thecapitol | there's a light at each end of this tunnel [open]

Who| Molly Hooper & you.
What| Wandering.
Where| The training center, choose a level.
When| Just after her arrival.
Warnings/Notes| I'll roll with anything! She could be outside the center, joined in the elevator, on any random floor, etc.

Molly Hooper has no idea what is happening.

The series of events she has just gone through do not make sense. As she stands just outside the elevator on the tenth floor of apartments in the training center, she recaps them in her mind: she had been at Bart's working on a double homicide; she had presumably blacked out and woken up on a hard metal cot; an explanation that she hadn't fully been able to grasp had been given before she had been whisked up an elevator to this place they said was to live.

And for a few long moments, all she can think is that no, this isn't where she lives. She lives in a flat not far from the hospital, with her cat Toby and a Chinese takeout place right down the street. She lives in London, on the only Earth that has ever existed. No Capitol, no arenas, none of these things they tell her exist really can, because if they did--if they did--

Molly Hooper is frightened, and she cannot make herself feel otherwise.

Suddenly, she turns and slams her palm against the elevator button, willing it to return quickly. Once inside she presses a button, she doesn't know which one, trying to control her breathing. She needs to leave this place, find a way back to London, to her job and her cat and vague newspaper clippings about Sherlock's "suicide." Those are things she wants, needs, things that make sense. Those are things that will tell her that none of this is real and that they don't actually expect her to hurt anyone. Those things still need to exist or else Molly Hooper doesn't know if she can survive this place.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Maybe Molly ends up on the tenth floor again. Maybe the woman catches her before she leaves it. In any case, she'll find a blanket being draped over her shoulders. "Breathe, honey," a voice says from behind her back.

If Molly turns around, she'll see a handsome black woman in her early thirties, dressed in a tailored just below knee-length dress. Her legs seem to be made of blue-patterned porcelain.

Where she is doesn't matter--only the sudden weight of something on her shoulders does, and the calm voice speaking behind her. She shakes a little, but does turn and see the woman, is glad that she's found someone who cares. Someone who might be able to give her answers. These are the conclusions she jumps to upon seeing the woman, and she clings to it. "I-I'm breathing, I'm breathing. I just. I need to get out of here."

"Well," the woman says, her voice calm and soothing, "there's no getting out of the city, but I can get you outside the building, at least. You want to go up to the roof? Or we could go to the park, but there's always the chance we'll get stopped by the newsmen on the way and I don't know if you look up to dealin' with reporters."

Even though she has no idea what a reporter would want with her, Molly firmly shakes her head. No, the press would not be good right now, for any reason. Imagine the impact on Bart's--how could they hire a hysterical lab tech? "R-roof." The word is choked, and she doesn't particularly care how it sounds. She just needs to breathe air that hasn't been stuffed up in a lift all day.

She pats Molly's shoulder, then takes her hand. "Roof it is," she says, ducking back into the elevator with her and this time pressing the button to go to the very top.

At least there's fresh air out there.

"Here," she says, leading Molly to a bench. "Sit down."

Molly is silent on the ride up, mind trying to slog through all the information that had been presented to her not long ago. She doesn't know who this woman is, but she seems nice and as if she wants to help. That's good, right? Right.

The fresh air helps, and Molly sits heavily on the bench, hugging the blanket around her shoulders. After a minute or so of silence, she finally looks to the other woman and tries to smile. "I'm Molly."

"Susannah," the woman replies, smiling back. She sits down next to Molly on the bench. "I'm guessin' you're new here, right? It's pretty overwhelming when you first get here and honestly, it doesn't get all that much better as time goes by. I've been here, oh, about half a year, so I can help explain things if you need it."

She swallows as she listens to Susannah, trying to understand. Half a year? That seemed like so long. She looks at her, wide-eyed, scared. "Yes, I'm new. What--why are we here? Is everything they said... true?"

"Yes," Susannah says, gently. "I'm afraid it is. We're here to fight to the death for the entertainment of the people of the Capitol and in hopes of winning aid for the people of the Districts. That wasn't a lie." She rubs Molly's back a little; comfortingly, she hopes. "They do bring us back from the dead, however. But since we're expected to start fighting again, I don't know if that makes it better or worse."

The gesture, though unexpected, is not unwelcome. Molly is surprised herself when she feels slightly better for it. Except when Susannah mentions death, Molly's brow creases. "They... bring us back?" She can't imagine how that could be at all possible. Her scientific side is overtaking the terrified one. "How?"

She keeps rubbing. "I don't know," Susannah confesses. "I don't know that anyone does. But I've been through it twice myself already. They don't bring everyone back. Just people who're... well, entertaining. We're glorified gladiators."

"Twice." She repeats it, blank-faced. A shiver runs through her, and she closes her eyes briefly. Fear and anger bubble in her stomach, and she breathes through her mouth. "I can't... I can't believe they find this entertaining."

"I'm sorry," Susannah says quietly. "This isn't always a nice place. You really aren't in Kansas anymore, Dorothy."

It takes Molly a moment to understand the reference, but once she does it makes her smile the slightest bit. "Maybe a tornado will come to take us hoe."

"I think it was the ruby slippers that did that, honey," Susannah says. "I'll keep my eye out for them."

there's a light at each end of this tunnel [open]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject