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[url=https://open.spotify.com/track/1FCajWQZRP66Lld1fHgXFt][img]https://i.imgur.com/zHjMnmt.jpeg[/img]
[/url][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=#FF7514][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]PRCU Gym, Infirmary Gardens[/I] - [I]Dundas Island, Pacific Ocean[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=#ff7514][b]Take On Me #3.016:[/b][/COLOR] [I]Mirror Mirror[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][COLOR=#FF7514][SUP][sub]____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sub][/SUP][/COLOR][INDENT][sub][color=#ff7514][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR] [I]Amma [@Rockette][/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=#FF7514][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR] [color=gray][I]Brutality[/I][/color][/right][/SUP]
[INDENT]
It was the middle of the day and the gym had an abundance of people going about their day. It were peak hours and it showed as nearly every corner of the gym was stacked with students giving their all. Well, nearly every corner.

The ultra-dense weight section was noticeably sparsely populated, despite the abundance of students who would frequently use it. Only a handful would attempt to work out here now, and they mostly stuck to the periphery. Meanwhile, the students who didn’t have anything to gain from the ultra-dense weights made sure to give the area a wide berth.

A lone figure stood in the middle, imposing and towering as she grunted with each exertion of the great mass moved by her powerful limbs. The look in her eyes was filled with a vacant one while her body language was one of erratic rage. 

It wasn’t the first time this week that Katja had appeared like this at the gym. In fact, she had been pushing herself to her limit and beyond. Ever since the trial had ended Katja had been going to the gym whenever she had time off. At first glance people wouldn’t really notice. After all, wasn’t she always going to the gym anyways? 

But Katja knew that it was different now, and her regular training buddies would have most certainly noticed the difference in her training as well. If she hadn’t been avoiding them all this time, that is. 

In fact, she had been avoiding everyone these last days after the trials. Blackjack, members of the Alces sports teams she was a part of, even vague acquaintances. Katja had isolated herself completely from all forms of contact. She couldn’t look any of them in the eyes, she couldn’t trust any one of them. She couldn’t even trust herself anymore.

When the Trials were disabled she had still sat on that very same floor, punching down endlessly at a cruel reflection of her greatest nightmares, now turned into nothing but dust. She hadn’t noticed the Trials going offline, nor had she noticed others trying to talk to her. Her fists just continued battering down into her imagined foe, over and over and over again, as she remained blind to whatever was happening around her. The nails in the back of her head kept singing, kept urging her on to strike! Strike! Strike! They had to put a mask with tranquilizers on her in order for Katja to finally calm down and slowly become sedated. 

Katja had screamed bloody murder when she finally woke up from her artificial slumber. She still believed herself to be stuck in the simulation when she was met with the clean, sterile walls of the infirmary. Only through the intervention of one of the psychics was she finally able to come to her senses before damaging too much of her room, or worse.

She had only suffered minor physical injuries and so Katja was quickly discharged. Mostly suffering bruises from more higher impact projectiles and surface cuts from bladed weapons. Nothing a couple bandages couldn’t fix. The only thing that had really required a healer had been her shoulders, an injury that had initially perplexed the medical staff as their analysis sheets from the Trials didn’t mention Katja suffering any such injuries. Still, they had done their best to patch her up regardless.

Katja moved over to the weight rack to replace another pair of plates for a heavier pair. It had been like this the entire week. Where others had gone to therapists, either voluntarily or because they were bed bound anyway, Katja had refused the offer. Instead, she had gone to the gym and racked up PR after PR. And where this would usually be something she’d be ecstatic about, now it only served to fuel her anger even more. If she was able to achieve this within the span of a mere week it meant that she always had this strength in her, that she had always been able to achieve these feats. That she had just been held back by herself. By her own weak will.

