VII.
Verity Alameda, 13
Applicant #3
For some reason, or maybe all of the reasons, she had been expecting the place to look quite foreboding.
It didn't, though. Not really. When Renette opened the doors all she saw was white - a lot of it. Floors, walls that were on closer inspection a very faint powder blue that reflected back the lights all over the ceiling directly back at them. If she didn't know where she was, and she still almost doesn't, she'd think it was a hospital.
It doesn't seem like one though. There are a few armchairs placed sporadically around the entrance-way, a few windows with dark shades drawn. It certainly didn't smell like one either; in fact, she could smell food. Actual warm, good food that hadn't come out of a bag or plastic package from her backpack. She could only hope it was so, and that someone wasn't playing a vicious prank on her.
She could hear the clack clack clack approaching from far away but missed the entrance of the woman - girl? - in her quest to search out wherever the smell of food was coming from. By the time she chose to focus her attention where everyone else was the person had already entered and was standing in front of them at Renette's side. She wasn't sure where the others had disappeared to.
"Everyone, this is Aelia Akamine. She'll be showing you around the facility briefly tonight. I know you're all tired, so we'll be getting you settled as soon as possible."
It didn't matter who Aelia was, but she was from the Capitol. If the blue hair didn't make it obvious, the way she held herself would. Every single one of them could tell that Renette wasn't, and none of the other instructors either. Aelia looked like someone they had grabbed out of the heart of the Capitol to make them more comfortable in such a familiar place.
Verity wanted to ask how she kept her face so youthful looking, if she injected something into it, but chose not to when Aelia flashed a smile. She couldn't tell what beamed brighter - the unnatural whiteness of her teeth or the minuscule diamonds set into them.
"Alright, guys, let's go!" she announces. "First—"
"Is someone going to bring our bags inside?" someone asks.
"Can I just go to bed?" she hears someone else mutter, and a chorus of laughter starts up.
"Where's the food?" she says aloud, finally, and when Aelia's eyes flash to hers she offers up a smile as well.
She's hungry, alright?
Aelia Akamine must have the patience of a saint. Her smile looks more tense than before, the edges of her teeth catching together. Verity can almost feel the breath she lets out her nose from ten feet away.
"We'll be starting with the mess hall, then," she coaxes, and everyone seems to quiet at that, at the promise of something better than just standing around waiting for a more opportune moment. "This way!"
You don't have to tell her twice.
Aelia keeps talking the further and further they get, and although Verity's sure at least some of it is important she only manages to catch every third word or so, choosing to look around instead. It's not much. The hallway is very long like a highway to nowhere, and she'd think that was so if she couldn't smell food stronger by the second. There's a whole bunch of closed doors, one that's cracked open just enough but too black beyond the threshold to make anything out.
Aelia stops so suddenly Verity nearly walks into her and gestures to the doors. "If you need anything at all, any time of the day, this is where I'll be staying alongside your instructors. Don't hesitate to come to us for help!"
It may just be a guess, but she doesn't think anyone here will be willingly coming for help no matter how desperate things get.
And then Verity really tunes her out, like the words are a thousand miles away. She was almost ready to pipe up again, to ask when they were getting on with it, that no one cares about where people other than them will be sleeping in the dead of night. Mom would tell her not to do that anyway, not to rush people. She just couldn't help it even at the best of times.
"We'll have a much larger spread of food prepared for breakfast tomorrow morning, but for now feel free to grab some snacks and a drink to take back to your rooms."
You really, seriously don't have to tell her twice.
Despite her best efforts a few people still beat her to the table up against the far wall, past all the benches she can only assume they'll be eating breakfast at. Curse these people and their much longer strides, their ability to shove past her as if she's an ant. It's like they have no regard for her existence.
She grabs a muffin off the table and a bottle of apple juice. They're still a little bit warm, oozing chocolate; someone's gone beyond their league to make sure they're actually happy here, and despite her initial impatience she's at least grateful for it.
"Did you just shove one of those in your pocket?" Noelani hisses to her right, and she looks over to see Topher fiddling with whatever he most definitely just shoved in his pocket. Hopefully not one of the muffins.
It's not a bad idea, though.
She grabs a granola bar and an extra bottle of juice and dumps them into the pocket of her jacket. She made not need the thing out here, hot as it is, but at least it has some purpose. For now it's going to hold her snacks.
She nudges Topher and gestures to her jacket. He smirks and grabs another muffin, wrapping it in a napkin before tucking it away.
These people really have no idea what they're dealing with just yet.
Jahaira Aurelion, 16
Applicant #23
"Do you think we can sneak back and get more food?" she asks under her breath.
