Shishi furīku sat in a large armored grey van as it bumped down a dirt road, with no windows in this van and the only light source being a lantern hanging up in the corner, providing a light so it wasn't completely dark in the van.

Shishi sat leaning forward, his head on his hands and thinking. He thought about his friends, his family, the cul de sac... He might not see them again soon. He sighed and leaned back against the wall in the van in his seat. He looked over to the other person in the van, a pale female with Blond hair. He sighed. He thought he better introduce himself, he'd have to start getting equanted with the other 'inmates' to the Hospital where they're being taken to. "I'm Shishi, furīku." he said, introducing himself.

---

Whomever was already at the Hospital, they would be in their cells. It would currently be about 3:00 in the Afternoon, the Hospital being locaed who-knows where. After a minute, speakers next to the ceiling across the hallways would hear this, "Attention, freaks, two new arrivals will be arriving soon, everybody is going to the courtyard, effective immediately.", and the speakers turned off.Guards would be standing outside the doorways with cuffs and one loaded rifle speacially meant to trigger to be immensley effective against whatever freak they shot. Once the freak left their cell, they would take the handcuffs and cuff the hands of the freaks, causing them to be stuck in the cuffs and dimming their powers. The guards would then have the rifle aimed at the freak and would lead them to the courtyard and let them wait a minute for the freaks to arrive.

Yolanda Grieg stared straight ahead, as she had been doing for the past stretch of time. She had no idea how long she had actually been within the confines of the van but thought it an eternity. She had stepped out of her body, her mind wandering back to how she ended up here.

__________

Yolanda was laughing. She was laughing and dancing comically alongside her father. Her mother, her grinning mother, watched from the couch and occasionally clapped her hands, the epitome of glee.

A pounding at the door shattered what was now clearly an illusion of joy; a false sense of security. The laughter stopped, the music continued and the pounding grew louder until the front door flew open, bouncing roughly off of the wall.

A flurry of movement and Yolanda found herself on the floor, a knee pressing into her back and arms twisted behind.

There was a cracking sound, bone sliding against bone, but that was the only indication that her body was under stress. Her face remained emotionless and she made no sound; registering the sensation of being restrained but feeling no pain.

She was pulled to her feet, the sound of her parents screams oddly reminiscent of the attacks on her body: she registered but didn't comprehend, didn't feel. She was dragged out onto the street towards a waiting van, soon roughly pushed in. The floor was cold against her hands and she could see bruises forming where she had been grabbed.

Yolanda sat up and stared straight ahead.
__________

The sound of a voice pulled her from her thoughts. Moving her eyes slowly towards the source, her mind replayed the comment. Regarding the male before her for a moment, she responded in a thick South African accent:

"My name is Yolanda. Yolanda Grieg."

Luciana rose from her bed, setting the thick, leather bound book back on the side table before standing at the announcement. She took her time before walking towards the door. Upon getting closer, the guard pulled open the metal door, dragging her out quickly before cuffing her - It was all routine for her now, just another procedure to go through. A new arrival was uncommon, and the thought did not amuse her - The time she scheduled for reading was being cut into by these strangers. Never the less, the black haired girl allowed herself to be escorted to the courtyard, where she wandered near to the front of the line, waiting. Watching.

The bus had yet to arrive. The girl frowned - More wasted time. Her eyes narrowed on the straight road that seemed to last for miles. It seemed like only yesterday when she was brought down that very same desolate highway, so isolated from the world. In truth, it had been three years. And in those years, sure, some inmates tried to talk to her. There was only but a select few she would converse, as they were the only ones who had piqued her curiosity. The rest were just vile scum who had made either leering comments about her skin, her eyes, her frail body, or they were sickening people who planned on using their power to wreck chaos.

Luciana's red eyes gazed on up at the clock, the only indication that time had not come to a stand still in this Freak Show of a Hospital. Surely the bus would be here soon, correct? Either way, she wasn't getting back to her book until she was introduced to the new inmate, at which point, she was sure to take the first opportunity to return to her cell room.

