---

---

A train of see-through trucks rumbled slowly towards the large town of Crimen Culpae 1, the winking city lights illuminating the distance and clearly displaying their destination on the near horizon. A massive truck centered a formation of moving vehicles that carefully and painstakingly maintained a tight boundary around the main vehicle, lights and moving engine components easily visible through the trucks’ strange composition. The material forming the chassis the trucks had come from one of Hephaestus’s happy accidents, a lightweight, physics-defying kind of solid that wasn’t only malleable but far stronger and lighter than aluminum and steel. That it was see through was just a benefit for the military guards escorting the 20 or so students tightly bound with enchanted wrist and ankle cuffs linked together to form a rough chain gang. They had all been warned on boarding the truck that any attempt to escape would trigger an electric charge down the entire link, effectively frying anyone who couldn’t withstand it and then reapplying at harsher currents until they could get a handle on whoever was left. The secondary measure was a very noticeable bomb strapped to the bottom of each truck, magical runes glowing and sliding all over its large, featureless square surface. The guards didn’t mention the secondary measure to the subnaturals, but it was clear there was more to the matter than just magical cuffs and fancy, transparent trucks.

The newest additions to USARILN East had come from a variety of locations and circumstances, but all were being shipped like cattle to the meat grinder that was the arguably the most violent and the most powerful iteration of a USARILN in the United States. The convoy of trucks surrounding the largest truck in the center had been carefully ordered to never break formation in any emergency and to simply trigger the explosives if any student attempted to make a break for it, not that many could with the magical suppressor cuffs on them. A few of the soldiers had been surprised to see one of the students with a suppressor collar, but when higher authorities cleared her for transfer, they proceeded with the usual protocols.

As peaceful as the night was, the soldiers remained on high alert. It was always a danger transferring subnaturals, no matter how suppressed their abilities were. There was the eternal chance that one of them could have developed an ability that Hephaestus’s equipment couldn’t counter, or could have developed a power that specifically allowed them to break restraints. Something absurd like that. It was like living life constantly wondering about the chances of a meteorite falling on you, because with Dreamcatcher almost anything was possible. The past 10 years had made that painfully, brutally, viscerally clear for everyone.

The squad captain roused himself from his thoughts as a subtle rumble passed through the ground beneath them. One of the trucks radioed for a stop. He commanded them to go faster. If they could make it to the Institute before whatever was out there came across them, they wouldn’t have to die with a bunch of damn subnaturals. A massive laser arced through the sky towards a target far to their left and the trucks, command be damned, stopped dead in their tracks as the glowing golden light of Sparrow briefly passed over them, Prism in tow. The two Precursors were dressed in light clothing—Sparrow was in a thin slip of a nightgown and Prism was in a tube top and wrinkled running shorts. They had likely been sleeping not too long ago. Sparrow flew the two of them in the direction of Prism’s previous attack and the golden light suffusing them paused high in the air, waiting for something. A giant, zebra-patterned snake rose from the ground to launch itself at them before a wave of lasers from Prism tore it to pieces. An large owl-bat hybrid hooted at them from another direction, forming out of seemingly thin air as it swooped at them. Another wave of colorful bursts from Prism and the creature was also struck down, the momentum of its movement sending it crashing into the ground a short distance from the convoy of trucks.

The golden light flew higher to dodge a massive monkey with a shark’s head and tail leaping at them. The awkward anatomy of its body sent it crashing back down to the ground in a heap as it struggled to try again. Weaker versions of Dreamcatcher’s creatures. Easy to destroy, mostly ineffectual. There was only one known person with that power.

Menagerie.

The squad captain paled at the realization before he screamed a command to the rest of the soldiers.

“MOVE!”

The trucks started up again, speeding towards the Institute and leaving behind the scene as quickly as possible. Precursors fighting each other. In the terrifyingly unpredictable world, the only source of hope was the Precursors, and even then, that hope was thin and speckled with doubt. And now it seemed their worst fears might be realized. Either Menagerie had finally lost his mind like the rest of Dreamcatcher’s creatures (which opened a can of worms about the rest of the Precursors and all subnaturals), or something even worse was going on. A betrayal? A desertion? Menagerie had been unheard of for five years. To show up again fighting his fellow Precursors was a cruel joke.

But with the errant Precursor’s ability to spontaneously generate shadows of Dreamcatcher’s creatures, they couldn’t afford to offer any help. The creatures were simple for subnaturals to fight, but they still proved a challenge for conventional weaponry. A screeching wail from a giant floating head with insect legs extending from it pushed the trucks to move at almost breakneck speeds. As Prism rained hell on the latest creation, they left the scene behind, no small amount of relief surging through them. The fight didn’t move from that point as Prism dropped a hail of lasers at some unseen target on the ground, shredding another creature just as it came into existence.

He would have to report the incident to the director of USARILN East immediately. There could be no delay here, not with Menagerie potentially a rogue agent now.

---

---

"I'll forward this to the DoD, but without visual confirmation I can't guarantee any immediate results. If they sortied Sparrow and Prism, then they likely already know," Director Zhang tapped away on her keyboard without looking at the captain as he saluted and left the room.

She hadn't revealed any surprise outwardly when the flustered man had scurried into the room, out of breath and lacking all the discipline and control that she had come to expect from military folk. It was disappointing, though her disapproval had been overwhelmed by the news of Sparrow and Prism having been sortied to take care of Menagerie--or what was potentially Menagerie. Similar powers were not uncommon. She had been ready to put the institute under lockdown when news of the disturbance had awoken her roughly two hours ago, and she was still quite ready to do so. At the very least, reports indicated Prism was doing a spectacular job keeping the fight contained, though the sheer volume of creatures the supposed Menagerie was spawning at this point threatened to overwhelm her.

It wouldn't do to have the students attempt to take advantage of the chaos to escape, especially if they were aware that Prism was occupied.

The director flicked through the hefty stack of papers on her desk--dossiers on the recent arrivals--checking over certain ones she had tagged with a red Post-It note to indicate high risk. The purple Post-It note attached to a "Hazel Baker" drew her eye and she pulled the girl's papers from the overall pile. At least they had warned her beforehand about this girl attending USARILN East. She had reluctantly agreed to their "socialization" tests on the caveat that if anything extreme happened, Hazel would be sent straight back to them, potentially in a bodybag. The stipulations didn't seem to bother them in the slightest.

"Director, they're gathered in the containment cell," a voice called out to her from the door of her office and she looked up to find her secretary politely tapping his wrist to indicate the time.

"Thank you, George," she stood up, waving him away as she headed to the bathroom to make sure her appearance was in pristine condition. She couldn't afford to look weak in front of the subnaturals, with as many Aberrations as they had on hand. Most of the worst ones behaved more feral than human, and found anything less than total domination and visually impressive authority weak, so she had become quite used to the routine of having a perfectly managed look to avoid any sort of impression that she could be intimidated or threatened. It didn't always stop them, but at least it gave plenty of them pause for thought. Of course, she had staff on hand to take care of any who tried to attack.

Her reflection in the mirror surprised her greatly. She looked tired. It wouldn't do. With a few splashes of water to her face, Director Lina Zhang took care of the slight oil that had been glistening on her forehead and rubbed away the rheum in her eyes. She brushed several black locks out of her face, the strands straying from the neat bun on her head. It bothered her that her hair was already rebelling when she was swamped with this much work--like some augur of doom on the horizon. Ridiculous. She really was tired.

The bun took a good 10 minutes to redo, but Director Zhang was satisfied with the sleekness of her head now that she had patted down her hair with water. Taking a moment to ensure her makeup hadn't been smeared by any droplets, she gave a cursory glance to the light blush and contour across her high cheekbones, before scrutinizing the tip of her prim nose for any excess shine. Her thin lips pursed angrily at the small smudge of lipstick on the corner of the mouth that she had apparently missed in her hurry to dress earlier. It took far too long to clear away before she was satisfied and her lips eased back into their customary politician smile.

Her dark brown eyes in the mirror stared back harshly in the fluorescent bathroom lighting and the cattish lift on the outside corners of her eyes gave her an almost predatory look. After thoroughly checking that her dress shirt was still tucked tightly around her trim waist and snugly into her skirt, she rolled her shoulders and took a deep breath. This would work.

Director Zhang swept out of the bathroom with a clean, brisk stride, heels clacking sharply on the marble tiles as she swiftly made her way to the elevator that would take her down to the massive containment cells below the Institute.

They customarily ushered all new arrivals through an underground garage and into a reinforced chamber provided by Hephaestus to await Director Zhang's personal check of all new students. In this case, she had also found it necessary to summon Lawrence Ellison and Lillianna Brandt. The former for his generally pacifying effect on the worst of the students and the latter because she was technically also a new arrival, having been there only a week beforehand through circumstances there weren't at all surprising these days.

