An armed boxcar train slipped through the night. It passed through prairies and deserts. It was careful not to disturb anyone in the nearby towns, nor the crickets that serenaded the night.The interior of the train cars had been quiet for a long time, aside from typical sleep sounds. It was late and everyone present had endured a long day. The train made various stops outside of big cities to let people in, but never out. Every new group of people, children mostly, were distraught.
They asked the same question, "Where are we going?"
Nobody had the answer. Nobody even spoke. They were struggling with the idea of being trapped in a cold metal box with the monsters their parents warned them about, even more with the fact that they were all just children. They especially couldn't wrap their minds around the fact that they were living every child's nightmare. There was a palpable sense of reluctant change in the air. They could taste it, smell it, and feel it all over their bodies as if it were drowning them. Some were dehydrated from crying, naturally. Some were feeling hunger pains, since the last time they had something decent to eat was the morning before their last test. It was difficult to fall asleep in the cold train cars, but some of them managed.

No individual, let alone a group, had enough energy to fight back. A silent understanding of what would happen if anyone tried using their powers or escaping was present in the form of guns in the hands of guards who stood at every door. The malfunctions either had broken spirits or were smart enough to know to keep quiet and hope for the best. Unless jostled by the train itself, not a single soul moved. Their brains were too fried from their most recent tests to even process what was happening to them. The children only vaguely understood that they were on their way to be stripped of individuality and transformed into little supersoldiers. It seemed like a bad dream, from which they hoped they would wake from soon.

Without warning, the train was stopped. The doors were opened with audible force. White light, too intense to be anything but man-made, flooded into the cars. It strained the eyes of the passengers. It stunned them. Guards at every door started pulling and pushing kids out into the open station. It was the absolute definition of chaos. People pushed each other to the ground causing chain reactions of injury and anger. A wave of complaints spread over the mass of people. Some malfunctions broke down and cried, some angrily muttered to themselves. Still, order was forced and eventually followed. Masses of people were herded up stairs on either side of the train track, forced together, and marched into a concrete and dirt arena.

At the front of the room was a balcony where a man in a crisp olive suit stood. He was flanked by more guards and some other official looking people.
"Welcome to TEF-149," he boomed, "You will call me Sir."
The room was dead silent. No one dared make a noise.
"This is your home. Take your hopes of going back to your families and burn them. It is not your fault that you are here. You can blame your parents for this. You are here because your DNA is a danger to society, but not for long. We are going to teach you to control yourself so that maybe, maybe, you can be a benefit to us again." Sir continued with his speech. He was matter-of-fact and stern. Nobody wanted to find out what he was like when he was angry.
"Tonight, you will receive your new identification cards, to be kept on you at all times. You will be shown to your quarters and expected to be awake by 0600 tomorrow morning. Your training will start tomorrow after breakfast. Make your country proud."

With that, Sir walked out through the doors behind him, followed closely by the other officials and the guards. The people left in the room were ushered through doors to the left where doctors stood, ready to poke and prod. They were forced into slow moving lines. Questions were asked, demanding short answers. Blood was drawn, fingerprints taken as well as photographs. From there, ID cards were distributed. The children were split into groups of fourty to be carted off to cells with bunk beds. At the entrance, they were given grey sleeping clothes to change into which were only roughly their sizes. This had to be done quickly, so that the suppliers could move on to the next cell as more kids came through. Once everything was sorted, the children were left to their own devices.

Vincent helped Margaret up onto an upper bunk before plopping down on the lower bed. He rubbed his eyes, took off his dirty shirt, and went to see about putting on the thin grey t-shirt that was supplied. He grumbled about it being too small, but put it on anyways. It would classify as a fitted shirt in all honesty. However, Vincent was used to baggy shirts. He noticed that the pants were also too small. Perhaps he could find someone who had the opposite problem and make a trade. An answer to Vincent’s questions came from above, literally.

“These pants are too big,” Maggie called softly down to her brother, “Do you want to trade?” She dangled the grey set of scrubs from the top bunk. Vincent took only the pants from her and placed the smaller ones in her hands.

“Shirt too?” Margaret requested. Vincent decided he would much rather see his sister in a baggy t-shirt than a fitted one, especially in a room filled with strangers.

“No.” He replied simply. His tone marked the end of a discussion. Vincent replaced his torn jeans with the pants, sighing in relief and resignation. He bundled his clothes up and put them on the floor.

Margaret was infinitely grateful for her tank top at this moment. She felt like she was on a stage, way up on the top bunk, though no one was actually looking at her. They were all too busy sorting themselves out to be bothered with anyone else. Maggie took off her jacket and shirt, using them as a makeshift sponge to wipe away sweat before putting on the fresh shirt. She removed her shoes, socks, and pants. Quickly, she put on the new pants, thankful that she had a manageable size now. She, too, wrapped all of her clothes together before dropping them onto Vincent’s. Her clothes were quickly followed by her shoes, which made a loud smack when they hit the floor. Margaret winced. She felt bad seeing a few of the kids startle and tried to make herself as small as possible.

She lay down on her back, staring at the ceiling. Margaret had a hard time deciding whether she liked being here more than being homeless or not. At least she got to sleep in when she was homeless. The thought of a guaranteed next meal was the most relaxing thought she had come across since she and Vincent left the bunkers. Vincent, on the other hand, was mostly very relieved that they were here. He knew that it meant safety from the outside. Something about the facility told him that there were big plans for their future. He reveled in the comfort of having a place to stay and the promise of food in the morning. Vincent ran his fingers through his hair and let them rest, intertwined, on his neck. His elbows rested on his knees, a posture of tiredness. Vincent couldn’t bring himself to sleep, not now.

