In The Clear: Pre-Games II
Noam Steiner, 18, Ottawa ON
Noam's eyes flicker lazily over the entrance before returning to the table. If this were any other day, in any other place, he would be as uneasy as many others surrounding him. If this were Ottawa and he'd woken up on the flattest excuse for a mattress he's ever felt, he'd quite frankly be pissed. He'd be screaming for his dad who would, as per usual, be nowhere in sight. If this were any other situation, Noam would be making it everyone's problem that he'd been fucked over once again.
Except, he was expecting the same concrete isolation cell this morning. He got in another fight that definitely wasn't his fault and look-de-do, that's where it got him. Noam won't say he was surprised to get a week in isolation, but he will certainly say he was pissed.
So, seeing as that was the alternative, Noam is pretty fucking jazzed to have woken up here.
The past two months have been pure and utter hell. He's always considered boarding school to be like a prison, but man was he mistaken. At least Noam knew what to expect from the prissy-faced idiots he saw around campus. They were all just micro versions of his dad with dicks to match. Thankfully there were a few that had the same hell bent motivation to measure up to exactly nothing in life as he does. Point blank, school was insufferable but on the whole he didn't have much reason to fear for his life.
Prison was a whole different ball game, and Noam's never been one for sports.
Not a day went by that Noam wasn't threatened, hit, or even straight up stabbed. He's spent as much time in the infirmary as he has in isolation and frankly he hates both places equally. His body is littered with scars of various sizes and there are still a good handful of bruises that haven't healed yet. More than that, there's some stupid memory in his neck muscles that keeps forcing Noam to look behind him.
As much as he hates to admit it, and frankly would never do so out loud, he has his dad to thank for all of this. The other inmates look at Noam the same way Noam looks at his dad and the other students in boarding school. They see him as this fucking prissy boots pretty boy that's never had a reason to struggle.
He wants to throttle every last one of them.
Maybe he's never lived on the streets but life's hardly been sunshine and rainbows for him either. If they just got to know him, they'd realize that Noam is nothing like his dad. He's not charismatic or as fake as the wig on top of his bald head. He doesn't dream of the debate podium or of crafting smear campaigns for meaningless votes.
Noam's his own brand of insufferable. If they at least hated him for that maybe he wouldn't be so fucking frustrated.
So no, he isn't exactly missing the Peninsula Youth Centre right now. Whatever weird fucking place Noam's managed to find himself, it's already infinitely better than that hellhole. For one, he hasn't been physically assaulted yet and it's been a whole hour.
In fact, the other inmates don't seem half bad.
"What does freedom mean to you?" Vasi says, a serious look on their face as they try to replicate the robotic tone. Noam snorts and feigns fear before the pair erupt into obnoxious laughter. He can feel a few eyes turn in their direction and offers them a half-smirk in response.
A girl sitting alone at the corner table with overgrown bangs quickly looks away. Noam has half a mind to wave, and in fact he does. Strangely enough, he doesn't get one back in response. How rude.
"I can't believe it was saying all that to other people," Noam pouts. "I thought we had something special."
Vasi flips their barely-existent hair over their shoulder. "Can't trust anyone these days."
As stupid and annoying as they're no doubt being, Noam hasn't felt this at ease in a while. Who would've thought that merely kidnapping him overnight and dumping him in a different prison would do the trick? Noam has to remember to thank whoever made this decision when he meets them.
Afterall, if the voice is being serious, he'll be out of this place before long. Truthfully, that's not even what matters to Noam. He doesn't care about prison, because he's going back to some version of it eventually anyways. Despite the fact that he's freshly eighteen, he doubts his father's just going to give him a chunk of the family fortune to live off. Even if, at this point, he definitely deserves it.
Noam leans into his hand as a pang of discomfort sinks past his lips. If this is the best he can look forward to, maybe he can learn to live with it. He's never considered what he might do when school finally ends. He doesn't have the skills nor the desire to go into politics like his dad. Truthfully, his mom's career as "politician's ex-wife" is more his speed. If only he could find some rich milf to trick into marrying him.
