Hollow [closed/solo]

"Hraaaggghhhh!!"

Lightning surged down her arm, coursing through her whole body, straight into the metal rod buried into the earth. They were in an empty field, surrounded by all kinds of equipment, instruments too complex to even try and guess a function. None of it mattered. She had one simple instruction: pour all her frustration out into this pole. That wasn't verbatim, but for all intents and purposes, that's what she'd been told. The whole field seemed to flash, bursting with a blinding light as the rod began to glow, and then crack, splits forming along the length of the brass casing. Electricity jumped from machine to machine, sending dials spinning like pinwheels in glass meters, but all she focused on was the object in front of her. It was easy if she pretended it was someone's neck. No one specific; the image in her head blurred from one face to the next quicker than she could latch onto an imaginary target, but that was enough.

The gray man in the suit glanced away, the light reflected in his dark goggles.

"And you don't remember a thing?"

They'd been over this a thousand times. Kayla scowled up at the ceiling, a metal pen spinning lazily in the air above her. Every so often, it'd spark at the tip as it levitated, higher and higher, dipping or flailing whenever her concentration slipped. She'd been told, very precisely, to give this interview her undivided attention, but her interviewer didn't raise a fuss, so what did it matter? He wasn't the kind of person that looked very impassioned, or invested, in anything. Between the two of them, no one would've been able to tell who gave less of a shit from just an outside glance. Samuel Blaine had dull gray eyes, like a dead fish, and he shrugged off every jab and barbed retort like it hadn't even registered in that dull gray head of his. Just his presence was a black hole, draining the room of color and sucking out any trace of fun or enjoyment she might've gleaned out of these sessions.

"Nope. Nada." She flicked her finger, watching the pen flip end over end like a baton. Her final match in the Summer Tournament was a haze of blue and white. Just thinking about it made her ears ring, and reflexively, she ground her teeth together. Besides that, it was completely blank, like she hadn't experienced it at all. Everything left was secondhand from the aftermath; the raw, hot frustration that she'd lost after all that effort. Again.

"The same as your September evaluation?"

Her fingers curled into a fist, and the pen in the air snapped in half. "Shit," she murmured, as the ink spilled out and spattered against the carpet. Sparks cracked along her knuckles, and she let the two scrapped pieces of pen fall to the floor. "Yeah. Nothing." It came out nonchalant, but she was paranoid that he could sense the slight strain in her voice. Maybe that was a side effect of sitting with the Headmaster like this, where he read every thought like an open book.

Blaine just sighed, scribbling some chicken scratch in a worn notebook, not looking at her. She wasn't sure if he'd even noticed the mess she'd made. His space was a nest of paper towers and crammed shelves, closer to a broom closet than an actual office. There were books and journals crammed in every conceivable corner, about half of them mammoth tomes that looked larger than her head. Just being around it all made her feel sick to her stomach, and the smell didn't help. There wasn't even a window, just an ancient silver fan that made the papers flap like wings underneath their weights. It didn't do any good. Her gaze drifted to the ashtray in the corner of the desk, wrinkling her nose at the trace of smoke. He never lit a cigarette when they were together like this, but clearly, he didn't have the same reservations when he was alone. The ceiling was stained with soot, evidence of years of long overworked nights.

"You're an interesting case."

She'd never sweat so much in her life. Kayla pulled herself up on the bar, arms shaking, the rubber slick underneath her palms. He'd cleared the entire gymnasium out just for this exercise. The rubber, he said, was to keep her from cheating with magnetism, but the electricity coursing through her palms just left black imprints in the elastic. It smelled rancid.

"Chin over the bar, Croft, or it doesn't count."

Kayla lowered herself down again, blowing out a long shaky breath, the sweat stinging at her eyes. Blaine just stood there, stone-faced as ever, a clipboard in his hands. She couldn't let herself hang there too long, or else her resolve would give way. Sucking in air, she pulled herself up again, all the muscles in her arms screaming at her to stop.

