Amaro De'or sat comfortably in his darkened office. His heavy build supported by one of his expensive black leather office chairs. He settled himself back, picking up a handful of official documents from his dark ebony desk. His face was set in it's normal expression of grim determination as his aggressive ice blue eyes scanned the page before him. It was a simple white paper, covered with the usual ink typed letters running across it in organised sections. As Amaro sifted through the information, he reached over to his right grasping a delicate wine glass filled with expensive liquor. Taking a small sip, Amaro returned the glass to it's rightful place on his desk before continuing to read the sheets of paper before him.
It seemed it was another successful week. No agent deaths, though that was common, it very rarely had any positive number in it's usual blank space. Numerous information gained, marked each with a unique description and a few new lodgers at the Department for Genetic Mutations. Finding himself content with the report made to him by his second, as was her job, Amaro tossed the papers lightly back onto his desk when a black typed "1" caught his eye. The inked numeral seemed to stand out of the page and jump out at him, before blurring as Amaro held it too close to his face for his eyes to distinguish properly. Calming himself Amaro held it back a few paces from his face, and his eyes darkened at the dreadful number as the full meaning of it came clear. It had not been a successful week. There was an injury.
Furious at this single numeral which disrupted his perfect month and a half, Amaro flicked through the papers before coming to the incident reports, which were normally left blank. Even so, Amaro had instructed his Second, Sasha Parks, to include it just for records. In truth it was nice to gloat over the beautifully blank page, realising it meant another successful week. As he finally found the page he was after however, Amaro quickly realised his normally clear page was marred with ink blotches in the form of a serious incident report.

On the 18th of June, 2012, Miss Cecile Harding was placed in intensive care due to an incident including subject Raven Umbra. It appears Miss Harding had failed to wear the psychic band, and the subject used their psychological mutation to enforce some sort of illusion involving fear and pain. Due to the strength of the illusion Miss Harding underwent severe trauma and was immediately taken to an intensive care unit. Doctor's claim she is in a relatively stable condition, though the trauma has caused severe brain damage which is claimed to be permanent (see Medical Report for more details). Subject has yet to be reprimanded and details of the attack are still fairly unknown.

Amaro gritted his teeth, the only outward sign of his anger, before turning to the medical report. After scanning it through he returned to the Incident Report. He was furious. This should not have happened. He had asked one of the scientists years ago to create the psychic bands to protect those agents that got too close to Raven's dangerous mind. This is what happened to those that defied his orders. He would have to gain some information on the subject such as the images and feelings sent to the agent from Raven, the intensity of the attack and also state it had left the subject in.
He was about to call the Higher Order and Miss Parks in for a brief meeting when his personal assistant, Debs, ran in.
"Mister De'or?"
Amaro inclined his head slightly, nodding for her to continue.
"It's about one of the Human Norms sir. It appears that Miss Noelle Carter somehow managed to order twenty-seven pizza's fro-"
"What!?" Amaro demanded, before regaining his composure, though his eyes remained dark and agitated. "Continue.." He said dangerously quiet, with a wave of his hand.
"It appears she hacked into the computer and managed to re-install her internet connection…"
"Right that's it. Debs, please ask Miss Sasha Parks to meet me here, she should be in her office"
Debs scrambled to obey his orders, and hurried through the door joining Amaro's and Sasha's offices.
After she had left, Amaro turned to his personal guard- BK-809.
He loved the clone, he never failed to gain information, though Amaro preferred to have him used as a punishment deliverer. He would have his second, Miss Parks interrogate Miss Carter after he had had a chat with her himself.
After clearing that up in his mind, Amaro turned to the clone.
"I wish you to interrogate Miss Raven Umbra. I want three questions answered: One; what illusions she gave Miss Harding. Two: The state it left her in, did it require a lot of energy? And three: Teach her a lesson." His face remained passive, however his eyes lit up in cruel enjoyment "Make sure it is a hard one, she shouldn't be able to walk unaided back to her cell."
He dismissed BK-809 with a wave of his hand before jotting down some of the questions he needed Noelle to answer. She would answer, especially if he put his second in command. She was probably the most feared, though he himself had a fair amount, it was rarer for him to include himself. She however was the main interrogator.

Amaro rose from his desk and filed the remaining papers, minus the incident report. He then waited standing for Sasha Parks. Today he would accompany her. He had a deal he wanted Miss Carter to be aware of.

Raven opened her eyes, her almost black irises searching her cell yet again. She smoothed out her long, now tattered black skirt and re-adjusted the black corset. She pulled her long hair from underneath and swept it across her shoulder. She chewed her lip thoughtfully, glancing over the cell once more before stretching out her back.
One day she would be out and justice would be served. She chuckled mirthlessly, she drummed her blood red fingernails across the floor. The soft chinking sound resounded around the room, and Raven allowed her lips to curve in a rare one of her grim smiles. Soon…
She had been here too long she thought rather smugly, soon...she would rebel, but not yet. For now she would brood, her mood visibly dampened as she remembered that once again she would have to put up with being bored. She tugged gently at the large metal clasp around her wrist, hearing the rattle of the chain that was attached to the wall. Raven frowned slightly, delicately wrinkling the skin on her forehead. She did not like being stuck. She had been here for ages and quite frankly she was sick of it.
"If I ever get out of here" Raven claimed out loud "I suggest justice" She smirked at the thought. She enjoyed being loud and drawing attention to herself. She let her tongue roam over her straight teeth, attempting to remember the last meal she'd had. Not that it would be that appetizing, she sighed slightly as she got up, half returning to the girl she used to be before slamming in place her sarcastic, indifferent mask.
Bored, Raven slowly let her mind out to the person next door.
<You know we're going to have to get out at some point. What do you suggest?> She asked rather mockingly. The kid next door was quite young, she knew that from his more recent memories, and his name was Mitchell. It was nice knowing stuff about other people, while keeping your own identity a mystery. Raven smirked as she released her hold on Mitchell's mind and returned to herself.
She pulled on some long, black, lace gloves, enjoying the gothic style immensely, time to make sure the guards feared her slightly. She pulled all her strength together and gently sent out a probe. She wormed it through the door and up and down the hallway slightly, searching for a mind to play with. She finally made contact with one guard coming towards her. She slowly shuffled through some of the guards more recent memories.
He seemed rather oblivious to her as he came further forward, and Raven could tell he was laughing over something. Curious, Raven decided to be a pain.
"I don't suppose you have any nail polish for me?" she asked in a rather demanding tone. "I like crimson"
She added rather cheekily, before scowling as he ignored. Normally she got what she wanted because when she didn't she was a real pain. Lately she had been finding it harder and harder to be good though, even for the clothes she loved. Certainly she was still beaten and the cell was less then desirable, but at least she could wear what she liked.
"Excuse me? You had better not be ignoring me! Look their peeling" she said in a rather sulky tone, shoving her blood red nails into the guards face through the bars of her cell.
"You won't be getting anything for a while I shouldn't wonder" the guard muttered moving away from Raven's outstretched hand.
That was strange. Normally she would be beaten for being so obnoxious, however something was holding him back. And then there was the problem of not getting the nail polish. Obviously her last episode with her demands that the black corset remain in the cell didn't go down so well. Then again, that actually may not be the reason. Raven smirked. One of the younger/newer guards had forgotten the psychic band which tired Raven out more. Raven hadn't been bad...not too bad. She had only added a little bit of terror and insanity. Unfortunately Raven was mad at the time and this had only infuriated and swelled her powers until she had let out a harsh burst of pain, fear and madness towards the guard. From the guards memory the younger one had apparently gone a little bit strange. Twasn't Raven's fault. The girl had been stupid and hadn't worn the band. It was almost an invitation wasn't it?
Raven frowned. According to this guard that had been unforgivable, and he had a psychic band firmly up his arm. She let out a low growl. Damn! No fun mind games today.
She turned away from the door, there was no fun to be had there. Finding herself bored, as per usual, Raven looked over at the spare corset she had. It had taken a lot of effort to keep it here, and it was partially torn. Still, it was something that was hers. She looked at her current outfit and scowled. She had been forced to wear this for a week. She wanted something new, however it didn't seem as though that would be happening anytime soon.
She was wearing a tight black corset with strong boning. It was rather plain Raven thought irritated. The corset lead down to a flowing black skirt which was short at the front and grew longer at the back. The back dropped to the floor and the front reached just to her knees. Her hands were covered with lace gloves up to her elbows and a black ribbon was tied around her neck.
Raven sighed. There was no use fretting how she looked if it wasn't going to change anytime soon. In her vain state, she failed to realise that no one was looking anyway. She moved her dead straight hair out of the way and lay down on the floor, before getting up in fury. She never could sleep that way as her left hand was chained, forcing her to sleep on the black chain. She lay down the other way, and shut her eyes attempting to forget where she was and how ugly she was and how beautiful she would be if only she could repaint her peeling nails. She was enjoying sulking when a heart rending scream echoed up from the floor below her. Once again in irrational irritation Raven yelled down.
"Will you just shut up? I am trying to sleep" she screamed before muttering under her breath about the unfairness of the situation. Another scream echoed once again from the interrogation rooms below.
"Listen? I'll join you if don't shut up!" You certainly will a dark voice whispered, especially if the High Order hear about your previous incident.

