Dancing With The Devil[Completed]

[Anonymous]

Oliver Mavolio - Stage 1 Candidate.

   It would take a while for him to even get partly used to that being attached to his name. Everything that had happened in the last few weeks seemed surreal; as if he was having one of those nightmares where you ran, and ran but could never escape what was coming after you. Except that he wasn’t having a bad dream this time. He was awake and all he could see was the dreary bleakness of the ATC.

   And now today he was meeting his mentor.

   A mentor for him.

   As Oliver made his way towards the place he was told, er, ordered to grace with his presence - his whole scruffy, entirely unkempt and would blow over if there was a strong wind presence - by a chime through e-mail. Even at the thought of the words enclosed in that small pixelated blip on a screen his heart did backflips. He would need to brace himself every so often on a nearby wall when he felt the rush behind his eyes signalling he may just black out. It was a very official sounding e-mail.

   But why, his mind fumbled over the concept, would they ever assign him to a mentor? He was just Oliver! He was a few good years older than most stage 1 candidates, and thus could pose a problem with their ability to mold him into what they wanted - that is if he had even a sliver of rebellion inside, which he didn’t . He was going to fail, he knew it. Destiny bloody knew it! So why waste precious resources and time on a cause that was lost even before people knew it existed?

   A light tentatively flickered above him. He squinted upwards with his hands pressed against the corner of a wall.

   Oh right…He did have that. Apparently it was rare and not well studied. Which could mean he was only a vessel to study, not to put to any good use. Needles, and scans and clipboards seemed to suit him more - that is if they could stop him from dying from an anxiety induced heart attack long enough. He really wasn’t good at anything, he supposed.

   And finally, he was there. And he was late.

   Oliver quietly pushed the door open a crack. “M-Ma’am?” He stuttered out, his voice was barely audible. “I’m uh…I’m uh...umm..”

   God he was pathetic.

[Anonymous]

God he was pathetic.

Sabela wasn't really sure what she had been expecting with her new candidate. She just tended to get the ones with no spines. Maybe it was because she hated broken things and some little, wussy broken little candidate was of no interest or use to her. Though, she had found the idea of his powers interesting.

And he was even worse than she imagined. Sabela's long legs were crossed in front of her, showing of her adorable fuck-me pumps. Tilting her head, she watched Oliver, her full lips pulled into a frown, "Oliver I assume. Stop hovering in the door way. That's annoying. And don't stammer. No one likes it and it's grating."

Standing up, Sabela smoothed her clothes over, eyes never leaving Oliver, "I'm Sabela Llown, your mentor. And stop cringing. Right now. You are in the military for fucks sake."

[Anonymous]

He quickly shuffled into the room when ordered. Oh boy. He wasn’t used to that tone of voice. She was not happy with him and he couldn’t blame her. Not only was he late, that was a strike in of itself, but it was apparent that his mentor was not pleased even in the first few seconds of their meeting. Oliver pushed his back up against the door, getting the doorknob right in the small of his back and as uncomfortable as that was he did not dare to move or look up at the woman he had already caught a glimpse of.

   It was one thing to believe he had been assigned to a mentor, it was another altogether to comprehend that he had been assigned to none other than Sabela Llown. Sabela bloody Llown. His face was beat red under the mass of red hair that was intent on swallowing it. He had heard of her, of course he had heard of her. She was one of the most famous, or infamous, Pilots! It made him wonder what she did to deserve him.

   “Yes, ma’am.” He mumbled, his heart pounding uncontrollably in his chest. He was afraid she might even hear it and tell him to stop. While he attempted not to cringe at the sound of her voice, and not to stammer it was far more difficult than he could imagine. He played with loose threads on his uniform, and slouched in a quite undignified manner still not looking upwards. His shoes were not very interesting. “I…Yes, I’m Oliver Mavolio. Ma’am..”


Ugh. Gross. Sabela’s nose wrinkled at the sight of the boy, “Don’t slouch. It’s not attractive.” Granted, nothing about him was attractive. Moving closer, Sabela slid her hands into Oliver’s hair, pulling it back to get a better look at his face.

“You are late. Why?” She made a small humming sound, “Well, you have decent bone structure. You need a hair cut. I don’t like ugly people and if I have to mentor you, I don’t want it painful to look at you.”