---

---

The new students were gathered in the massive, blank chamber, still linked together by the chains of their magic-negating wrist and ankle cuffs.

"Welcome to USARILN East," she greeted them with a cold smile. "I am Director Lina Zhang, and from now on I'll play the role of guardian and prison warden to all of you. Generally, welcoming parties at three in the morning are rescheduled for seven in the morning to allow everyone time to sleep. But as I understand it, your convoy ran into some trouble along the way. I'm here to make sure this potential mishap hasn't given any of you thoughts on escaping."

She gently waved her hand, but it wasn't directed at the students. The guards who had been waiting for her signal marched into the room, surrounding the new students with their guns raised and safeties off. It didn't particularly bother her that Lawrence and Lillianna were included on the potential death counts.

"As you've realized by now, the cuffs suppress your abilities, and the two nearby without cuffs do not have enough firepower to save you. So here are your options: my soldiers proceed to outfit you with the standard tracking cuffs on your ankles and you do not resist in any way, or I point at any unruly members of the group and they die."

She paused with a slight frown when her phone buzzed briefly. A quick check confirmed the message and she resumed smiling.

"Prism has finished dealing with the nearby issue and is on hand for any potential trouble with the new arrivals," she explained, "but I find it a massive waste of a Precursor's time to deal with trifling matters, so I'll give any of you that wants it an easy exit. Just let me know if you would like to escape. I'm a proponent of free will, after all," her smile grew wider as she made the joke, "and you certainly have the free will to tell me if you'd rather die here than later at Prism's hands."

The director beckoned to another guard near the door, who came in and stood in front of her. She took a pistol from the belt on his waist and checked the safety, flicking it off before turning back to the students.

"I will personally see to your execution, in that event," she announced kindly. "But I'm also willing to answer any last questions you might have, of course. Feel free to discuss my generous offer with your peers, particularly Lawrence--" she pointed her gun at the blonde-haired boy "--and Lillianna there," then repositioned her aim towards the waifish girl sporting a similar shade of hair color.

---

Hazel Baker

How long has it been?

She had long lost count of time ever since she entered that place. Memories before that was blurred, hidden beyond the veil of fog. Hazel had been living in that room for so long she had forgotten that 'outside' had existed. Indeed, she had no knowledge of how old she was either, for birthdays weren't exactly celebrated where she was contained, at least, not hers. There was a slight feeling of elation just barely rising through the constant drug-induced fog her mind was under, having rode an odd transparent vehicle for the first time.

Hazel placed a finger on the collar on her neck, tracing the glowing antler logo etched into it. She had woke up one morning, feeling calmer than she had ever did before, with the collar already on her neck. Like anyone who lives in a single room for a very long time, anything new was immediately investigated, and that was what she did. She had found out that it was relatively easy to take off, though she put it back on hastily once the voices started growing louder. That collar was, in her view, the strangest part of this whole ordeal. The cuffs she was in, the soldiers guarding them, and the overall tight security was something she had lived with for a long time, and thus 'normal' for her.

"Welcome to USARILN East," A woman greeted them, after being herded into a large room still chained together. "I am Director Lina Zhang, and from now on I'll play the role of guardian and prison warden to all of you. Generally, welcoming parties at three in the morning are rescheduled for seven in the morning to allow everyone time to sleep. But as I understand it, your convoy ran into some trouble along the way. I'm here to make sure this potential mishap hasn't given any of you thoughts on escaping."

After a long while of sitting in a room, going out only to do tests, examinations and the likes, she had been transferred to a new facility. Hazel knew not whether it means she was progressing somehow on the government's checklist, or whether this was still part of their experimentation.

In any case, she had no questions, nor anything she needed clarification with.

Emma wasn't sure if things were going exactly or not at all as she had expected. She had no allusions that they'd be treated properly, there kind were feared by normal (For lack of a better word) people, and being chained up and shipped off seemed befitting considering the state of her and her new 'friends'- cellmates? Fellow prisoners? All the same she knew this would happen but at the same time didn't want to believe it. The erosion of subnatural rights over the years had been gradual (In some cases not so gradual) but certain. People want to contain what they fear, and they feared the subnaturals. But still, at heart Emma was an idealist... well, that's not exactly accurate. When it comes to herself she's certainly a pessimist, but she'd like to believe Humans are basically good- perhaps best described as an 'incidental idealist'? The point is that she would rather believe people would be unwilling to treat others the horrendous way Emma and her compatriots was being treated right now, but she was self-aware enough to know that this view was far too starry-eyed for reality. Fear can drive people into a fervent madness and make them do things they didn't think they would have the capacity to, and that has been happening on a worldwide scale for many years now.

Emma was drawn out of her own head when the convoy came to an unexpectedly sudden stop. She glanced around at her new 'classmates' (That's a euphemism, in this situation), and then towards the guards for answer. None came, of course. But if they were stopping she knew something must be up. They definitely were not there yet, given her surroundings. She would ask but she was sure that she would be told to 'shut up' in a very colorful by one of their captors; they weren't the sort to politely answer her questions, she was sure. And then, in the distance, Emma saw something. A pair of golden silhouettes across the night sky and then a laser flying into the distance towards some unknown target. It was unmistakable- she'd seen it on the news before. Precursors? Here? Why? There's no doubt about it- there's something out there, in the darkness. One of Dreamcatcher's creatures? Emma was content to watch for now, as long as whatever the Precursors were fighting left them alone. Through the walls of the strange see-through truck she began to see what they were fighting- they were strange creatures, like DC's, but... They're Menagerie's, aren't they? Why are Precursors fighting each other?

The trucks started moving again. They must've seen a way through the danger, because they left quickly.

After they arrived at the institute there was waiting, and more waiting, and after a little while even more waiting. They were gathered in a large containment cell. Emma was content to sit still for now, not that she had a choice. She would've tried to talk to the others but she was pretty sure they distinctly didn't want her to do that. After some time- I suppose punctuality isn't USARILN's speciality. Or are they waiting us out?- a women came into the room. She'd seen her on the news. She was Director Lina Zhang, lauded as one of the most capable people when it came to dealing with subnaturals. The news talked her up but Emma was sure she was more successful because of her Machiavellian ways than her personality or kindness. She went on her spiel- Emma was sure it had been practiced- full of veiled and not so veiled threats. When Zhang came to her 'proposal' Emma bristled. She didn't really know everyone in the room but she was sure that she didn't need to tell them how hopeless the situation is. Emma decided it best to stay quiet, lest she attract Miss Zhang's ire.

Grant stood amongst the group of chained subnaturals that appeared to be around his age, glancing at them for only seconds at a time from beneath his lazy, lidded eyes. His hands were hot and sweaty within his pockets, feeling a certain nervousness that wouldn't leave, but the only indication of it were his own two hands that he hid. As his eyes wandered randomly now through the transparent walls around him, he would watch the scenery go by, if you can call it a scenery. The only thought that crossed his mind was simple. How long until we get there? He was already getting sick of the tense atmosphere, which only grew once the fighting began. He dared not to move with the guards, and he just kept still, though he was curious enough to keep his eye on the fight that he could see. Once the truck got moving again, it wasn't long before he and the others reached the destination.

When ordered out of the truck, he complied, as if he even had a choice. He trudged out and walked with the line... Once they were herded into the blank chamber, he gazed around, and yet nothing caught his eye, aside from the other subnaturals that he was brought here with. After a few more long, drawn-out minutes, a woman finally came to give her speech. First few sentences out of her mouth, and he already knew that he wasn't going to particularly like her, but he was too focused on listening that he didn't react on that light hatred growing in his mind. No questions popped up in his mind, and he didn't really put much effort into thinking of any anyway, after she was done speaking, so he remained silent, waiting for anyone else to speak up, which someone did.

---

---

---

---

"♪ Well I wake up in the morning at 11:47 and I can't believe I have to face the horror of another fucking day. ♪"

Before the song could go any further Lawrence's hand silenced the alarm with no small amount of annoyance. 11:47? He wished. No, right now it was the glorious time of 2:45. The rest of the song was accurate at least, and with a long sigh he dragged himself out of bed and over to his dresser. Today would probably be the last day he could walk around his apartment in his underwear, and he lamented that for a moment before shaking himself awake and getting dressed for the day. A long sleeve button up, his usual choice of shirt, covered up a myriad of tattoos adorning his body. As numerous as they were absurd, usually. He didn't bother to adjust the cuffs or collar before slipping on his usual pair of dark jeans and making his way to the kitchen. He wanted to be at least a little awake when his new roommates arrived to rest up before orientation.

After setting about brewing his usual cup of morning lifeblood, Lawrence made his way over to his jacket, hanging up by the door, and slipped it on to complete his day-to-day outfit. Almost unconsciously he patted it's pocket to make sure his copy of Meditations was where he left it, before making his way to the kitchen once more to finish his morning routine. He was just about to raise his mug of black gold to his lips when a hard knocking broke through his morning haze. The door? There was no way the new arrivals had been assigned rooms yet.