Daniyal for the longest time had no idea if he was truly awake or not. Every sight was a blurry mess that wouldn’t clear up, blinding lights, shuffling shadows that shoved him in and out of carts, cries of help and worry. Everything was either silent or, a mess of garbled language calling for help or ordering more identical shells of kids about. His memory was glazed over, and confusing. He remembered staring at a dark window as the train jolted forward, staring blankly at the terrified kids and guards behind him through the reflection in the window while he toyed with his hands. ”Please not now, not now, please please,” winced a soft voice in his head as he swore he saw his hands let out a purple haze once or twice, but no one shot him over it yet. Must’ve been his imagination.

Everything felt like it was forever meant to be in a dream-like state, confusing yet peaceful, or at least non-threatening. The real nightmare started when everyone was ordered, more like shoved, out of the carts. Forced into single files, lining up on the dirt and concrete as a light was flashed into everyone’s eyes. Daniyal never really liked Mals, or their terrifying powers, or being a Mal himself. But right now, he could only hope his powers would kick in and save everyone’s asses.

Nothing.

No blaze of fire, no explosion of light, Hell, he didn’t even know what powers he even had. He could do nothing as a mysterious man rose up and started babbling away. Calling him creepy would be an understatement. His little speech was quickly over as everyone was herded back again like sheep, some went quietly, and others (understandably) broke down. All while Daniyal remained still and silently obeying while constantly pinching himself, convinced this could not be real.

---

Not much changed as they were herded into their prisons dorms. The atmosphere was tense and quiet, no one dared speak to each other save for a brave few. Daniyal had no one to talk to anyway, being a constant shut in left him practically friendless, and now he silently sat in his bunk. His skeletal body draped in droopy, and plain clothes, as memories of gym class flooded his mind. “Yeah,” he whispered to himself as he stared blankly at a wall, “This is just gym class.”

Alexander woke to a blinding light being shone in his eyes, a rough jab to his ribs from the butt of a rifle, and feelings of hostility surrounding him.

The last he could remember, the test was being taken on him and he had been revealed to be a Malfunction. He waited at the train station with the others who tested positive, feeling the fear they felt. When the train finally did arrive, they were pushed on board, and the waves of terror, despair, anguish, and regret of ever being born flooded his mind as he was escorted past other Malfunctions to be seated. He could barely hold consciousness until he had rested himself down, and after that everything went dark.

"Move it, girl!" one of the guards yelled at him. He was one of the last on the train now, being woken with others who had also passed out, whether from the circumstances or their powers was irrelevant. Alexander stood and quickly made his way off the train to avoid further injury. Looking ahead, he could see people standing up from having been knocked to the ground, some covered in blood from being trampled. Compared to this, the gun butt seemed like a slap on the wrist.

Alexander followed the crowd forward, making it just in time to see a man walk out onto a balcony. He talked of reforming them into tools of use to society, something Alexander thought presumptuous as most had never proven to be a danger or of no use in the first place. Despite this, he was still interested in what the man had to say, if only for the sake of self preservation. He finished his speech promptly and made his leave, turning the crowd back over to the hands of the guards.

The kids were all sorted through the processes of being integrated into the facility. Identification numbers were assigned and they were brought to cells and given what the guards called sleeping clothes. Alexander was unsure whether this meant they would have a change of day clothes as well, or if the clothes they entered with would be their only set. He took the clothes as he hoped the latter was not the case, and picked a bottom bunk to sit on as he changed.

Alexander disliked disrobing in front of others, though it seemed he had no choice here. He took it one article of clothing at a time so as to reveal as little at once as possible, starting with his shirt. He grabbed the garment by the back of the collar and pulled it up over his h
ead, quicky replacing it with what was provided to him. He untied his shoes and slipped his feet from them, pushing the flat soled sneakers under the bed slightly. Next came the pants. Alexander unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, readying his sleep pants to be stepped into before pulling the jeans off and exposing his feminine legs. He pushed his feet through the leg holes as he pulled the pants up. Unfortunately, the clothes hugged his body fairly tight, not leaving much to the imagination. Given the circumstances, Alexander opted to not remove his brassiere before laying down and closing his eyes.

He attempted to pay attention only to his own thoughts, though this remained difficult as emotions of others continuously flowed through him. "Six o' clock sharp for breakfast, and training right after, huh? Maybe they can teach me how to shut this off... might not be a bad thing."

Vincent rubbed his neck and rolled his shoulders in a makeshift stretch. He felt so physically exhausted that a rest didn't sound like such a bad idea. At that moment, Vincent thought how nice it would be if his mind would stop reeling for long enough to let him fall asleep. He didn't know what to think about if not what he would have to do tomorrow to get food. Vincent had not had a moment free from his thoughts since before he and his sister left home.

Vincent did not have time to enjoy his cleared mind because, before he knew it, his malfunction acted up again. The murmurs of the room were silenced and replaced by tormented screaming. One of the voices belonged to his sister. A faint wiff of blood and formaldehyde accompanied the terrifying audio. Vincent shut his eyes and clamped the palms of his hands over his ears, fingers still intertwined behind his head. He tried to stop it, but the horror decided to take its sweet time. His eyes welled up with tears and he started to murmur to himself in an attempt to maintain some sanity.

Finally, the episode ended. Vincent blinked a few times before looking around. He let his hands drop from his ears and onto his knees. He sat up straight. Vincent's face now matched what is body felt, too tired to be conscious but too nervous to go to sleep. His eyes glossed over, zoned out and tired. Vincent hoped he was staring at a wall, not a person. He wouldn't be willingly aware for a while. His mind was preoccupied with determining whether or not those two senses were a part of the same moment.

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Maggie twisted so that she was on her stomach and hanging over the side of the top bunk. She looked first at Vincent, who was facing away from her. Her auburn hair, now out of its ponytail, hung behind her upside down head. It almost reached the bottom mattress. Margaret spent a moment wondering if her brother was okay. She figured that he would be alright, given some time to readjust to captivity. He usually came around to changes in his surroundings, even if he grumbled along the way.