Myra is still munching thoughtfully on a granola bar as Aelia makes them continue on their not-so-merry way. "Probably. Do you remember which way we came from?"
She looks back. Definitely not. She took a picture of the mess hall, unimpressive as it was, but has no clue how to get back there. "Should I?"
Myra snorts and breaks off a chunk of her granola bar, offering it up without a word. She puts her camera back into her bag to shove it into her mouth, scattering bits of granola and yogurt chips everywhere. Someone better be cleaning up every bit of floor they pass through, or they're going to have one large mess on their hands by the time they leave.
She'd rather eat than take pictures, anyway. She took one of the mess hall in a just because sort of mood, of the garish overhead fluorescent slights spilling over the long tables and benches, but other than that hasn't found anything of note to capture. Sure there has to be something around here, it's almost guaranteed, but right now she'd rather take a picture of whatever bed they'll have her sleeping in if that meant she could get close enough to do so.
Of course they can't get that lucky.
The more she zones out though the quicker their little tour goes by, which at least helps. Aelia shows them where the bathrooms are, and the showers. Fucking kill me, someone spits under their breath, all while Myra snickers. Communal showers aren't the worst thing in the world. She's certainly seen uglier things in Plainview.
She shows them some of the classrooms, too, although classroom seems to be a generous term. Everything looks more casual, not as perfectly imperfect as a cool. Definitely not as worn in, either.
"Do you think they built this place just for us?" she asks.
"Probably." Myra shrugs. "No idea why anyone else would need a place in the middle of fucking nowhere like this."
All of this for them. For what, a week's worth of learning and experience? Are they really worth that much?
"Alright, alright, we're almost done, I promise!" Aelia announces. "Just one last thing before I can take you to your rooms."
She ushers them all in front of some double doors and flings the doors open, like she's found the greatest discovery in the world behind them. She takes out her camera again, compelled. It has to be something good.
All of the overhead lights flick on as the doors swing in. She has seen pictures like this. Ones that are eerily similar, like the exact replica is sitting right before her.
"Okay, that's a little creepy," Myra says, and she nods. That doesn't stop her from leaning around Soran in front of her to snap a picture of it. She's sure someone's arm infringes on the frame, or the shadow of a leg, but it doesn't matter. She can edit that out once she gets home.
If Jahaira didn't know any better, she'd say this was the Training Center. They preserved the one in the Capitol, after all. If you have the money you can tour it and all the apartments above. She never did, of course. Most people didn't. But seeing this now almost made her grateful that she hadn't. This had to be the closest thing to an exact replica. There was the gauntlet across the room, ropes and nets strung up along the wall, racks of weapons scattered about in front of tables and benches.
The only thing missing was the balcony above where the Gamemakers would watch over them like some sort of wicked angel.
It didn't seem as dark, either. Myra wasn't wrong - it was creepy in its similarity, but it seemed so much better. There was no taint of death, no fear in anyone's eyes. There were no Avoxes, no trainers waiting for them.
This was something worth capturing.
And she would have several days to do it.
Normally she wouldn't hesitate, but something made her stop now. She could imagine tomorrow, when everything looked more natural. When the crowd was spread out testing out weapons, conversing.
This really could turn the previous horror of the Games into something not so terrible.
"As you can see, this is your mock training facility," Aelia explains. "There will be trainers present at all times, as well as your instructors. You can do as much or as little if you want, if you'd prefer to spend more of your time learning in one of the classrooms. But at the end of your standard three days of "training" you will all be required to participate in a simulation put together by our very own Nyko Ziegler. A little... experience may help you out in that regard."
She's sure it will, but she doesn't care. It's not like getting a good placement will have any effect on what she leaves here with.
She takes one last picture, a basic one of the whole room, and tucks the camera away again. Myra looks at her.
"Do you really think they're going to let you in here with that tomorrow with all of the weapons?"
"Who said I was asking?"
"Now that I can appreciate," Myra says. "If you get caught, don't mention my name. I won't be an accomplice."
She laughs. "I won't. Swear."
She won't. Really. There's only so much trouble they can really get in here, especially for something so trivial.
And besides - it's not like she doesn't have enough experience sneaking a camera around.
Nicator Selton, 17
Applicant #14
"Don't fall asleep," he warns Percy.
They're approaching what has to be their rooms - there's nowhere else to go. Percy spent more time talking on the bus than he did resting and it's starting to show. Not that he minds, really. He's gotten pretty used to how much Percy talks. It doesn't bug him.
Besides, most people tell him he doesn't talk enough. They balance each other out.
