retcon |- tris&wonder 88thJB

robin keeni, district 6

[[ Did that just happen?

I mean - the whole thing, was it real? I feel almost as though I'm in a dream right now, walking on ground that is bouncy, airy. Even as we walk together step and step towards the Justice Building, I find that I can't tell for real if the concrete beneath my feet is as rocky as it should be. Is that nuts? To question the solidity of the ground? It must be.

Would the Peacekeepers beat me if I pinched myself right now? Would that be considered a crime? Damaging a government asset. That's definitely a felony. From the moment Star pulled that tiny slip of paper out of the stupid glass bowl, I, Robin Keeni, became nothing more than government property.

Where's the girl? Am I the only representative? It can't be - this isn't a Quell. It isn't a Quell. I can't be alone. I'm all alone. I - the ground looks fuzzy almost, I can't tell if it's moving or vibrating. The heat alone could be causing it, you can see heat right? Cough. My lungs feel irritated, almost spastic, they're squeezing out every bit of air before rushing it back into my nose, I'm not real. This isn't real.

How do they all march together as if it's one beat? I can't see faces, only men in grey suits, and an extravagant woman in ludicrous gaudy attire. They all look straightforward and never towards me. Am I even here? I can't help but feel as though every step is one hundred condensed heartbeats. I see the double wooden doors open ahead, inside looks nothing but dark and endless - a void, the entrance into the end - I'm doomed here - I'm - ]]

A rush of air conditioning brings him back to a halting reality. What had seemed like twelve long hours from the moment the Escort had drawn his name to the first crawling step into the Justice Building had only been perhaps five long minutes. That halting realization grounded him back in reality as the room stopped shaking and the cooling air reverberated through his standing hairs. The anxiety all collapsed at once as the harsh truth stood stone-cold in front of him. Robin had done this to himself.

All that tesserae. It was easy food compensation for what seemed like very little risk. Maybe that was the case at twelve, or thirteen, but at fifteen Robin was starting to push it. He was getting greedier with the amounts he was gambling on. But he was growing hungrier in the days, he was becoming worse as he got older at slipping things out of people's pockets. His awkward growth spurt and growing pains had made his arms gangly and unwieldy, and the same cons only worked on the same streets so many times before the forces caught on. Robin had run many streets and avenues dry at this point. The backstreets of Six weren't as good as a venture as the main streets had once been.

If Robin was certain of one thing, it was that the universe was swift in karmic punishment. He'd never been one to argue against the laws of the universe, and it was simple retribution here. Robin had gotten greedy at the hands of the system, and this was their punishment for doing so. It happened all the time. Why had he ever been under the misguided delusion that he was at all exempt from the punishment others received? He was by no means more incredible than any other tribute that had represented Six in the past. Certainly not better than Teddy or Flynn.

The once white-walled rooms of the Justice Building were growing grey with age and years of grief sunk into their structure. Two classroom chairs, a table. Plastic, no cushion. There wasn't any comfort here. This was the beginning of the end, a final goodbye to the prison he'd once called home. The first step from the beginning to the end. The question was, who was here to part our ways?