As the screams continued Drake sat in his plastic cell (to stop him useing electricity) quiet and unbound to anywhere, he heard the slot of his door open and a guard walked in.
"doctor wants a check up Drake" said the guard as he held out and open pair of handcuffs, Drake stood up slowly and held his hands out for the guard to cuff together.
As they walked down the hall Drake stopped for second outside Ravens cell, "how you doing Raven" he asked almost sounding like he actually cared about her. She groaned at him and they continued to the doctors rooms where Drake layed down on the chair as it moved to a horrazontal shape. "well how are you Drake?" asked the doctor. Drake layed there silently until the docotor pressed down on one of Drakes fresh wounds from the 'Mutant Fights' (The company do this this to A: lower the amount of mutants in the facillity, B:to wound the mutants to make rebellions less suscessfull and C: to seperate people from making freinds). Drake let out a Painfull full scream. "YOU SON OF A...", a guard cut him of by covering his mouth. "thank you thats enough" said the doctor as he signalled for the guard to leave. After a few minutes of X-Rays and Thermo- checks Drake was walked back to his cell. Drake heard a bottle roll, he noticed the Shaft for his food open and a bottle of Vodka roll in. "drink up, you'll need the energy for the fights tonight" said the guard before laughing his way out of the hallways.
Drake picked up the Bottle and unscrewed the top and began drinking from it.

Later that day / night they can't see the sky. The mutants were put into the arena stands surrounded by gaurd and a volt-inser (creates electricity to inmobillise anyone that passes the line before the games end), Raven notices a young boy thorwn into the arena (15 -16 years), she then saw Drake walk in the other side of the arena. ' Now Newbies this is why Drake is our NO.1 fighter in this place, oh and welcome to the Mutant Fights today' the voice was a man behind a mocrophone. Drake held his hand up
to the boy, "look Kid i dont want to hurt you..." he was cut off by the kid thorwing a ball of fire at Drake but missed by a few centimeters, "fine" Drake said deffectedly as he leapt at the boy grabbing his throat pinning him to the ground instantly, The crowd were chearing and shouted "KILL , KILL, KILL". Drake got up and let the kid go. He raised his arms to show that the fight was over. He looked up at raven who seemed releaved he did'nt kill the boy. Laterin their cells Drake spoke to Raven "Raven do you hate me for doing this to other Mutants?" he asked softly.

It's not that she cared about the place being in a state of uproar. In fact, though it almost never was, she always expected it might someday be, so why be caught off-guard? No, her issue lay, as always, within the state of her coffee. She'd kill for some irish cream to lace it with but regulation stated liquor to be off-limits on-duty. She wondered if that applied to everyone or just her. Nontheless, perhaps it was better her brain not be addled by it.
Rikki sat, right leg crossed carefully over her pinstripe-clad left, sipping at a cappucino. The hand not burdened by the china cup languidly flipped through pristine pages on her desk. It was too early in the morning for anyone to be specifically here, and the relatively small room was kind of homely when empty.
Of course she had to read up on all new lodgers. She just hoped that, once she'd escorted them here, she wouldn't have to deal with them anymore. That was her greatest wish. Well she wouldn't know WHAT she'd have to do today until ordered so, and it seemed like everyone was too busy to bother. "Perfect", Rikki purred, slamming her drink down heavy on her specially-ordered glass-topped desk. Her brown jacket hung on the back of her chair, a woolblend with satin lining a shade darker, its buttons marching up when buttoned at an angle instead of straight. In one swift movement she was out of her chair and pulling it on over her cream-colored blouse.
As she exited the room she could see a guard moving swiftly down the hall to the lift. Jeez how disgusting. Rikki couldn't say why guards made her skin crawl, they just had that effect on her. Finally she realized, as he turned the corner, that she had been standing there frozen like an idiot.... THAT was embarrasing. Her straight nose crinkled a little in distaste at the thought of being seen like that.
"And a good morning to you." She mumbled towards where the guard had been. Already she could hear very faint screams from way below the concrete floors... down in the abyss. She longed to be the one causing that pain, but unfortunately had to wait. Absentmindedly Rikki tugged a loose strand of hair back into her french twist.
She had been on her way down to watch the early morning experiments, those were her favorites, but the thought of running into that robot again made her change her mind. Besides, the local bookstore was simply screeching her name, and who was she to ignore it? There was, of course, a coffee shop built in there too, so go figure. Rikki also had the pages she had to finish reading tucked neatly under her arm. Maybe that would keep her from getting in trouble. Besides, it's not like anyone bothered with her. Especially not this early.

Sasha sat in her office with the lights dimmed and the curtains pulled all the way shut. Her long legs were kicked carelessly up on her smooth white desk, ending in a pair of bright red pumps. She was leaned back slightly on her chair, inspecting herself in a small desk mirror. Her hair was thick, black, and gently waving and her makeup was painted on with precision. Around her neck, she wore a small dewdrop diamond on a thin silver chain, and in her ears, a pair of matching earrings. With a sigh, she tapped a red fingernail, on the arm of her chair, swirling a glass of wine in her other hand. She'd just finished her reports for Amaro and now she had a free second to reflect and admire her exceptional taste in make up and clothing. Her legs were bare up to mid-thigh where the ends of her black velvet dress sat. Over the dress, she was wearing a stylish white-leather jacket. The only thing that ruined her perfection were the scars.