As a fresh set of footsteps climbs the stairs behind him, once again the room turns to watch. Noam strains to see over Vasi's head, and when the newcomer appears a loud snort fills the room to greet them. Noam rises to his feet and stretches his arms out wide in greeting.
"Ay, Riley!"
If possible, Riley's expression stiffens further as his eyes reach him. Noam smiles even wider and motions for him to join them. Riley looks around slowly, but there are only six others spread across the tables and all have already begun to look away. Reluctantly, Riley starts to make his way over and Noam tries to meet him halfway with a hug.
Riley stares at him as his fingers clench into tight fists at his sides. As usual, there is barely an expression on his face, but Noam knows he must be happy to see him. "No."
"Worth a shot," Noam shrugs and reclaims his spot at the table. Eventually, Riley takes the one opposite Noam and on the furthest part of the seat from Vasi. Noam would've been annoyed to see just about anyone else from his old prison, but Riley is another matter entirely.
Not only is he the only one who's yet to physically assault him there, he's also pretty funny to mess with. For such a big guy, he's all frowns and no action. If Riley wanted to, he could've squashed any inmate of his choice beneath a well placed fist. When he arrived a couple weeks ago from Alberta due to capacity issues there, just about everyone in Peninsula believed that he would do just that.
The days that Noam could manage to stay in Riley's shadow were always his calmest. Noam often joked that they were friends and he just scowled along with it. Riley couldn't have hated it that much, right? He could've just walked away if he wanted to.
Come to think of it, he did that quite a lot actually.
"This is Riley," Noam says. "He's not as awful as he tries to look, trust me. And Riley, this is Vasi."
Vasi provocatively raises their eyebrow in Noam's direction and he all but chokes on his own spit as the laughter bursts through. That only makes the snort that flies from their nose sound even louder. Before long, they're both slapping their hands against the table. Every time Noam looks up, the laughter only comes back stronger.
He barely notices Riley until his back is already to the pair as he makes his way to the farthest table. He sits down without a glance back at them. The sound that escapes Noam's lips is halfway between the earlier laughter and a choking turkey.
"He's kind of a prick, huh?" Vasi says once they've finally caught their breath.
Noam snorts again. "You don't know the half of it."
Madigan "Meg" Ulrich, 18, London ON
Meg reaches the top of the stairs and stares warily across the circular platform. The walls look as smooth as the ones they just left behind, but somehow even more claustrophobic. More than the colour, however, the constant light stands out. Brightness seems to assault every contour of the rounded room. Meg has to squint to quell the burning, but she refuses to close their eyes completely.
There's so much to see. No matter what direction they turn, every detail seems to capture her uneasy attention. Despite the fact that the platform is maybe twelve feet across, there are four staircases stemming from it - three leading downward and one upward. Meg would've been out of that cell in an instant if they'd known all this was waiting for them.
A chill runs up her spine as Meg glances back down the stairs. The earlier tension seems to take root in the air around them. It's more than enough motivation to keep going.
As far as they're concerned, the further she can get from that place, the better.
They circle carefully around the many staircases. Meg pauses at the top of each, but the darkness below feels like an ominous warning. It's as complete as the abyss she stared at beyond the bars, as the cell when the voice decided to leave them. Meg has no desire to re-enter it.
They've never been afraid of the dark. It was a common feature of her childhood during the winter months when lights were shut off in favour of whatever meager heating the Ulrich's could afford.
That… what they experienced in the cell where every ounce of life seemed to be sucked from Meg's body entirely?
That wasn't just darkness.
Meg shivers again as the same uneasiness traces down her skin. They don't know what to call it. The closest title their mind's been able to come up with is a bad omen, but even that doesn't quite capture it.
Some might call it dramatic, but Meg would say it's common sense. Falling asleep in one place only to wake up in another is the sort of thing that happens in supernatural movies. Whatever world the protagonist ends up in tends to defy the logic of their real world. That's the only way to explain the darkness, the uncanny concrete, and the unmoving blue bands on their wrists. This kind of thing is straight out of paranormal fiction.
