Deceived: The 500th Annual Hunger Games

Chapter 72 - Minigame 4 Summary and The Capture

PHILLIPE HONEYMAN'S P.O.V

Smoothing back my newly dyed hair - which happens to contain the entire spectrum of colours - my breath catches in my throat. We will execute the plan any minute now, straight after this whole ordeal.

Fione doesn't know about the plan. Yes, she knows that I'm up to no good and that it involves Ranunculus. No, she doesn't know we plan to launch him into the last games. I'm such an awful human, but I'm doing what has to be done.

"Cameras in five, four..."

I get the small break of a month and a half after this tiny clip. Well, it's near to two months to be perfectly honest. Time to say goodbye for a while.

"Good afternoon Panem!" My yell echoes in the silent studio. Very few cameramen are here right now, Jarrett and Kip are sorting out the last minute preparations, Fione is at home with two foetuses growing inside of her.

"Welcome to the last update before the Ultimate game! Onto the death recap! The first death this morning was Cornelia Bartlett, District Eight's strong Career." How do I satisfy the President? No slip ups like yesterday. No praise for the weak. "We must admit it was unfair to have all six of them turn on her, including her ally. We will miss her."

That'll do, I guess.

"Because once again, the pesky tributes refused to kill, we introduced an amazing game that took out half of the remaining survivors. Struve Whishart was the first to go, swallowing nightlock instead of the blueberries."

"Did I mention these gifts all came from the fake sponsors? Hats off to them for creating an amazing idea." Praise towards the ones making these games happen is what's needed. Only a few understand my approach. I probably look like a massive suck up, but it's all for the plan.

I continue. "Rhymer and Libo, the two who hadn't tried our special drink, both drank at the same time. Libo took the poisonous liquid, resulting in his death. Poor Libo."

"The last one to face death was little Pleione Wren from District Eight. The eggs, specially bred by Jarrett's brother, Kip, contained certain species: a mixture of wolves, birds and fish. Don't ask how it works, but it's amazing. The vicious one was selected by Pleione, leaving us with our three victors: Eunia Lapworth, Hydra Berry and Rhymer Rawdawg."

"That's all for now until the end of November! See you then. I've been Phillipe Honeyman, goodbye Panem!"

Leaving my desk swiftly, I pull the walkie-talkie from my back pocket. "I'm finished, on my way to the office."

Kip answers. "He's inside. The cell is ready, hidden by the curtains. You're lucky I was a technician before these games!" I couldn't be more grateful for Kip being here. "Jarrett?"

"I'm down I'm the cells, keeping an eye on everything. No malfunctions." Thank god.

After two minutes, I arrive outside of the office to see young Kip slouching against the wall. "I'm so tired," he whines, making him sound about eight. Well, he's barely double that age. He'll be here when my babies take over.

Unless one of the two parties die.

No, think positively. No one will be dead because this will all run perfectly.

"President, Kip and I are here to see you," I say, knocking on the door. Quickly, I pull my tie tighter; Kip sorts out his collar.

We hear a cough before a weak "come in." He sounds ill. Entering the room, we see tissues surrounding the desk and a hot water bottle on his lap. Sick bowls are stacked next to his chair; a servant disposes of one of the bowls, holding his breath.

"Are you okay?" Kip asks, sounding worried. Ranunculus is too zoned out to notice the fake smile, the arched eyebrows.

"Not really," he says. A monstrous cough escapes his mouth. "I feel so rough." He sounds so nice, but I feel a bitter tone radiating from his words.

"Well, we're going to make you feel even worse," I laugh. "I mean better, sir." The correction is super sarcastic, I'm surprised he hasn't rose from his leather chair to wallop me yet.

"How will I be made better?" He asks.

"Technology, sir. This is the Capitol." Kip and I glanced at each other. The button, sat in the back of Kip's pocket, is pulled out and gripped onto. He giggles slightly, but not loud enough for anyone other than ourselves to hear.

"Look behind the curtains, sir." My voice sounds excited. "The weather looks absolutely beautiful." This isn't a full lie. A wash of bright blue is painted above the scenery, spray painted with fluffy clouds. A mixture of orange and yellow, like an egg yolk, the sun sits between the cotton candy clouds, shining down on the advance world we have.

His literally pulled himself over to the curtain. Drawing them open, he went to step into the small porch to see the scenery.

A blur of the magnificent ski would've been the last thing he'd seen as he was plunged down into the black void. To the cell.

"You're our prisoner now, Ranunculus," Kip yelled. The servants, unable to close their hanging mouths, looked worried that they'd receive some form of punishment, but at the same time, you could see the relief in their eyes.

"Jarrett, how's it all going?"

On his end, the loudest thump is heard. "He has arrived. Over."

Kip and I high five, relieved that the ordeal went without a problem. Moaning is heard from the device in my pocket, but I ignore it. Let him suffer. President Ammon is in the cells, unable to escape.

"Quick, let's take the elevator down," I call, signalling Kip out of the large office.

Down we go, watching the world ascend from the glass windows. "We did it," I breathe. "I kind of need a drink though." Kip giggles and nods.

As we step onto the right floor, we see Jarrett watching through the iron bars. President Ammon sits there, his legs folded at angles that shouldn't exist as the three of us celebrate.

"Don't worry sir, we'll make you all better." As I say this, one of the cameramen pulls over an IV drip, a variety of medicine and enough tissues to cover an arena from the second elevator.

Jarrett smirks. "In fact, you'll be right as rain, ready for the games."

"The games?" For the first time since I was hired, I see dismay in his eyes. Ranunculus Ammon, fearful. "What are you planning to do to me?"

"What you were planning on doing to us," Kip says. "We will abuse you if you even dare to try anything stupid. We're in charge now."

"Well, what will you do for the ceremonies?" Ranunculus says, a small laugh breaking through his harsh tone.

"Simple," I reply. "Technology. Oh grandpa, you still live in the days before the games even existed. Dp haven't you ever seen technology before?" Kip suppresses a giggle; Jarrett twists the keys around his fingers.

"Now, if you'll excuse us, we have work to do, preparations to make. No sharp objects remain, so no, you can't take your life." Jarrett runs his hands through his red hair, laughing at the miserable man. "Security guards will constantly watch you. Have fun."

The three of us walk away, and for the first time, I realise why Ranunculus felt the way he did. Power. He let it take over, forced him to use it against every little thing. But no, the three of us will contain our power and unleash it when necessary.

"May the odds be ever in your favour," Kip whispers as we slide into the elevator, leaving the once powerful man alone.