Her attention soon faded from Vincent and focused instead on the rest of the room. She decided to play a game that she'd invented during the long and tedious days of panhandling in the city. Maggie picked a person and began to invent their whole life's story. For some, she invented lives of luxury and fame, which was not difficult to do seeing as she wasn't exactly a film and music buff. Maggie pretended that she was in a room filled with celebrities. She stopped pretending when her dark eyes fell upon a roommate whose story she'd rather hear than invent.

"Wanna trade shirts?" Maggie asked, smiling sympathetically. "Mine's really baggy. I'm not used to big shirts," she added then chuckled softly. "My name's Margaret but you can call me Maggie." Margaret extended her right hand in a handshake.

There's a certain type of hopelessness that can't be ignored. No amount of day dreaming calms the nerves or makes things better, and no number of reassuring words or muttered prayers bring comfort. This was a problem for professional day dreamer, Marlowe Tolfell, who wanted nothing more than the illusion that things were less bad than they really were. It was there now, filling the train like a bad smell. A sort of sadness that was loud in the quiet. You could hear it if you listened: tapping fingers from nervous habit, quiet sobs from scared children, and the intense silence. No one wanted to say anything, they were too scared. Some feared being disciplined, but most just wanted to be able to pretend that this wasn't happening, if only for a little longer. Or at least that's what Marlowe wanted. She didn't know what to do with herself. She was tired and hungry, but she couldn't sleep and the chances of a hot meal in her future were less than slim. So she did nothing. She kept doing nothing for a long time. After a while the minutes and hours all blurred together into one big headache. Time became just a word rather than a concept, or a study, or a definition. This went on until finally the train eased to a stop, wheels creaking tiredly, and then there was light.

With the light there came shouting, pushing, pulling, and a man in an olive jacket. It was, bluntly, a hot mess. Even once they had been ushered off of the train, there was still more shoving and squeezing and even some trampling. Everything had felt surreal up until now, but it was starting to get to her. Marlowe was getting scared. She felt so tiny in the bundle of hysterical people. There were so many of them, but she thought she could have been the smallest of them all. It was overwhelming. The guards were being unnecessarily rough, people were packed so tightly that it was hard not to knock into someone else and she was no exception. Everyone was forced closer to the center, where the man with the olive suit stood impatiently waiting.

He talked loud and stood tall. He was trying to be intimidating, and it worked. There was something about Sir that was like a slap in the face. It all felt very real now, and she was scared. So, so scared. Marlowe couldn't do anything as she was nudged into line, questioned, ID'd and given her sleepwear. She couldn't even hear her own thoughts over the sound of her heart racing. For a long few minutes she just stood there, unable to process everything that was happening. The last however-long had been a blur, she was supposed to find a bed, change her clothes, but did it really matter? Marlowe couldn't think straight. After wasting some time digesting the situation, she managed to find an open mattress. She didn't see who was on the top bunk, she didn't even know if there was anyone on it yet. Marlowe got dressed quickly. She was too shocked to be embarrassed and too scared to care how big her pants were. Everyone was too busy getting the grips on themselves to care about some flat-chested girl getting changed, anyway. This was a place full of scared kids, not perverts. She considered it safer in here than any of the other places she'd been these last twenty four hours, although that didn't mean she felt safe.

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Marlowe wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting up in her bed, but her hands had finally stopped shaking. Now that she'd calmed down, she saw that her wrist was swollen and a little bruised. She'd probably done it during the hectic speech earlier but she couldn't feel it, and either way it didn't matter. For the first time she took a minute to look around her. Everyone was very focused on themselves. It wasn't a bad thing, most of them didn't know anyone there, although she saw a few people coupled up here and there. She wasn't exactly in the mood to make new friends herself, but it was a little reassuring to see that she wasn't the only one freaking out. She was one of the oldest ones there. Marlowe saw plenty of red eyes and solemn faces, a good amount of people were nursing minor wounds from earlier, and there was a lot of anger.

There was an older boy at a nearby bunk who looked especially stressed. He had his hands over his ears and he was muttering to himself, but Marlowe didn't know whether or not she should say anything. Why would she? She didn't know him, and she didn't know how to comfort herself right now, let alone anyone else. After a few minutes the murmuring stopped and he sat up, looking as tired as she felt. Marlowe realised she was staring when he suddenly looked right at her, his eyes glossy. She went stiff, but after a few seconds she figured out that he wasn't really looking at her so much as looking at anything. Marlowe was pretty sure she'd been like that, too, up until a couple of minutes ago.

"Are you, er, okay?" Marlowe asked him quietly.

She felt extremely awkward. It was the first time she'd talked optionally since the beginning of this whole ordeal and she hadn't really meant to. It just happened. Her voice was thick and crackly, and she spoke so quietly she wasn't even sure if he'd heard her. If he hadn't, it might be for the best. What kind of a conversation could they possibly have right now? Not a healthy one.

Vincent was too tired to take notice of anything but a soft ringing in his ears for a while. He wanted to stop thinking about the vision, to stop organizing it into a file. Vincent would have much rather forgotten the whole thing. He was brought back to reality by the small voice whose source was a little closer than he was anticipating. He drew in a sharp breath through his nose before thinking up a response. Vincent blushed in embarrassment. He raised a hand, ran his fingers through his hair, and let the hand slide down his face, ultimately resting it there to scratch at the stubble that was growing against his will. He thought, for a second, how nice it would be to have a razor right now.

Vincent took some time to actually look at the girl. He noted how small, proportionate to the size of her voice, she was. His dark eyes traced her silhouette until they rested on her swollen wrist. Vincent made eye contact with her. He put on a sympathetic face.

"Yeah, I'm," he paused, "fine... Thanks." He had that 'I just woke up' sound to his voice. It was from trying not to cry in front of a room filled with strangers.

Vincent looked back down at her wrist. She didn't seem to be in pain, though it looked like a nasty injury. He leaned forward in an attempt to look more closely. Vincent had seen bruises like that, not nearly as bad, and they usually meant something worse. Vincent hoped for the rare occasion that it was just a bruise. He furrowed his brows at the thought of asking for a first aid kit from one of the guards. Maybe someone could spare a t-shirt.