And the only way to figure out what this omen means is to keep going. Everyone knows that.
"Up seems safer," Meg whispers, half-wondering if the voice is going to respond. She waits several seconds, hoping for any kind of answer but there isn't one. Not even Helios seems to have any helpful advice right now. "Right?"
Meg pauses for another minute before slowly turning to face the only upward staircase. They take a deep breath, reassuring herself that the way ahead looks just as bright as this platform. The darkness was left downstairs with the voice. So far, there's no reason for Meg to go back to it.
Helios give me courage… They close their eyes and focus, but truthfully she's not sure what this will accomplish. The only sure indication that Meg's gotten to say the goddess is with her is the warning they heard shortly before losing consciousness at the museum. Since then it's been radio silence.
Meg's not sure if they truly believe in the curse, and truthfully a head injury might explain what she heard just as well. Still, there's part of them that wonders. The trial? The sentencing that followed? The many times Meg's tripped over nothing in the prison corridors or been the target of guards for no reason?
Cursed is often the only word that makes sense.
Meg sighs before taking their first step towards the stairs. Alone or not there doesn't seem to be many options right now. Up or down - the answer is obvious. Meg's going to jump at the chance to get as many levels between them and whatever entity resides in the cells below. For now, at least, it seems like Helios isn't going to protect them.
"Some help you're turning out to be," they grumble.
Her eyes widen as a sound starts below them. Meg only has to hear the first few thundering footsteps before they leap around to start up the stairs. Whatever's down there clearly doesn't like being thought of, or perhaps Helios herself finally decided to make good on the whole curse thing.
Meg slams into the wall beside the stairway and bounces off the concrete like a twenty-five cent rubber ball. They stumble back a few steps as she tries to regain their balance. At the same time, the footsteps have only grown faster and louder behind her. Meg's back hits something solid, but before they can even consider what it could be their entire body stiffens with electricity.
Her vision goes dark as their skull seems to spin against the concrete. Meg lets out a gasping breath as the shock finally releases them and they sit up to pull as much air in as she can. They expect pain, maybe a guard standing over her with a taser locked in their grip. Instead, she finds a pair of equally wide eyes staring back at them.
The person is sitting up with their hands drilled against the concrete below. Sweat sticks their messy hair to their forehead and he's dressed in the same clothes that Meg woke up in. An embroidered number labels the inmate as '015', several digits off her own '008'.
For nearly a minute all the pair can do is stare. Meg still feels as stiff as when the electricity was cascading over them, but when 015's hand starts to rise she feels their own climb towards it. Meg pauses just before their index fingers can touch, wincing in preparation for another shock but it doesn't come.
After another second of pause, 015 bends their finger and Meg doesn't even feel their skin meet. Instead, she's thrown back again and air rings inside their skull. They don't know if she closes her eyes or if the world simply goes black around them. Just like last time, it's over a moment later and Meg finds themself once again staring up at the ceiling.
"Cool," 015 exclaims.
"Woah," Meg breathes at the same time. They shoot back up to find 015 sitting across from them once again. The wide eyes no longer look afraid, in fact Meg's unsure they ever did. They look… almost excited.
Meg feels a smile pull across their lips and it spreads like a mirror image on 015's cheeks. "What was that?"
015 straightens as if waiting for that very question. "It's like a static shock, but it should've happened before our fingers touched. Static charges can jump between objects. This is something else."
"What you're saying is-" Meg begins.
"It's not electricity," 015 finishes.
"Woah," they whisper. "But what-"
She doesn't even have to finish their thought before 015 continues. "It could be using taser-like technology but there are no wires, at least none that can be seen. The muscle twitching could be caused by other things, but the short duration and sudden onset really feel like they should have an electric cause. It's not specific to our hands either, since last time your back hit me first-"
"Oops," Meg shrugs. They glance down at her hands before her eyes light up again. "What about these?"
