TRAIN [FIRST DRAFT]

Chapter 11: The Uniform

Stefan stood beside Aimee as she ogled the glowing button – numbered 11 – on the elevator wall. She was trembling inside, but she knew, in her heart and mind, that she had to train. She forced herself to ignore her fatigue and lift her chin, and then the elevator doors parted.

Automatically, her body pressed her back against the elevator wall. Her thoughts were all negative, a blockade to her bravado.

"Come on, Aimee," Stefan gestured, waiting for her outside the doors. Leisurely, she neared him. "I wanna show you something," he stated. "You should see it before you start training in The Arena."

"What is it?" she queried.

"A choice."

She inhaled, "But we're already here."

Stefan read her confusion before gently holding her hand, taking her to the very end of the passage and past the Arena doors. Stefan brushed his fingers against the wall and it separated in two, like mechanical sliding doors, revealing a broad steel door with a keypad attached to it. He put in the code and pushed the oversized door handle down, and they walked in. Aimee froze. Her eyes darted around the enormous room that exposed to her, but she bypassed the interior decorating. All she saw were people, by the bucket load.

"Why am I here?" she asked, louder than intended. Slowly, nearly everyone eyed her.

A grin came upon Stefan's face, "They like you already," he joked, and then his attention moved to their peers. "Hey, everyone! Don't mind me or my companion; I'm just giving her a tour."

She glanced at him, surprised and amused by his word choice, considering that he had never called her his 'companion' before.

Everybody resumed whatever they were doing, while Aimee analysed her surroundings.

"This is the training room for the Ranked Division Agents."

Stefan cut his explanation short when he saw how she had been enveloped in what was around her. On her far left, there was a gigantic window of some sort, its glass so thick you could not see through it. Nearer to them was a seating area with long white couches, and enough of them to accommodate at least twenty people, but the seats looked brand new, as if everyone was too scared to sit on them. Squared in the centre of the couches was coffee table, also white, and on it was a manicured green shrub in a somewhat personable green pot. Straight ahead of Aimee and Stefan was a gym, where most of the room's population was lifting weights, or biking, or jogging uphill on the treadmills. Busied at the weights was a boy around her age, with an uneven haircut that hid his left eye. His eyes were pale blue. His skin was pale, too – as if he had not stood in sunlight a day in his life – both in contrast with his midnight black hair.

The boy put his weights down and approached Stefan.

"You should get your companion out of here," he said. He had an accent Aimee believed to be Siberian. "No offence, but she's a featherweight."

Aimee was not sure whether she was supposed to be offended, but she tried not to be.

"Hello, Dominick," Stefan smiled at him honestly.

So they're friends, thought Aimee. She wondered if Dominick was anything like Gavin, and then she remembered that she had not seen him since he ditched her outside Buckley's office – something she still wanted to punch him for.

Stefan introduced Aimee and Dominick to each another.

"Nice to meet you," he greeted. "I was joking, by the way. It's just... you look so fragile!" His deep voice made that sound more insulting than intended.