When she was done admiring herself, Sasha slapped the mirror down on her desk and hid it away in a drawer, sipping her wine carelessly as she glanced around the dark room. She'd been back at the facility for a week now. After her rescue, Sasha had only allowed herself a week's recovery from the nearly fatal wounds she'd had. The doctors had suggested over a month, but she would have none of it. She just placed on a cool and collected face and marched right back into her job, acting as though the event meant nothing to her when really it had traumatized her. The memories were still fresh and when she had time to herself, Sasha would often sit and remember the events. The doctors had offered to remove her scars and make her skin pretty and smooth again, but she'd chosen to keep them. Just like the tattoo's on her arms, they told a story. One she'd like to forget, but it was a part of her nonetheless. So much of her past had been a mystery even to her, that Sasha held on to every bit of new history she could get her hands on.

Slowly, Sasha dragged her legs off her desk and crossed gracefully to one of the wide windows, throwing back the curtain to look out at the city with her wine still in one hand. She wrapped her arm around her waist and leaned on her left leg, watching the streets and thinking, remembering. There were four mutants. They'd come to her home in the middle of the night and taken her, knowing who she worked for. They'd wanted information and spared no method in getting it. Images hit her, and Sasha had to take a breath for a second. It was unhealthy, torturing herself with memories like this, but she did it to remember why she did what she did. Why she punished the mutants so harshly and why they deserved it. Otherwise she would grow soft. Running her fingers through her dark hair, she took another sip of her wine and continued, letting her eyes glass over.

They'd locked her in a basement for two years with no light and barely one meal a week. They'd attempted to get information out of her, but all they'd gotten was that she was Sasha Park, she wasn't an actual U.S citizen, and she was Second-in-command at the facility. Ever since that night when she'd been kidnapped, Sasha had looked for excuses to work well into the night and even sleep at the facility some nights. She still went home, of course, but when she was there she could never sleep. She always sat up, working even harder.

A small voice pulled her from her thoughts and Sasha turned briskly, nearly spilling her wine. It was Deb, telling her that Amaro wanted her. She sighed, well that was it for torturing herself. Placing the glass back on her white desk, Sasha made sure she hadn't gotten any wine on herself before nodding at Deb. "Yes, yes. Get out of here." She waved her off, a slight Spanish accent tinging her words when she spoke. It would be a near tragedy if she had spilled the rich red liquid on her white jacket, but once she was sure she hadn't she sighed, and crossed the room to the door joining her office to Amaro's. Entering, she stood before him, crossing her arms over chest. "You called?"

To the passer-by, the cell would have seemed deserted, darkness hanging like a veil over the tiny space. However, on closer inspection would the inspector noticed the thin shape huddled in the right corner of the cell, wincing from invisible blows every few seconds. This was normally the state Mitchell Lifates was in, here at the Department of Genetic Modifications. The cold of the cell's walls and floor sepped into his skin, causing him to shiver, along with the waves of burning pain that vibrated through the cell. Signal emitters were placed throughout the cell, sending out continuos signal to keep his powers at bay, along with the collar that rapped painfully around his neck.

At the moment, he was in the deepest parts of his mind, which acted as his only sanctuary against the pain that burned through his body. Though with the state he was in, he wasn't any better off, pain or not. Fear hung over him like a blanket and any thought of throwing it off was pushed aside by the neverending pain of those emitters. Once, when he was still slightly brave, he tried to find where they were in his cell so he could break them, just to be more comfortable. He managed to find one, break it, and five minutes later a guard came and took him to the Torture Chambers. He never wanted to be in those blood stained rooms again.

Slowly drawing himself out, he scanned his darkened prison, expecting to seem something new, as he always did. Mitchell slowly raised himself, grunting faintly as another wave from the emitters washed over him. His legs cried in protest as he made his way to the shaft of light that beamed to the cell floor like a pillar of white from the window of his door. He stared out the tiny opening with an expression of fear and anxiety. At some point during his life here, he had been caught looking through at one of the guards and was savagly beaten before being thrown into his cell again. None of the guards had to wear anything when they were around him, because they knew he'd never fight back, never resist, and now that he thought about it, it made him angry. The sudden emotion nearly startled him back into his shell, having never experienced anger in what nearly felt an eternity, which in reality he had only been in that cell for several months. Curious, he turned it over in his mind, and the more he examined it, the more he felt angry. He felt angry that he was here, stuck in this cell like a criminal, angry that he wouldn't stand up against those who seeked to cause him pain. He had what he needed to fight back, emitters or no emitters.

Before he resolved to begin beating on the walls, a voice rang through his thoughts, sending shivers down his spine,You know we're going to have to get out at some point. What do you suggest? it said mockingly and sounding slightly feminine as well.

Mitchell backed away from the window, rapping his arms around himself,"I don't know...I just want to leave...and I don't care how," he stated, leaning against the wall and sliding until he hit the floor with a dull thud. The veil of fear had begun to close over him again, but in it's center hung a micro light of defiance. Shaking the voice's statement fromh is thoughts, he retreated back inside himself, once again motionless as wave after wave of pain poured through his being, trying feverishly to keep that tiny light of defiance lit.

Knees to nose. Small. Smaller. Smaller. Blink. No air blowing, just being. Just staying where it is. Didn't want to talk to you anyway, Cannis, Saar, or any of your little friends. Alone, alone. Eyes closed. It is dark. Alone, alone, don't like being alone.

"Stop whining, you bastard."
"Leave me alone."
"Don't bug him like that."
"I'll do whatever the hell I want to do."

God no. So this was one of those days? A small, detached bit of Fletcher watched himself. One of those days without a barrier from brain to mouth. And everyone seemed to be in attendance. One hand, which was tight around him legs, pulling them towards the warmth of his core, shook violently. He wore a plain shirt, the color of dirt. Had it always been that way? The man couldn't remember. did it really matter anyway?

"Please be quiet, guys. I'm trying to sleep."
"No. I'll shut up when I fucking well want to."

That was the voice dubbed Eris. Perhaps the most...strong willed of the personalities in Fletcher's head. The most annoying for sure. The other was Feis, the most feminine of the voices, one that usually kept to the side, never dominating the mind, just staying off to one side.


Today was a weak day. They didn't happen often. But lately Fletcher had been spiraling deeper into himself. Not a good thing. There hadn't been a draft in his cell for a while now, and he was going crazy all by himself. Even more crazy than usual. That was when all the voice liked to come about at once. usually one would try and take over, and Fletcher would let it, his being the weakest of the minds. Of the wills. They were still him, per say, but not really. they kept then same aspirations, the same fears, likes, dislikes, hopes, but they all went about things a different way.

"Fine."
"Yeah, I thought so."