They point to the marks on each of her palms. 015 leans in close to examine them, their hand reaching out before pausing in remembrance. They turn over his hands and identical pinpricks dot the base of their palms. 015 winces as they push his thumbs against each one. Meg finds herself doing the same; it aches, but there's no similar shock and they can't feel anything below the skin.
"They did something to us," Meg says finally.
015 nods thoughtfully. "Human tasers."
"What?"
They shake his head. "It's just a theory. I still need more evidence."
"How did you get here?" Meg asks.
015 shrugs. "I woke up here, down there. There was a strange room and-"
"A voice?" She offers.
He nods. "A voice."
Meg considers adding more, but her cheeks are already alight with heat. They don't want to think about the rest of what happened in the basement. She's not sure she wants to admit to signing the contract despite wondering if 015 did the same. Far away from the voice and the darkness, they wonder if it was the right decision.
"Casi, by the way," 015 says, extending a hand towards her.
They smile. "Meg. Megatron if you feel like being formal."
"Mega-" Casi asks, their eyes widening and a grin practically exploding across his lips. Meg can't even wait the length of time it takes them to say it before she bursts out laughing. It only cuts off when they instinctively grab Casi's hand to shake it and both of them are thrown back once again.
The giggles return almost as soon as they hit the concrete.
Lyanna Coramar, 17, Brandon MB
Lyanna straightens as she tightens her arms around herself. The room has only grown warmer as people continue to arrive, yet she can feel herself growing colder. She stares intently down at the table, the smooth black standing out against the white walls. The only thing Lyanna can do right now is think as the others chatter around her. Meanwhile, most of her wants to run back downstairs to the cell this all started in.
A strong enough part of her keeps her feet firmly glued to the dark floor below.
She glances down again and another wave of nausea rolls over her. The floor beneath her table is the same empty darkness as when she got here. Still, more and more areas have lightened the longer she sits here. Two of the tables already appear to be floating above the translucent glass. All Lyanna can think when she looks that way is how long it'll be before it shatters.
She shivers again before forcing her shoulders back. While idle conversation seems to flow at the tables on either side of hers, the remaining three have been wholly silent. Lyanna looks through her eyebrows to find the bob-haired blonde's gaze has become yet again fixed on the wall behind her. Neither of them have said a word and Lyanna's glad the girl doesn't appear eager to break that trust.
Confusion is not something that's been a present piece in her life. Lyanna has always known what to expect. She's always anticipated the moves by her parents' internet search history or the way her mom walked more quickly between their walls. She's always planned every school project down to the hour, prepared to complete it before most even begin. Lyanna's life has been as predictable as it's been fast-paced. Nothing should confuse her; she's better than all that.
Yet, the past months have toppled all of that over, stomped on the debris, and locked each remaining bit inside an incinerator.
She wasn't meant for prison. She wasn't meant to put her head down when Lyanna's chin's always been raised high to the sky. This isn't what she was taught nor what she was destined to endure.
And it isn't even her fault.
Lyanna closes her eyes tightly as tears threaten to build. She refuses to let anyone see them, not here, not in her old prison, and not anywhere. She shouldn't be afraid, the voice promised her a second chance that Lyanna could only pitifully jump for. It promised that she would be free.
If only she believed it. If only she had any reason to think this was anything more than another cruel trick by the very people that bound her wrists. Lyanna has no reason to believe yet she has little choice but to do so.
The only other option is seeing the white walls for what they are - a prison with fresh paint.
Lyanna squints as her eyes finally reopen. She doesn't understand the laughter she's heard from the nearby tables. Maybe if she were too stupid to understand this situation, she too would have a toothy grin on her lips. Even most inmates that sit quietly alone don't seem to fully understand. Only the teary-eyed girl in the far reaches of the room does. Since Lyanna sat down, the girl hasn't stopped the quiet sniffles.
Why would they bring me here just to free me? Lyanna can't help but wonder. It feels like a waste of time. She's being tricked, either that or simply lied to. She hasn't been able to figure out which and she's not sure how she would go about doing so. Agent Nguyen used her to whatever end he wanted with Amadis.
