Author Games: Renegade | CLOSED

Finals - Neha Bhavsar

Although it had been days since Neha had found the rebels, the sense of safety they had promised had never come. The barren steel walls of her bedroom, the pristine floors, the angular rooms and hallways; none of them fostered a sense of safety.

A sudden knock on her door felt as abrupt as a slap, and she jumped back with a gasp. A woman who looked as if she was from the Capitol stormed in. Her eyes were dark gray, her hair silvery - Neha couldn't help but imagine lightning strikes dancing in and around her, in sync with the strange woman's furious breaths.

Neha bit her lip and opened her mouth, squeaking out, "W-what did I do?" Her cheeks burned under the woman's fiery gaze, and she was shameful for that. She had done nothing; in another time, she would have snapped back.

"What?" The woman's fiery gaze calmed, as if water had been thrown on it. "Oh, nothing. It's not you. I'm Amber, Elysia's assistant." She stretched out a hand adorned with rings and sparkling polish. Hesitantly, Nena took it and pulled herself up off the barren floor.

Neha cleared her throat, swiping her fingers through her hair. She hadn't bothered to clean up once she had reached the rebel base, other than a quick shower Berenice had forced her to take. "Why, the dirt and leaves don't suit you at all! In you go, wash the dirtiness off!" But there had a been a tremor hidden in her voice, a tightness to her smile, that had revealed that Berenice, too, was not completely at ease.

Speaking of that... Where was Berenice? Neha had spent the last days huddled in her barren room, yes, but Berenice was the type of person who would barge in uninvited and drag you along to help you pick out an outfit, or something equally crazy. But Neha hadn't seen Berenice's choppy hair fly down the hallway, or heard her signature stutter. It was odd, eery, incriminating.

Neha gathered her strength and looked at the woman, who was staring at her expectantly, as if she was supposed to answer a question. "W-what?" Neha asked quietly.

"I said, you're going to see March now. Head Gamemaker, ever heard of her?" It was clear Amber had had a long, long day, which could not have helped her obviously short temper.

"U-um, yeah-h? W-why?" She was going to see the Head Gamemaker? The rebels were working against her. This was all a tra-

"Stop stuttering, girl. You're one of the few who survived her devious traps. Go show her that. Be brave."

"Bu-but..." Bravery, courage were the exact opposite of what Neha was feeling like right now. [she was definitely not a gryffindor in this point of time] She was a timid rabbit, and she most definitely did not want to venture into the wolf's den.

But before she could speak her metaphorical mind, those painted, claw-like nails grasped her arm, and she found herself being whisked out of her door and down a steel-plated and polished corridor. Neha never would've thought that she would wish for the barren room she had been sleeping in, but she yearned for the solid reality of the sterile bunker, not the uncertainty of this excursion.

Neha was whisked out of her thoughts, much like she had been whisked out of her room, by the claws - er, fingernails - tightening around her wrist. "This is her room. Don't worry, March is contained." The ominous tone in Amber's voice only magnified her apprehension, not to mention the thick, triple-padlocked doors.

Amber unlocked the door with a set of jangly keys, and beckoned Neha inside, to whatever was contained inside. "Go. Have tea with the Head Gamemaker."

And Neha was pushed inside, locked the mastermind behind the games that had started this situation in the first place.

|~|

Fluorescent lights flickered on, illuminating a beauty imprisoned in a straitjacket and chained to a chair. Amy March. Neha had formed an image in her head of a vile woman, with drawn brows and sharp teeth, graying hair and disgusting hygiene, but Amy - she was the opposite. She had lush hair, hardly a stray hair out of place, and vibrant eyes. Her lips were cherry-red, her face sculpted like a model's. The only sign of her captivity was a bruise blooming on her cheekbone, and of course, the straitjacket she was wearing.

"So, Neha..." Amy drawled. Despite what Neha knew about her, despite the fact that she was the one who orchestrated the Games, Amy exuded a certain charm. Neha couldn't help but start to open up to her, and she found herself responding. "What?"

Amy leaned back in her bolted-down chair. "I'm sorry."

Neha felt her breath quicken. "For what?"

Those vibrant, colorful eyes stared her down. Neha could see why Amy was head of the Gamemakers. She had the power to brighten someone's life with a smile, but she had chosen not to. She had gone the other way, seducing people into trusting her and then smirking and lying and causing nightmares. She was a nightmare dressed as a daydream. And that was exactly what the Capitol, the Games, were all about.

"Go to Katernya's room. Look inside. And then, you will see." Amy's smirk sent Neha scurrying out of the room, ignoring the shouts, the yells, the screams directed at her.

|~|

When Neha hurriedly barged into the prison of Katernya Stiles, she was met with a devastating sight. Berenice, the color seeped out of her, the personality and love and eccentricity withered away. Berenice, the one friend she had made while on this horrible journey... Not there. Gone. Dead. Forever.

And as Neha knelt on the ground, sobbing, ignoring the clamor surrounding her, all she could bitterly think was:

"So Amy was the chessmaster, and we were all her pawns."