."

Artemis nodded. "I understand that all of us –– all of the tributes of this year's Hunger Games had watched the previous ones without a second thought, even believing them to be exciting and justifiable. Even I, at one point, thought it to be the right thing to do. But now that we know –– we actually know –– what we were watching, I can say for all of us that our views are no longer the same. None of us think that it's fair for us, and I think that if you ask any of the surviving tributes now if they think that the previous seventy-five Hunger Games were right, you will get not one 'yes'. The truth is, Mr. Heavensbee, we can all say, and by 'we' I mean not only the tributes but all of us as a whole, that killing is wrong. Even if it is 'justice' or 'symbolism' or 'revenge', no one deserves to be murdered in such a way. But the question is, Mr. Heavensbee, can you say the same?"

Plutarch was silent for a minute or so as he digested this. "I can," he said after the silence. "You are right in many aspects. But I have yet another question: what will the public think?"

"I also have yet another question," Artemis replied. "There are cameras watching us, are there not?"

"There are."

"Then, if my little speech was enough to sway you, then it should be sufficient for the so-called 'public'. And if they do not agree, then let them come and tell me themselves."

"They won't like it. You'll be in danger."

Artemis nodded understandingly, then turned to Katniss. "Miss Everdeen, you passed a law that protected the other survivors of the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games. The Mockingjay Deal, was it not?"

"Um, yes, but…" said Katniss uncomfortably.

"Then pass another. The Second Mockingjay Deal, if you like, or possibly… the Gossamer Deal. I like that. You have the authority, and if not, the popularity to do so."

Katniss hesitated, then she nodded. "I will speak to President Paylor about it."

Artemis bobbed her head in response, and then turned to the Head Gamemaker. "Is there anything else you wish to say, Mr. Heavensbee?"

Plutarch inclined his chin a few inches, scrutinized the fourteen-year-old girl, and said two words: "Well done."

She cocked her head inquisitively. "Excuse me?"

"Well done, Artemis Gossamer," said Plutarch, holding out his hand. "You have impressed me. Thank you."

Artemis took his hand and shook with surprising strength for one so small. "You are welcome, Mr. Heavensbee," she said. "But I must ask one last question: will my allies and I be released?"

Plutarch hesitated, then turned to the guard and whispered something to him. The guard nodded and exited the room. "Well?" inquired Artemis impatiently after what felt like an endless silence.

"You asked particularly about the Angelico boy," said Plutarch, at which Artemis raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Roberts, let him in." This last command was directed towards the guard at the door, who nodded briskly and opened it to reveal a skinny, slouching figure.

Caius Adrian Angelico found himself being suffocated in a hug. Artemis sure was small –– well, small being very loosely defined, as he was only three inches taller –– but she was surprisingly strong. He could feel her fingers gently tracing the scar on his back, which was easily felt through the thin cotton of his loose tunic. He knew that later, she would have questions for him. And for the first time, he knew that he wouldn't mind telling her.

After a moment's hesitation, he hugged her back.

Me: Ha ha.

Caius: What?

Me: You said you didn't like Artemis and didn't want to fall in love with her. You just hugged her voluntarily. That means you must like her to some extent. You owe me a soda.

Caius: *turns very red* Who said I liked her?

Me: Come on. Admit it. You enjoyed that hug.

Caius: …
That's beside the point…

Me: No it isn't.

Caius: Yes it is.

Me: No it isn't.

Caius: Yes it is.

Me: No it isn't. (subtly reaches over and steals blueberries)

Caius: Yes it is.

Me: (hiding blueberries behind back) You know what? I'm done with this argument. You win. Peace out. (hurriedly leaves)

Caius: Huh. That was weird. HEY! WHERE ARE MY BLUEBERRIES?! SKY!

Me: *laughs maniacally and runs away with blueberries*