Makoto was sitting with his back against the cold brick wall of his cell. Golden eyes were pointed at the ceiling as he focused on his nervous system. Everything was out of whack again, causing stabbing pain in his right side, along the sensitive scar tissue of a long since healed knife wound. All he had to do to fix it was regulate the electrical impulses in his nerves. Easier said than done, but he could do it. That was one of the many prices of being able to control electricity. Another was being in this cell. Having been captured, even after his boys had tried so hard to protect him, he was stuck in the Hospital. At least until he found a way out. And he would, he was a fighter to the end.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he managed to fix everything. The pain subsided almost instantly as his nerves returned to normal. Just in time too, there was an announcement that two new 'freaks' would be arriving. Makoto didn't like the term freak, he preferred special, or badass, they're different so we're going to lock them up. He turned his attention to the door to his cell, seeing the two guards he let out a low growl. But he got up anyway, some battles weren't worth fighting.

The guards knew not to actually touch him. He was a fighter, and even through the cuffs he could cause a nasty jolt. Last time a guard had touched him, the man's heart had stopped. So when he got close enough, the one holding the cuffs put them on his carefully. Never making contact with the Yazuka leader's skin. He was one of, if not the, most dangerous thing here. He was used to fighting, he could take a hit, his power was made for fighting. And the dragon on his back reminded him that he needed to get out and get back to his boys. His right hand man was more than capable of running the Azure Dragon while he was gone. But the gang needed its rightful leader to survive long term.

A light scratching echoed through the room as Ian eroded lines into the wall before him with the brass foot of his cane. This line was one of about ninety, one per day incarcerated. Some were arranged in a typical tally-mark orientation, others in facsimiles of religious icons, and others still in simple geometric patterns. This was wholly unnecessary, as he still kept a small journal, but he felt the marks added to the ambiance of the room, giving it a feeling of a mad prisoner's domicile. This was far from the truth, however. He was quite mentally well and generally accepting of his predicament. He still had time to write if he felt moved, as well as the privacy to contemplate in peace. It was a state of contentment, nothing more or less.

Ian reflected for a time, as he had become prone to do in his solitude, about the "why" of it all. Not in a mournful sense, but in an inquisitive one. He hadn't much idea who was really in control of him, why he possessed the unique ability that he did, or what he was, if indeed a "Freak" was not human. As he contemplated this, he faced another wall, positioned his cane, and resumed scratching. After a short time, the wall before him bore a small, unassuming "Why?" He gouged a circle around this, and sat facing it for however long. He remembered some Buddhist principle about the idea of emptiness, that nothing truly is because of its impermanence, or something. Ian thought it a bit esoteric, but good food for thought nonetheless.

A voice summoned him to the yard, a rather rude one at that, but one he had grown accustomed to. He tarried for a moment, however, to gather his thoughts and mentally brace himself for the worst. Any surprise might send his heart racing and its bearer into shock, even with medication graciously provided by the hospital. Finally rising, he brushed himself off, seized his cane, and made for the door, greeting the guard who subsequently shackled him. The guards hadn't been awful, though they were a bit brusque for his tastes. An occasional prod from a gun barrel, various incendiary language, and arrogance were all par for the course. However, such was life.

((Accidental double post))

Ali was doubled over in a corner of her cell when the announcement was made. She knew the guards were there and she barely moved. They would both arrive soon in big gray/white van. First she would be cuffed, though non-violent she was still cuffed for reasons she couldn't say. The guards never hurt her just cuffed her. She had nothing on he record here of being violent except the first day she was here and dodged were the guards where going.

Ali sighed and grumbled as she was brought out. The cuffs worked well on her power, shutting it off almost completely. Other inmates figures were able to be seen or her. She would rather have the cuffs on other than off. " Why are we cuffed again, or at least why are the non-hostiles cuffed?" she knew the answer but it wasn't bad to ask.