"Fuck you," she strained as she completed the rep, lowering back down again. "Some encouragement would be nice, at least..."

"I'm not your personal trainer," Blaine said, cool and level. There was a certain grit and smokiness to his voice, but he still managed to sound like the the dullest person she'd ever spoken to. "You can stop at any time. I'm just here to measure your strength. This is a standard fitness evaluation, like you'd get in any other high school."

He said that, but still made it sound like a challenge. Kayla clenched her eyes shut and started another pull-up.

"This is a simple exercise," he drawled, straightening out a stack of loose papers full of words she didn't recognize, things like "acetylcholine" and "doxacurium." He set it out of sight before she could try and pick up more.

"I'm going to hate it then, aren't I?" she sighed, resting her cheek in her hand, elbows propped up on his desk. Blaine led off with that kind of phrase a lot, and at the end of the day, she disliked him that much more.

"Maybe," he said, leaning back into his chair and running his fingers through his hair. There were flecks of gray that didn't fit his age. "I say one word, and you reply with the first word that comes to mind. For example, if I say 'red,' you might say...?"

"Blood," she yawned, rubbing at her eyes.

"...yes, something like that."

"That's stupid. What's the point?" She leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs, frowning. "You said this was all for my guardian training."

He didn't blink. "It is."

"It sounds like time-wasting bullshit."

"You might think so. Still, you have to do it." He reached toward his pocket, where she knew his cigarettes were stored, almost out of habit. He caught himself halfway and clasped his hands over the desk in one smooth motion. Sparks popped over her head like firecrackers. "This is all mandated if you want to be considered qualified for field assignments."

Kayla bit back a sharp remark and groaned, rolling her head back. Fuck. There wasn't anything she could say. She knew better to argue anymore; as lazy and laidback as he looked, she'd learned that Samuel Blaine was a brick wall. He'd just stall her out and wear her down with his answers, brief and dismissive, no matter what she said. You couldn't get a rise out of him. There wasn't anything you could say that could even make him twitch. She was convinced. "Alright, fine. Shoot."

"We'll begin then," he said, steepling his fingers. "Bird."

"Fly."

"Fence."

"Jump."

"Knife."

"Stab."

"Gift."

"Power."

"Love."

She wrinkled her nose, glancing up toward the ceiling. Shit. Kayla rubbed the back of her neck. "Heart," she said, fumbling for the word, letting her hand fall into her lap.

"Rain."

"Thunder."

"Katherine."

A pause. Sparks raced down her fingers. "Name."

"Happy."

"Pissed."

"Kill."

"Easy."

Blaine kept his gaze level. "Lilith."

The office was silent except for the drone of the fan, whirring as it turned. She looked into his eyes, two shallow gray pools, unfeeling. "Excuse me?"

"Lilith," he repeated, no different than before. Kayla pulled away, blinking, electricity whipping across her legs.

"I don't..."

He looked away, pulling out another slip of paper. "It's nothing," he intoned, curt as always, the chill in the room gone. "We're done here."

She swore she was going to kill this man. Kayla rubbed at her jaw, simmering, sparks cracking along her shoulders, but she didn't speak. It sounded like she had a mouth full of cotton whenever she did. This is the stupidest bullshit I've ever...

"Tch," he interrupted, tilting his head to overlook the x-rays and papers in his hand. "Not a great result, Croft." Their footsteps echoed throughout the hallway, tapping in unison against the tile.

Not a great result. Not a great fucking result? It felt like someone had taken a rock hammer to her molars. She shot him a venomous glare, fists clenched. "Physically, you're in excellent shape relative to women your age. You scored high in all your assessments in strength, endurance, and agility. You're healthy, more or less."

More or less?! If she popped him across the face, maybe that'd earn her a higher grade.

"But there's severe decay. There are eight cavities, some mild calcification, and you have to stop grinding your teeth and start flossing. The nurse is recommending braces."