The conversation always sounded odd, as it was all in an almost monotone, no as if there were multiple voices talking, but just one arguing with itself. It was all quiet enough, his voice soft, but still disturbing. And the sound echoed around the little room, amplifying the sound a bit.

"I'm hungry."

Targo piped up.

"For the love of God, shut your face."
"But I-"
"No. You aren't hungry. I'm not hungry. Is anyone else hungry?"
"No."
"I'm not either. It must be your imagination."
"But I am!"

Targo was not the brightest of minds. And he was a bit whiny, but he was Fletcher's favorite voice. Like a little kid. And he was the most down to earth mind sometimes. All the others had blocked out things like hunger and certain discomforts long ago.But Targo always reminded everyone how empty their stomach was.

The blonde ran a hand through his hair, opening his eyes. Everyone collectively sighed as he stood up. He was usually in control of the body, even if the mind wasn't his. The little lucid bit looked on apathetically, glad just to be there for the time being. He'd probably fizzle out soon, overrun by the others. he never spoke a word, never did much of anything but watch.

Fletcher paced the short length of his cell. back and forth, back and forth. it calmed the other minds, sent them into a lull, let his brain come back a bit. He smiled, his fingers shaking harder. Alone.

Alone, alone, alone is quiet. Alone is scary.

Fletcher giggled to himself, just to get rid of the quiet suddenly inside his head. There were noises outside too, but they weren't brought by the wind. he was too deep inside himself to really listen to them right now anyway. He resumed his corner, resumed his position, closed his eyes, and giggled softly to himself again.

Alone is a funny word.

Nicolette lay in her cell on her back. Her legs were kicked up on the wall before her and she was facing the wall next to her. Bright, platinum blonde hair sprayed haphazardly across the floor. It was sad really, that her cell was so small her hair nearly covered the floor space. True, her hair was long, but the room was more like a concrete closet then a room. She looked up at her feet on the wall with ice blue eyes. She was barefoot in a pair of shorts and an old volleyball t-shirt. Her toes were painted a chipping purple and her clothes were wrinkled. She longed for new, clean clothes. It was horrible having to wear the same clothes for weeks at a time. She didn't even care what they gave her as long as it was warm. Her cell was often freezing cold and the concrete didn't help. Wearing a t-shirt and shorts was not going to keep her warm. Hell, she wouldn't be surprised if she ended up with hypothermia. Maybe if she got it they'd be forced to give her new cloths. Nikki smiled slightly at the thought, and just for effect, sneezed as a guard passed her cell. He looked in at her slightly and she could hear his thought bouncing about in her head.

Disgusting.. dirty.. Mutant.. What's wrong with her now? And then he moved on. She hadn't heard his thoughts just moments ago, but as soon as they'd turned to her, they'd been clear as day. With a bored sigh, she kicked her leg on the wall, her bare foot making a slight slapping sound. Around her left wrist, an iron cuff was locked tight, attached to the wall with an iron chain and iron clasp. How she longed for it to be gone. She'd stolen a thousand slick items like butter and grease, trying to pry her hand free of the metal. She'd gotten it off once, but in her condition, she could only teleport as high as the second floor and was caught and rewarded with an even tighter cuff. The metal burned on her arm, searing her skin slightly. It wasn't the reaction a normal person had to iron, but it was her weakness. She had learned how to ignore the burning after a while, but it was still there, searing her skin. The day she'd managed to get the cuff off, there was a thick red ring around her small wrist where it had been. If only she could get it off again... She would be smart this time and save up her strength, teleporting herself as far as Chicago. After Chicago, she'd rest for a few days, change her hair, take up a new name, get her strength up to it's full capacity and then disappear again to her favorite city- Vegas, the city that never sleeps.

Nicole could remember the bright lights of that city better then anything. Even though she hated her father, and what he made her do, he'd been sick when they were there and she'd had the most freedom she'd had in her entire life. It was dirty, and hot, and dangerous for a young girl, but she knew how to live in those conditions and loved it. New York was horrible. It was cold, and bitter, and above all, she was locked up here. Rolling her eyes, she was brought back to the idea of the facility and the metal cuff eased it's way back into her conscience, burning like an irritating itch she couldn't scratch. Another guard passed her cell and she quickly used one of her unrestrained powers to lift a permanent marker from his belt and slide it across the room and under her back. She'd been smooth and fast, and he moved on without noticing her. Waiting until he was fully gone, Nikki pulled out the marker and scooted closer to the wall.

The walls of her cell were completely covered in little writings. Even the ceiling had it's fair share of maker jottings on it. At first, the staff had wondered if it was some sort of rebellious act and tried to stop it, cleaning the spots every time they appeared, but soon they just ignored it. She would steal a marker, write on the walls until it's tip was torn to pieces, then steal another. It was the only thing to do in this place and the little writings kept her somehow connected to the outside world and kept her spirits up. Nikki chuckled slightly. If they really wanted her to stop writing on her cell, they'd have just taken the markers out of the guards belts. How stupid. What did they even do with them anyway? Sharpie someone to death?

Shaking her head, she went to work on the wall, looking for and empty spot. The words were mostly song lyrics and motivational quotes. Before the facility, Nicole had always had an excellent memory and could remember every word to any song she'd ever heard. Even if she'd only heard it once. She'd never been too crazy about music, but now that she was locked up here with nothing to do but spill her lyric-memory on the walls, she longed for nothing more then to be able to listen to it over and over again. When I get out of here, I'm buying the largest stereo system I can find, and I'm never turning it off. She thought to herself and placed the tip of the marker on a blank spot on the wall, thinking of a song. Once she'd found one, she began tapping her feet to the beat of it, making soft slapping noises on the wall for her feet were still kicked up on it. "I created the sound of madness..." She traced the lyrics from the song "Sound of madness" carefully across the wall. "How appropriate." She thought to herself with a smirk as a scream sounded its way up towards her from the lower floors.

Code: Select all

Run cmd

C:>whoami
dogcpu12\noelle

C:>Runas /netonly /user:dogcpu12\admin cmd
Enter the password for dogcpu12\admin:
Attemping to start cmd as user "dogcpu12\admin" ...

-Success-

C:>NTRIGHTS +r SeEnableDelegationPrivilege -u dogcpu12\noelle
Rights modified

C:>DELPROF /Q /R /D:2
Profile cache deleted for 1 USER(S):  dogcpu/admin

C:>exit

Noelle closed her eyes, running a hand through her hair and taking a deep breath. She'd been awake for almost twenty four hours, staring at the computer screen and almost setting the keyboard on fire with her typing. Well, not quite on fire, but the letter decals on each key were already beginning to wear off. She had enabled the internet, ordered pizzas, looked at the various computers in the building, downloaded enough movies and video games to last her a year, and just now, erased all her tracks. Her eyes were sunken from lack of sleep, hair pulled into a greasy pigtail behind her.

Get up, No. Get a shower. Fix yourself up. Her conscience prodded at her exhaustion-addled brain, and feeling rather like a zombie the young woman pushed back the chair and rose to her feet. The head rush was immediate, darkness flowing into her vision and weakness overcoming her for a few seconds. A silent curse rang through Noelle's mind as she pulled herself off the floor. She'd forgotten to eat... again.

