“I’m a Captain, I was in charge of five Miles’.”I say and nod, Tori opening the white framed fridge before glancing up at me, “continue,” she hums.

“Um….I’m almost nineteen,”I say, glancing around a bit

“Just two years younger than Sanguis,” she hums, “and one year below Dunkel,” she hums slowly, leaning as she looks into the fridge; mumbling to herself.

I blink, rubbing the back of my head, “am I the-”

“No, Arena is only fourteen,” she hums.

“Arena?” I ask, I haven't seen that name before, or heard of it.

“Yeah, you will see her soon. Round face, green eyes, and pigtails. Her hair will be white,” she hums, taking out what looks to be some kind of meat before smelling it and cringing, “ew, we really need to go back up for food,” she mumbles.

Arena. Odd name. I think, smelling the dampness as the paint on the walls seem to be chipped off or peeling straight off the wall.

“How...old is this place?” I ask slowly, walking around as there's old wooden tables and chairs in here in two lines, is this where they eat?

“Dunkel says it’s been here after the school was built,” she hums and takes out a jug of something pink before taking the lid off; sniffing inside.

“And when was the school built?” I ask, she humming in satisfaction as she goes to cracked cabinets; opening it as I see glasses in there.

“Around 3020,” she hums, making me blink, “really? so...This bunker…”

“Tunnels,” she corrects, grabbing two glasses before pouring the pink liquid in the cups as it bubbles slightly. She blinks and looks at it before shrugging, sliding the glass on the counter. I grab it and sniff it, smelling something sweet and foul at once.

I cringe slightly before tipping the glass up to my lips, sipping the pink liquid. Bitterness spreads on my tongue, taking raspberries. I grunt before setting the glass down, “how long have you been here?” I ask.

She looks at me before smiling, downing the raspberry liquid; walking past me as she pats my shoulder, “better get to bed before your boyfriend gets up,” she hums. I blink before looking back at me, “he isn’t my boyfriend,” I say slowly.

She waves before the boy opens the door, her going through it. He looks at me before rubbing the back of his head, “I’m Clay,” he says slowly. I nod slowly before looking at the cup, “what is that?” I ask.

He shrugs, “dunno, like a cocktail of some sort I think,” he hums. I look at it before sighing, “fuck it,” I say before downing it, setting the glass down as I see what sounds like a crack being made. I guess back to my room it is.