Electricity burst out from her shoes, staining the floor with soot where she walked. "Why does it matter as long as I'm fit?!" she snapped through numb lips, just glad she didn't flub her words. "Who are you, my mom? Why do you give a shit about my teeth?"

Blaine just kept reading, scratching the back of his head as he walked. "You're right. Your dental health won't impact you as a guardian. Nevertheless, the check-up is mandatory as part of your medical exam."

"But why?!" She couldn't remember the last time she'd been to a real, actual dentist. Needles were fine. Easy. Needles in your mouth... Those were a different story. Kayla rubbed at her jaw again, wincing.

"It's not my job to know why." He held out a small white baggy, still not looking at her, a cartoon smiling tooth imprinted on both sides. A complimentary toothbrush, a transparent pink, stuck out of the top. "Please take this."

"I'm not carrying that thing."

"It belongs to you."

"I said I'm not carrying it!"

Deep breaths.

In. Out. Simple. It was a mantra that she'd beaten into her head, and even if it only worked half the time, it was a comforting process. Kayla crumpled up the report into a tight ball, electricity sparking through her fingers. So that's what this was all about. The exercises, the assessments, all the stupid interviews... None of it was standard. They were setting her up for this. The file itself used too much technical language, but Blaine, always succinct, compressed it into something she could understand.

Her hometown was crawling with people in black. Teeming, like roaches. She didn't bother with the details. Even if she wanted to, she wasn't sure if she could drink all of it in at once. There was a lump in her throat. Her heart pounded like it was trying to break out from her ribcage.

C͘o̡̘͚̬me͔̰̣̣͚̬ ̹̺̘͍̹̦̜͞o̶̭̳̻͖̯ut̨͇ ͉̲a̡̙̻͓̻̟nd͏ ̟͉̗͕͢p҉̩̳̯̝̖̤l҉̪ą̲̖̹y.̦

She held out her palm, letting the paper burst into flame. Whoosh. It blackened, shrunk, and crumbled to ash, but every word still felt chiseled into the inside of her skull. Kayla rubbed at her temples. In. Out. In. Out. Electricity coursed around her, barely contained.

"It's a lot to take in."

Kayla barely even heard him. "What?" She shook her head and pulled away, letting out a low breath. "I'm fine."

"Of course." Blaine looked away, expressionless, grabbing another slip of paper. Half a dozen photographs were clipped to the edges. "This wouldn't be your first experience with them." It went without saying, and he didn't wait for an answer. "Are you understanding your situation more?"

What could she say? Yeah, she grasped it. She understood better than he did. Kayla gave an empty nod, her eyes fixed to the ghosts of cinders that drifted from her fingers.

Ẃ̼̹͉e̦ ҉̠͓͈̙͚̜ķ̶̸̭̣̣̤n̛͏̗̼̩̥o͘͏̻w͏̡̹ ͓̖͖̘͖͢͟ ͍͓̭͇͇͘ͅw̳h̬͙̙͔̣̼͡o̸̢̳̥ ̵͕͕͔͎̦͙̻͕͞y͚̹̳̜̘̭̫̺̕ó̡̠̱̟̱͇͚͓u̸̷̥͉͉̗̪̦ ͈̣͚̘͘a̬̞̖̼̗̳̮̤̞r̡̘̩̟̗̺͜e̠̰͈͡.̖͓̣̤̹̜͘͢
҉̛̦͝Ẁ̤͖̤e̶̟̣̯͝ ̸̢̻̭̙̱͓̝k̸̛͕͉̻̩̼͔̻̗ǹ̞o̴̡̨̫͍̼̹̲̝̯͚w̖͓̪̲̭̗̮͘͡ ̻̬̭̘̀͡ͅw̵̝̪̙͖͔̱̺̞h̜̟͔́́a̼̩͕̫̣͞͞ṭ̸̢͈̘̩̭ ̦̠̫̱̯͍͞y̸̬̹͈̘̟̩͝ͅo̝̜͖̥̺̞u̱̼̻͞ ̷̹͓f̙̗͉̼̗͟e҉̙̲͕͚̱͈̱͉͠a̢͏͇̻̣͇̟͘r̢̬̣̘.̵̰͇̯̥̭͔

"Then you understand what your assignment entails."