Upon opening it, after several annoying moments of intense knocking, he was greeted by two guards with very serious expressions on their faces. Although that was nothing new. Was he finally going to find out why they had been keeping an eye on him as of late? Uncertainty began to heighten his heart rate, but he quelled it quickly.

Knowing and not knowing the reason doesn't change it, relax.

Before he could ask though, one of the two spoke first:

"You're to come with us and greet the new arrivals."

Greet the...?

Ah, his power. It made a certain amount of sense, even though it did throw off his plans for the day. Still, he knew better than to argue with the guards, and considering the circumstances, that probably meant this was a direct order from the director herself. Seeing no use in arguing with a mountain, he slipped his shoes on and began to make his way out the door. His journey was cut short immediately though by a hand on each shoulder. Both guards were giving him hard stares, more specifically the mug in his hand.

They stood like that for a moment, before Lawrence sighed.

"Look guys, can't I at least take my coffee? My power relies on my mood, if I miss my morning coffee all I'm going to be doing is making those volatile pissed off bags of superpowers even more volatile and pissed off. I'm sure the director would care more about that than me holding a mug in my hand."

The guards looked at each other for a moment, weighing their options. Which would the director be more pissed off at? A battlefield of nonverbal communications occurred between those two sets of eyes, before they both shrugged and took their hands off his shoulders.

Relieved at his own success, he took a sip of that life saving liquid and followed behind the two.

---

---

---

---

When he came in sight of the new arrivals, memories flooded back to him from one year ago. Unpleasant memories. He too was treated the same as them, even though he willingly surrendered himself to USARILN East. It was, of course, a smart precaution, but he had resented it all the same. The collars, the threats, the guns pointed at him. Which he noted with irritation seemed to be the case once more. Naturally, the possibility of being shot and killed if one of these loose cannons decided to try their chances worried him, but he quelled it as much as possible. He needed to be calm so that he could calm them, it was the only thing he could do to help himself not catch any stray bullets today.

Of course, he didn't recognize any of the gathered faces, aside from two. One was Lilianna Brandt, a surprise he quickly got over. She, of course, hadn't been properly oriented yet either, although he couldn't possibly imagine her learning anything new about the Institution from this. More likely than not, it was just to normalize her to the people who she'd probably be closest to during her stay here. Students who arrived at the same time tended to band together more than students that arrived in different years, regardless of their age differences.

The second face was of course that of the director. She didn't scare him in the sense that he was terrified she'd go berserk and murder him or that he had nightmares about the woman. He would be lying if he said she wasn't a wholly intimidating presence though. He knew part of that image at least had to be manufactured, but the most time he had ever spent with the woman was during his orientation. So he wasn't in any position to judge for sure, and quite frankly he didn't ever want to be in that position. If she wanted nothing to do with him then the rest of his life would be all the smoother.

Almost out of nervousness, he sipped his coffee as one of the arrivals spoke up, full of defiance. Unsure if the question was directed at him or the director, he glanced her way.

Her eyes met his. After a slight pause, he decided it best that he be the one to answer. They would probably trust his answer more than hers on this one, considering their roles.

"Well the chains are more of a safety measure- for you."

He sipped his coffee once more as if choosing his next words carefully. He wanted to start with something that would potentially make him angry, eyeing the Aberrations for ones looked to start a fight first. He had to pick the targets for his power carefully.

"Yeah, it sounds like the stupid sort of obvious lie you'd hear from a movie villain, but it's true in a sense. If you try to fight back, you will be killed, and until that was made perfectly clear to you guys it would almost be unfair to give you the opportunity to do so at all. Once we're finished with the orientation and you really understand the consequences of your actions, your freedoms will expand considerably, so please try to be patient for a bit. I know it sucks, I was in the same spot a year ago."

He paused to let his words sink in, before taking another sip- longer this time- and continuing.

"But, now as you can see I'm here, so it does get better. I'd say you get about as much freedom as your average boarding school student, which isn't too terrible compared to, say, a life in chains. As long as you follow the rules then USARILN East won't really care what you get up to in your free time. You'll even get some spending money every month and be able to walk around town."

He glanced to the director once more, more specifically the gun in her hand, before ending with:

"Of course, the difference is breaking those rules comes with much, much, much harsher consequences. So, yeah, it's a mixed bag. It's better you understand that as quickly as possible though."

With that he fell quiet, his free hand drifting into his pocket to clutch his copy of Meditations. During his orientation not everyone was... able to control themselves. He was thankful that nobody died who didn't have it coming that day, but that didn't mean he would be so lucky twice.

Being hit by a stray bullet was not on his to-do list. It took a lot to piss him off these days but that would take the cake.

Well, that had been an eventful trip to say the least. Of all the things Zoe had been expecting, being attacked by what seemed pretty likely to be a rogue Precursor wasn't one of them. As much as anything else, the concept was really irritating, especially since the guards apparently felt the need to be complete dicks about everything. She knew why, but that didn't make it any more fun to deal with, and she'd gotten progressively more irritated over the course of their journey. Seriously, couldn't we at least get to the school before people started trying to kill us? Was that too much to ask?

Zoe looked relaxed for the most part as Director Zhang entered the room. There was a lazy smile on her face, and she wasn't particularly tense, but her eyes darted around the room - not looking for an escape or anything stupid like that, but just trying to size up the other people in the room and figure out which of them might cause her trouble. It wasn't really top priority right now, though.

As she listened to the introduction, her face narrowed into a scowl. The concept that they had to be tagged right away was something that definitely wasn't about to make her shout out with joy. Plus, it was three in the fucking morning. Who wanted to deal with this at three in the morning? Nobody. It wasn't as though they'd asked to be attacked by those things. Listening to the reasoning behind everything, Zoe found herself unable to keep her mouth shut, which wasn't exactly a new thing for her, but her timing could have been better. "In case we try to escape? Oh, of course. Nothing makes me want to run free more than knowing there's a bunch of creatures out there that could kill me in two seconds flat." She turned to the guy without the cuffs, listening to his explanation. "But as long as we're being chained up for our own good, that's fine. Gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside, you know? I didn't think they cared."

Coming to the realisation that giving that much backtalk wasn't the smartest idea, Zoe thankfully cut herself off before she said anything else she might regret. In her defence, lashing out verbally was a lot better than the alternative here. Being confined so close to so many people didn't really help with her Stigma, and actually trying to hurt anyone would definitely get her killed. As it was, she kept the look of lazy confidence on her face, although internally she was sort of regretting her outburst. She'd always had trouble keeping a handle on her temper, but this wasn't exactly the time for her brand of openness, especially with the amount of soldiers around.

Sander hated long trips. He always had. Sitting inside a moving metal box for hours on end was not his idea of fun, especially on his bad days. Fortunately, today wasn’t one of those.

If anything, Sander was just a little bit indisposed. It was on purpose, after all. His record was relatively tamed when compared with many other Aberrations, but there were blemishes here and there. Just enough to put them on guard, so they made sure he was not at his full strength during transportation. His tongue felt thick in his mouth as he kept his head down, blue eyes staring intently at his bounded wrists. The craving buzzed unpleasantly in the back of his mind, but that was all, for now. He supposed the break gave him time to ponder about this new facility he was being transported to. From what he found on Death and Taxes, USARILN East seemed rather…daunting, being the institute with the highest body count in the business and all. He supposed he would see how the rumours held up for the coming days.

A ruckus outside caught his gaze, so Sander cranked his head up to look. These transparent trucks were convenient; he had always preferred the window seat. There seemed to be a fight, but he wasn’t sure between the Precursors and whom. They seemed like one of the Dreamcatchers’ creatures, though far more…awkward. However, he kept his speculation to himself. His escorts didn’t seem like the talkative types, after all, and Sander didn’t trust himself enough to start a conversation right now. The long trip was quite grating on his nerves.

Before he knew it, the convoy was on the move again and soon enough, he found himself in USARILN East’s welcome chamber. He rolled his stiff shoulders for a few times, stretching his legs while he still could. Soon enough, their glorified head warden came in, waving her big stick with a smug smile. Well, technically she didn’t have any stick with her, but he knew enough of how these facilities worked to recognize a display of power. The dear Director was just introducing the top dog around here (her, of course, who else?) and asked them to play nice or get spank. Really, he had hoped they were more creative on the east side.

It was all the same everywhere. They hid their fear behind the mask of power. They clung to it, obsessing over control and dominance, because it was all that they had left. It was disgustingly pitiful, but was he any different? As the Director hefted the gun, Sander lifted his gaze to look, his mind entertaining the thoughts of feeding the woman her own teeth. Then maybe her own tongue, too.

