Chapter Text
The door opens, and a woman in a light suit walks into the foyer with a clipboard. She is flanked by three strong men in black suits. The strong men look like the ones who led Dean up, but way bigger. The woman smiles at him.
“Hello, Dean. I am Meredith Abbott, and welcome to Elysium. Have you settled in yet? Room service is on us.” She walks in more without being invited and checks something off on her clipboard. She continues. “Over the course of the next several months, you will be trained in several different forms of combat, as well as memory and recitation. Does any of this sound familiar to you?”
He takes in what she says and slowly nods. “It’s coming back to me. Vaguely.” He rubs his hands over his head. When did his hair get shaved down?
Meredith looks pleased about this. “Last month, you remember that you, and a few other children from your shelter were chosen?” She motions to her arm, where there is a similar pockmark like the one Dean has under his bandage. “This means we are the Chosen Few. The few people left with a special form of intellect who are allowed to enjoy high society such as this.” She gestures to the suite and all the amenities. “You need to be as physically able as you are mentally, thus the combat training. We need to be at the beck and call of the Higher Ups for anything that may happen. If you fail, you’ll be back to being a Nobody.
“Right now, as you recover from the surgery, you may enjoy anything the room has to offer, but may not leave. You request meals here, at the phone here by the door. They come through that dumbwaiter. Your dirty dishes leave the same way. Anything you can think of, any time of day.” Meredith smiles at him. She walks with him through the rest of the suite. He follows, struggling to hold onto memories as they drift by in his mind.
“Of course, you know how a television works. We only get the news channel, though. You have a full bathroom with the highest end soaps and lathers. The dresser is prefilled with clothing, but if you need more, you can use the phone you use for meals to request them.”
Dean struggles to keep all this new information and the old memories together in his head. He follows dumbly, just nodding and uh huh-ing. Meredith finishes showing him the jacuzzi tub and checks one final thing off on the clipboard. She gives it to him to sign and he does. “Okay then, if there are any questions, you can call me any time at this number.” She leaves a page of contacts by the phone and shows herself out. The strong men had been standing guard outside his door the whole time. They don’t acknowledge him. The deadbolt clicks and Dean is locked in from the outside.
His memory is coming back slowly, like a leaky faucet. He knows three things. His name is Dean Castillo. He was the only person in his family to ever be chosen. And he’s starving. Dean picks up the phone and there is no dial tone. A gruff voice instantly asks “Whatdaya want?”
“Pepperoni pizza? And a Pepsi.” Immediately, the other person on the line hangs up with a click, and Dean can hear the mechanical whirl of the dumbwaiter coming up. He must be in a penthouse because it’s taking a while. Long enough for him to study his face in the mirror by the door. He has a shaved head, and some teenage scruffy stubble. It seems like he was recently completely bald, but due to the blackout after waking up in the operating room, his hair started growing back. His cheeks are hollow and gaunt. His eyes are a dull blue and sunken in. He’s tall, and he can see his ribs through his shirt. Something isn’t right. He did not look like this before the operation. No wonder he’s so hungry.
Dean picks up the phone and orders another whole round of pizza, a cherry pie, and a whole roast chicken before the first pizza even arrives. The food all comes up at once, and Dean eats it all on the floor with his hands right underneath the dumbwaiter. He scarfs down everything he can chew and has to hold himself back from licking the dishes clean. He sends the dishes back down and orders dessert.
Once he’s had enough, he undresses from his hospital clothes, tossing them aside in the middle of the room. He takes a hot shower, probably the first one he’s had in a while. Dean finds a clean shirt and pants and puts them on. He looks back in the mirror. His face is rounding out again, even from just the one meal. He has no idea what time it is, there are no clocks or calendars in the room. With the outside being so dark he assumes it’s nighttime and crawls into the plush bed to go to sleep.