She was coming over to him. Walking towards him, he could hear her footsteps somewhere between the pauses of his heartbeat. Oliver stood up straight sharply, more due to the surprise and pain of his new mentor’s fingers in his hair. She pulled it back from his face. And though his glasses had fallen partway down the bridge of his nose, she was so close to him that it really didn’t matter. He felt anxiety tighten in his chest. Oh god don’t pass out now Oliver! He cursed at himself.

   “Lost…” He squeaked out, far too intent on the fact Sabela was looking him over to noticed that he forgot the words ma’am at the end of it. Panic continued to rise as she sized him up. Inspecting him like how one inspects something they are not entirely sure of. He was a lost cause. But he doubted he needed to tell her that. Though the ’decent bone structure’ comment made him flush even more. One thing was for certain,  he didn’t want a mentor, and it was obvious that she didn’t want him. “M…Ma’am, you could…Just trade me in…C-couldn’t you?”

“Excuse me?” Sabela’s expression darkened. That was not the answer she had wanted and it showed. Her hands dropped from Oliver’s hair to plant on her slender hips, “Yes, I know I can trade you in. I did pick you on purpose. And when I give you an order, candidate, you follow it. Are we clear?”

It was just a matter of time until he slipped up. He was counting on it. At the very least he was able to breathe a sigh of relief as Sabela’s hands dropped from being so near his face. Though.. They were very soft hands he had to admit. Oliver’s mouth went rudely agape. She picked him on purpose? But why? No one ever picked him! He was just Oliver!  

   “Yes, ma’am.” He said robotically without the stammer. He wanted to ask her why, what in the world would make her? There were plenty far more talented and far more deserving of a mentor’s time. It was so…Unusual. However, he could not make himself ask her. He figured it was not his place. Everything in the military was still new to him. He was in a crash course and falling hard. “A…Haircut it is, ma’am.”

“Yes. And, well, we can’t do anything about that uniform, you can at least try looking better.” Sabela sighed, shaking her head, “Really. It’s not that hard to look presentable. Now.” Turning, Sabela moved back to her place on the desk, legs crossing.

“You are very new here, so please feel free to ask me any questions. I am here to help you graduate.”

[Anonymous]

He didn’t mind the uniform, really, though it did not go well with his dark red hair. And tended to itch and ride in places he did not want it to ride.  All right so he did mind it some. No, he minded it a lot. There were some nights were he could not sleep; Oliver would lay awake in dread of wearing it - it was made worse by the fact that he had to every damn day.

   Not hard to look presentable, huh? For her.

   The cosmos was looking down on him, like always. If his mentor had their way, it would be a long while before Oliver failed enough to finally be rid of this place and where he belonged. In a garbage heap somewhere, he was sure.

   Oliver stared blankly at Sabela. “Thank you? ..And uh…Q-q…Questions..” He had thousands of them. Most were not even related to the program, they were just the sort of things Oliver would ask, being Oliver. However, he didn’t think his mentor would want to hear those. Just a guess. “W…What now, ma’am?”

[Anonymous]

"Thank you? For what? Oliver, I just insulted you. Quite a lot." Sabela shook her head and gave a small sigh, "Really. Grow a spine."

He was like this little puppy that she just wanted to kick until it turned into a vicious killer. Which was probably why her only pet was a snake.

"What now? Now, you study. You go to school, you learn to get along here. It's really not so different that any other school. Even once you get higher ranked, it's a little while before we start with the psychic stuff."

[Anonymous]

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!

   Insulted him? He thought she was being nice; a tiny hope that he may not have to listen to a harpy swooping down to assault him whenever he was in her presence. Oliver should have expected it would be dashed away. If she hadn’t had said anything, he would have continued on with that little bit hope. Instead he stood crestfallen. He had a spine. It was right in the middle of his back, goodness, if he didn’t have it he wouldn’t be able to move let alone stand. With that thought, his shoulders sagged to the point where he slouched against the door again. This wasn’t a good day.

   “Not so different from any other school…” He muttered to himself, remembering what school had been like. Actually, no, he did not want to recall. Oliver was the tiny red-headed kid who got abused on a daily basis - he still held the battle scars on his body. Every memory made him wince. He really didn’t want to be here. All he wanted to do was crawl into a hole and let the world forget he existed. Oliver closed his eyes for a brief moment and wished to be somewhere else.

   No. Did not work. He still saw Sabela.

   He sighed.

     The psychic stuff…Now that caught his attention. He had been worrying about that, among other things, he bit the inside of his cheek. “M-ma’am..?” He ventured, seeming to be ready to back into a corner and cower like a hit dog. “How much do you know…About, um, the c-certain abilities…I have? I barely understand w-what people say here..”