Red sat anxiously on the flat surface of his bed. Though he had been there a few days already, the hospital ‘staff’ have failed to provide him with a proper mattress. He sighed, pushing his body back against the cold wall and pulling his knees to his chest. He missed the outside; he missed the freedom of being able to roam around on his own. It was bad enough that he no longer had a place in his family, but now he was stripped of his place in society. Sure, people considered him a useless nuisance, but he was a harmless useless nuisance. Red ran his fingers through his hair and threw head back against the wall repeatedly. In his dark little space, the voices echoed, all of them speaking frantically in his head. He thought they would stop. He thought the people here might know what was wrong with him and help silence the voices. He was wrong. They didn’t want to help him. They didn’t care about the voices. They only wanted to help themselves. He couldn’t blame them, however. As inhumane as they were treating him, he could only think they were acting out of fear. And why shouldn’t they? A boy who could hear voices sounded like someone who should be locked up in a mental institution. For all they know, one of the voices could tell him to do something unspeakable and he may act upon it. For all they know, he was a danger to society, to himself. But, he’d learn soon enough that was but half true. They feared him, and those like him, but not for the safety of society. No, it was much simpler than that. They feared out of vanity. Someone like him doesn’t belong in their perfect little word. They didn’t look at him in fear but rather in disgust. They did not want to help him or to silence the voices. They wanted to silence him. The more the voices cried out, the more Red rocked his head back.

“Conrad!” a young, feminine voice boomed in his ear. He ignored it and continued bashing the back of his head on the wall. “Conrad, stop that!” the voice pleaded.

Feeling lightheaded, he obliged. Red ran a hand across the back of his head and felt a warm, sticky substance. He brought his hand to his face and noticed the crimson on his fingertips. An amused huff escaped him.

“You’re bleeding,” the female voice noticed, its tone now less frantic but still concerned. “Tell the doctors—”

“They’re not doctors!” he exclaimed, throwing his palm down on the cold metal surface of the flat bedframe, and turning his head sharply toward the voice. A frightened young girl stood at the end of the bed, her hands holding each other against her chest. She seemed as though she were a grayish blue mass of mist hovering just above the ground. She had clear features of a young girl, her hair flowing and ‘evaporating’ at the tips. “They’re more like handlers.”

The girl let up a half-hearted smile and sat on the bed beside Red, causing him to return his hand to his lap. A small smear of blood from his fingers was left where she sat. “I know, Conrad,” she started. “But I can’t do anything to help you right now and that makes me really….it just makes me sad, okay?” She reached her hand under his chin and used an amount of energy to turn his head to face her. “Right now, the only one who can keep you safe is yourself. I’ll always be here to watch out for you but there’s only so much I can do as I am now. As…as I am for now on, I guess.” Her voice turned almost hopeless as she spoke the last few words.

“They won’t shut up, Kari!” Red screamed, his voice cracking in a mix of laughter and frustration. “MAKE THEM STOP!”

A loud bang drew his attention to the door of his cell. A guard hand wacked a baton against the door, cuffs in hand.

“Get up, freak,” he demanded. He unlocked the door, walking toward Red and another guard stood on the other side, the barrel of his gun trained on Red. The one with the cuffs slapped them on his wrist and pulled him to his feet. He noticed the blood and let out a sigh. “We ain’t wasting any more medical resources on that so next time use your head before you end up being another body to burn.” Red kept his head down, trying to balance between dulling out the voices and his anger from the guards remarks. As he was being led out, the armed guard spoke up.

“Careful with this one. He was just brought it and already sent a few guys home with broken noses. Kid wouldn’t stay still.”

The guard who had cuffed him nodded and pushed Red forward as he led him out into the courtyard.

Luciana raised her head each and every time she heard someone being forced out into the courtyard. She recognised some of the usual suspects - Makoto, Ian, Alison. She'd maybe spoken to them at least three or four times and sat with them during lunch only a few times. The black haired woman continued watching as the newest arrival - until today that is - was pushed out into the courtyard, and left on the ground. She shifted awkwardly - That was him, the one who she could always hear screaming from his cell. He talked to a woman mostly, begging her to 'make the voices stop'.

The young adult gave a quick glance to the still empty road before turning and approaching the other teen, kneeling down at looking him and tilting her head. He didn't seem like he belonged here - He just seemed like a normal person gone insane. Voices in his head? Talking to a woman when he had no one in his cell? That was ridiculous. Unless it were his power. He didn't seem to have any other power unless it was one of the mind.

