Propos: Ten of the Best(or Worst)

A/N: Because not every propo is a success...

1: When filming a rescue, make sure it doesn't go horribly wrong.

Plutarch was sure that everything was ready. Dramatic music (from something called James Bond) was playing. The cameras were rolling. A crack team of rebels were ready... well, maybe.

Plutarch critically looked over the squad. Gale was darkly moping about Katniss, the District 13 soldiers and Finnick were playing a much-modified version of Angry Birds on their communicuffs, and Haymitch was, well, being Haymitch.

"Oh, bugger," swore Plutarch," Why can't we ever get a decent bloody crack team. Well, these guys won't do."

"Soldiers!"

"Why won't Katniss like me? Maybe Peeta just needs to 'accidentally' cop it? A pod could 'accidentally' fall in his way?" Gale mused, oblivious to Plutarch.

"Ha!" one of the District 13 soldiers was saying," One hundred and twenty three thousand. Three stars. Beat that!"

"YEAH!" Finnick shouted," 130,000! Suck on that!"

"Guinness, Carlsberg. Guinness, Carlsberg. Which beer?" mused Haymitch.

"SOLDIERS!"

This time, the 'crack squad' stood to attention, the District 13 soldiers hurriedly closing down Angry Birds. Finnick continued to play secretly. Plutarch didn't know how the guy could actually play Angry Birds on a trident, but suspected Beetee was behind it.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? A CRACK SQUAD? WAS COIN ON CRACK WHEN SHE SENT ME THIS?" Plutarch demanded.

Unfortunately, the ex-Gamemaker had forgotten the cameras were still filming - and streaming straight to Beetee, and the unamused Coin behind him...

"Crack? Guinness, Carlsberg? Crack?"

"Go home, Haymitch, you're drunk," sighed Plutarch.

The mentor happily did so, heading straight for the hospital, now miraculously sober. After all, Katniss needed cheering up, and he was sure Plutarch wouldn't mind the propo being streamed across 13.

Plutarch continued to rage, his focus now on the District 13 soldiers and the oblivious Finnick.

"And you guys! You thought you could play Angry Birds during a serious meeting! Well, nothing escapes Plutarch 'Batman' Heavensbee! NOTHING!"

President Coin was having serious doubts as to the sanity of this guy. Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to make him second in command.

"Beetee?"

"Yes President?"

"What's Batman?" demanded Coin.

"A fictional superhero they had in the old days. He went round in a cape fighting the bad guys."

"Why's Plutarch wanting to be Batman? He's a politician, not a superhero!"

Beetee shrugged.

"I don't know, but I don't think 13 are too impressed with him."

'Not too impressed' was an understatement. Plutarch had almost started a riot by condemning Angry Birds, and only Coin hurriedly telling the population that they were in fact still allowed to play Angry Birds stopped said riot. Now 13 watched in shocked amusement as Plutarch continued to rant.

"GALE!"

"Yes, sir?"

"QUIT MOANING! WE'RE THE CRACK SQUAD, NOT THE TWILIGHT SQUAD!"

"Of course, sir," said Gale.

Plutarch breathed in heavily.

"CRACK SQUAD?"

"Yes sir?"

"Board the hovercraft," Plutarch commanded," To the Capitol, and to rescue the victors."

Plutarch watched as his Crack Squad boarded the craft. There was nothing they could do wrong now, was there?

As it happened, there was lots that could go wrong onboard the craft. Number one was a singalong.

"We're going this way, that way, forwards and backwards, over District Thirteen! A great big gun to shoot Capitol scum and that's the life for me!"

"Soldiers!"

"We're going this way, that way-"

"SHUT UP!"

"No need to shout," replied Gale, who had been leading the singalong.

Plutarch fumed silently, but couldn't think of a comeback. Oh well, at least nothing else could go wrong.

The next thing that went wrong was when the hovercraft started to fly in the wrong direction.

"WOO-HOO!" Gale yelled," MIAMI HERE WE COME!"

"SOLDIER HAWTHORNE!"

"Yeah?"

"WE'RE GOING TO THE CAPITOL, MORON! REMEMBER THE RESCUE MISSION?"

"Who cares about the rescue mission? Screw the victors!"

"Hey!" protested Finnick.

"Not you, buddy," said Gale." Anyway, Miami's really nice when its been destroyed by the apocalypse. Nobody goes there anymore."

Plutarch looked at the dashboard.

"You do know that you're not actually heading for Miami, don't you?"

"Of course we are," Gale said dismissively," Apple Maps never lies."

Plutarch facepalmed. Then he realised where the craft was heading for.

"YOU'RE HEADING FOR MOUNT ST HELENS, MORON!"

As it happened, they just missed smashing into the mountain, and Plutarch reinstated the old pilot, who managed to fly them into Capitol airspace. Of course, that was when the next thing went wrong.

