White, everything was always white. Sterile, they called it, clean, pure and just, but the color was like the grey of a prison; suffocating, overwhelming and entrapping. They liked it though, plastered steel and iron all over it just to fortify it all. Even the canteen tables were bolted down firmly and the forks and spoons were nothing more than plastic chained to the table. The plates were nothing more than cheap paper, but at the very least the food was edible even if it didn't seem like it to those whose tongues had yet to go numb to the taste. Like trained soldiers, they lined up nearly for today's menu; a bland watery soup and a whole plate of brown rice spiced bland with artificial protein and vitamins. Nobody wanted to or could complain though.

The canteen, as bland as it was, was a god-send compared to the other 'facilities' and the only place that they were allowed to interact with one another. Under the watch of two armored guards, standing menacingly at the only exit and entrance, they were allowed to mingle to some extent. There were not many of them and conversations; whispered or not, were rumored to be monitored. Once in a while, someone was called out and sometimes they came back in shaken or sometimes they just didn't come back any more. So the way it was at a moment's notice.

This was still home though and for most of them, nothing else existed outside of it. For Luka, it was the only thing that did exist. And what he looked forward to most as he settled his plate down on the table, greeting his friends. They sat together every meal like a cliche in a highschool though the 2nd seat to the left always felt empty ever since Michael was called out. They had never really gotten to filling his place. Luka got down to gulping down his soup since he had two more diet tests scheduled right after so he wanted to eat as much as possible because even water and brown paste was better than the foreign, often not agreeable things that he would have to swallow (and un-swallow) later.

He nearly chocked on his rice as he forked it down when there came the sudden clang of the guards turning to face the door way. Jessie, the 'athlete' of the group, turned her head, staring over everyone else at the doors. Luka's eyes scanned the room. Someone was being welcomed back considering how the guards were facing, but everyone was accounted for in the room except...wait no, Jordan had left a week ago. Then, that meant...

"Someone new?" Jacob wondered out loud under his breath and all eyes, and minds, focused on the metal electronically locked doors as they began to slide open.

What was that bright light? Shouldn't it be dark? He could have sworn it was night time. He had been walking home from work. It's always night time when he's walking home from work. Now there was this bright ass white light piercing through his eyelids. He blinked them open until they adjusted; then looked around. OH shit. This was not work, home, or anywhere. This was a brightly lit surgery room. And whoa; his head was pounding. He sat up. He glared around the room, his eyes resting on a man in a lab coat. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out.
"Ah, Mr. Marros! I see you're up." the man came closer and injected Dean Marros with some weird blue liquid. "This will make sure you don't put up a fight. Now. I'll bet you're hungry. Why don't you go to the canteen for some fine delicious grub; okay?" he helped Dean out in to the hall where a big muscular man grabbed his shoulder and led him down the hall to the canteen. His brain felt fuzzy. And wasn't there something he was supposed to remember? Something about lights? Ah well.
He watched the heavy metal doors slide open and tilted his head, freeing his other eye from his hair to watch better. He took a step back at all the different faces watching him but the guard pushed him forward; causing him to stumble. He regained balance and wobbled over to the counter and got a tray of food. When he turned to look around for a place to sit he reeled back again at all the eyes. God, he felt those eyes. Every last one of them. His whole purpose was eyes. He felt the power in them; hell he discovered through eye contact that he could control people and when he practiced on his childhood best friend he ended up learning secrets too. The power from all these eyes were starting to make him nauseous though.. He went and sat at the far end of the room alone.

The whispers started out softly, peppered with stolen glances and wary stares. Strangers were always a dice roll. Being disobedient, not conforming to the rules. Once, Alex had been friends with a new comer once, he had gotten him into trouble doing ludicrous things like trying to defy the guards. Even something as forbidden as trying to leave their rooms after lock down. They weren't heard from again. Eventually though, all new comers would learn their place and fit right in. For now though, they dare not stray near this new comer, even as much as he was like them. Though, there was always a brave few who were curious about their latest addition.

"Talk to him?" "No, no, that's suicide..." "But it's not good to let people sit alone..." "Then you do it then." "I didn't say I-" The brown haired male was singled out and pushed from his seat. While everyone else stared at him and muttered soft encouragements to invite the new one over to their table, he hesitantly made his way over to the lone figure. Stopping just a few feet away to stare at him curiously, watching him with his serpentine yellowed eyes, pupils thin slits. Wrought with soft scar tissue at the edges, making his stare seem even more eerie. He stooped like a child, undermining his height, watching he newcomer with his hands held behind his back. Lips pursed in a thin line, fangs peeking over the edge of his lip.

Nervously chewing his bottom lip as he watched the man eat, perhaps not realizing just how creepy he was probably being. Wringing his hands behind his back as if waiting to be called upon. Finally, he took a half step closer to the table and opened his mouth, only for his throat to run dry and his mouth to get all clammy and cottony. Looking like an idiot with his jaw hanging open, he shut his mouth and just slid over onto the seat opposite of Dean. Staring down at his scaled hands, the awkward looking twenty year old twiddled his thumbs in silence. Why did they have to send him out here? He was never good with the new comers. It was perhaps the slightest relief when the guards approached them and clamped ther gloved hands on his shoulders. Exhaling, he stood and followed them, hunched over as he shuffled along with them. Prompting more whispers from his table and more nervous glanced towards Dean, already seeming to be bad luck.