"I'm not," Percy insists, though his drooping eyelids and shuffling feet say otherwise. "I am perfectly awake and coherent."
Their bags are all lined up against two walls. He spots his immediately, Percy's alongside it, and the amount of comfort that offers is downright stupid but he can't find the energy to deny it. In an unfamiliar place surrounded by otherwise unfamiliar people it's nice to have someone of note, someone even the slightest bit familiar too.
Even the siblings have gravitated together bit, although are looking in two different directions at two distinctly different bags.
There are only four doors. Something everyone else notices the same time he does.
"As Renette mentioned you'll be separated into groups. Four, to be precise," Aelia informs them. "Your bags are lined up outside of your respective rooms. Besides that, our rules are simple. Curfew is at ten. If you chose to go to sleep at that time that is up to you, although we request that you stay in your rooms after that time unless you need to use the facilities just down the hall."
People are beginning to inch towards their bags. It's clear what they've done here. Grouped by ages and genders as best they can. There won't be any co-ed rooms to be found here.
"Well, go ahead, then," Aelia invites, waving her arms. "Please try not to fight too much."
Easier said than done.
He's nowhere close to the first to the door. Even Percy beats him there and picks up his bag too without a word, an unspoken thanks for the mile Nic did walking down the street with Percy's. He could argue but he gets the sense that Percy's even more pig-headed when he's tired, and would soon throw the thing down the hall so neither of them could carry it before he'd let it go.
Trojan's the one who finally opens the door, stepping inside soundlessly. It doesn't look very big. He didn't think it would be, for some reason. The rest of the place is expansive enough; the place where they lay their heads at night only needs to be big enough to do just that.
"Oh, fucking kill me," Icarus spits. "If I have to sleep in a bunk-bed—"
"I'm thinking it's that or the floor, man," Meliodas points out. Trojan has already climbed the ladder to one, flopping across the top bed next to the door with an arm strewn across his face. Icarus makes a noise - it's dissatisfaction, or something more annoyed, as Soran shoves past him and climbs the ladder across the room, vaulting over the top rail.
"Oh, what squalor we live in now," Percy mutters dramatically, but it brings a smile to his face. "Which one do you want?"
"Doesn't matter. You pick."
Percy doesn't seem like the type to smile easy, but he does around him. It's touching, almost, tainted sour by the look on Icarus' face that's saying he wants death more and more by the second.
Percy climbs up, too. He sits down on the bed underneath and nearly sinks into it. At least it's soft.
Icarus and Meliodas are staring at each other now, a long-leveled look. Mel backs up and drops himself down on the bed underneath Trojan's, who is impressively silent. Either he's gone comatose or is doing an award-worthy job at ignoring everything going on below him.
"Great," Icarus mutters, and then turns to the only empty bed, looking up. "If you throw something at me in the middle of the night—"
"What could I possibly throw at you?" Soran asks, muttered into a pillow. From the sounds of it there isn't this much bickering going on in any of the other rooms. Surely the girls have more maturity than this, and he can't imagine the younger boys are doing much more than shoving each other around, if they're doing it at all. No, this is the dysfunctional room. He can tell.
Percy looks over the top railing. "We might die in here."
He smiles. "You might. I think I'll be okay."
Him and Meliodas, in the very least. He seems equally unruffled. Trojan doesn't seem to care much either way, but Nic likens that to the otherwise unoffensive edge of a match. Simple and straight-forward, until it's struck. Until it needs to be something more. Soran, at least, is obvious in that respect. He'll torment Icarus all he likes, no use in hiding it.
He steels himself into standing up at the edge of the frame, peeking over the top into Percy's bed. He's touching every corner of the bed, shoes still on, nearly rolling off the pillow.
"Don't be surprised if I crawl up here in the middle of the night to escape."
Percy rolls over and looks at him, one eye squashed shut into the blanket. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. So leave some room."
He feels silly. Maybe he should be across the hall with the younger boys; that would fit his mood better. Maybe this isn't the time, but it feels like it is.
"Will do," Percy agrees quietly, rolling over again. Nic still sees the slight flush on his face, creeping down his neck, but he feels much of the same. His face is warm. There's no hiding it; there's a reason it took a few seconds of nerve to force him to stand up in the first place.
He settles back down on his own bed, kicking off his shoes. It's not so bad. Comfortable, even, and he has someone here with him.
They've got a lot to look forward to.
It's really not so bad.
A bit of a shorter chap, but what can I say, with three POVs. This is arguably the lead-up into the bigger stuff anyway, so I figured we'd spend a bit less time here.
Next up: training. Kind of sort of.
Until next time.