A whoosh of air was heard, and Plutarch realised that the flap at the bottom of the hovercraft had been opened. Sighing, he went down to fix it, and found Gale, looking down at the ground through the hole, with a pile of rocks by his side.

"Yo, Plutarch! Check out this hole! I'm going to throw stones at the Capitol people through here!"

With that, Gale reached for a rock, and dropped it through the hole.

President Snow was pruning his roses when the rock hit, smashing the roof of his greenhouse and knocking him unconscious.

"Mete-OWWWW!"

"YEAHHHH!" exclaimed Gale," TWENTY FIVE POINTS, BABY!"

"That was never twenty five points," said a voice, and Plutarch was unsurprised to see Finnick crawl out from behind a panel," This is what twenty five points looks like."

Snow had just got back up when another rock whistled through the air. Only this time, it looked a lot more like a meteor.

"Are you taking the piss?" demanded Snow, as the rock obliterated his greenhouse," Are you- OWWWW-"

Finnick grabbed some binoculars, and a smile lit up his face as he saw Snow lying on the ground.

"UP YOURS, SNOW!" he shouted," NOW THAT'S TWENTY FIVE POINTS!"

"No, it's not."

"Yes it is!" declared Finnick."

"Isn't!"

"Is!"

"Isn't!"

"Is!"

"Is not!"

"SHUT UP!" roared Plutarch, tipping the pile of rocks out of the hovercraft, where they struck a really, really pissed off Snow.

"Sir! You scored thirty points!" Finnick exclaimed.

"I don't care!" yelled Plutarch.

"I don't care, I love it!" sang Gale," I dumped a load of rocks on President Snow, but I don't care, I love it!"

"SHUT UP!" yelled Plutarch again, and the two meekly followed him up into the hovercraft.

The Crack Squad were lined up outside the prison, ready to go. Dramatic effects were ready. The music was playing.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?"

Plutarch's steely gaze was fixed on the book in Gale's hand.

"Twilight, sir," said Gale.

"And why did you bring that abomination?"

"Watch," said Gale.

As if on cue, two Peacekeepers turned the corner.

"Now, we could shoot the Peacekeepers," began Gale.

"Or stab them with a pointed stick," a District 13 soldier called Bob said.

"Or stab them with a pointed stick," agreed Gale," But when we load our guns with Twilight-"

He fired, and copies of Twilight struck the Peacekeepers, whose eyes began to burn as they read. Within seconds, the Peacekeepers had knocked themselves out to escape the horror.

"Now, if we want more permanent damage, we use New Moon. If we want them dead, we use Eclipse. And if we use Breaking Dawn..."

Gale gulped.

"Let's not go there. The only person who deserves that is Snow, and he likes Twilight."

Solemnly, the Crack Squad continued through the prison, weapons blazing, feeling almost sorry for the Peacekeepers. Everything was going well - so well, in fact, that Finnick had stopped playing Angry Birds and joined the competition to see who could knock out the most Peacekeepers. Of course, nothing lasts forever.

"Ding-dong!"

The sound resonated through the prison, doubtless waking up the guards.

"GALE!"

"Sir?"

"Why did you ring the doorbell?"

"Because it's polite," replied Gale calmly.

Plutarch shook his head, bemused. Then he heard a massive explosion.

"Hmm," wondered Finnick," What does this button marked DO NOT PRESS do?"

"Not much, apparently," he mused, having pressed the button," After all, that massive explosion must've been something else. Oh well. I might as well get playing the new Call of Duty."

"FINNICK!" roared Plutarch.

"DIE, STUPID ZOMBIES!" yelled Finnick.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, hi there Plutarch," Finnick said, quickly quitting his game.

"What was that massive explosion?"

"I don't know," shrugged Finnick," That button over there's broken, by the way."

Plutarch went over to the button, and pressed it experimentally.

"PLUTARCH!" scolded Finnick," It was you who made that explosion!"

"No, hey, what?" stuttered the ex-Gamemaker.

Finnick gave a wide smile, looking over Plutarch's soldier to see a newly-open door, marked PRISONERS.

"Great job, mate," he said, speeding off to the door, and leaving Plutarch standing there while the Crack Squad heroically rescued the prisoners.

"WHAT?"

Plutarch's only consolation was that it couldn't get any worse. Nothing could be worse than your moronic 'Crack Squad' annoying you all mission, then stealing the glory, and then telling Coin everything. Still, the Katniss/Peeta reunion was coming up, and that could save this propo. Plutarch watched as Katniss stepped towards Peeta - and was promptly strangled.

"You've got to be kidding me."

A/N: So, what do you think? I do not own the Hunger Games, Twilight, or anything referenced in here. Can anyone spot the Monty Python reference?

RecusantMaverick( A.K.A Eaglistic)