Noelle shambled into the kitchen, pulling a banana from a hanging wire basket and peeling it. She was a strange, curious girl. Most girl's her age would be just graduating college, excited and facing the world for the first time. To Noelle, the world was an old concept she would be fine to avoid as much as possible. Her world existed behind a screen, and it was in that world she had made her millions. All right, so she'd never had more than three-million at once... it was still enough to live off of for the rest of her life.

Not that money was useful to her now. Trapped in this apartment by her curiosity, locked up like an animal because she knew what the government wanted a secret. Stupid of them. Noelle had access to the internet-- she could tell anyone she wanted about DOG mountain. Its not like they would believe her, she had no proof. And even proof would be considered fabricated, conspiracy theorists being the clever b*st*rds they are. So she had told no one, simply ordered the pepperoni pizzas to mess with the folks in charge. It was a pointless, stupid, and rather immature thing to do, but Noelle hardly cared. She didn't want to be seen as a threat, and the sooner they discovered her internet use, the less of one she'd be seen as.

So even then, as Noelle sat in the kitchenette and ate a bowl of slightly stale cereal, she knew was going to escape. It was a simple fact in her mind. She was determined to leave and there was no possible way walls could contain her will. Plans were already beginning to form in her mind, and she was going to perfect them before making a perfect exit. She was going to make it perfect because Noelle knew she had patience. You can't be a computer programmer, or a hacker, without a great deal of patience. So it was this patience that soothed her desire to leave as she finished the meal and calmly went to take a shower.

Thirty minutes later, and much cleaner, Noelle sat on the couch, staring at the wall. Her mind was ablaze with plans, speculation, and plotting. Perhaps she was too confident. Perhaps she was too stubborn. Oh well. They would never break her.

Silently, she invited them to go ahead and try.

As BK-809 walked through the Mutant chambers, or anyother chambers for that matter the hallways grew silent almost instantly, the people feared BK-809 as alot feared Drake, after all he is a murder if you think about it he kills his own kind in the mutant fights. BK is no better, being just and emotionless version of Drake that makes him more terrifying than Drake.
BK stopped at a cell, "open it,,,, now" he shouted at the guards , the doors opened and a woman sitting in the corner became unimaginably frightened, she knew what was going to happen 'The execution' as she stood BK gripped her arm almost breaking it. As he walked her down to the center of the Cells. He pushed her down onto her knees and placed his hand onto her face. "Mutants if you dissobey our rules this is your fate". Bk's eyes began to glow red and a electric charge flew from his arms and into her body. People heard her screams for only a few seconds before she was dead. "clean it up" BK said towards a group of guards. As BK walked up the stairs he walked into Drakes room.
"want a drink BK" Drake siad as he held a bottle of Vodka out to him, BK stood silent, "fine theres no way your my clone if you dont drink" he said almost sarcasticly. "i do not have your memory so i dont feel the need to drink" he replyed, "and we both know that its killing you"he continued. "carfull you sound almost human" Drake said jokingly, "No its common Knoledge thats its killing you" BK said back to him, BK walked out of the hallways. After he went back to Amaro's office he stood by the door. "sir should we even be allowing Drake drink alchohol if it's killing him?" he questioned.

"You called?"
Amaro looked up, the same cold expression masking his face.
"I most certainly did Miss Parks" He allowed his eyes to roam around his desk, with an almost distracted air, while his mind focused on playing the words just right. "I need an...interrogator"
Amaro finally looked up, scrutinising Sasha's face for a reaction before glancing back down at his desk.
"It seems Noelle Carter has decided to act up, sending a nice present of pizza's...using the internet."
He paused before continuing.
"I need you to find out how she accomplished this, who she contacted, for no doubt she would have contacted someone, and also how many of our own computers she may or may not have reached. You can be as harsh as you like, though I would prefer her to remain in a reasonably stable position. I don't feel like paying medical bills.
Before you enjoy yourself, I would like to give her an offer. If she refuses, you can interrogate her, if she agrees...I'll need to plan a little more. In order to give her the offer, I myself will accompany you, I would like to see you in action , if she refuses that is."
Happy that he had covered all that he needed, he moved over to the pa button on the desk.
"Could Rikki Anderson please meet Amaro and Sasha on the fifth floor"
After releasing the button he turned to Sasha.
"I need Raven taken care of...again" he explained rather briskly. "Shall we?"
He gestured to the door before walking through. After waiting for the elevator, Amaro got inside and pressed the button for floor 2.
Stepping out, Amaro approached the first room to the left. After rapping smartly on the door, Amaro let himself in using his master key.
"Miss Carter, I would like you to join us."
He had one hand planted on his hip near a rather conspicuous bulge, in case more drastic measures were needed. His ice blue eyes stared down at the young woman before him. The dark crimson streaks in her otherwise black hair stood out rather boldly, and her rather laid back appearance irritated him, though his face once again hid it. That perhaps would change now an armed man stood before her.
Obviously Amaro hoped this would be rather easy, though he suspected at least some resistance once they actually arrived at floor five. It didn't exactly calm a person. Nonetheless, if she co-operated a little, they should at least get in the lift with not much time wasted. At least that was the plan. In some cases it might be better they took more time. That way it might give more chance the Rikki would actually obey the request over the pa. That would be a miracle in itself if she decided she didn't care to meet them. Rikki did as she pleased, however she had her uses. Ah yes. Amaro would have smiled if his face could have coped with a different expression. Interrogations went rather well under Rikki's hand. Hopefully Miss Umbra would enjoy her stay.

Raven ignored Mitchell's response to her rather "thought out" question. She smirked at her own rather pathetic joke. That was one advantage of being partially insane, the enjoyment of things a sane person wouldn't find amusing. She was still lying down, though the though of sleeping had left her, the screams wouldn't shut up.
She glanced over herself, rolling her eyes in irritation. Seriously she needed a new outfit.
"Could Rikki Anderson please meet Amaro and Sasha on the fifth floor"
Raven heard the announcement through the P.A system and decided to create a scene.
"How amazing! Our overly fantastic "Supreme Director", how humble is his title?, has decided to pay us common people a visit while we're tortured. How quaint" she yelled it out from her cell ensuring most of the floor would hear her. Giving herself a rewarding smile, Raven moved closer to the door of the cage.
"Maybe you'll get a pay rise, or maybe he'll personally bring that red nail polish I'm after" she mocked the guard outside her cell. He gritted his teeth before relinquishing control, and slammed his fist into Raven's head, through the bars of the cage.
Raven let out a rather uncharacteristic yelp before, recovering herself enough to scowl at him.
"What? You'd be shouting if you were bored out of your wits to."
She stalked back into her cell in a huff, seriously irritated that her fun had been interrupted. Finding herself more energetic after her little tantrum, Raven sent out her mind, seeking some sort of amusement. It wasn't long before she came across numerous voices in conversation in one head. All the voices where of the same person, and this drew her attention. Flicking through the man's more recent memories, Raven managed to find out his name was Fletcher and that he was insane. Raven liked insane people. They amused her. As she thought about his conversations with himself, Raven concocted a new way to have fun.
<I'm going to be the bestest voice in your head> she sent sarcastically, intending to confuse the poor man further. <Oops? Did I interrupt something? And yes you are hungry>
She waited rather impatiently for a response, savouring her success at finding something to entertain herself. While she waited she glanced over at Mitchell's cell, though she could barely see it through the bars.
"Wonder if we're going to be "blessed" with a visitor from the Higher Order?" she said smugly, and purposefully being insensitive to the fact of what that might mean. She was sure Mitchell didn't need reminding of what a visit of that sort might cost.
She returned to Fletcher's broken mind, anticipation welling up. To fill in the time, Raven estimated all the different possible responses. One; he got terrified and went mental. That would be probably the best one. Two; Ignored the fact and continued his conversation. That most certainly would annoy her. And three; Continued the conversation with Raven's added voice, which could be fun if Raven could direct the conversation. Then again there were bound to be more responses. That was the best thing about an insane mind; they were unpredictable.
Rather like me, Raven thought contentedly, failing to put two and two together.