"Are you okay?" Vincent asked, looking back up to the girl's face. He weakly gestured to her wrist.

Marlowe realised a little too late that, "Are you okay?" was a dumb question in their current situation. Undoubtedly, not one of the forty inmates Malfunctions piled into this room were okay, and they probably didn't want or need to be reminded of that. The boy - er, man - took a minute to organize himself and his thoughts, so she spent that time looking him over. He seemed a bit cramped in his bunk when he was sitting up, and his legs were long, so he was tall. She didn't mind that sort of thing but she was kinda glad that she'd met him when he was sitting down, or else he might've been a bit intimidating. He looked strong, too. She realised she was being a bit judgmental, and he still hadn't responded, maybe she shouldn't have said anything after all. Luckily, he didn't seem all that bothered. He gave her a nice face and a fake answer, and she wasn't going to call him out on it.

Well actually, she kind of was, but not in a mean way. Of course he wasn't fine. She swallowed hard and gave a smile, although it didn't come out right.

"It's okay," She said, hoarsely. "I'm not fine either." She didn't mean to sound like she thought he was a liar or anything, but in this situation it was pretty obvious that none of them were actually okay. She was shooting for "comforting", or "relateable", or at least she was trying to. She just didn't know how.

Marlowe's cheeks went hot when he pointed out her wrist. It wasn't too bad and she hadn't been trying to draw attention to it. When he leaned closer to inspect it she gave an awkward, breathy laugh, though it didn't sound much like one, and started chewing on her lips out of nervous habit. Being looked at that way had always made her uncomfortable, like she had to explain herself. She probably wouldn't have to here, but she couldn't stop herself from reacting awkwardly.

"It's just a little swollen." There were plenty of other injured people, she wasn't a exactly a special case. Marlowe cracked another smile, a little easier than the last one, and gave a gentle squeeze to her wrist to prove to him that it wasn't a big deal. She wasn't lying, it didn't hurt. She just didn't think it was necessary to go into the details.

They were both too exhausted to try and keep up with false pretenses or fake conversations. Marlowe sighed and leaned her head against the wooden bar of her bunk.

"I don't really know what to do with myself." Marlowe didn't know why she was forcing the conversation, but she was. Talking was helping keep her mind off of things. "This is probably the worse thing I've ever been through," It made her life sound so cushy, and maybe it had been. She'd just been taking it for granted.

"How about you?"

Vincent winced slightly when the girl grabbed her wrist, but relaxed when he saw that she wasn't in pain. Vincent pressed his lips together in a tired half-smile. He was glad to know that the girl wasn't seriously injured. He wondered if pain tolerance what she was in for. It was a pretty weak malfunction, hardly dangerous, he thought. She looked frail and sickly, which, to him, were easily identifiable. Vincent had trained himself to ignore it while begging in the city. He had to in order to keep himself and his sister alive, lest he take any of the less fortunate in. It was a brutal system of ignorance that he forced himself to live by, everyone for themself. Vincent figured that the system would be different here. People needed to look out for each other now. There would be enough food, he was sure, and shelter was a given, so the need was manifested in emotional support. He took a deep breath and leaned back again. Vincent noticed his sister's feet moving over the edge of the mattress and smiled. He was calmed by the thought that she was alive, well, and going to be taken care of.

Upon hearing the girl's statement, his eyes dropped to his feet. Her life could have been anywhere from cushy to average. The only thing he could assume was that she definitely could not have been homeless. Sure, she was thin, but not starved. There was a clear line between the two. Vincent also noticed her normal clothes, which were crumpled up on the mattress and the floor. They were not torn up and covered in dirt like his were. A quick comparison between his sister's clothes and the girls brought a wave of guilt crashing over him. Vincent's expression was immediately telling of hardship. The bags under his eyes seemed to get darker and his smile faded. He chuckled softly at her question.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you..." He said, looking into her eyes. Vincent shook his head slowly as he reflected upon his life. He knew that his childhood wasn't normal. Vincent didn't feel as though he was as socially eloquent as he should be. She would probably laugh if he told her about it, he thought, or think he was a creep just like his dad. Vincent reluctantly tossed that caution to the wind. He didn't think he had much else to lose at this point.

"I actually grew up underground so my social skills are limited to begging for money." He said with a sigh. Vincent wasn't too terribly proud of his criminal background. Honestly, what could they do? Arrest him? "I didn't even see the sun until a couple months ago. I wonder if I'll ever get to see it again."

Despite having only been laying on the uncomfortable mattress for a short time, Alexander had nearly fallen asleep. The day's events had taken their tolls on him, and his body craved rest. The only thing which kept him even slightly awake was the overwhelming sense of fear emanating throughout the room, filling his mind. Alexander jolted to wakefulness at the sound of a voice directed at him. "Wanna trade shirts? Mine's really baggy. I'm not used to big shirts. My name's Margaret but you can call me Maggie." Due in part to his exhaustion, and also to the emotions of those around him, Alexander was startled by the girl.

She looked down at him from the top of the bunk next to his, hair reaching from behind her head toward the floor. Alexander placed his left hand over his chest to feel his heartbeat as he caught his breath. "Sorry about that," he spoke after calming down again, "I'm just... stressed I suppose. So uhm, what was that you asked? You wanted to trade shirts?" now that he had focused on this girl, Alexander could feel something he hadn't in a while. She seems... cheery? No, that's not quite right. Optimistic maybe? It feels vaguely positive. Snapping out of his thought, Alexander remembered that this girl had asked him a question.

"Yeah, sure. I guess I don't see why not. I think I'd prefer looser clothes actually." Alexander removed his shirt once again, wrapping himself in the thin blanket provided in order to stay warm, and handed the clothing up towards the girl. Arm outstretched, he tried his best to smile with sincerity, "My name is Alexander, by the way."