[Anonymous]

"Oliver!" Sabela's voice was sharp, "Stand up straight." She rolled her eyes, not trying to hide her frustration. She hated all that shrinking the candidates seemed to do, "Stop wilting every time I speak or so help me I will hit you."

Still leaning against the desk, Sabela pulled out a nail file and started to work on her nails, "About your ability? I can't say I know a lot about how it works. No one really does, sadly. However, I can do my best to teach you some control. If not, I can see about getting you another tutor. Someone who has a specialized kinetic ability. See if that helps."

Lifting her blue eyes, she smiled at Oliver, "I am a bitch Oliver, and you probably wont like me. But I want you to pass. In fact, you will pass. You failing makes me look bad, and Oliver," she paused then, still smiling but seeming much more dangerous, "I do not like to look bad."

[Anonymous]

Oliver winced at her voice. He couldn’t help it! Her voice was like a shriek in his head, that he feared would soon grow into a constant wail of belittlement in the back of his mind whenever he would do something. Actually, it was starting to settle in as they spoke. Or Sabela spoke. He stuttered. Oliver jerked upright and hit his back right against the doorknob. His lips creased into a thin line as he tried very hard not to make a whimper. Not that he expected himself to be able to withhold it. “Yes, m-ma’am!”

   He was careful not to stare at her and instead glued his gaze to the back wall of the room. That was disappointing. He had been hoping for something. Any clue that could help him wrap his mind around the concept of Electrogenesis. But if no one really knew, what hope did he have? Not that it surprised him. He should have expected it from the start, in fact, he had. Still, there was always hope. And that was thusly crushed and beaten to a pulp.

   Oh great. Just great. Another tutor. Or at least the possibility. He was having troubles coping with one. The sound of Sabela’s nail filing was grating in his ears; each movement feeling like a thousand insects were diving in, in search of his brain to nibble on, if they could find it. It made him want to peel his skin off just to get at them. This place was going to make him crazy. He just knew it. And he stayed absolutely silent.

   Her next words were what made Oliver fix his eyes on Sabela. She was smiling when she admitted it. No shame there. No regret. No apologies. None. His stomach was in his throat. She expected a lot out of him. He couldn’t deliver any of it. That he was sure of. It was only a matter of time before she realised what a mess she had on her hands. Or perhaps she already did and was trying to fix him. His thoughts were getting carried away again. Maybe this was all just a big bet! Sabela Llown was unfortunate in getting the short straw, yet if she could get him to pass without him breaking down into a sobbing ball of useless flesh there was a million Credits in it.

   No. They probably took everything a bit more serious than that. But still.

   “Yes, ma’am. I understand, ma’am.” He said evenly and it took everything in him to do it. Each word was mustered out deliberately. Her smiles made him shiver, not because she was attractive, but because he knew she could tear him limb from limb and enjoy it. He felt like he was about to pass out, and the lights briefly flickered to show it. “S-sorry…” He said, instinctively. Back with the stutter. Hello good friend.

[Anonymous]

Sabela glanced up as the lights flickered and she sighed, lowering the nail file, "Oh calm down. Really Oliver. We wont get anywhere if you can't grow some sort of back bone. I will only bite if you make me. Really, I want us to get along if we can." She smiled, reaching out and cupped his chin, "I really think you might even be kinnda cute under all that bad fashion and awkward hair. And I do like younger boys."

She was always looking to add to her harem, though she generally liked them pretty and dumb. Oliver seemed decently bright, but she could live with that. He wasn't much of a talker. Though his thoughts ran a mile a minute and Sabela couldn't help but pick them up, "Would you stop all that? Fuck Oliver. Do you not understand what I am? I am your mentor. I am here to help guide you so you can become another perfect little soldier. I doubt you want to get TRIMed, so stop with that defeatist attitude. No, I don't know much about your power, but I do know a lot about psychic control." She didn't have a lot of telekinesis strength, but she knew how to control it very, very well.

She gave another sigh and slid her nail file back into her purse, shifting her weight, "Let's start over. We aren't going to get anywhere with you panicking like a frightened rabbit. Take a deep breath. Do you have any other questions for me?"

[Anonymous]

Could he collapse yet? Now? How about now? Of course, what was he thinking, his wishes were never granted. As much as he would just like to crumple to the floor and escape the world -for no matter how long - it wasn't going to happen. Oliver would have to simply settle for wilting under Sabela's touch and gaze. A very soft touch, to get technical. And she said he might be kind of cute. Though, the candidate didn't entirely know if that was good enough to be considered a compliment. So he considered it an insult instead.