Electricity flit down her arms, making the light flicker. Kayla lifted her head, sparks burning in her eyes.

Twilight had settled on Rosebury by the time she'd left Blaine's office for the last time that day. She'd needed some fresh air, away from the training fields, the gym, her dorm. For the first time in too long, she felt clearheaded. All her other petty drama and small-minded worries had dissipated into smoke. It was funny how a change in perspective could flip everything around and make it all seem so minuscule. The tournament didn't matter. Esper gossip didn't matter. None of it mattered.

Her hands were shaking. She stopped in the center of the road, basked in the glow of a street lamp, and stomped on the ground, electricity pulsing down her leg. Kayla screamed. It didn't matter if anyone heard. She just needed an outlet. "Fuck!" A high, shrill wail, a torrent of emotion. Kayla whipped her fist through the air, lightning whipping around her to strike the pole. kkkkzzzzzhhHHRACK! The light burst with a pop, raining glass down on the concrete and plunging the lonely section of street into darkness. Flashes of blue and white lit up the night.

She stamped down the sidewalk, smashing her foot into the nearest trash can she saw. It crumpled like a tin can under the force, flying into the middle of the road with a raucous CLANG! A trail of garbage followed as it rolled, lopsided, toward the gutter. Kayla swept off her hat and gripped at her hair, clenching her jaw. All the nurse's warnings about cracked teeth and cavities were forgotten, all the push-ups and pull-ups and crunches, all the inkblots she'd been forced to describe.

I can't do this...

Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. Kayla slackened and stood up straight, rubbing at her face. There wasn't any time to think about it. They were flying her out to SeaTac the first thing next morning. She had simple instructions. As soon as she landed, she'd meet up with a small group of guardians, students, and others affiliated with the school. From there, they'd keep a low profile and try and uncover their motives in the city. Blaine would feed her instructions through an earpiece and that'd be it. Simple. Nothing rash, nothing stupid, nothing that could cause a scene...

Kayla curled her fingers into fists, starting her walk down the street, sparks popping around her head. She wasn't going to pretend that she understood what they were all thinking. Why did they even tell her? Her shoes scuffed the concrete, echoing down the street, the only sound in the sleeping town. A chill had seeped in, raising the hairs on the back of her neck... Summer was ending.

She froze underneath the light of a street lamp. There was an iciness in the air, a faint foreboding that bordered on something like dread, an apprehension that she just couldn't grasp... It was the feeling of being watched, despite knowing you're alone. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared ahead, fixed to the spot.

In that blackness, there was a deeper darkness, and the longer she looked, the longer it took shape, hunched and roiling. A monster. It felt like an hour, but it must have been just the blink of an eye.

The next thing she knew, the darkness leapt, a shadowy spear lunging out into the light. She leapt and hit the ground rolling, her scream frozen in her throat. Blood trickled down her neck where it'd grazed her, a cut cold as frost. A black ray stretched across the light, like a blade, so dark it seemed to drink in all color. It dripped shadows, and it stayed black where they hit the ground, like black sludge. A thick miasma rose from the ground,

Kayla stood, wreathed in electricity.

All at once, the lights shut off, sinking the town into inky darkness. Only the faint silver glow of the stars illuminated the outlines of rooftops, and Beata in the distance, solitary as a ship.

Lightning blazed through the darkness, spreading out in a radiant storm, a luminescence reflected in every window pane as whips of electricity sliced through the night. Sparks touched each street light, and one by one, they flickered back to life until the street was as bright as sunset.

There was nothing left except a black envelope.


This time it wasn't written in ink.