The PCA printed two forms and slid them across the counter.
Elias signed where Oliver pointed. He read enough to catch liability, containment, compliance, injury disclosure, and three separate ways the facility could say it had warned him before something ate his face.
After that, he stopped reading.
The words kept arranging themselves into traps. Legal traps, mostly. Boring ones. That made them worse.
Oliver watched his pen reach the final line. "You are signing acknowledgment, not surrendering your rights today."
"That distinction feels important to whoever wrote it."
"It matters when someone asks who briefed you."
Elias gave him the form. "Then please brief me with fewer ways to die."
The PCA behind the counter did not laugh. She wore the tired face of someone who had watched too many scared people discover that a government building could ruin their life without raising its voice.
She took a blank metal tab from a tray and set it under a scanner. The machine clicked, warmed, and pressed letters into the face of it. Elias saw his own name appear first.
Then came the line beneath it, three pieces of metal stamped truth stacked under his name.
Shard Bearer, provisional. A Block. Low Perception Watch.
He leaned closer. The lettering did not change into something less insulting.
"That badge feels personal for office metal today."
Oliver clipped it to Elias's jacket before he could take it himself. "It is a safety flag because people need to know you may miss motion, approach angles, warning gestures, or obvious hazards until too late."
Dot hovered beside the counter, bright eyed and smug in the way only an invisible companion could manage.
"The badge has chosen honesty as organized violence." Dot hovered closer, pleased with herself.
"Dot, please stop admiring the insult out loud."
"I respect accurate cruelty when it is labeled properly."
The PCA pointed toward the interior checkpoint. "Processing is complete enough for transfer through this checkpoint. Medical will pull him after block orientation, unless the block causes medical to pull him earlier."
Elias looked at her. "That sentence needed a lot less confidence behind it."
She stamped the second form. "Most things in this building need that from people."
Oliver took the file and moved. Elias followed because every door behind him had already locked.
The next hallway was quieter than the lobby. Not peaceful. Just padded by money, steel, and the threat of alarms. Block letters hung above crossing corridors. B Block sat behind frosted glass. C Block had two guards outside with rifles held low. D Block had a long viewing window and a reinforced training floor behind it.
Two shard users fought under supervision.
One had electricity crawling over his arms in uneven jumps. The other threw flame into a shielded divider hard enough to make the glass hum. A medic watched from a marked square with a kit already open at her feet.
Elias slowed before he meant to.
His stomach remembered the alley before his head did.
"That is normal training, according to someone paid to lie, correct?"
Oliver glanced through the glass. "D Block handles shard expressions that move toward combat first. Their rooms are reinforced, their instructors are armed, and their pride receives more medical attention than their bodies deserve."
Dot drifted close to the window. "High tech high school with fire punches and trauma."
"Please never say that near anyone carrying fire."
"I save my best jokes for witnesses without flame."
The flame user hit the divider again. The impact made Elias's badge tap against his chest.
He stepped away from the glass.
Oliver noticed. He did not comment on it, which Elias appreciated for nearly three seconds.
"Blocks are separated by power expression, psychological profile, compatibility, and risk," Oliver said. "A bad pairing creates fights, fights create casualties, and a casualty may create a shard event nobody can predict."
"Everything here returns to death being paperwork nobody solved." Elias kept moving before the glass could pull his eyes back.
"Command dislikes surprises when bodies are attached to them."
"Is that the official motto, or only yours?"
Oliver kept walking. "Mine has fewer syllables and more court evidence."
They reached a wider door marked A. The letter glowed white against black steel. The panel beside it scanned Oliver's badge, palm, and eye. Then the scanner angled toward Elias with a soft mechanical whine.
"Place your stamped hand flat against the panel."
Elias laid his palm down.
The ink that had vanished under his skin warmed. It felt like holding his hand over dishwater that had been left too long in the sink, warm at first, wrong a breath later. The panel clicked twice.
The A Block door opened, and Elias had expected a cell with better paint. That would have been easier to hate.
The room beyond was wide and clean, built in sections that tried very hard to seem humane. The center had reinforced chairs and tables bolted to the floor. Screens along the left wall showed schedules, meal times, block notices, and medical reminders that sounded friendly until he read them twice. Beyond the lounge, clear dividers surrounded training stations with mats, resistance rigs, and lock points in the floor.
Private rooms lined the far wall. Each door had a glass nameplate.
Seven names were already lit.
Elias stepped inside with his pack biting into his shoulder and his badge hanging where everyone could read it.
The place smelled like cleaning solution, reheated food, and nervous sweat covered badly by expensive ventilation.
"This is more comfortable than containment deserves to be."
Oliver answered without slowing. "Comfort reduces agitation, and reduced agitation means fewer incidents."
"Everything becomes a policy sentence around you people."
"Policy keeps people alive when personalities fail under stress."
A terminal near the entrance lit when Elias approached. Oliver tapped the badge against it. The machine printed a room card and pulled up the roster.
Elias Kael, Room A 08. The other names appeared beneath his in a neat column that made people sound like equipment.
Kikaru Yirazawa carried combat ready, high discipline, and active evaluation. Marcus Devlin had technical aptitude and an injury restriction. Hollis Drehn had social monitoring paired with humor instability, which Elias suspected was official language for exhausting. Kari Vexin had support potential and low aggression.
Three more names followed with classifications he understood only well enough to dislike them.
His eyes returned to Kikaru's line.
Across the lounge, a young woman with bright yellow hair sat near the training area. Her uniform looked like she had argued with every wrinkle and won. One leg crossed over the other. Spine straight. Hands loose. She gave Elias's badge a quick look, then looked at his face, his pack, his shoes, and the way he favored one side.
The judgment took less than two seconds.
She returned to the screen in front of her.
Dot leaned near his ear. "She has placed you below the furniture already."
"The furniture looks harder to stab than me."
"That may be why it outranks you already."
Oliver handed him the room card. "Store your pack, read the rules, and avoid challenging anyone unless an instructor gives the order. Medical will call once their queue clears this evening."
"Does anyone here offer advice that sounds less like packaging?"
Oliver looked toward Kikaru, then back to Elias.
"A Block is not an easy block for new people. Command believes this group might cooperate without killing each other. Do not confuse that with safety in here."
Elias slid the card behind his badge. The badge and card clicked together like they were already building a small chain on him.
The door sealed behind Oliver.
The sound carried across the room.
A few people looked up from the lounge. Marcus, probably, had one arm wrapped in a brace and a tablet balanced on his knee. Kari had soft brown hair and the careful posture of someone trying not to be noticed. Hollis watched Elias over the back of a chair with a smile that looked ready to become a problem if anyone fed it.
Kikaru kept reading while Elias stood there with his pack, his provisional badge, and a room number that made the whole thing official.
Dot lowered her voice. "Welcome home, prisoner with benefits attached to paperwork."
"Please retire that phrase before my brain stores it."
From the training area, Kikaru spoke without turning her head.
"If you are finished negotiating with your imaginary friend, provisional, the rules are on the screen. Read them before someone uses you as their first incident report."
The room waited to see what he would do.
Elias looked at the rule screen, then at the roster, then at the badge on his chest.
A Block had taken his measure.