Daniyal flicked his eyes towards the growing commotion near him. He edged closer to his wall as a crowd of kids just started rambling. For some reason, Daniyal felt bitter about this. Maybe it’s because he felt as if everyone was faking it. Those smiles that don’t reach the eyes and the quivering voices, why do they even bother to keep this act up? Just fall down and cry already, he hissed in his head as he turned his gaze away. Everyone was trading clothes and pretending to be buddies as if they wouldn’t stab the other in the back the first chance of escape they got. Daniyal was possibly being a little too cynical at the time, but could you blame him? He’s feared for being this dangerous malfunction, this cancer, in society when he doesn’t even know what powers he’s supposed to have. What use is he when he can’t just bust himself out by twitching his nose?

Mals were supposed to be this powerful being that must be tamed. Well congrats, Daniyal never felt more weak and isolated in his life. Really, all he needed was someone to vent to. But why would anyone approach this quite, mysterious freak? He was pretty lonely before the whole Mal thing, so maybe it’d be better if he just sucked it up and stayed quite. Who knows? Maybe he might get a job cleaning the toilets, anything would be better than just sitting cooped up in this prison as if he was a wild animal.

He pushed his knees up to his chest, hugging himself silently and praying everyone would either shut up or drop dead already. The panicked voices in his head were loud enough as it is.

"Sweet," Maggie said softly, so as to not alert her brother to the little costume change. She took her shirt off and handed it to her new friend, taking the new shirt as well. She noted that this one was a much better fit.

"Thanks." she whispered. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I just thought you didn't look comfortable in that tight shirt... We've got to look out for each other now, you know?"

Maggie looked at Alexander's frame. He looked so weak to her and she wondered if he had been homeless too. Maggie's eyes drifted up to his hair. She wondered how he got the color there. Maggie had never seen colored hair before. Not many businessmen decide to "mix it up" and go purple. New Denver wasn't exactly known for its progressive fashion, either. Maggie decided that she liked this new person. She brightened as much as she could, which wasn't much considering the fact that she was running out of energy. Her enthusiasm could still be seen.

"I like your hair," she said, less quietly than before, "I wasn't allowed to color my hair." Maggie knew that describing her childhood wasn't a good first topic, so she kept the details to a minimum. She was telling the truth only without the 'we didn't have any hair dye in the bunkers' factoid.

She layed on her stomach again, propped up on her elbows. Maggie grabbed her auburn hair, twisted it over her shoulder, and examined some of the strands. It was mostly comprised of split ends. Maggie was a bit disappointed in the state of her hair, but knew there wasn't much she could do about it now. She huffed, dropping her hair and looking around a bit. She noticed a particularly quiet kid on a nearby bunk. Her dark eyes couldn't help but linger as memories of sitting alone in her cross-covered room flooded into her mind. She recalled how Vincent was a regular visitor, even if it was to just come and cheer her up. If she could extend that kindness to someone else, she thought, then her life would be fulfilled. She longed to be somebody's Vincent more than anything else in that moment. Maggie pursed her lips as she thought. Before she could stop herself, Margaret spoke up.

"Rough day?" She called out. Maggie knew the answer already, but she thought it might be a good place to start. She gestured to Alexander with her head towards the solemn stranger in an invitation to help her with conversation.

Marlowe didn't know how to respond, but she knew she had to say something. Living underground was one of those bizarre experiences that people just couldn't wrap their heads around unless they'd experienced it first hand. Marlowe wasn't going to sit there and pretend that she had any idea of what it was like. She could tell by the look on his face that it wasn't exactly a pleasant experience and she wondered briefly if it was living underground, or the adjustment to regular society, that was the most challenging. Marlowe was surprised that he had told her about it. It was probably in light of their new circumstances, 'everyone has to stick together', or something like that. She didn't mind.

"Why did you leave?" Marlowe asked, chomping on her lip again. She wasn't good at being comforting and she didn't think that was what he was looking for. Things like, 'I'm sorry,' didn't mean much.

Marlowe always blurted out the first thing that sounded okay. Right now she was unusually aware of what she was saying, in part due to the sensitive nature of the subject, but mostly because she was so on edge herself. These last 24+ hours had been very taxing. She was trying to think of something better, but the more she thought about it the more awkward everything sounded.

"You must've had a really hard time." She tried.

It was the best her and her sloppy social skills could manage. She followed it with a stiff smile but quickly let it drop. She just didn't have the energy. Marlowe respected his ability to do what he had to in order to survive. She was lucky she hadn't been through that sort of thing, although testing positive wasn't exactly synonymous for a happy future. She wondered what was going to happen to them next. Was this it for the rest of the night? They hadn't said anything, but they'd been in there for long enough that she assumed they wouldn't be doing anything else for the day. She corrected herself quickly: it was dangerous to surmise anything in here. She wouldn't relax just yet. She was nervous about what life would be like here, people never talked about it, they didn't care. The residents were all labeled monsters so humane treatment wasn't an issue. To the public, there was almost no knowledge of what went on in Training and Education Facilities. What a scary thought.

Marlowe brought her attention back to, erm, the boy in front of her? It was weird, she knew something personal about him but she didn't know his name. Now was as good a time as ever.

"Marlowe," She blurted, almost suddenly. "My name is Marlowe, what's yours?" Her cheeks went warm, she was embarrassing herself again.

Overhead, a conversation was sparking. An exchange of shirts and names brought her back to the room of 40 when she'd only been focused on two: herself and the nameless boy. Looking around quite a few others had started to mingle but many were still scared and by themselves. It was about 50/50, if she were to guess. Marlowe was used to being alone and even she was clinging to her conversation with a stranger; she'd be too anxious by herself right now. She couldn't imagine how isolating it would feel if someone wasn't used to being alone.

"Were you two together before?" She asked, gesturing to the girl on the bed above him with a nod of her head, and started chewing on her lip again.

Speaking of chewing... her stomach growled quietly as she thought about the last thing she ate. Breakfast before the test, eggs and toast. At the time it hadn't been anything special but now she was regretting not enjoying it more. She wondered when they were going to get to eat next.