Returning back to her spot, she continued with her curls. Her long hair, dripping with sweat after the heavy exertion of God knows how many exercises, covered most of her face. This was intentional, so as to avoid having to look at herself in the mirror. Only sometimes glancing to see if her form was still in order after the additional weight. Of course, it was flawless.

She didn’t dare to look at herself though, not in great detail. As every time she did, she saw someone else. She saw the little girl, weak and crying as she was powerless to stop the injustices done to her family. She saw the monster she had refused the existence of on a fateful night, covered in the blood and gore of all those who she thought had wronged her.

But neither of those scared her the most. For there was another reflection. One that hurt the most.

Just the thought of [i]that[/i] one brought out an involuntary growl from the towering woman. One of pain and disgust, of hurt and sadness.

Of betrayal.

It was a reflection of her, dressed in clothes she had only worn very rarely. Practical black clothes, with minor white elements here and there. All of which were covered by a large black hood.

These hadn’t been Katja’s clothes, not per se. They had been [i]hers[/i]. They had belonged to someone referred to as the Queen of the Pit, the Lady of the Red Sands. A Sister of a House that was hidden beneath the surface. Poised to strike at its unsuspecting prey above.

It was the reflection of a zealous individual. An ideological idealist and extremist. One who had been loyal to her cause for years, waiting for a chance to prove herself. One who had put her utmost trust in her fellow Brothers and Sisters of the Hypegene. Who firmly believed that they would look out for her as she would look out for them. Who thought that, finally, she had people who would protect her.

Katja’s jaw clenched as her grip on the dumbbell tightened as she reminded herself of that look, that reflection. Even with its ultra-dense material, she could feel the object malform under the immense pressure she exerted on it.

Oh how naive she had been.

They had used her. Cast her aside as a sacrificial pawn. And for what? Katja did not know for certain, but she had a vague idea. [i]He[/i] had hated Blackjack, [i]he[/i] had made that obvious in many of his rants. She had been part of the “accursed ilk of O’Neill”, as he had put it. And it probably stung him that, despite her dedication to the cause of a better world for Hyperhumans, she had never made a move against her team. Even with the new arrivals, one of whom she had an express mission for, she had grown to feel kinship and bonds. Familial bonds.

Perhaps this had been the reason she had been cast aside. Herded into the Trial-shaped pen as a lamb to the slaughter. All because she had stuck to her core beliefs. That Hypes should stick together, no matter what! If [i]they[/i] couldn’t see that then they had been the blind ones! They had been the ones led astray by a false prophet!

…She had been led astray by a false prophet.

Her vice-like grip tightened even more around the dumbbell, which finally couldn’t take it anymore and snapped in two. The heavy weights clanged to the ground on both sides. The impact echoed through the gym and for a moment all noise seemed to stop as people halted to see what had just happened in that particular corner of the gym.

A low chuckle rose from the imposing woman as her thoughts were brought back to the present and the realization set in. 

She was alone.

Completely and utterly alone.

Her own family had turned their back on her, choosing safety over blood. The group she had been sure would look out for her had betrayed and been willing to sacrifice her just out of petty revenge. PRCU most certainly wouldn’t forgive her, not after what had happened to Tad.

And Blackjack…

They would never forgive her if they found out. Not after the hell they had been put through earlier, despite Katja not knowing a damn thing about it. It was this realization that stung the most. It felt as if her heart was torn out of her chest and crushed right in front of her. Those she considered as close as family, they too would grow to despise her if they ever found out.

She had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. Never before, not even after losing her parents, had Katja been this isolated and alone. 

Katja stood still for a moment, or as much as she could as her entire body was trembling with rage and sorrow, before finally picking up the broken dumbbell. As she got up, she glanced up at the mirror in front of her, her hair clearing just enough before her eyes to offer a clear picture.

And what she saw shocked her to her very core.

It was not the child she saw, not the monster, not even the hooded figure.