Realizing where his train of thoughts was going, he stopped himself. His hands were curled into fists at his side, so he willed himself to relax. He was not so different. Control was all he had left. And it kept him alive. For now. He returned his gaze to Zhang, expression schooled into indifference and compliance. He had no need to consider her offer. He had made his choices years ago. Since he was still alive, well, Sander was not quite sure he had made the right one or not.

“I would prefer not to die today, if that’s possible.”-He spoke out loud, directed at no one in particular. It pleased him to know that his voice came out far calmer than he had hoped. Snarling was bad for first impressions, or so he was told.

Being woken up just a few hours past midnight would have annoyed anyone. But Lily didn't mind. Her dreams had been disturbing. It was full of muddled up memories, some horrifying, some eerily familiar and some downright nonsensical. Being pulled out from that nightmare was better than staying in it. But as soon as she opened her eyes, she promptly sank into her depressive mood. Who'd be happy after seeing those messed up things in her dreams? She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she put on a loose black shirt that was a size too big for her. It promptly slid off one of her shoulders as she pulled on a pair of light colored jeans. She ran her fingers through her rumpled golden hair in attempt to make it neater. Something she had never achieved and something she didn't really care much about. She slipped her feet into a pair of comfy sneakers and then obediently let herself be herded towards the containment cell below the Institute. The two guards that had come to collect her didn't bother talking to her but she caught a glimpse of one of them glancing at the conspicuous X mark on her neck. The same guard gestured for her to start walking with his gun. They probably feared her... but who cares? It's not like she could do anything much with guns pointed at her.

She had been in USARILN East for a whole week now and it was the first time that she was being brought somewhere. In her manic mood, she would have been excited and would have thought of it as some sort of field trip. But she was nowhere near a happy mood and just wanted to get it over with so she could disappear somewhere no one will be able to bother her. It was 3 in the morning, after all.

Once in the containment cell, her eyes immediately sought out familiar ones. There was Doc who was calmly sipping his coffee. Being in the same place as he was immediately relaxed her even for a bit. She could never figure out if his power was always turned on or if it was just her familiarity with him that tempered her moods. Whatever it was, she wasn't about to complain. The only other familiar face was the Director's. She wasn't particularly fond of the woman but she was indebted to her for taking her in when she had been injured. Of course, being treated like a prisoner in the guise of being a student wasn't exactly endearing. But who would care? No one came for her. Not a single family member looked for her... if she even had a family in the first place. But considering everything, this place was the closest she will ever get to a home. No matter how unfriendly and hostile it could get.

She listened to the Director and Doc speak. She felt a guard aim his gun directly at her. He was probably itching to pull the trigger. And truth be told, she didn't really care if he did. And then there was the Director pointing a gun at her. Perfectly hostile home, she thought dryly. She let her eyes wander around for a bit, noting the different faces in the crowd. She didn't really find one that was worth staring at. She yawned. Would she end up being executed because of this happy little gathering? Or would she walk away like nothing happened?

The pickup and transportation were a little bit rough, but that was about how Marcus expected it to go down. He hadn't quite expected the 'prisoner' treatment of transportation, but upon reflection, he figured it made sense. Not many people were very fond of the empowered, so it made sense that they'd be on their guard. Everyone else in the transport seemed to just be quietly riding it out; Marcus figured that some of them probably didn't have a choice in the matter. He, while quiet for most of the ride, punctuated the most dreary of silences with the occasional comment:
"Hey! Can somebody tell me where the mini-fridge is back here?"
"Any chance we can turn on the radio? It's dreadfully silent back here!"
"Are we there yet, are we there yet, are we..."
"Oooh! Can we stop and get ice cream!? I'd really love some ice cream right now!

None of these really caused anything but an angry glare his way, but he still sat back with a smile on his face. The humor helped him take his mind of the crippling fear of wherever the hell they were going right now, but the occasional deep breath helped too.

When the Precursors had shown up, Marcus of course craned his neck and pressed his face up against the transparent side of the truck, like an eager child looking at Christmas lights. "Awww, you guys put together a fireworks show for us? It's not as interesting as the radio, but I suppose it'll do!" he said to the truck, watching the battle outside.

It was the shout from the captain the shut Marcus up for the rest of the ride. Clearly these things were not for show and tell, and something out there was going wrong. The weird insect thing would certainly make an appearance in his nightmares, but that was norm nowadays. He sat silently in his seat, trying not to slide to the back of the vehicle, until they arrived at the complex.

New Arrivals

"Holy moly, does everyone around here have a stick shoved up their backside!?" had been one of Marcus's comments as they were being unloaded, before the Director showed up. Nobody in the facility seemed to have any concerns regarding the openly hostile treatment of the newest members, and Marcus was starting to get a little irritated. Not irritated enough to pick a fight with one of the guards, but irritated enough for his jokes to start accumulating the telltale inflection of contempt.

He stood in line, listening to the director's speech as she pointed out the various ways that she was gonna end their miserable existences. Oh man...threats to splatter us across the floor like paint, what way to make a group feel at home! He felt slightly validated when a couple of the other attendees spoke up. He smirked as the man with the mug spoke, grateful that he was at least somewhat aware of the current mood in the room.

"Um, yeah, Queen Stick, question over here!" Marcus said, looking to the Director. "Can I get my mandatory criminal ankle bracelet in chestnut? Anything else tends to clash with my eyes." He said this with a defiant smirk; he wasn't necessarily being openly defiant, but he had to have some sort of outlet for his irritation, and it felt like a small victory to him.

Of course, now that he'd said it, he gauged the director and the rest of the room for reactions. If something were about to happen and he were about to get punished for his smart mouth (it wouldn't be the first time), there wasn't much he could do to stop it, but he could at least try and brace for it.

When I was forced to be cuffed and chained to complete strangers, and then herded into a transparent truck, I was a little bewildered. What kind of nonsense material was it made out of? It reminded me of the transparent aluminum from Star Trek, but it seemed to be more durable. I pondered the point of transparent transport trucks, perhaps they wanted easy visual contact of their not so precious cargo in case anyone tried something stupid. I looked at the magical binding cuffs on my wrists, even if someone wanted to break out these would stop it. I lowered my hands and gazed at the floor. There was some sort of spell placed there, most likely a last resort option to deal with any escape attempts. Honestly, they were treating us as if we were convicted mass murderers. I glanced at those around me, I didn't know any of them, perhaps one of them had killed someone. I let out a sigh, apparently that wouldn't even matter where we were going.

At some point the truck stopped, I looked up to see why, considering they were so intent on stopping for nothing before. A golden light shined in the sky, I strained my eyes to see what it was. Two women, dressed as if they had just woken up. I recognized them, it was Sparrow and Prism. What were these Precursor whores doing here? At first I thought it had something to do with us, but that didn't make sense, with how they were dressed they had clearly been called on short notice, and our transfer wasn't so sudden.

"Oh." I muttered, as monsters began to materialize, and Prism began blasting them to death. This was certainly a good enough reason to be called out. I blinked a few times as I realized something about the creatures, this was a power one of the other Precursors possessed. He hadn't been seen in years however. Why was he now appearing, and fighting the other Precursors was beyond me. I was about to tell the driver to move his fat behind and hit the gas, but he soon started moving again. As we moved further away from the battle scene, I hung my head and pinched the bridge of my nose. I wasn't even at the school and already dangerous situations were coming my way. At least the annoying boy chained to me had shut up a little, for now...

The rest of the drive seemed to past in an instant, and we were led out of the fishbowl on wheels and into the school, at least I assumed it was the school, it was just a large empty room. Soon enough a stern looking woman walked out, and introduced herself as the head of the school. What she did next was well, I know it was supposed to be scary and threatening, but for some reason seeing her try so hard just came across as kinda pitiable. Perhaps I should fear for my own life more, but... I jingled the cuffs around my wrists, suddenly a thought occurred to me. Could I die now that these were on me? A wry smile sneaked onto my face. Did I really want to die? Now was a perfect time to decide. I didn't have any particular reason to live, but I didn't have any real reason to die either.

I brushed aside the thoughts of death and looked to the guy holding a cup of coffee. I could go for an energy drink myself, I was tired. I only half listened to what he had to say, most of it was either common sense or pretty obvious information. "What a concise explanation, maybe the Director will give you a doggy treat later." I said, my mouth almost moving on it's own. Off I went with a stellar first impression as always. I turned towards Zhang and opened my mouth once again. "Why are you threatening us with a firing squad, and inviting us to be executed? Didn't some of them volunteer, and this is how you treat them? We're valuable tools for the government, aren't we? You shouldn't be so willing to throw us away just so you can look credible." My hands suddenly slipped out of the cuffs and fell to the floor. They weren't unlocked or anything, I had simply dislocated joints in my hands. It took a while to do it while on the truck, I had to time it with the kid with the loud mouth's rambling to make sure no one noticed. It hurt of course, but I was used to it. Thanks to my magic I used to have a bad habit of doing it to myself as a child. I raised my hands to signal that I meant no harm, my legs were still hindered by the ankle cuffs after all.