Aleyna awoke in a bunk, disorientated and dizzy. She was surrounded by people—children, her age. What’s happening? the girl thought, rubbing an eye as she looked around in confusion. The last thing she remembered was the hospital. The nice-looking doctor had asked her some weird questions, most of which she didn’t know the answer to.

——Earlier Yesterday——

“Can you tell me what you were doing in the bathroom?” the man in the white coat asked. The girl sitting on the hospital bed gave him a puzzled look.

“The bathroom?”

“Yes, the bathroom at the end of the hall on the second floor,” the man said, pursing his lips. “We found you lying in a pile of broken glass. It was the mirror.”

“I… I don’t know.”

The bespectacled man scribbled some notes on his clipboard before looking back up, brows furrowed. “Okay, how about what you did after you received the letter? Your results should have been delivered earlier today.”

“My results?” the girl asked. “For what?”

The man in the coat paused for a moment before setting down his clipboard and taking his glasses off. He had beautiful, kind blue eyes. “Aleyna. Do you know where you are right now?”

“A hospital?” the girl tried, trying to remember something—anything. “And… You’re the doctor.”

“That’s right, Aleyna,” the doctor said, giving the girl a gentle smile. “Can you tell me the name of your school, Aleyna?”

“School?” the girl asked, scrunching her brows together in concentration. “I go to school. I’m a student. A student at… At…”

“That’s alright, Aleyna. Can you tell me your full name?”

“I’m Aleyna,” Aleyna said, grinning. “Aleyna… Aleyna…” The smile faded and the confused frown returned. A few more moments passed before tears started to form in the corners of her eyes. “I’m Aleyna. Aleyna… Why can’t I remember?”

“It’s okay, Aleyna. You’re going to be alright,” the kind doctor said, placing a comforting hand on Aleyna’s shoulder. “Your name is Aleyna Weiss, and you’re okay now. You’re safe.”

“Does that mean I won’t be alone anymore?” Aleyna asked, eyes wide.

“I don’t—” the doctor started, but when he looked at the girl, his frown fell away and the gentle smile appeared again. “That’s right, Aleyna. You won’t be alone anymore.”

——Present day——

Aleyna frowned as the memories rushed back. She didn’t remember much after that. The doctor had told her that she could go to sleep, but she didn’t want to. And then some men in black entered the room and…

Shaking her head, Aleyna decided to worry about it later. First she had to find out where she was. Her eyes caught on a petite girl with short grey hair. “Marlowe,” the girl said suddenly. “My name is Marlowe, what’s yours?”

Aleyna bit her lip, sitting up. A look down at the white sheets bunched around her legs shocked her out of the bunk, and she hurried over to the ongoing conversation. She didn’t want to be alone with the white.

Daniyal huddled himself tighter in the corner, his eyelids already drooping as they grew heavy. The commotion around him melded together into an amalgamation of unidentifiable noise as his mind grew blank and drifted to sleep. "Rough day?"

Daniyal widened his sleepy eyes, his dark iris flicking towards the person who dared call on him. ”It’s been more than just a rough day,” he quipped sarcastically in his head, but not a word escaped his lips. He remained quiet for a moment, unsure whether to speak or not. He looked back at the girl, she looked out of place here. Hell, everyone did. But she seemed a bit too cheery, there was something uncanny about her but Daniyal kept his mouth shut about it. ”I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

He wanted to keep his mouth shut after that, to retreat back into his corner and forget everything under his too-thin blanket and hard mattress, but another part of him wanted to press on. Maybe ask a few more questions. Making some friends would help him survive this Hell. he tried to convince himself it was just to stay alive. That they were his tool to be used to escape this place. But deep down he knew, he hungered for a little intention.

”So, what are you in for?” he breathed out in his raspy tone to the girl, trying to be humorous for once, ”Set an orphanage on fire? Made pigs fly?” He almost caught himself smirking as he finally started talking once. Daniyal brushed past his hair that fell in his face, trying to battle away the suffocating feeling of self-consciousness he always felt as he raised his voice for once.

Daniyal gripped his own arm, squeezing tight and not backing down. He finally started talking for once.

Vincent's eyes narrowed a bit. He had spent a great deal of time thinking about that very same question while he was trying to find civilization. At the time, leaving the family felt like such a terrifying thing. It was the only home he and his sister had ever known. Vincent struggled with coming up with a reason for being kicked out during his time outside. However, now that he knew what happens to people like him and Margaret, he could see why the bunkers were not going to be home for long. Vincent realized that they were different and dangerous. It scared him to think what his father would have done if he knew about malfunctions. Chills ran up vincent's spine.

"Long story short, my folks didn't like things that were different." Vincent sighed. He looked at his hands, which were resting palms up on his lap.

He could imagine Margaret's mom standing there, looking ashamed. His jaw tensed at the thought of what was happening to her, or what had happened to her if she were dead by now. To Vincent, any woman his dad had a kid with was known as mom. There was little to no sense of monogamy in the concrete maze. The Andersen children were expected to love each other regardless of blood ties and Vincent was no exception. He understood that she was not his mother, but he loved her anyways. He hated the idea that one of his mothers could be in danger for helping him. It was his fault, and it enraged him.

"It wasn't that bad," Vincent lied, "I wasn't alone." He looked up. again, at Maggie's feet.

Vincent nodded, remembering Marlowe's name. Upon looking over the small girl again, he decided that the name suited her. He gave a tired, and vaguely charming smile before letting his expression clear. Vincent flushed a little at the realization that he hadn't even given Marlowe his name.

"My name is Vincent. It's nice to meet you, Marlowe." He said, extending his right hand in an offer for a handshake. In reply to the girl's second question, he added, "This is my sister, Margaret. We," he paused again, trying to find the right word to describe their situation, "were urged to leave together."