"You were the last new arrival right? ...I can hear you on a night when you're talking. I'm only two cell doors down," Luciana explained as she stood up and waited for him to do the same. "You...You should perhaps take it easy. If what the guards say is true, these cuffs lower our strength, and our powers are weaker thanks to it. Whatever your ability is, it should feel less...painful, this way,"

Malcolm was floating in the middle of his cell -- at least, his consciousness was, lying back and purposefully trying to imagine that it was a cloud he was sitting on. Yes... very relaxing, that was the intention. Too much stress would kill a person or worse, wake them up. He didn't dare try and spy outside the cell, not since the guards seemed to be on high alert and so was content just to drift off...

Then they barged in anyway -- had there been a speaker announcement? -- and cuffed his sleeping physical form. Oh no, not those again. He snapped back into his body with a sickening click heard only by him, his free spirit trying to wriggle free once again but failing. Blood thrummed in his body in an uncontrollable panic of being trapped even as they shoved him along the corridors (where he nearly hit his head on a doorframe) and outside in the courtyard.

He seemed to be one of the last ones there, presumably because they couldn't drag his unconscious body outside without a mind to control it. As it was, he couldn't help but asked, "Why am I cuffed? What are we all doing out here?" He yawned.

A forceful hand pushed Red forward, his feet stumbling on concrete. With his bands bound, he found it difficult to maintain balance and buckled over on his knees. He sat there for a moment, trying to calm his anger. Life had a funny way of showing him how worthless he was. Even with everything he had been through up to this point, he was surprised at how low things turned out for him. His chest rose in an infuriating breath of air, his teeth clenched and his fist balled up in complete frustration. A shadow loomed over him and he relaxed his muscles, lifting his head and gazing up at the perplexed face of long haired girl that seemed about his age. Pretty, he thought to himself. What’s she doing in this place? She spoke to him, something he wasn’t use to. At first glance, he wouldn’t have pegged this girl to be the one to approach him. No one other than the guards had talked to him since his arrival. Then again, he had not been let out too much since. They didn’t allow him near the others until today. Something about evaluation.

Red cleared his throat and gave a forced smile. Oh god, she probably thinks I’m insane. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” he apologized, adjusting himself so that he could stand up easier. "You shouldn't have to listen to all that." Once up on his feet, Red glanced down at the cuffs, his smile fading. She was right, the cuffs helped. But still, the voices remained, whispering in his ear. He didn’t understand how they worked to suppress his ability, hell, he didn’t even understand the source of his ability. Somehow the cuffs could tap into it and nullify it to an extent. In that moment it occurred to him: Karla was gone. He scanned the courtyard for her in the most subtle way possible but to no avail. He couldn’t see her. For the first time since the accident, he couldn’t see her. Still, he could hear the voices, soft as they may be. He returned his attention to the stranger and gave her a weak smile. “I guess these cuffs are the only merciful thing about this place,” he added. “How long have you been here?” he asked. Perhaps she’d know more about the hospital.

"Oh but I do. If the guards were to know it disturbed me, then they would move me closer to your cell. They aren't supposed to, but Mary St. Jude is just like a Freak Show at the circus for them," Luciana gave a subtle nod towards the hospital that they had been brought to before looking up at the male. She raised an eyebrow as he mentioned the cuffs being merciful and she shrugged. "Well, they are for some people, and aren't for others. Some of us have a power that is more passive and it constantly afflicts them where as others like myself have to actually have to trigger the use of such a power," She explained, only using her experience to give the new inmate a better understanding of the prisoners within the hospital.

Soon, there was silence between them, and eventually it was broken by a question - How long have you been here? - Well, that was a tricky one. Her red eyes went up to the clock as she tried to think of when she was captured as a runaway.

"...I was 15 when they brought me in. I've been in here for at least three years, as I'm 18 now. They caught me when I was trying to flee the country - The plane never got a chance to even set off and I was dragged off it where they threw me into a van and took me here," She explained, gesturing for the male to follow her to where the other inmates were lined up to welcome the new arrivals. "My name is Luciana. What's yours?" She asked, tilting her head somewhat in his direction. "Might as well know each others names - I'd rather not call you 'That guy who is two cells down from me'"

The truck drove around a corner and into the Hospital's lot where they kept the armored vans. When the doors opened, Shishi hopped out and let the guard put handcuffs on him, and was led infront of what seemed to be the other prisoners.