"So, how about you uncuff us and let us inside the school with open arms already? It's late and I want to get some sleep."

Savannah Churchill wore a scared look on her face as she was led to a seemingly transparent truck. There were chains on her ankles and wrists, and a man had a gun pointed at her head.She was still wearing the now dirty, white nightgown that she had been wearing one week ago, when she had been arrested. Her very obvious burn scars showed through the almost clear, short nightgown. She had been held in a dark cell for a week. Her breathing was quick and shallow, her light, usually playful yellow eyes darkened with fear. But still, she looked straight ahead. There were at least 17 others in the truck, all at least 2 years older than herself. They all had cuff son their wrists, and they seemed to be chained together. Some had white lines on their faces, and others like Savannah, had a large black X across their throat.

Too late, Savannah realized that she had stopped. The guard hit her with the butt of his gun, and said in a rough voice, "Move little girl! Unless you want your insides to be splattered across the pavement!" at this last bit he smiled a bit, and Savannah understood. She had been feeling like beating someone into the ground all day, and this guard was no exception to that. She grit her teeth and began awkwardly walking again, this time getting on to the truck and being chained to the other teenagers. Like she had assumed, they all were older than her, and all gave her strange looks, probably related to her height.

After a little while, the anger again began to overtake her again, and she looked away from the others. Instead, she stared out of the window, looking at the ugly land passing by. To her, this country had been ugly, compared to the rolling, beautiful pastures of Ireland. But, all that was gone now, obliterated by Dreamcatcher's creatures. She still stared at the land rolling past. But soon enough, the truck jerked to a halt. She was confused for a moment, until she saw two of the Precursors, fighting monsters. Her eyes grew wide, remembering carnage she had witnessed years ago. But soon enough, the truck sped off, whipping her neck to the back of the seat. She gasped at this sudden departure.

At least two hours later, they arrived at what was an imposing, unforgiving structure. Just like the rest of the country, it was absolutely ugly. The guards signaled for the prisoners to stand, and as did the rest of them, she did. They were herded into a containment cell underground, where they were crowding into a bunch. Guns were aimed at them from all directons, and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying or screaming. A pinched woman came into the room, introducing herself as Lina Zhang. She began talking about them in an increasingly morbid sense, sounding quite strict. A boy spoke up, then a girl. As the girl slipped her cuffs, Savannah kept her head down.

But those small rebellions gave her inspiration. She smirked, realizing what she could say and what she would say. It was an Irish curse, so offensive her mama had never allowed her to use it. As she had horrid English, she'd have to say it in Irish, but no matter. This should be a funny sight to see.

"Ma ithis, nar chacair!" the petite young girl shouted loudly. In English, it meant 'If you eat, that may you not shit!'

As soon as one of her sisters in chains slipped her cuffs, Padma used the slack in the line of chains to get as far away from her as possible, half expecting a hail of bullets.

But even as she did this, she raised her own voice in agreement. "It's true that some. . . subnaturals have caused problems, done terrible things even. But many of us have done nothing wrong. Some came here voluntarily, or even wanted to come. Why are we all being treated like criminals?"

She swiveled her head around, looking at the members of the chain-gang, and then singled out the youngest looking guard to look straight in the eye as she said, "These are children that you're pointing guns at!" Indeed, barely an adult herself, Padma was one of the oldest in the chained up group.

Her words were pointed, but calm. She kept her hands down, not gesturing or grand-standing like the girl down the row. Her parents and grandparents had faced a similar kind of fear based discrimination in the early twenty-first century. They had suffered through being called terrorists, or even towel-heads because of the part of the world they had immigrated from. Padma knew that the fear would only be dissipated(though never eliminated) after years, or even decades of social movement.

There would be a subnatural civil rights movement, and Padma meant to live long enough to be a part of it. And to do that, she had to play this discrimination game, and take it in stride.

…Inferior beings. Scum. Human wastes…

The silence inside the transparent truck holding no less than at least twenty teenagers, ranging from late teens to near-twenty years old, was disturbing to the black-haired young woman dressed as if she had been picked straight from a metal concert. It wouldn’t actually be a wrong guess, as Angélique was still clothed with the garments she was wearing on the day she was arrested, a few days ago, at the deadly concert she had given. Ever since she was held in custody by Québec’s Regional Security Police Corps, she never had a change of clothes during her stay behind the bars of her temporary cell, not even once they had given her the chance to wash herself as well. Likewise, the same occurred when she was transferred to the foreign military unit that had come to pick her up after a few days the jury deliberated on how to handle her situation.

While most seemed to be annoyed by the jokes constantly told by the scar-faced young man, Angel was welcoming the breaking of this unbearable silence. While his voice did not completely erase the existence of the whispers ushering vile words at the corner of her mind, it was enough to at least drown them out.

…Fool. Buffoon. Idiot…

The eventless roadtrip to god knows where with peers bound all together with chains and magic-suppressing cuffs eventually took its toll on the tired young rockstar. It didn’t look like so because of the shades Angélique was still wearing, but her eyes were black not because of the mascara and eyeliner (she already cried out whatever make-up she had been wearing) but from exhaustion. Not only she did not changed clothes nor was given much to eat, but the young woman was not given much rest, always woken up as she was on the brink of sleep by some assholes guards who just wanted to see a Subnatural writhe in pain.

Eventually, unable to resist the call of dreamland, Angel dozed off into sleep, her exhaustion finally getting the best of her, and the troubling whispers muted by the voice of her joking peer. At first, no one could really tell the rocker girl was indeed sleeping because of her shades hiding her closed eyes, but a light snore betrayed her just as her head had fallen onto the shoulder of a turquoise-haired girl probably not much younger than the sleepyhead on her shoulder.



“They all deserves it.” Angélique muttered in her sleep, just before waking up as the truck that was carrying its prisoners to their new home stopped.

Waking up with her eyes watering down her cheeks, it took a moment for a confused Angélique to realize what was happening. Removing her shades to wipe the water off her eyes and to see more clearly into the darkness of the early morning, the young woman could distinct two figures fighting not too far from where the truck stopped. She had seen the news to only know by name and their abilities the two women fighting off monsters. She could remember well Prism, the laser-shooting Precursor, and the golden-lit one named Sparrow. To have them mobilized so early in the morning, surely something huge was coming. And indeed, it was. Huge creatures, like the ones from her nightmares, appeared one after the other, however quickly dispatched by the duo of Precursors.

…Traitors. Lapdogs. Sluts…

While her past self admired the Precursors for all of their hard work into helping humanity survive, a feeling of disgust now overtook her quite recently when she had heard that the “Original 10” were yet just more powerful puppets controlled by USARILN to save their sorry asses. Those ten individuals had the power, they could do everything if they wished to. They could even save the others suffering a pitiful life of slavery and meaningless sacrifice from the hands of the Regulars higher-ups. But they only were satisfied with their bigger freedom, and answered whenever they were called, like good little dogs. The very thought of it, mixed with the whispers’ incessant taunts, infuriated her. As much as she’d like to scream her way out of this transparent cage and punch them right in the face, she couldn’t. She could only sit and bide her time, for now.

The custom-made company of trucks soon hurried off the area when the path was made clear. It didn’t take long to arrive at destination after their short stop. For the remaining of the roadtrip, Angélique did not doze off into dreamland. She was being kept on edge by the current events, with her ever-growing frustration boiling inside. The more they approached the heavily-guarded complex, the more anxious Angel was becoming. It did not help that the guards that were accompanying them had their weapons pointed at the group of teenagers slowly getting out of the truck and ushered towards a big empty room.

After waiting for a while, a woman came in and explained the situation everyone here were facing, with a rather smug and taunting demeanor. On this earth, the director of USARLIN East was probably the last person that the young singer wanted to deal with. Her reputation had already been made by the news, and nobody wanted to have to be under her iron fist. Gods above, just how much did Angélique wanted to take off her shades and throw them at the bitch who was now pointing her gun at the group of Subnaturals, as if to attest to her superiority.

…Slut. Whore. Bitch...

Just when she would want to scream her face off, the guy drinking what smelled like coffee talked some sense into the group of newly arrived “students”. For some reason, the words he had spoken putted some more ease into Angel’s mind. Be it from pure logic, survival instincts or some other unknown factor, she didn’t know, but her anger repressed and remained at an annoyed level. True, there was not much they could do right now, except accept a quick death right off the bat, should they want one. Truthfully, was there a point to live anymore, now that she was branded as one of those psycho maniacs? From now on, she would be living here as a slave, until she turns mad and be put down like nothing short of an animal. But despite that, there was this strange drive to stay alive, to see things through, stay alive and do something about this whole mess.

