Hunger Games: Fandom Style

Reinforcements

About two seconds after Gwaine said the word "crash", he had been ejected from the pilot's seat, and Merlin had settled into his place.
Will was looking greener than ever. "We're crashing?"
"We are not crashing," Merlin hissed through clenched teeth.
Gwaine smiled from where he lay sprawled on the floor, completely relaxed. "I seem to have bad luck with flying. Last time I tried to pilot something I got hit too. Boom!" He mimed an explosion with his hands.
"Shouldn't you be a little more concerned?" Red demanded.
"Nah. Last time I didn't have Merlin in there with me. He'll get us down all right. He's a wizard with aircraft. And everything else, I guess."
Strangled sounds were coming from the cockpit.
"What's he saying?" Red asked nervously.
Arthur managed to pick out a few words. "He's insulting Gwaine's flying ability. In Old English."
"French too, from the sound of it," Gwaine said cheerfully. "Oh, and German! And is that the distinctive growling of the Dragon tongue I hear?"
"One minute, I leave you to fly for one minute - What did you do to this thing?"
"Hey, it's not my fault!" Gwaine protested. "Ms. Big Bad Wolf over there didn't warn me we were being fired at!"
Leah snarled.
"Or maybe I just didn't hear her," Gwaine backtracked.
The hovercraft pulled out of its plummet to the earth and started grinding forward at a more reasonable pace.
"Right, I've got her leveled off, but we lost more than three quarters of the engine power, so I'm mostly keeping us in the air through magic and will power."
"Good job, Will!" Gwaine cheered.
"Wha- Oh, shut up, Gwaine. Thanks to that daring stunt, we'll be landing any minute now."
"Where exactly?" Arthur asked.
Merlin paused. "Good question. Any suggestions?"
"Merlin!"
"Hey, this isn't as easy as it looks! Cut me some slack."
Leah let out a frustrated growl. Merlin jumped. "Hey, I can hear you!"
"So can the rest of us," Harry pointed out.
"No, not like that. Send me something else." A look of wonder crossed Merlin's face. "It's like the druids."
"Any time you feel like explaining - "
"The druids used to be able to send thoughts to one another. And to me. What the wolves do is very similar, but I'd never realized I could be part of the conversation before. That's convenient."
Leah nodded patiently.
"Oh, right. Huh. I'll admit, it's audacious."
"WHAT?" the others yelled at him.
Merlin turned back and grinned at them. "Leah heard that there's a hovercraft landing pad on the roof of the presidential mansion."
There was a moment of silence while they digested this. Harry and Arthur started to grin.
"I like it," Gwaine said with gusto. "Three cheers for the big bad wolf!"
Red smacked him.

There was a chasm in the middle of the road. It hadn't been there five minutes ago.
Then again, five minutes ago, Gandalf hadn't been facing off against Saruman.
Both gripped their staffs tightly. Saruman's face was twisted with rage, Gandalf's with sorrow.
"Why have you done this?"
Saruman sneered at him. "Power has its own rewards."
Gandalf looked around at the burning city. Nick Fury had managed to hack the Capital's computers and turn their traps against them. Panicked citizens rioted in the streets or sought safety deeper in. Victors and rebels battled Peacekeepers. Allies and enemies blurred together in the haze of smoke and blood. "I do not see them."
"This was but a small step on the path. Panem will yet be mine."
Gandalf brought his staff down firmly on the pavement. "No," he said firmly. "It will not."
Saruman laughed. "Who will stop me? You? Gandalf the Gray? You're powers are nothing compared to mine."
"Perhaps," he said quietly. "But I do not fight alone."
He lashed out with his staff. Winds swept towards Saruman, snatching at him, trying to drag him into the crevasse at his feet.
Saruman batted them aside.
He hadn't noticed the surge of power behind him.
Golden light rose in a dome that pushed outwards, sweeping him off his feet. He fell forward into the crevasse, only catching onto the edge by his fingertips.
Galadriel, beautiful and terrible, was revealed behind him. Saruman desperately tried to push himself up.
Galadriel pushed her hands forward. The crevasse in the street closed, Saruman still inside.
Gandalf flinched. Galadriel stumbled, the glow around her diminishing as the use of power took its toll. Gandalf rushed forward. "My lady, are you all right?"
"Fine," she gasped. "Fine." She straightened slowly.
Another practitioner of the curse dead. Gandalf felt no joy. Only weariness.
A little girl stood screaming on the sidewalk. A wild eyed man with a gun turned towards her, weapon raised.
Gandalf batted him aside with his staff and strode forward. There was yet work to be done.