A different guard held a tablet announced his name then Yolanda's name. The guard put the tablet away and stepped back. What did they do now? The guards didn't show any indication that they were going inside anytime right now, so he just shrugged inwardly. "Hello." he said unspecifically to the current prisoners. "I'm Shishi, furīku." he said, introducing himself.

---

The guards didn't answer the question Ali had asked. They weren't allowed to. They stood with their rifles ready in case the new prisoners decided to cause trouble, like they usually did when they first arrived. Once the van rolled up, it would stop next to the other armored vans, two guards would walk up to the side doors and open them, having handcuffs in their hands, and they would put them on the new arrivals as they got out, then guide them to the rest of the prisoners. One of the guards would be holding a tablet of sorts, and would contain all the information on the two new prisoners.

The guard would look over the male. "Shishi, furīku."
Then he would look over to the female. "Yolanda Grieg."

He would put away the tablet and take out his rifle, back up a bit, and the handcuffs would become a little more flexible. Whenever new prisoners were taken in, the guards would allow the current prisoners to meet the new ones.

An awkward “heh” escaped him. “It lifts my heart knowing you endure my suffering so that you don’t have to be any closer to me than you already are on a daily basis,” he joked sarcastically. It didn’t really occur to Red that his ramblings with Karla were all that loud. Thin walls, he assumed. He wondered if anyone else heard him or recognized him as the source of the nightly disturbances. He looked around again, part of him hoping to see the familiar blue mist, taking note of anyone who may have taken noticed of him as well. Everyone else seemed to be preoccupied. He returned to the girl and gave her a genuine smile. “Aside from limiting my ability to use my hands, I’m pretty grateful for these,” he said, gesturing down at the cuffs. “But, I’m assuming you all don’t have the same…affliction as me?” He was never told why the ‘patients’ were sent there and wasn’t all that concerned either.

“I’m sorry. That’s pretty young to be taken to such a place.” For a child to be taken and imprisoned for so long, Red could feel his chest weigh down on him in anger. “They have no right,” he muttered. He followed the direction Luciana had gestured and nodded, starting toward the others. “Just call me Red. It’s a childhood nickname that just stuck,” he mentioned. “My real name is Conrad.” He lined up beside another person, a tall man, and faced the direction the new arrivals would enter. He looked over his shoulder at Luciana whispered soft enough for her to hear but out of earshot of the guards, in case they hadn’t wanted anyone to speak. “I’ll work on staying quiet from now on,” he assured her.

A familiar voice returned. “You’ve met a friend!”

Red rolled his eyes and shook his head, as if doing so would stop the outburst. “Shuddup…” he uttered under his breath. No one was a friend right now. Not really. This was just the first of many acquaintances to come. If Red knew anything about meeting new people it was to befriend many and trust few.

As the guards checked over both the new arrivals, they moved back a few paces to let the prisoners meet their new fellow inmates. Luciana glanced to the person named Red, and shook her head. "No. We're all different. I can manipulate my blood to heal or hurt anyone I see fit - However, in doing so, I weaken my own body. It's a double edged sword," She answered softly before glancing to the prisoners who had been taken off the van. Both were young, one was male and the other female. She gave a look over them both, and sighed.

"And now, you are no longer the new inmate. Good job," She muttered, before switching her gaze up to Red. As he uttered something quietly, the girl raised up one eyebrow, reading his lips. "Hmm?" She asked, curious before she finally understood that he wasn't talking to her. "Oh right. Not me you were talking to," She answered before coughing somewhat awkwardly. "My mistake," She clarified, almost seeming apologetic - From his nightly rants, Luciana had gathered that Conrad was not exactly fond of his power so she decided not to pry into matters not involving her. "Anyway...Let's go over and introduce ourselves to the fresh blood," She answered with a soft giggle, before walking towards both blondes and met their gaze.

"Welcome," She answered, giving a slight wave with her cuffed hands before she let her arms drop limp at her front. "I'm Luciana. What are your names?" She asked, looking over both of the new 'patients' of the hospital.