No. He didn't have anymore questions. Not for the candidacy. Oliver stood wide-eyed and mouth open, much like how a fish would look after been strewn onto a dock. He was flopping mentally. She could pick up his thoughts. Pick up his thoughts. Pick up his thoughts. PICK UP HIS THOUGHTS.

Deep breath. Deep breath. Gurgle. He struggled to force air into his lungs as his chest tightened and the temperature in the room suddenly skyrocketed. It was a ridiculous thing to forget; that psychics can, you know, read minds. But he did. Because he was Oliver, and he was paying for it dearly. He was very sure that all he could ever be was a frightened rabbit.

"I-I'm..." He started and had the full intention of finishing that sentence with words, however passing out probably made a bigger statement. How about now.

[Anonymous]

Oh for fucks sake-!

Sabela stepped back when Oliver crumpled to the floor. They had to be kidding her. This kid? A Pilot? She was good, but she had limits. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Sabela's heels clicked along the ground, heading out the door.

A few minutes later, Sabela returned. She had meant to find some water, but she found a coffee machine first. And some cold coffee. Which she proceeded to dump onto Oliver's head, "Wake up. You are an embarrassment. How do you live with yourself? This? Not that scary. We aren't at the scary part yet Oliver."

[Anonymous]

This just wasn't his day. Not a lot of days were. Usually they were filled with a terrible dreading feeling at the pit of his stomach, that you know, something bad was going to happen. Oliver had a reason for thinking it. Bad things tended to happen almost consistently. Might as well be prepared.

Not that it helped. And not that he knew how to prepare.

The splash of coffee across his face very quickly brought him back from the temporary state of unconsciousness. He was liking that. Reality still was in the unfavourable category. Though he supposed he was a little lucky that he had fallen forward and the  coffee mostly stayed to be soaked up by his mess of hair. He wiped frantically at what had fallen outside that, showing more of the pathetic candidate side by squirming dignity-void on the floor of Sabela's office- like what had just fallen on him was acid, to his newly awoken mind, it was -He fought hard against his throbbing head caused from the fainting spell, the ache at the back of his eyes, and the whole sick twisting feeling at the pit of his stomach. He didn't need to throw up too. Oliver forced himself to sit up, hands on the back of his head, and his glasses only hanging on to one ear. He really hated himself at this point. That was a difficult thing to accomplish. His standards were naturally low.

If this was not the scary part, he wasn't going to handle what was. He couldn't answer his mentor's question either. Oliver didn't know how he could live with himself, other than he was unfortunately stuck with him. He was resigned it it. He never thought about it. It was just how things were. Like how he couldn't help fainting when overwhelmed. It was just what he did. And being an embarrassment was just in his blood. You couldn't defy blood, could you?

He didn't know what to say to his mentor. Oliver braced himself against a wall to stand up, with little efficiency as dizziness gripped him in waves. Now that he thought about it, he really deserved that coffee. "I s-s-should just..." He started, and swallowed hard. "I be on my way, ma'am, I...I don't have any more questions. And I...I shouldn't be wasting your time like this."

He saw a lot more coffees in his future. Preferably they weren't in the same day. And he wasn't sure if all of them would be cold.

[Anonymous]

"Oliver Oliver Oliver." Sabela shook her head, leaning down to help him up. He was going to be a handful. One of the ones she was going to have to be nice to first. Calm him down before he broke himself.

"You aren't going anywhere. You are a wreck. We're going to sit and have a nice chat." Leaving him with a head covered in coffee was a little cruel, but, well, she was a little cruel. "I am not some awful monster Oliver. I'm not going to hurt you because I can. I am your mentor and we should have a positive relationship. Not...fainting."

[Anonymous]

In a sense, he was already broken, though not from the candidacy program. But from all the self-defeatist remarks rolling through his mind at a near constant level; telling him he couldn't be anything more than Oliver. And in his mind, he never entirely attached a person to his own name, rather a series of traits. Static traits. Nevertheless, the program so far wasn't helping. Fainting in his mentor's office clearly proved that.

She helped him up regardless of the display. At least she was not the sugar-coating telling him he was fine when he honestly wasn't. He felt droplets of the cold coffee slide down the back of his uniform. Oliver shivered.

"Y-you're not?" He said, not thinking beforehand. Truth be told, he was terrified of Sabela - to be exact he was terrified of any Pilot - like how a small child was afraid of things under their bed. She was saying now that there was no reason to be scared. Would he believe it? No.