Vincent gave an awkward smile to the girl who got closer to the two of them. He nodded at her to say 'hi' without having to actually say anything.



Margaret was surprised by the boy's answer. Her expression faded from pure surprise to her usual cunning smile. She grinned somewhat manically at the question posed to her. Maggie moved so that she was facing the new speaker before coming up with a reply.

"Moving pigs is my specialty, but sometimes I can cook 'em too." She joked about her powers, which was a first for her. Neither the patriarch of the Andersen clan, nor Vincent were willing audiences when it came to that type of comedy routine. Maggie giggled at her own joke, though no one else would find it as amusing as she did.

Maggie noticed that the boy was shaking and she stopped laughing. Her eyebrows narrowed in an expression of concern. She recognized his posture. It was the same posture she had taken when locked up in her room at night with the flickering lights and flying objects. Maggie saw the frightened kid inside the speaker and it brought out a bit of her own fear.

"Are you-" she broke herself off before deciding to be relatable instead of concerned. "I'm scared too." Maggie simply stated. Her voice was hushed. She suddenly appeared to be what she really was; a small girl in a situation that forced her to be the optimistic one.

The girl thanked him as they traded their garments, and Alexander quickly donned the shirt."I like your hair. I wasn't allowed to color my hair." Alexander grabbed at a tuft of his bangs, pulling at it a bit. The red tinged strands came into view, and he began twirling his index finger through it.

"Ah, yeah. It used to all be black, but I guess the pigmentation stopped when my powers came to me. I started seeing white roots, and it never went back to black. Eventually I shaved it all, and then I started dying it a bit. I'm not sure if I'll be able to anymore though..." Alexander's mind came back to his present situation, in which he was trapped in a place which most likely didn't have any cosmetic products.

"Rough day?" Margaret's voice called out. It wasn't until she gestured toward a boy that Alexander knew who she was talking to. As he examined the one she was now attempting to converse with, a sense of loneliness cascaded over him. It originated from the boy, curled in the corner of his bunk. Alexander knew Margaret wanted him to join in conversing with this boy, though he couldn't think of anything to say.

The two of them began talking on their own, and at that point Alexander didn't want to interrupt. He leaned back against the beams supporting the bunk above him, exhaling in a sigh. She'll probably be able to help him more than I can right now anyway. Seems like she has a knack for it. His attention shifted to the door of their cell as Alexander heard it creak open, and he noted another boy being pushed in.

---

The train ride was less than eventful. People attempted to avoid confrontation with the armed guards, ready to terminate any unruly passengers. Their heads hung low, most stayed silent, some sobbed softly. Others either slept or passed out, unable to handle the reality before them. Drei's mother had told him many times before of what went on in facilities like the one he was off to. He knew what to expect, and was prepared for it.

The train slowed as they approached their final stop, wheels squealing loudly. Drei felt the cart lurch forward as the train came to a halt. The doors opened, bright lights flooding the metal box in which they were seated. More armed escorts entered the train, yelling for everyone to move. Drei lazily stood from his seat, making his way calmly off the locomotive.

Everyone was directed to a large arena, where they were to stand in wait of of their orientation speech. Many were pushed to the ground and trampled as people made their fearful way forward. Drei attempted to stick to the side of the crowd, until he was shoved by one of the guards controlling the flow of the crowd. This motherfucker... alright, guess I'd better get ready. Two nitrogen atoms, one oxygen. Two bonds for each. Multiply that a bit...

Drei began to laugh as nitrous oxide filled his lungs, and with a lunge gave the guard a shoved in return. To no surprise of his own, Drei was quickly introduced to the man's fist. The punch nearly knocked him down as the gas had made him slightly delirious, though he barely felt it at all. Drei was about to take a swing of his own, when the ground came rushing toward his face.

The guard who had bashed his rifle butt into Drei's back pressed his heel into Drei's temple, pinning his head to the ground. Still unable to feel, Drei simply laughed harder and struggled to stand. One of the men grabbed him by his shirt collar and lifted him, dragging Drei toward the arena. Once inside, the guard shoved Drei's cheek against a wall. "Listen carefully," he spoke as he pointed up to a man beginning his speech.

At this point Drei was too out of it, unable to understand much of anything. The speech ended quickly, and while all the little Malfunctions were herded to their cells, Drei remained forced against the wall. After everyone had been cleared, he was thrown to the ground, a group of guards surrounding him. Drei tried to stand and was swiftly met with a kick to the ribs, followed by stomps and more kicks. He wasn't sure how long it went on for, and didn't care much. The gas had been doing its job and numbing his body, all he could do was lay there and laugh.

By the time he came to, Drei was being dragged through the hall. Blood droplets dripped from his mouth and nose, a new wound over his cheekbone letting out a steady stream. One of the guards opened the door to a cell, and Drei was thrown in. He stumbled forward, regaining his balance just before falling to the floor. A chuckle escaped his lips as he walked forward toward a bunk with an empty top bed. The boy on the bottom bunk was busy talking to a girl on top of another bed, though Drei interrupted their conversation without hesitation as made his way up up to the open top bunk. "'Sup, friendo? Looks like we're bunkmates. Try not to snore too loud down there alright?"

Aleyna hesitated before returning the boy's smile. Having interrupted his conversation with the grey-haired girl, Aleyna realized what an awkward situation she was in, but she shrugged it off. This was better than being alone.

"Hello, I'm Aleyna," she said, stretching a cheery smile over her face. "Just woke up--how long do you suppose we've been on the... Train?" Aleyna frowned, looking around at the walls. The thick, steel walls gave off an ominous aura, and the armed men standing at every doorway seemed more to be keeping the gathered children in than out.

"Funny, I don't remember how I got here," Aleyna said, the frown still on her face.

Penelope "Penny" Copper

---

In one of the train cars was a trio of guards, one by the door, and two on either side of a short girl. Penelope sat between the two soldiers, who were large men that could easily restrain her if she acted out... again. Her first outburst, a few hours before, had been the assaulting of a guard her was trying to push her around. She'd punched him, and probably bruised her knuckles.