…Lapdogs. Ass-kissers. Boot lickers…

Watching as some decided to retrain from speaking, while hearing others speaking their minds, Angel felt like she, too, needed to voice her opinions on that matter. Instinctively, she had abruptly stepped away from the young woman who managed to slip out of her restraints, and the words spoken started to sound accusatory towards the institute that would soon become their home.

…Slaves. Prisonners. Hostages…

“We’re just like wild animals to them! They don’t care who you are, how old you are or where you come from! We’re monsters. Monsters to be tamed and disposed of, nothing less.” Angélique replied vehemently to the athletic Indian-looking young woman.

In truth, the dark-clothed young rockstar had nothing against the girl, but the situation they were facing, with the growing animosity intensifying by the seconds only made her more angsty. By now, Angel was baring her teeth and the frustration that had pent up since the last few days began erupting. This small episode of lashing out had a surprising positive effect on Angel, making her a bit more focused on the current matter. She had to thread carefully if she would want to avoid being shot on account of being too frenzied.

“However, that doesn’t mean I won’t cooperate. Just… give me some work to be done so I can’t think too much about it. Hell, I admit that I’ll even do like the poor fuckers out there this morning and help in saving your Regulars’ sorry asses if I don’t get shot at before then.” The metal angel spitted with hatred as she shot up a hidden glare towards the Director underneath her shades.

Hypocrite...

"I'm just saying that you can't be sure that it wasn't you."

"That's ridiculous. Of course it wasn't me."

"Marijuana is a memory loss drug, so maybe you just don't remember."

"I would remember."

"Well, how could you if it just erased your memory?"

"That's not how it works."

"Now, how do you know how it--"

The iPad was unceremoniously plucked from Callan's grip, leaving her hands blossoming outward in a "what the fuck?" sort of gesture as she looked up at the guard looming over her bed-- which was very uncomfortably hard, she might add.

"Not a fan?" she half smiled awkwardly. By now, she already knew what the response would be, but she had to keep believing they'd respond one day. It was for her own sanity, really. Plus she was still getting used to this whole "you're a monster and we all hate you" persona she'd suddenly acquired. Aside from having to be a million times more careful when pressing down on the home button on the iPad, she didn't feel as different as everyone was making her out to be.

She remembered the nauseated feeling when she hugged her parents, in the back of her mind fearing what would happen if she squeezed them too tightly. Her mother had been in tears, her father had been on the brink, and her brother's face had looked so vacant she was sure he probably thought he was dreaming. But by the time they'd all come to see her off, a duffel full of toiletries and her favorite things in hand, Cal had long since been wide awake-- and not just because the bed was rock hard.

"It's time to go," the guard said matter-of-factly, extending his hand and beckoning. She handed him her duffel bag and frowned. She would have been more upset at the guard's rudeness, but, to be fair, he had already asked her to hand everything over. How long ago did he ask that again? Was it five minutes? She felt like it was five minutes.

"Uh... I'm gonna get that back--" Cal started to ask, but was interrupted by a a pair of ankle and wrist cuffs being slapped on by a second guard, "...right?" Again? This definitely wasn't how she envisioned becoming a superhero would be. But then again, her younger self had always held true to the subconscious delusion that the day she got special powers would be the day all subnaturals became as loved and adored as Precursors. Because all the "bad" subs-- sorry, mages-- would suddenly lose their powers or something. She didn't know. Younger Cal wasn't exactly reasonable and her parent's over-the-top devotion to Dreamcatcher wasn't a huge help.

When the guard only sighed, her eye brows went up and her chin tucked down-- she was pouring as much black sass into the expression as she could muster, trying to imitate her Aunt Tamicka. It wasn't very effective. A reminder of the grim possibly that she may never seeing her family again is the only thing her playful look accomplished. No more Christmas cookies, no more Thanksgiving pie at Gramma's, no more Easter baskets with year old candy from Uncle Bubby....

Her stomach growled. Loudly. As she was loaded into the car that would take her where all the other kids would be leaving for USARILN, she got the distinct feeling she wouldn't be getting lunch that day.

---

---

The other students didn't seem all that willing to chat about what was in store. They were all chained together and marched into what looked like a large fish tank. The ride was long and, worst of all, boring. They couldn't put on a movie or something? What about the aberration kids? Didn't they need a distraction so they didn't turn psycho or something? Cal had only really skimmed the mage forums so far, so she couldn't remember. She made a mental note to take a closer look at those Stickied Topics again later.

She glanced up at the sky as the sun began to set, it's beauty warped by the surrounding material that wasn't quite glass and wasn't quite steel. It was getting late. She would have smirked, but a yawn forced it's way through instead. She hadn't gotten much sleep that night-- nor the night before that. The dull hum of the engine and the light swaying and bouncing of the truck was soothing against all odds. She leaned forward to rest her face in her hands, lightly chuckled at some boy in the back's comment about a mini fridge, felt a sudden pressure on her shoulder, and was out like a light.

During her snooze, she had an absurd dream about Prism and Sparrow flying over their convoy and fighting a bunch of weird monsters. This was immediately followed by a nice little dream about James Duncan and a giant burrito. Well... it was nice until he suddenly encased the whole world in yellow jello.

“They all deserve it," he mumbled in a woman's voice.

---

---

Callan awoke to a loud bang as the see-through door to the truck fell open. She inhaled sharply and stretched her arms above her head before groggily standing up. She shuffled along with the rest of the students as they were all herded into the chamber where they were supposed to wait for... who was it again? The Conductor?

She became much more alert as the Director, Lina Zhang, entered the room and spoke. Trouble? What trouble was she talking about? She didn't get much time to dwell on the matter before she found herself surrounded by several guns-- aimed at the ready. She wondered how much damage they'd be able to inflict on her with the power draining cuffs on, but sincerely hoped she wouldn't find out.

"Yeah I have a question," one of the boys spoke up right off the bat, "how long are we expected to be chained up, and more importantly, what sort of freedom will be expected at this pri-- school."

The older boy standing beside Director Lina answered after a moment's hesitation.

"Well the chains are more of a safety measure- for you," he replied before taking another sip from his coffee. Mmmm... coffee....

The older boy went on to answer the white-haired kid's question, reassuring everyone that the cuffs and chains weren't meant to be a permanent sort of thing-- though that wasn't the part Cal was particularly worried about.

"Of course, the difference is breaking those rules comes with much, much, much harsher consequences," he added, eyeing the Director's gun for a moment as if to communicate this, "So, yeah, it's a mixed bag. It's better you understand that as quickly as possible though."

For all his effort, there still seemed to be plenty of other students hell-bent on voicing their concerns. Concerns that Cal could certainly get behind, but was just too tired and hungry to care for. If not giving them a chance to eat or sleep for the past 12 hours or so was part of their plan to kill their will power upon arriving here, Cal would be the first to admit defeat.

Let's write a formal letter of complaint tomorrow. Just shut the fuck up and let'em put the damn ankle things on, she mused a bit cattily to herself. If she'd been a Sim, she was sure she would have either collapsed on the floor, butt up, or died of starvation. She was long past the crying and desperate hand signal stage.

The collective murmuring only grew louder in volume. Some youngster was shouting what was likely foreign profanities while others were cracking jokes. Another girl somehow slipped her cuffs, effectively causing a bit of a stir as other students edged as far away from her as they could. She was advocating an end to all the bickering, but was likely only making things worse. Above them all, however, the voice of the metal-looking chick chained beside her carried enough weight to make Cal remember all the thoughts she'd successfully being repressing these past few days.

“We’re just like wild animals to them! They don’t care who you are, how old you are or where you come from! We’re monsters. Monsters to be tamed and disposed of, nothing less.”

Nothing less.... Cal glanced at the girl before looking down at the ground sadly. If she was going to prove her worth to these people-- people like Director Zhang-- she really had her work cut out for her....

"Just wanna go to sleep," she muttered in defeat, anxiously awaiting whatever was bound to happen next.

---

---

Cold.

It was cold when he woke up. Christmas struggled to open his eyes as he felt the motion of something vibrating all around him. Was this the afterlife? Just a lot of weird sounds and movement and darkness?

He shivered and finally managed to creak his eyelids open, deciding on a half-lidded compromise as lights bled into view through a haze of blurred vision and sleep exhaustion. How long had he been out?

The memories slipped back into his mind one by one as he continued waking up. The liquor store at three in the morning. The terrified owner. The tranquilizer needle.

He had actually done it. He'd actually gotten himself arrested despite everything his parents had tried to do to prevent anyone from finding out that he was a subnatural. And he had done it to--

The reasoning slid out of his grasp and he inhaled a deeper breath just as his mind processed that he had been leaning heavily on someone nearby while he had been asleep. It took more strength than he thought it would to move his body off the person's shoulder, and Christmas's vision finally focused enough to catch a pale youth with brown hair, sitting in deep thought, apparently unconcerned that Christmas had woken up. He debated saying something to the guy, but refrained, rubbing his eyes instead to clear the last vestiges of sleep from his face as best he could. A hand strayed to his head and groped for the blue ribbon he always tied in his hair. Still there. A small comfort.