And when he finished, Lyanna was simply discarded. If she were him, she'd never let herself out of prison. There are too many factors, too many things Lyanna could say to stir up trouble for him and whatever agency he truly works for.
But, she never would've said anything. Lyanna had been too far into his plan, too deep in the watery compliments that made every reflection look like sunshine. She'd been willing to do it all. She never would've betrayed him like he did to her.
She respected Agent Nguyen far too much. Lyanna is embarrassed to say that she still does.
When she finally looks up, the tears yet again trapped behind her eyes, Lyanna sees the one person she never expected to see again. She bites down hard on her back teeth and rips her gaze away in hopes that she won't notice, but it's too late.
Amadis Navarro has already spotted her and she's headed this way.
Lyanna stiffens her posture even further and quickly removes her arms from the table. She locks her eyes on the wall as if it's the most fascinating thing in the world. It only takes Amadis a few seconds to walk over, but to her it feels like hours. Lyanna doesn't know why her cheeks feel suddenly sunburnt. She doesn't have anything to be ashamed of.
Amadis doesn't know what happened. There's no way she could, it's not like they ran into each other at school that day. Lyanna was her tutor, nothing more as far as she should be concerned. Amadis doesn't know.
Does she? The pathetic whisper at the back of Lyanna's mind is impossible to ignore as Amadis eases slowly onto the seat beside her. Lyanna looks up quickly but refuses to meet her eyes. It's only been a few months since they last saw each other, but the difference is clear. Amadis never used to look so afraid; her eyes never used to shift around like the world might explode at her back.
Lyanna can't help but wonder if she looks different too. The loudest part of her mind rejects the thought entirely. She's still Lyanna, nothing apart from her setting has changed. She searches for the words to prove it - the traits that prove she's as immovable as always.
Except the ones that come to mind - intelligent, confident, in control - all come with a school uniform or book bag. They don't sound the same covered with prison orange or the black sweats she now wears. When she looks down, Lyanna doesn't think of any of those words.
In fact, the only ones that come to mind are so different they can't possibly be about her - stupid, naive, pathetic. She bites the inside of her cheek, willing the words to leave and eventually they do. Unfortunately, nothing comes to replace them.
Someone who's intelligent, confident, and in control wouldn't have believed a word Agent Nguyen said.
"I didn't expect to see you here." When Lyanna looks up, Amadis' expression matches the robotic words. Her eyes are rimmed with fatigue and her gaze drops easily when Lyanna meets it. The black hoodie and pants look just as out of place on her.
Lyanna too looks away. For the first time in a while, the room feels like it's gone silent. In reality, she's too focused on Amadis to hear anything else. The statement sounds on the surface like a peace offering. The girls were never very close despite spending weeks worth of afternoons together for tutoring. Right now, any kind of familiar face should be comforting.
Except all Lyanna feels towards her is disdain. She doesn't want to be anywhere near Amadis no matter how rude that sounds. The entire reason for Lyanna being here in the first place comes back to Amadis. Whatever she did to capture Agent Nguyen's attention, whatever carelessness she had that resulted in the fire, isn't Lyanna's fault. She only took the opportunity because it was dropped in her lap.
It feels easier to blame someone else, anyone else, than admit that she made a mistake.
Lyanna's expression stiffens as it finally returns to the other girl. She turns to Amadis with a stare that feels so comfortingly like herself that it's almost overtaken by a smile. "Sorry, did you say something?"
Lyanna stands before she can even have the chance to answer. She turns her back on the table and steps effortlessly towards another. She doesn't owe Amadis company or whatever comfort she was hoping to gain. She's lucky that Lyanna's only walking away.
She has every right to do so much worse.
A/N: My comedic relief chapter, I think we all deserved this. I don't have too much to say here but thank you to everyone reading / discussing / reviewing these chapters. It means a lot to see your thoughts and hear about your current saliva status.
Very excited for the next chapter. I love pre-games.
~ Olive