No, what she saw instead was… Herself. A tired, exhausted mess of black bags under vacant eyes with hollow cheeks. Her hair was a bundle of unkempt strands while her clothes were a messy bunch. She was not looking at any of the things she had seen before.

Instead, what she saw was a thing.

A sick, broken thing.

It was this shock that finally opened her eyes to how destructive she had been to herself this past week. She had always considered it a weakness to ask for help, to search for aid and to seek counsel. But now she was directly confronted with what that path would lead her to.

She had to find help, she knew that now. But where?

Katja didn’t think she had anyone left to truly entrust everything to. Maybe she could’ve gone to Harper, Calliope, Haven, Banjo or Rory before all of this had happened. She cursed herself for not coming clean during the breakfast right before the Trial. Now it was too late. She was sure they would shun her, hate her for the rest of her life.

She knew she didn’t deserve their friendship or kindness. She had always been genuine to them, to all of Blackjack, in her feelings towards them. But still, she had not been truthful about who she really was. Sometimes it would shine through, true. But she had worn a mask all this time. She [i]had[/i] deceived them, even if she did truly love all of them.

And that might have been her worst act.

Still, she knew she had to do [i]something[/i], find [i]some[/i] help.

And as she thought of it, there was really only one place she could find it. At those therapists she had been so adamant about avoiding all this time. Perhaps, she thought, if she had gone to them five years ago instead of accepting that black letter, none of this would’ve happened.

[hr]

Despite her urgency for help, Katja had been delaying her arrival to the medical area for as long as was humanly possible. Making sure to take the longest possible route from her starting point and taking all the possible detours. Despite a quick shower and a fresh change of clothes, sporting a black band t-shirt and cargo pants, she still looked worse for wear. The exhaustion was clearly readable on her face and the unkempt look was still clearly visible, despite the clean clothes.

The final diversion towards the infirmary led her through the gardens. A supposed oasis of peace and tranquility. Katja had never really understood why gardens were supposed to have a soothing effect before, but as she slowly made her way through it, she realized that she was growing a newfound appreciation for it.

The serenity brought by the lovely garden was quickly shattered though, as Katja laid her eyes on someone who made her heart beat into overdrive and adrenaline rush through her veins. And a phantom pain throbbing in her shoulders.

On the ground, next to a stone bench, laid an exceptionally pale girl with hair as dark as the void. A girl who had been in Katja’s thoughts for months, but who had been in the back of her mind for the past week, as she had struggled with other matters entirely. Seeing her now though, right here, brought all those thoughts back. As well as all the feelings she had felt both before and after that night before the Trials.

Katja wanted to turn around and run away as fast as she could. Out of all the people of Blackjack, PRCU or anywhere in the world, Amma was the one she wanted to face the least right now. She didn’t want the confrontation of malice and hate and sorrow. She didn’t want to experience that pain again. She didn’t want any of that.

And yet, she didn’t turn around.

Instead, Katja carefully walked forward, one cautious step before the other, as she could not tear her eyes away from the girl, her teammate, as she was clearly struggling and in pain. Katja recalled her thoughts and feelings at the start of the Trial, as she saw Amma in a way she had never seen her before. She couldn’t even imagine what hell [i]she[/i] had gone through at the Trial. 

At the end of the day, she was a victim of circumstance too.

Several more guarded steps later, Katja had reached the downed girl, eclipsing the last few rays of sunshine that pierced through the dogwood’s canopy.

	[color=#FF7514]“Hey Am-ma.”[/color] Katja said with a strained voice, quickly correcting herself as she remembered what was said to her the last time she called the girl in front of her Am. She cleared her throat with a soft cough before gingerly extending a hand.

	[color=#FF7514]“I know you probably don’t want it…”[/color] The tall blonde said to Amma as she cast her eyes down, avoiding eye contact with those pained blue orbs of the raven-haired girl before continuing. [color=#FF7514]“But I figured I’d offer my help anyway.”[/color]




[/INDENT][/INDENT][/color]