Now she sat with both hands cuffed behind her back. She absently rubbed the middle knuckle on her right hand, where she'd hit the guard. As she did, she stared blankly into the black cloth that had been tied over her eyes. The blindfold wasn't a punishment; in fact, it was actually meant to help Penny. Her hypersensitive eyes absorbed several times more light than the normal human eye, already. When she'd fought the guard, she taken a rifle-butt to the head, which she felt had given her a concussion and made her eyes twice as sensitive. Should she take the blindfold away, her eyes would probably hurt so bad it would knock her out. This fact left Penny completely okay with sitting in the dark.

The darkness allowed Penny to better drown out the other distractions that her genetic enhancements forced her to be confronted with - Every heart beat in the train car, every, every sob, every single person that breathed quickly and heavily. She heard them, but fortunately, she'd been able to block them, so for now they were only white noises in the back of her mind.

"We there yet?" She asked, her voice masked by the noticeably Irish accent that she'd inherited from her father. Without warning, the guard to her left elbowed her in the ribs.

"Shut up, kid." Said the guard on the right.

Despite her lack of vision, she knew exactly where everyone in the train car was. She knew the guard at the door was six-and-a-half feet away; Penny could smell his cologne - cheap. She could envision herself sitting between the two large guards, who both held their rifles against their tactical vests. She knew this because every few minutes, one of them would shift, the metal of their weapons clicking against the steel rings on their gear. The one that had snapped at her, the guard on the right, was currently tapping his fingers against his left finger. No one else would hear the tapping over the rumble of the train and the moans of the other prisoners, but Penny heard each tap of his leather gloves against his cotton pants. Frankly, it was absurdly annoying.

"Can you stop tapping, please?" She chimed a moment later. She could hear the man's fingers stop, and his breath catch. He was about to say something, but decided not to waste his time. Pleased with the absence of the incessant tapping, Penny leaned back against the car wall, trying to bide the time until they reached wherever they were headed...

Hours later, when the train stopped for the last time, everyone was shuffled off of the train. The two guards led Penny out and into the large courtyard. She listened through the man's speech, but didn't really care about he was saying. It was all an attempt to get them to see the government as anything less-than an enemy. This attempt would have no affect on Penny. Her strong of opinion of the government was set in stone, and no posh speech would change her mind. Especially not when she stood in handcuffs, surrounded by guards in a crowd of people that wreaked of dirt and petrol.

As one of the guards reached around her head and removed the blindfold, Penny squinted, so as to lessen the impact of the light around her. The light, smell of dirt, and overload of people murmuring, did very little to ease her pain. The guard nudged her shoulder, prompting her to look at him.

"Keep quiet or I'll shove this in yer mouth." He said, wagging the blindfold toward her.

"I'd salute you, but my hands are a tad preoccupied." She bantered, sending a cross look upon the guards face. He looked ready to follow up on his threat, but instead he reached into his chest pocket and produced a pair of red-tinted sunglasses, and placed them on her face. She felt a welcome relief when the red shades of the sunglasses decreased a good portion of the glare from the light around them area.

The guard nudged her forward, following the flow of the prisoners. When they reached the large cell block, the guard unlocked her hand cuffs and threw a set of clothes into her hands. She gave the guard one last glare and then continued into the cells. She found an open bunk, near a couple kids that seemed to be conversing. She stripped to her undergarments, not really caring who looked at her, and unfolded the clothes she'd been given. She slid the grey shirt over her torso, sighing when she saw that it reached her knees. The sleeves were long, and hung a few inches past her hands.

"Jaysus, how'd they manage to give me Goliath's clothes?" She muttered. She turned and spotted a guy on the lower bunk across from her. His tight shirt showed off his large torso, but it was more of a small-tight than a muscular-tight. "Oi!" She called to him. "Help me out, mate? You're big I'm... not as big... maybe we could exchange shirts? Half the other people in'a room are, so maybe we could, ya know, do the same?"

Marlowe chuckled when Vincent flustered and introduced himself, but her smile faded quickly when he went back to the subject of prejudice and hardship. Her own parents had always encouraged the harshest treatments of Malfunctions. She struggled with the idea of being one for a long time. She had always believed in their point of view until it happened to her. When she found out she was a Malfunction, Marlowe thought her personality would dissolve and she would become something monstrous. But it never happened. She was the same as always. It took her a long time to understand that being a Mal wasn't the same as being a bad person (and that Mal's were still people).

"At least you weren't alone." She responded, interrupting her own thoughts.

But she wasn't given a chance to continue when a girl joined into their conversation. For a long few minutes the stranger stood there quietly. Marlowe was about to ask what she wanted when she noticed how scared and confused she looked. She felt a little guilty for what would have been a blunt questioning on her part, and smiled when the girl introduced herself. She was about to return the formality when Aleyna started asking about the train. Her smile dropped again.

"We haven't been on the train for hours. We're already at the... facility." Marlowe muttered, looking around darkly. She hadn't seen anyone brought in unconscious but it had been such a commotion that she wouldn't be surprised if she hadn't noticed. Briefly, she wondered if Aleyna had been hurt, but looking her up and down Marlowe decided that she was fine. Aleyna was slender like she was, but quite a bit taller. She had pretty hair, Marlowe thought, slightly envious, but she was more focused on how cheery she was able to be. She wasn't able to crack a smile that genuine in times like these. Maybe it was because she didn't remember much.

"You should change into your pajamas." Marlowe pulled at her own shirt to show her what they should look like, but when she thought about it, it wasn't necessary. Everyone around was wearing them. They were more of a uniform than PJ's, but she didn't want to make it sound like it was an issue. Usually she wouldn't mention it, but in this place she wasn't sure when a guard would notice or what kind of response they would have. It wasn't worth the risk over something so petty.

"They should be on your bunk. We're required to wear them." She added, just so that Aleyna wouldn't misunderstand.