Makoto's eyes narrowed as two new prisoners were led out of that familiar van. He was in the back of the pack, watching from a distance. He was the leader of a gang, he understandably had some trust issues. There wasn't a single person here he could rely on to have his back. And that was the hardest thing for him to deal with. The poor new prisoners looked young. Not that Makoto was much older. But the boy couldn't have been out of high school yet. The boy's name caught his interest, Japanese. Finally another prisoner he was interested in.

When the handcuffs were loosened so they could move a little more freely, Makoto flexed his hands. He wasn't interested in the girl too much, so he squeezed his way to the front. Anybody who had been here for any length of time knew that Makoto didn't interact with the new prisoners. So they would be surprised to see this. "Hey kid, the name's Kyojin Makoto." He said in the typical Japanese order and offered the kid his right hand to shake. "If anybody's giving you a hard time, just let me know and I'll take care of it. Us Japanese have to stick together."

As far as Makoto knew, they were the only two Japanese in this place. Which meant they would be trying to get to the same place if they escaped. Makoto was a good fighter, but another body was always helpful. He wasn't sure whether it was selfish or unselfish of him to be thinking that way. But whatever. He wasn't even gonna zap the kid like he usually did when shaking people's hands. The looks on their faces when they realized he didn't have a joybuzzer was priceless.

Yolanda looked at each of the individuals in turn, frowning slightly. Some appeared unusual but, she supposed, that her appearance was quite unusual as well. A girl greeted them; she appeared to be quite familiar with the place. Possibly an old prisoner.

Yolanda moved over to her and pulled at the cuffs still in place. The bruises she had gained when taken were developed now, an angry contrast to her pale skin. Luciana. That's what the girl had said. Her name was Luciana.

"I'm Yolanda." She responded, following the quiet statement up with a violent pull at her cuffs. A guard stepped over, placing a warning hand on her shoulder and she stopped - for now.

Shishi was about to answer the girl named Luciana, but then another inamate walked up from the back and introduced himself, and he was Japanese. He smiled and shook his hand. "Thanks." he said. "And I think I'll be alright." He wasn't completely assured of this, but he didn't think the place could be too bad, right...? But they did drag im across the country in an armored van, so he wasn't quite sure. It didn't matter much, though, he was stuck here. "So, eh, waht are all your powers?" he asked, wanting to know. Since he was told he was being taken to a place where he'd be stuck with people exactly like him, he was curious to what their powers were. "I can grow more limbs." he said as he grew an extra pair of arms on his back, then removing them.

"I can use my blood as a weapon or to heal others. It weakens me," Luciana answered before taking a step back as Shishi demonstrated his powers. "I...I'm afraid I can't demonstrate. The cuffs restrict my powers completely," She answered before looking to Yolanda. The younger girl gave a nod, her black bangs falling into her eyes as she lowered her head somewhat as if to acknowledge the new inmates name before she turned, shifting somewhat as the group of people became bigger and bigger, but the red-eyed girl took a deep breath to compose herself before listening to Makoto.

She chose not to say a word, however, feeling almost out of place. She took a glance to any of the people around her, before her gaze shifted back down to the ground, just listening to the inmates converse between them. The Yakuza Heir had taken a shine to Shishi almost immediately, which in his case was a rarity. And normally she wouldn't care too much either, but here she was, conversing with one person after another. Well, maybe not quite like that. Only three people. Still, it was an achievement to her, and she was happy with herself.

Ali looked up and shook he rheas she stayed wear she was the cuffs allowing her to see the guards movement as well. She was always a back hanger her name meaning nothing to anyone but the one guard who ever talked to her. Then again were was he the last few weeks, her guess was fired but who knew. She barely shuffled her hands it would do no use the slightest out of the ordinary thing she did was considered a threat to the guards. And she never introduced herself. She didn't when the other boy was taken here, she didn't when any of the others before her came. She watched a guard was going to move one heading to the door which they came out from. They may be heading back inside or he just wanted a better shot. If she got out of here she would probably join a gang of some sort, gain trust by predicting things. It would be nice. But who would hire a girl who has no outer confidence.