The Propos

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"And if we burn, you burn with us!"
Katniss's voice boomed around the hall and everyone erupted into cheers. Even I couldn't help but smile. They'd finally managed to compensate for Katniss's atrocious acting by sending her into 8, which coincidentally had been bombed whilst she had been there. It really had been quite convenient.
"What do you think?" I asked Finnick, who was standing beside me.
"I think it's going to get a lot of attention," he said solemnly, fiddling with the rope in his hands. 
"But..." I prompted, knowing that there was something else on his mind.
"But I think it will make Snow angry. And he might take that out on the victors in the Capitol." I hadn't thought about that. My heart sank: Snow had Johanna and Cashmere. There was no telling what he'd do to them after this. Or what he had already done to them.
"We need to get them back," I said.
"How?" he asked, "Neither of us our strong enough to fight the Capitol and it's not like Coin will authorise a rescue mission. It's a deathtrap." He was right. There was nothing we could do. It was all up to the mockingjay now.
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"Nobody likes me," I complained to Beetee as he examined the chip in my neck, trying to figure out a way to remove it without paralysing me. He didn't respond so I just continued talking, "And it's not like I'm an unlikeable person so if they're just holding me being a career or something that was in no way my fault against me, then they should just grow up and get over it. The only person who ever talks to me is Finnick and he always seems to have a different schedule to me. My only other friends apart from him are either dead or in the Capitol. Even you don't talk to me. I just don't understand why you could possibly dislike me. Anyway, it's not like you have anyone to talk to either. You just sit down here in your little weapons lab waiting for someone to show up."
"And you wonder why people don't like you." I raised my eyebrows,
"We both know it's not that. I mean, it's not even insulting. I'm just pointing out a fact." He didn't reply. He backed his wheelchair up and began to wheel it away.
"Ooh, are those knives?" I asked, rushing over to his workstation, where there were a set of throwing knives laid out, "They're so pretty!" I had always liked pretty knives. They looked so cool when they were whooshing through the air. Like a little spiral of colour. Usually they were completely impractical, but I could make it work.
I grabbed one before Beetee could stop me and hurled it towards one of the targets at the end of the room. It was about to hit dead center, but then, it stopped in midair and began to spin backwards. Towards me. I dived out the way, but it caught me in the arm, before returning to the sheath I had stolen it from.
"What was that?!" I exclaimed.
"A knife that returns to you," Beetee seethed,
"Well, it could use some tweaks," I chuckled, pressing a hand over the cut on my arm.
"It's. Not. Finished," he returned, trying to maintain the illusion of calmness. But I couldn't help myself,
"You should put a warning label on that. Someone could get hurt."
"If you had asked before you took it, I would've warned you!" I raised my hands in apology, then a bow and arrow on the other side of the room caught my eye,
"What's_"
"Get out!" he shouted. I probably should before he decided that those knives might look better in my throat.
I turned to leave, when the TV screen sparked to life. Caesar Flickerman's face was projected into the room. In the time it had taken for me to pay attention properly, Caesar's introduction was already over and Peeta Mellark had appeared on the screen as well. He seemed agitated, afraid even. I probably would be too if I was in the Capitol right now.
"And I think that's what we all find most astonishing, is that this girl was adored in the Capitol." Caesar said, "And I think for you, Peeta, it must be particularly painful."
"I wish I could give this rose to you," he said, running his fingers over the petals of a white rose, speaking absentmindedly. As if Caesar wasn't even there.
"A sweet gesture for a girl who has inspired such violence," Caesar mourned, "You must love her very much to be able to forgive her. Unless, of course, Peeta, you think that perhaps she's being forced into saying things that she doesn't even understand." Peeta suddenly came alive,
"Yeah, yeah that's exactly what I think. I think they're using her to whip up the rebels. I doubt she even knows what's happening. or what's really at stake"
"Now, Peeta, I doubt that the rebels will ever let her see this. But if they do, what would you say to her? To Katniss Everdeen, the once sweet Katniss Everdeen. What would you say to her?" Caesar asked. Peeta hesitated for a second,
"I would... I would tell her to think for herself. Yes. Don't be a fool, Katniss. I know you never wanted the rebellion. The things that you did in the Games were never intended to start all of this. The rebels have made you into something that you're not. Something that could destroy all of us. So if you have any power or any say in what they do or how they use you, please, please, urge them to stop this war before it's too late. And ask yourself, can you trust the people you're working with? Do you know what they really want?"
"Thank you, Peeta Mellark, for these revelations about the real Mockingjay," Caesar said before the broadcast cut out.
Beetee and I just stood there for a minute.
"Well..." I said finally, "I guess now there's someone the people of district 13 hate more than me."
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"Did you see the broadcast?" I hissed to Finnick as I slipped into the seat next to him in the mess hall later that day." He nodded,
"But don't... don't tell Katniss," he said.
"Why not?" I asked, "it was about her wasn't it?"
"Coin doesn't want her to know. She thinks it will make her stop filming the propos."
"So she hasn't seen it?" I asked, wondering how since it literally lit up every screen in thirteen. He didn't reply. I raised my eyebrows,
"She's seen it and they still want us to pretend that it didn't happen?" Finnick shrugged,
"They don't know that she saw it. I was the only one there when the interview aired." I fought the urge to laugh. It was a fight that I lost.
"So who do you think people like more now?" I joked, "Me or Peeta?"
"Still Peeta," he smiled back. I flicked a pea at him. "Careful," he laughed, "they could arrest you for that."
"I'd like to see them try," I replied humourously, rising to my feet.
But suddenly, the electricity sparked in the back of my neck. And for a moment there was pain. And then there was nothing.



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