"Teddy!" the little girl screamed, squirming in Sherlock's arms.
Sherlock tried to reason with her. "You stuffed bear has by now been burned to cinders. There is no point in risking further smoke inhalation by returning for him."
"Teddy!"
Sherlock tried to sigh, but it came out as a cough instead. Smoke roiled above them and the heat of the flames was far too close. They had to get out now. The ceiling was starting to buckle.
John was right behind him, leading two more of the little ones by the hand. Sherlock pushed the door open with his shoulder.
Who had closed it?
It banged open to reveal a line of Peacekeepers waiting outside.
That was unfortunate.
"Turn around," he rasped. "Kitchen door, kitchen door!"
They stumbled through the burning house. Mycroft fell in behind them. Cracks raced through the ceiling. Furniture lit with nightmarish flames, licking at the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Sparks fell on them in a shower. The little girl screamed as her hair caught on fire.
Sherlock dropped her to the floor and forced her to roll. The flames were beaten out, but smoke curled from the charred edges of her hair.
So much smoke . . .
Sherlock estimated they had less than five minutes to get out of the building, assuming they wanted to do so alive.
They burst through the rickety door to the kitchen. It hadn't caught yet, but bags of flour and and bottles of oil glistened evilly in anticipation.
The smoke must be affecting my mental processes. Food is inanimate. It has no concept of morality.
John struggled with the latch on the door. He let out a yelp as the heated metal burned his skin, but the door came open.
More Peacekeepers waited outside.
"No," Sherlock hissed.
"Now what?" John asked. Still so confident in his ability to figure out any problem, solve any puzzle, even now.
"I - I - " I don't know.
Then the Millennium Falcon came screaming down from the sky.
Pew, pew, pew!
Laser blasts streamed from its guns at sharp angles, scorching Peacekeepers and ground alike. When the last one was gone, the ship turned and headed towards the main part of the city.
Sherlock's jaw dropped. "What was that?"
"Theorize later, run now," John said, pushing out into the clean, safe air.

Butler lay back against the table. The world was spinning around him.
Master Artemis might need me. Must find Master Artemis.
But he couldn't move.
The door slid open.
Not again. Not so soon.
"Hello, old friend," Artemis said. "You're looking a bit tired."
Butler struggled to raise his head. No. It was impossible. Impossible.
"Artemis?" he croaked.
"The one and only."
"What are you doing here?"
"I believe the colloquial term is 'jail break.'" He punched a few numbers into the keypad on the wall. The cuffs began to retract.
Shouting came from down the hallway. Artemis frowned for a moment before his expression cleared. "Ah. It would appear our friends from Four are out as well."

Elyan stood on the roof of the former Peacekeeper headquarters and looked out at the city with a great deal of satisfaction. He contemplated the apple in his hand with equal, if not greater, contentment.
A thought occurred to him. "Hey, Perce!"
"Yeah?"
"We still got that flag from Camelot that Merlin donated to the cause?"
"Somewhere. Why?"
Elyan looked at the now empty flagpole on the roof. "It's missing something."
Half an hour later, a red flag was flapping in the breeze.
"Long live Camelot. Long live Emrys. Long live the king," Elyan said quietly.
"Long live the king."

Will threw himself against the cabin wall and drained his flask dry of its last drop of water. A moment later, Elizabeth did the same.
They looked at each other. "Ready for another bout?" Will asked.
"Always," she said drawing her sword with a smile, but her breathing was still ragged.
This would be their last charge. Will knew it in his bones.
Or perhaps they'd already died and gone to Davy Jones' locker. Will had no idea why there'd be three foot tall men in green uniforms and carrying blasters in Davy Jones' locker, but it certainly made more sense than them showing up in miniature hovercraft in Four.
One particularly red faced one was yelling, "Take that, mud men!" as he blasted through the Peacekeepers ranks.
Will and Elizabeth looked at each other again. The strange creatures did, after all, appear to be on their side . . .
So, as one, they shrugged, and charged once more.

The hovercraft shuddered to stop on the landing pad on the presidential mansion. Will stumbled to his feet looking deeply thankful it was over.
"Now what?" Red asked.
Arthur stretched his shoulders. "I think I'd like a word with our dear President Snow."

A/N: Sorry! I really intended for them to face Snow today, but the chapter was getting so long I decided to wait. Tomorrow, they face Snow.
Snow's going to have a very bad day.