"I-I'm sorry...Ma'am. It just happens...Sometimes . Fainting I mean..." It had also been the catalyst for finding out he was psychic. Thinking on that, he was surprised that when he fainted the power didn't black out along with him. But he guessed they had protections in place in the ATC, or he was very lucky that he hadn't triggered something, for once.

[Anonymous]

"No. I'm not. For all that you might have heard about me, I'm not a sadist. I don't want to hurt you. I want to see you do well and flourish and become a Pilot." Sabela moved to take a seat, gesturing for Oliver to sit as well.

"Well, we'll work on the fainting. Not very useful in a Pilot. But let's start small. This may come as a shock to you Oliver, but this program is actually designed to help you become a Pilot. It doesn't happen over night. It takes time. And I'm here to help you. Let's start at the beginning. Talk to me. About what you are the most worried about."

[Anonymous]

Oliver heeded Sabela’s words, which seemed to be an order rather than a genuine act of kindness. He thought it was best not to point that out, with coffee continuing to slide down the back of his shirt as a reminder he was not going to forget anytime soon. He wished it wasn‘t so obvious that he intended- fate intended- for him to fail. Or, better yet, that people didn’t want him not to. He sat in the chair, blinking hard against the headache beating at the back of his eyes.

   What he was most worried about? He sat there, blankly staring ahead at Sabela and for once catching her gaze. Ow. The lights overhead didn’t have to be so bright. Oliver was worried about a lot of things. Which, to say the least, was the understatement of the century. But him being concerned about whether or not his future roommate would be a snorer probably wouldn’t fly well with his mentor. So Oliver swallowed hard and reached deep for difficult words. They weren’t hard to find.

   “W-what if…” He started and stopped just as abruptly. What if I did become a Pilot? What if I do find success in this? Those were things he just didn’t think about because they were absolutely ridiculous. However if his mentor was so dead set on trying her best to make him succeed, he had to at least consider it. But succeeding meant he wasn’t Oliver. He didn’t want to think about this. He really really didn’t. It was making his head spin. “…Are there many p-poisonings in the c-cafeteria...As in you know…Food…Poisoning..?”

   Damnit Oliver.

[Anonymous]

Unluckily for Oliver, Sabela was a Pilot and could read those thoughts. So she ignored the question he asked and answered the one he really asked instead, "Then you can actually feel pride for once. There's something in you, buried deep, but you have potential Oliver. You just need to realize that and stop screwing yourself over."

Sabela reached over, flicking a strand of Oliver's damp hair out of his face, "And I'm going to help you."

[Anonymous]

He needed to learn how to cover his thoughts better. It seemed to be one of his worst qualities in this meeting - and there were a lot. Oliver's breath caught in his throat. He wanted to believe her. Here was a person in a position of power, a bloody Pilot, telling him he had something. She saw what he did to himself, what he has always done, and yet still wanted to make him succeed. Then he reminded himself that it was her job, and a candidate failing under a mentor's watch must be a hard strike to carry.

Oliver flinched away as Sabela leaned over to brush away hair from his face; hair slick with coffee that she poured on him. Candidates were supposed to take abuse, weren't they? At least, that's what Oliver does. Perhaps it wasn't a bad match after all. "Okay..." he said, "O-okay."

He may have agreed, but he knew he didn't have an actually choice. It just made it feel like he did.

[Anonymous]

"Yes, your failure reflects on me Oliver. But I picked you." Sabela stood up, hand sliding across his face, "You'll be wonderful when you finally let yourself succeed."

Time to get back to real work. As fun as it was to play with her new toy, duty called, "Go take a shower. Remember, you can contact me anytime with questions and concerns."

Sabela blew Oliver a kiss before heading out the door. Interesting kid. She hoped her instincts were right.

[Anonymous]

He would never get used to his mind being so naked. It did not help that Sabela's hand, her very nice hand, touched his face, moved across it, almost teasing him; daring him to react. Oh, he did react. His face went beat red. Woman didn't normally do that with him. Actually, never. Really never. The most contact he ever got was his mother's hugging. What a poor naive boy he was.

She knows exactly how to manipulate. Not just me. He dared to think that and swallowed, what seemed to be a whole nest of wasps, down his throat. Dry. She blew him a kiss as she headed out the door, he stared fixated on her. And when she left, he slumped in the chair and put his head in his hands, with one word resounding in his mind: Fuck.


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