No sooner had he roused himself sufficiently when a large laser shot through the sky, quickly followed by the unmistakable glow of Sparrow's magic. And the second glow had to be Prism, whom Sparrow was sharing her flight with. Precursors. Here.

Christmas shrank back against the strange material of the truck he was in, realizing only now as the fear forcibly kicked his mind back into gear that he was cuffed and chained to roughly 20 other people by both his wrists and ankles. Then he noticed the transparent trucks as Sparrow's light briefly flew over the caravan of vehicles. He was being carted off to one of the USARILNs. It took him that much longer to grasp that he would be at USARILN East, from where they had captured him.

His heart was jackhammering a hole in his chest as the nerves and panic set in upon the emergence of Dreamcatcher's monsters--or something that looked like a cheap copy of Dreamcatcher's monsters. The details were all slightly off, and they didn't have the wicked intelligence that all of Dreamcatcher's creatures now seemed to share. It was obvious who it had to be, but Christmas refused to think through the conclusion, instead bending over and wrapping his arms around himself, the chains on his ankles too taut for him to pull his legs up to his chest. He remained like this, breathing deeply as the cars that had stopped on Sparrow's and Prism's arrival finally began moving again.

---

---

By the time they reached the underground complex below USARILN East, Christmas had managed only a paltry semblance of calm, arms still tightly gripping his elbows like he just wanted to fold in on himself and disappear. That wouldn't be entirely false.

The Director, her speech, the reactions--everything sailed over his head, most of the information unable to penetrate the clamor of fear ringing through his mind.

We're going to die. We're going to die. We're going to die.

He instinctively drew his light jacket closer to himself, almost wishing he was back home in his warm bed instead of here, at this place where nothing but fear and death reigned supreme. But a part of him didn't want to go back there--to that other prison with bars of happiness and locks of forced optimism and saccharine smiles. His cheeks sometimes hurt from smiling so much at home.

His mind dragged a slowly analyzed thought to the forefront, struggling against his shuddering panic. Ankle cuffs would be easier. He wouldn't have to consistently smile at the ankle cuffs to make sure they were happy. That was fine. That was fine.

"I-I'll..." his mouth struggled to move properly through the quivering of his lips as he spoke softly without looking directly at anyone, "w-wear the ankle cuff. P-please don't k-kill me."

While the ride in the truck, the laser light show put on by the two Precursors, and the shadowy and deadly nature of the monsters that seemed similar to those of the Precursor named Menagerie (who he had heard of in the news years ago) had all been interesting twists along what seemed to be a "bizarre" sort of trip to the facility they were being taken to, Aaron had hoped that once they had arrived they would at least be able to get in quickly so they could get through the entrance things and maybe get out of the cuffs they were all inked together by. If nothing else, he had hoped to get into one of his games and maybe cook some fried chicken to try to help him adjust once he got the chance to go to whatever room he was assigned to.

Yet this did not seem to happen as he had hoped. Upon being walked into a containment room, threatened, and then having guns pointed at them, multiple people in the "chain gang" they had been all strung up in decided to do some things he admittedly thought were nothing short of "stupid" right now. From a Irish-accented girl shouting random words, which for all any of them knew were how she used her magic, to multiple people barking out and snapping back at the armed and dangerous people pointing guns at them, Aaron felt it possible from what was happening alone that a number of the people around him seemed (to his perspective) wanted to "die" or get one of the others killed. Personally, he really did not want to die because of that. He really, really did not want to die because "Mr./Ms. Gloom and Doom" and company shouted out at the people who seemed more than willing to kill any of them. For pity's sake, to avoid himself or his own mother being shot by some person he didn't know just because Aaron himself had become a "subnatural" was one reason he had come here willingly and voluntarily.

If nothing else, though, Aaron felt it was interesting for a moment when the one girl in their chain gang slipped off her cuffs somehow, the skinny, amber-eyed boy leaning over and looking at her with a raised eyebrow in slight surprise at the scene, before pulling his head back to avoid possible bullets and letting out a sigh. Looking at the person to his immediate right in their chain gang after this, he looked as the seemingly terrified and quivering boy spoke about just getting the ankle cuff and not being killed on the spot. Unlike like some of the other people it seemed, to Aaron, that this was among one of the few people who did not want to die here. Sure, to Aaron he looked like he was about to "pee his pants" if anything went down, but at least he seemed to have a little sense around him at this point in time. Beyond that, a better look by Aaron down both sides of the chain gang allowed him to see a few more of the people who seemed to not be speaking out or doing random things that could get them killed.

"Can i please not be shot for what the others are doing?" the brown haired boy said, raising a hand in a cautious manner, a light clank of his own cuffs and chains happening as he did so as he spoke to the woman with a gun who had been speaking to them in a rather threatening manner, "I'll take the ankle cuff willingly as well, just to be clear on the matter."

'And hopefully i don't get a bullet in my brain in a moment. That would probably be the best thing right now, eh?' the boy thought to himself afterwards, a displeased look working its way onto his face as he glanced back at the slight bit of chaos going on with his fellow "chain gang members" at the moment.

---

---

]

Alexis sat quietly on the ride, her eyes closed. Trying to meditate, like she used to do before going on a movie set, was much easier to be done when you weren't transported like cattle but she did it anyway. She repeated in her mind, all those funny moments where she would get a line wrong and it sounded funny or those times where she had to sing but was afraid of getting embarrassed and when she finally had the courage to start singing, the power went out and they had to re-film her singing part but it never came to it as the project was canceled.
Every moment she "watched" in her mind, brought a smile on her face and she might've been the only student/prisoner that smiled on the road towards the institute.
Her peace and quite was abruptly ended when the trucks stopped. " Something was wrong " were the first words she said to herself. She opened her eyes and saw Prism, a Precursor, fighting with some kind of creature.
She looked as the Precursor destroyed that creature and soon another appeared but the trucks soon started moving again and she lost whatever happened.
Alexis closed her eyes again and waited for whatever it may come.

---

---

Alexis was led like the others into a big room where everyone was lined up. Both Aberrations and Arbiters. Some of the people around looked unstable, at best but that was always the case with Aberrations from what she heard.

A good looking female soon came out and started to threaten to kill them. A good act and a well rehearsed one. Alexis knew an actor when she saw one and this woman, was a good one. But something in her tone made something clear. She meant every single word she said.

Alexis raised a hand and with her best smile said " I'm ok with getting that ankle thing on me. No problem. I just have to ask you something, Director Zhang. When will be allowed to roam freely into the school it self ? ".

For Allison Revel, the truck ride was hell. She sat awkwardly, uncomfortably shifting her weight as the vehicle moved along. The cuffs felt heavy on her wrists, though she welcomed the weight. Allison stared at the ground below her, finding it a more comforting view than the pathetic captives that surrounded her; twenty or so subnatural menaces being taken to a secure facility so that they could be kept in check. The entire ordeal was depressing, and more than anything, it was pathetic.

Allison's mind was flooded with thoughts, each of which she tried to ignore. Thoughts of the past few months, of him, of the bleak future that stood before her, and of the urges. Yes, the urges, the lustful ones that poked at her from the back of her skull, seeping into every single thought, every memory, every idea. It didn't help that it was early in the morning, probably not long past midnight, which was definitely the worst time for her. The thoughts that crowded in her head were drowning in the worst that her stigma had to offer. She thought of finding a way of freeing her hands, to try and loosen her mind for a moment, or of someone coming up behind her and... No, no, no, no. She needed to stop herself, control her mind, tighten the leash on her thoughts. Letting them loose wouldn't do anything, she knew that. She needed to control herself. So, she sat there, staring at the ground, shifting around in discomfort, and biting her lip as the thoughts hit her in waves. She was thankful for the presence of those cuffs.

Several times during the ride, she heard one of her fellow passengers speaking up. His comments were stupid and rather annoying. They were there just to fill the silence, and to be honest, Allison preferred the silence. As dumb as his words were, Allison found his voice to be nice. She didn't care enough to see what he looked like, well, she did, but she kept her head down anyway.

At some point, the calm night turned into a minor panic. Allison did end up looking up as they came to a sudden stop, seeing two lightly dressed women passing over them, bathed in a golden light. Precursors. Allison didn't know their names, though she did know enough about them to know that what just passed over her were two precursors. Lightly dressed precursors, at that. Thoughts flooded into her mind, of course, but she was quick to toss them away. The precursors were obviously fighting something, but instead of looking around, Allison just turned her head back down as the transport started moving again.

