Well on the brightside... I am 22% of the way done with my NaNo writing! :D
Uh. It is not good enough. :'( I am a horrible fanfiction-er-person-write-er-dude
Enjoy...
Ding!
The elevator doors slide open harmoniously.
"Where are we?" my voice trails off in astonishment.
From the elevator view, you can see a huge warehouse type operation. People dressed in grayed uniforms buzz around with clipboards jabbering to one another about unintelligible things.
The warehouse room has more of a high technological feel then anything I have seen. Computers and jumbo screens are plaster over the walls. Due to the electrical light from the monitors, the whole room gives a bluish hue.
"This is Head Quarters." Gale mumbles over my shoulder.
I gulp.
"Gale Hawthorne!" cries someone deep in the intermingled crowd. Before we could match the voice to the name, a man in a wheelchair strolls down one of the ramps and stops in front of us. He looks much older and has a heap of wrinkles. A pair of spectacles sits on his nose.
"Hello, Beetee." Gale shakes his hand.
"Long time no see. Where have you been the last two months?"
"Working for District Two." Gale smiles.
"No!" Beetee teases.
"What about you? Aren't you supposed to out of that wheel chair by now?"
"Yeah," Beetee sighs, "but I just hate walking with that cane. It is way to tedious walking around with an extra limb."
They both laugh. Funny. To them it seems as if nothing strange is happening to Panem. No bombs, no fires, no psychos running around with disastrous weapons. Nothing, just nothing.
"Beetee, this is my wife, Rissa. Rissa, this is Beetee."
"How are you?" He grins in his quirky voice.
"Oh I am good," "How about you?" I shake his hand.
"Dandy. Why don't I call my assistant and we can have you settled in a room?"
"That would be great." Gale answers for me.
"Fulvia!"
SURPRISE!
REVIEW!
Is it discriptive yet? Don't worry, one of these days I will beable to sit down and write a huge long chapter. Deal?