Oh? Fletcher's head lifted up, searching for the draft like a sightless kitten nosing towards the warmth. There was none. Where'd the voice come from if there wasn't any moving air? Confused, Fletcher put his head back down, ignoring the voice. The others, however, weren't that complacent.

"I'm the bestest, not you!"

Targo whined. Which made Eris angry again.


"Shut up, stupid. No one gives a crap."
"But I do!"
"Idiot."
"Leave him alone."
"We already went over this, I'll do what I want."

The bickering continued in full force, forcing the man to put his hand to his forehead and groan. his head was really starting to ache. Everyone began to speak at once, forcing the words out of Fletcher's mouth as one stream of garbled exclamation, not one word identifiable.

"Stop."

Feis suddenly commanded, stopping her own bickering to call order.

"Be silent, all of you!"

Everyone did. Fletcher made a sound of discomfort as his mind deflated from its former state, full of words and sounds and too much to process. He didn't freeze though, Feis had ended it just in time.

"How dare you two act like that. This isn't your head, treat it with respect."

She berated Targo and Eris. They both apologized simultaneously. The gaunt body relaxed against the wall, Fletcher lifting his head to rest it against the cool stone. He didn't much like to cold, but to his sweating strained body it felt rather nice. He gasped for air in his moment of reprieve before the voices started up again.

"Now, don't you think we should worry about the real matter at hand?"
"What matter is this?"
"I don't see any matters."
"The intruder. You know, the voice that started it all?"

Fletcher saw a good opportunity to drop his own soft-spoken opinion into the pot at this point.

"I don't see why you guys care. 'S'not like I don't get new ones sometimes."
"This isn't like that though. It was a girl voice."
"A girl voice?"

Tengo decided that now was a good time to freak out.

"There is a girl's voice inside our head? A girl voice? This is bad, bad, bad."
"Shut up. I'm gonna talk to it."

Eris waited a beat before speaking again.

"Hello? She-witch, are you out there? Stay off my turf."
"That's a mean thing to say."
"Do I care?"

Fletcher, as Eris began trying to talk to the voice, shook his head like a dog, trying to eradicate the voices from his head to no avail. They were beginning to get irritating, and while he loved them all, he needed sleep. They didn't seem to want to quiet down, however, and Fletcher wasn't going to tell them off, because it might end up in another painful argument. Nobody wanted another painful argument. His fingers quaked as they traced the stones below him almost violently, in sharp circles.

Sasha lifted her head and listened, noting that he hardly took his eyes off his desk. What was interesting about it? She wondered to herself, losing his words slightly before bringing herself back sharply to listen. Seems he'd taken some interest in one of the Norms. She'd apparently re-established internet connection on her lap top and ordered... Pizzas? Did he say pizzas? Sasha smirked. "I could go for a pizza." She spoke, still wondering why, when she'd been taken from her home and locked up with no connections to the outside, Noelle would find a connection and use it to play a juvenile prank like that? With a nod, she agreed to do as Amaro asked. As always. Then Rikki was called up over the PA. Sasha glanced at Amaro's face. Rikki was a favorite of his when it came to the High Order. That much was obvious. She'd often wondered if Sasha's usefulness ran out someday, Rikki would take her job. Probably, but that was ridiculous. Sasha had taken beatings for this company. If they had the nerve to replace her, she could easily take them down. She knew too many secrets. A replacement would be the one and only circumstance in which she would put them to use.

Sasha was so involved in her own thoughts, she barley noticed when Amaro stood and left. It took her a second to turn tail and follow, walking with long, purposeful strides. When the elevator opened, they were on floor two where the Norms stayed, denied only their freedom. Sasha followed Amaro to Noelle's room and watched as he subtly threatened her. Taking the moment to look the girl over, Sasha found that she was freshly cleaned, but there were dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was long and dark with bright crimson streaks running throughout it, and her demeanor seemed to be strong if no defiant. She wondered if the girl would agree to coming or refuse.

It would be great fun to interrogate someone again. Since she'd been back, Sasha had had to put up with a boring week of nothing but paperwork and errand running. She'd missed delivering blows to the mutations, and now that she'd been through her trauma, some would say she craved it even more. Sasha half-hoped Noelle would refuse whatever offer Amaro had set in place for her. Though she wished she'd be able to beat Raven, a mutation, instead of this normal human girl, it would have to do. And she would make the best of it.

Sorry:/ Kinda crappy and short, serious writers block here, but I at least wanted to get something in. Eh.

Nicolette pulled back her marker and inspected her work:



All written in a delicate cursive script. Or as delicate as marker on concrete could look anyway. Just as she finished, another one of the prisoners started screaming about the Higher Order showing up with Amaro. Nikki capped her marker and slid it in the back pocket of her shorts, pushing her head back so she could see the bars of the cell behind her. She was still laying on the ground and it was a hard task so she rolled her eyes and rolled over to her hands and knees, the effort of the movement only causing her to cough and sneeze a few times. Damn this cold. Would she ever get something warm to wear? Since she'd been here, she'd had maybe eight outfits. All of them shorts and some sort of weak top. There had been one time when they'd given her a thin tank top and she'd almost shivered to death. Was that possible? She wondered as, as if on cue, shivers racked her body. When would they give her a sweater and some decent pants for once?

She longed for warmth. The hot, stale air of Nevada. The beating sun and dry deserts. To her, Vegas was heaven. New York and this place were what equaled to hell. With a sigh, Nicole lifted her head and crawled as close as she could to the bars of her cell to look out. She enjoyed watching the other prisoners in their cells whenever she could. It was all she had to do besides mark up her walls with quotes.

As the shouts continued, Nicole managed to pull the shackle as far as it could go and sit with her knees pressed against the bars, left arm stretched out behind her. It was an awkward position, but if she wanted to see the others she had to do it. More shouts and a guard throwing a punch. From the voice she guessed it was the dark haired girl, Raven. She never really talked to the others, hell she might get hit if she tried, but when the Higher Order had come down for her before and taken her from her cell, she'd learned her name. Raven. From what she could remember, the name was appropriate for the dark haired, Gothic girl. Again Raven shouted and Nikki rolled her eyes, standing to her feet. "Oh shut the hell up!" She shouted back, raising her voice so that the entire floor could hear her. "Nobody cares about your damn nailpolish."

Nikki rolled her eyes and stood, stepping back from the bars. The iron chain lashed about as she did so and slapped her on the leg. "Dammit!" She shrieked as she was brought back to the ground. Mixed with the burning sensation it caused, the small slap on her leg had felt like a whip lash and there was a long red streak across her shin now. Her arm may be used to the searing pain, but the rest of her certainly wasn't. She'd made the mistake of stepping on the clasp that held the chain into the floor once... Her foot hadn't stopped bleeding for three hours.

Carefully avoiding the chain this time, Nicolette stood slowly and paced back and forth across her closet-sized cell. There was absolutely nothing to do but sit in here and think about home and the world outside which was both helpful to her esteem and painful as far as memories and reality went. Ninety percent of her memories were bad ones, and thinking about the good ones only hurt her in a longing way. She could want something with all of her heart, that didn't mean she would get it. Crossing to a blank spot on her wall, she pulled out her marker again. "you can't always get what you want." She wrote in a hard, edgy script.

Rikki was covered in blood. Not hers, theirs. Those eyes staring at her... weak, helpless. "Get away from me!" She growled. Her hand struck out against one of their cheeks. "You are pitiful! Ugly! Disgusting!" A hiss came from between her pristine white teeth. Warning sirens were ringing down the hallways. Soon they would come for her, locking her up in a sanitized white cell.
"You were once the sa-"
A voice was interrupted by gurgling as Rikki whirled on the speaker and ripped their throat out. Literally. "No... no... no whipcream please. Don't know how you can drown a perfectly good latte...." Rikki woke up with a start. Coffee had spilled all over the papers she had just finished reading moments ago. She took a minute to survey her surroundings. Book store coffee shop. Her blouse was soaked in the light brown stuff. Well that would never wash out, she sighed. Then, faintly, she heard a beeping coming from her hip. Her beeper had been going off for the past 30 minutes. Wait... 30?! How in the world had she stayed out that long! Rikki groaned. So much for a relaxing morning.
She assessed the situation. The papers were just copies, she could trash those. They were already smudged beyond readability. The new mystery she'd purchased was thankfully unharmed in its bag. Her hair was in a state of dissaray, beyond repair. She let it hang down around her shoulders and wondered vaguely if she had time to stop by a drycleaners. "Better not," she murmured.
On her way back her copper-tinted hair hit all the right light and her brisk pace kept anyone from staring too long at her ruined shirt (she'd tied her jacket around her waist). She hated having to leave the beautiful outdoors, but the smell of blood and the musty cells were so... inviting.
Once back, she promptly put her book under her desk, swapped her blouse for a green tank top, and reapplied her mascara and eyeliner. Ready for anything, she decided as she walked out the door and straight into Debs. Quickly she asked what she'd been summoned for since beepers lack the capacity for specifics. 5th floor. Okay. Rikki didn't know if the wonderful Sasha or her boss would even be there yet, and they'd likely not yet moved the prisoner in question.
But it was the only direction she'd been given, so she went.
Truth be told, Rikki thought it was entirely Cecile's fault for not wearing the band and the girl deserved what she got. But the mere thought that a mutant had been the cause made Rikki eager to punish. She reminded herself to grab a pyschic ankle-band before going on the lift. Could that thing move any slower?!
The few seconds passing the 4th floor were too much. So many voices, all broken and hysterical. She'd like to stop it all with a good throttling and some twisting of pipes. Speaking of... for this particular assignment, Rikki was thinking... chinese water torture?

She sat on her bunk. A white, stained and tattered half of a sheet layed at her feet. She remembered that sheet in it's whole. Still stained and tattered, but whole. It has wrapped her up like an Egyptian mummy as she slept in the cold last night. She threw it across the room, unable to stand its grip much longer. Her feet hit the floor fast when she flew out of her rock hard bunk. Her black high calf, almost knee, Gothic combats flew under her bed when she lept away to the yellowish brown sheet in the corner. Her hands felt like a weight lifters, pumping with toxic amounts of adrenaline working to destroy and concur. The sheet held no match, it ripped like a piece of paper and floated to the floor like one too. That was quite enough damage for the night.

Wymarc had woken up that mourning to a couple screams, none the less. Usual stuff around here. A guard had come to her door with a single stale bun. It had a bit of blue mold on the crust, but she kind of enjoyed crunchy food. He walked off, in a usual manner, like it's his job. It was his job after all, he didn't need to embark in conversation with anybody, why would she want him to anyway?

The bun was still at her feet, back to her playing with the ripped sheet. A squeak, or some sort of high pitched noise, came from under the bunk, from the dark side. The small rodent smelled the almost smell-less piece of bread. Wymarc hushed her movements, and slowed her breathing. The mouse ignorantly made its way beside the crusty meal to grab a tid-bit for her babies.

"That's my meal you rotten rat! She rammed her boot down hard onto the rodents weak skull, in such a quick movement it probably didn't see its like flash before its tiny red eyes. It's tiny brain cells scattered and flowed in the ruts on the bottom of her boots. The mouse lied silent. Its head was gone, all but the blood.

"Better go tell your pups not to mess with my food. It's mine."

Wymarc lifted her boot to her knee and picked off the small creatures brain from her treds. She saw that as food too. She bent down and picked up the stale bread and smeared it on the bottom of her boots.

"Quite a lovely meal this is.." The horrid rat and bun lost its fight today. She picked up the headless mouse and pushed it underneath her thin, rock hard mattress. A drop of blood sprayed out from the cracks, it dripped onto her toe. She ignored it with pleasure. The pool of blood from the kill still laid in a mess on the floor. Her fingernails were quite good at picking up liquids under their tips. She bent down yet again for a foul liking and covered her fingers in red slime. Her face needed some makeup. She dreamed of wearing makeup, like some of the normal girls. She whipped it onto her eyelids, a beautiful redish brown. Onto her lips, so soft and crimson. Then onto her lashes, dripping the last bits of blood onto her cheeks as she blunk.

"Quite a wonderful job Wymarc, you must look so beautiful." She batted her eyelashes once more before jumping up from her cot. She outstretched her frail albino arms and twirled around the room. Her skin tore from her hands as they scraped the walls. She slowed down and looked at her swollen hands. Wymarc flung herself to the bars at the front of her cage. She wanted her work to be known, she wanted the guards to see. She wanted to be seen now, she was beautiful.

"Look at me now boys and girls! Aint I a hottie? A HOTTIE! Yes, so hot, come on!" She batted her eyelashes again and stuck her face to the bars.

((first a wrong location, then a double post... argh. Sorry.))

"Noelle, honey?" Noelle's mother put a hand on the teenager's shoulder, turning the swivel-chair around so Noelle faced her, and not the computer. The older woman's brown hair was pinned up behind her, gentle blue eyes watching her youngest daughter with the same tired look they always held. Noelle was fourteen at the time, dressed in pajamas and looking at her mother with the blue-ringed, tired eyes she would have more often than not over the next few years.