Outside of a few moments, the entire stretch of time was a blur for Allison, at least in recollection. As it turns out, sitting in a truck whilst chained to a bunch of people you don't know, with your thoughts torturing you as a bonus is not the kind of thing you would want to remember.
___

After the arrival, Allison was slightly more calm. Well, as calm as one could be when your a prisoner. The chamber they had been taken to was at least preferable to their transport vehicle. Allison stood in silence as the old woman arrived.

Lina Zhang didn't actually look too old, but Allison found referring to her as such to be slightly amusing, even if it was only to herself. The director started to speak, and Allison listened as carefully as she could.

"I am Director Lina Zhang, and from now on I'll play the role of guardian and prison warden to all of you. Generally, welcoming parties at three in the morning are rescheduled for seven in the morning to allow everyone time to sleep. But as I understand it, your convoy ran into some trouble along the way. I'm here to make sure this potential mishap hasn't given any of you thoughts on escaping."

Allison assumed that she was referring to the whole precursor thing. She wasn't exactly sure how that related to escaping, but maybe that had something to do with whatever the precursors were fighting. Then again, Allison hadn't really considered escape seriously.

When Zhang brought in the firing squad, Allison tensed up a bit. Being surrounded by gun-wielding soldiers uneased the girl, even though she had been surrounded by several people that those gun-wielding soldiers would probably see as more dangerous for a while now. That was an interesting thought. The soldiers saw the subnaturals as a threat, though they were the ones who were more dangerous at the moment. What did they think of Allison, then? She couldn't kill anyone if she wanted to. Harmless. Were any of them dangerous? Allison didn't know, and the guards probably didn't know either.

"As you've realized by now, the cuffs suppress your abilities, and the two nearby without cuffs do not have enough firepower to save you. So here are your options: my soldiers proceed to outfit you with the standard tracking cuffs on your ankles and you do not resist in any way, or I point at any unruly members of the group and they die."

Zhang was certainly ruthless. She seemed like she had been doing this sort of thing for a while. Allison did not want to get in this woman's way.

"Prism has finished dealing with the nearby issue and is on hand for any potential trouble with the new arrivals, but I find it a massive waste of a Precursor's time to deal with trifling matters, so I'll give any of you that wants it an easy exit. Just let me know if you would like to escape. I'm a proponent of free will, after all, and you certainly have the free will to tell me if you'd rather die here than later at Prism's hands."

Allison kept still, looking forward, hands clenched together. She waited for the event to be over.

"I will personally see to your execution, in that event, but I'm also willing to answer any last questions you might have, of course. Feel free to discuss my generous offer with your peers, particularly Lawrence and Lillianna there."

This was the first time that Allison had noticed the two people that Zhang referred to. Lawrence seemed quite calm and collected. He seemed to not care about what was going on around him, more focused on the cup of coffee in his hands. Allison hated coffee, the stuff was too bitter. Why had people chosen coffee as the best vehicle for morning caffeine? Lawrence seemed like a decent person to hang around, other than the whole coffee-drinking thing, and Allison would have tried to initiate conversation with him if it wasn't for the whole oppressively terrifying aura of the situation.
The other person, Lillianna, was quite small. In fact, she looked like a child. Allison was sure that the girl couldn't be much older than thirteen. Would they really lock away a child? Of course they would, these are the people who are willing to point guns at a crowd of unarmed, heavily restrained people just because they might be slightly dangerous.

Before she realized it, Allison's face shifted into a scowl. She quickly shoved off this expression, returning to a more neutral one. Allison looked away from Lillianna, sure that she would speak to the girl at later date. Of course, given Zhang's words, Allison was free to speak to them now, but Allison felt that that was far from wise.

While Allison stayed quiet, others were not so apprehensive. The first to speak was a young man who was a bit taller than Allison. His skin was pale, and he seemed rather thin. Nothing about him really stuck out to Allison, as even his question was rather reasonable. What Allison was interested by was the response from the coffee-drinker, Lawrence.

"Yeah, it sounds like the stupid sort of obvious lie you'd hear from a movie villain, but it's true in a sense. If you try to fight back, you will be killed, and until that was made perfectly clear to you guys it would almost be unfair to give you the opportunity to do so at all. Once we're finished with the orientation and you really understand the consequences of your actions, your freedoms will expand considerably, so please try to be patient for a bit. I know it sucks, I was in the same spot a year ago. But, now as you can see I'm here, so it does get better. I'd say you get about as much freedom as your average boarding school student, which isn't too terrible compared to, say, a life in chains. As long as you follow the rules then USARILN East won't really care what you get up to in your free time. You'll even get some spending money every month and be able to walk around town."

She found his words to be reassuring, and she felt slightly more comfortable with the guns pointed at the group of subnaturals.

"In case we try to escape? Oh, of course. Nothing makes me want to run free more than knowing there's a bunch of creatures out there that could kill me in two seconds flat. But as long as we're being chained up for our own good, that's fine. Gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside, you know? I didn't think they cared."

The second person to speak was a girl who was, amusingly, taller than the pale kid. She spoke her mind, seeming pretty annoyed by the whole situation. She had an air of confidence around her. The first word that came to Allison's mind was "dominant", and that felt like a perfect way to describe her. Allison was definitely interested.

“I would prefer not to die today, if that’s possible.”

Next was a boy who looked, for lack of a better word, dead, which was ironic given his statement. He looked like the corpse of a tall man that had gotten up and started talking. Though, he did have nice hair.

"Um, yeah, Queen Stick, question over here! Can I get my mandatory criminal ankle bracelet in chestnut? Anything else tends to clash with my eyes."

The next person to speak spoke sarcastically, the same annoying words and decent voice that had remained in her mind from the truck ride. Now that Allison had a look at him, she didn't know how to feel about him. Of course, there were thoughts about what to do with him that floated in the back of her mind, but they were dulled by the whole situation. His face was scarred, and Allison wasn't sure if that was good or bad. It kind of looked cool, but he seemed to be a really obnoxious person, and scars didn't really look that good on obnoxious people.

"...I wonder how rooming will work..."

A girl about Allison's height said something, but it seemed like little more than thinking out loud. The girl was thin, and that was all that Allison could tell from looking at her. She didn't really say much, and that really prevented Allison from getting any semblance of her personality. She was kind of cute, though.

"Why are you threatening us with a firing squad, and inviting us to be executed? Didn't some of them volunteer, and this is how you treat them? We're valuable tools for the government, aren't we? You shouldn't be so willing to throw us away just so you can look credible."

"Ma ithis, nar chacair!"

The next few to speak were a tall, dangerous-looking girl, who's words were both reasonable and accusatory, and an angry girl who shouted something in a language that definitely wasn't English. Multiple people stepped away from the dangerous girl when Allison noticed that she had slipped from her cuffs, and she decided to join in on the craze, spreading the distance between them slightly.

"It's true that some. . . subnaturals have caused problems, done terrible things even. But many of us have done nothing wrong. Some came here voluntarily, or even wanted to come. Why are we all being treated like criminals?"

“We’re just like wild animals to them! They don’t care who you are, how old you are or where you come from! We’re monsters. Monsters to be tamed and disposed of, nothing less. However, that doesn’t mean I won’t cooperate. Just… give me some work to be done so I can’t think too much about it. Hell, I admit that I’ll even do like the poor fuckers out there this morning and help in saving your Regulars’ sorry asses if I don’t get shot at before then.”

An athletic girl who seemed to be Indian, or something similar, spoke in agreement with the dangerous girl. Allison saw where the two of them were coming from, though she still kept quiet. A loud woman who was the epitome of a metal-head responded in a seemingly angry fashion, though she also seemed to be at least somewhat reasonable.

"Just wanna go to sleep."

"I-I'll...w-wear the ankle cuff. P-please don't k-kill me."

An athletic woman with blue hair mumbled something, but Allison couldn't make it out. A young man spoke shakily, and Allison saw the cowardly boy as somewhat amusing. Messing with him might be kind of fun.

"Can i please not be shot for what the others are doing? I'll take the ankle cuff willingly as well, just to be clear on the matter."

The next to speak was a young man who seemed calm and collected. He was being pretty reasonable. Multiple people in the group seemed to represent a danger to the rest. Allison didn't want to get hit by a bullet because someone else decided to do something stupid. Sure, Allison didn't really want to be here, even if she did come here voluntarily, but that didn't mean dying was better. Her being here was all his fault. He ruined everything and then he disappeared. Why...

Allison stopped herself from thinking about it, and continued to look around at her fellow prisoners in silence.

" I'm ok with getting that ankle thing on me. No problem. I just have to ask you something, Director Zhang. When will be allowed to roam freely into the school it self? "

A tall red-haired girl asked a reasonable question, one that the coffee-drinker had partially answered earlier, but it was still worth hearing the answer to. Allison considered asking a question of her own, but as she probed her mind, she found that the only questions she had weren't really worth asking. It was just easier to stay quiet. She'd much rather wait, and keep those questions until they were necessary. So, Allison Revel silently stood chained to a bunch of strangers with guns pointed at them.