"Mom..." The code was still swimming about her consciousness, and she had to her close her eyes to make it fade away. "I was coding..."

"Shush. You need to either focus on school or sleep." Her mother squeezed her daughter's shoulder, causing Noelle to open her eyes and give her mother a pleading look. The older woman sighed. "I'm not trying to be mean, I'm just trying to take care of you."

"I know mom..." Noelle closed her eyes again, taking a breath. "Its just that the program is so close to being done, and if I can get it to sync flawlessly with Nword it'll be a huge deal. But every time I get one problem fixed, it seems like another one crop up, and I can't let it win... I need to beat this. I need to finish debugging so I can release it... Please mom..." Noelle was practically in tears, the lack of sleep finally taking its toll on her emotions and her mind.

Noelle's mother smiled softly, pulling her daughter into a standing position and hugging her. "I've changed my mind. I'm ordering you to get some sleep."

Noelle loved that memory. It was one of the few times her mother had really taken care of her, not been too tired or too busy or too depressed. She had just been.. there, and her soothing words and the way she cared about her daughter had been enough to postpone the project until the next day. Gosh, it would be incredible to have someone care for you like that again.

Then the harsh realities came back. She was sitting in a windowless apartment in a government facility just outside New York. She was cold but dressed, her hair was wet but brushed, she was a captive but still free to plan. No mother to hold her or tell her to sleep now. Sleep... Noelle released a small yawn at the thought, then shook her head. Sleep was for the dead. She needed to plan, and she needed to finish up on the laptop before someone confiscated it. Noelle frowned as she pulled the computer onto her lap. The pizza should have arrived by now...

Rapping at the door. Noelle jumped, quickly flipping the battery out of the laptop and stuffing it in-between the couch cushions. Portable power was always good, and if she shorted it out she could make a small bomb. She managed to look up just as the door clicked open, and slid the laptop off the side as the uninvited guests entered.

"Miss Carter, I would like you to join us." She looked up at the voice, and immediately recognized Amaro De'or, Archjerk of the torturing mutants committee. She drew in a breath. Apparently they really didn't like pizza around here. Second to enter was a woman, the second in command whose name escaped Noelle. She was watching Noelle just as carefully as Noelle did her, and Noelle made a point to keep her face calm and casual. Then she noticed the bulge of his weapon, and felt her heart fall. This wasn't going to be her time to escape.

"You're not the pizza boy." Noelle remarked in the same dry tone she usually used these days, running a hand through her hair and standing. After a glance around the various parts of the room, one being the couch cushion to make sure the laptop battery was out of sight, she ran a hand through her hair and approached the two. She glanced down at her bare feet, pajama pants, and a sports bra and tank top. Underdressed... heh, its not like she cared to impress them.

She looked expectantly to the door, then back to Amaro, just watching him and waiting for him to lead her to whatever DOG mountain had in store for her. Hopefully pizza. She was freaking starving.

"You're not the pizza boy."
"Give the girl a prize, Sasha. Isn't she smart." Amaro said dryly before indicating for Noelle to step in front of him. Making sure his hand remained near his gun, he escorted them to the corridor. Once in the lift, Amaro decided to put forward his offer.
"Miss Carter. It seems you have managed to dodge our security and re-enforce your internet connection. I must applaud you for that" he let his blue eyes rove over her rather pathetic outfit before continuing. "Having those kinds of skills could be useful for us, and I would like to make you an offer. If you would work for us I'd be quite honoured."
In all truth Amaro couldn't really care less, though it would be nice to have a hacker on board.
"You would of course earn back your freedom, though that would take time. However I would need you to answer some questions, Miss Parks will be asking. Once their answered, we can talk some more"
Amaro stopped the elevator on the fourth floor.
"If you could tell Miss Parks your answer, that would be most...agreeable. Miss Parks, I will not be a moment collecting our rather unpleasant guest, if you could continue the interrogation downstairs, that would be most appreciated...oh. And tell Nikki to prepare one of the rooms, she can choose. I will be down with Raven in a moment."
Amaro walked up the corridor, turning left at the farthest end.
He passed a couple of the major trouble makers, Nicolette with her rather untasteful writings, the insane Fletcher and also the rather irritating boy Mitchell. All annoyed him so he kept them at a distance. He passed Nicolette's cell and had a quick word with the guard.
"I would like to enquire as to why this mutant has a marker? Perhaps you'd like to join her as it seems she has something to make her cell a little more comfortable. I suggest you remove it, I don't show favourites with prisoners"
He then strode off, leaving the guard to hastily follow his orders. No one would dare refuse, unless they wanted to occupy one of floor three's cells.
He finally reached Raven's cell before pulling out his gun and ordering the guard to open it.
"You have caused much trouble this week Raven. I think it may be time for you to fess up, don't you think?"
Raven paled slightly though it was quickly hidden by her sarcastic and stony look.

Raven was furious when some stupid girl decided to tell her to shut up.
"I will not shut up for you or anyone else. And I get enough disrespect from the guards" Raven shouted back. Hopefully that would insult the idiot, being compared to a guard her was not the nicest. With that Raven turned back to Fletcher's mind.
"Hello? She-witch, are you out there? Stay off my turf."
"That's a mean thing to say."
"Do I care?"
Raven sent Fletcher a mirthless chuckle.
<Well aren't you smart...though I don't think I would call myself a witch.> She sent Fletcher a sudden burst of giddy joy for fun, giving him the illusion that he was happy, she also intensified his hunger just for the extra mischief and waited for a response.
Mitchell still hadn't replied and Raven was getting fidgety, that was until another mind brushed against her sensitive one.
Amaro.
Raven caught her breath, having a bad feeling of who he was going to talk to. Surely it couldn't be about the stupid guard, she half whined to herself. As soon as the door was flung open, Raven felt the colour drain from her face, though she immediately gave Amaro a glare.
"You have caused much trouble this week Raven. I think it may be time for you to fess up, don't you think?"
"You know what? I don't particularly feel like it today. Why don't you come back next week?"
Raven gave him a scowl, before turning her back on him. That was until the cold metal of the gun was pressed to her head.
"Fine, actually I think I feel like going now" she said giving him a fake smile, before letting it slide off her face and replacing it with a stony frown.
"Your rather persuasive" she muttered sarcastically as Amaro reached over and unlocked the chain from around her wrist. The cuff dropped off with soft clank, and despite her fear, Raven found herself rubbing her raw wrist.
"I could get used to this" she said shortly, Amaro shoved her towards the door. She started to walk down the corrodor, and decided to have a bit of fun.
She concocted a rather extravagant illusion for all the mutants she passed. Everyone would see her as she wanted them to see her. She immediately weaved an extensive and flattering illusion of herself ensnaring the mutants she passed. For effect she added black smoke, that rippled around her ankles that started to drift towards the people in the area. In the mind illusion Raven made her black hair sweep across her face, her dark, luminous eyes shining through made even darker and more piercing with her mind. Her lips were bright red and curved in a dark, sadistic smile. With a little more manipulation Raven got every head turned in her direction. She enjoyed creating a scene, especially a flattering one.
The black volumes of her skirt swirled around her ankles and her black corset showed off a perfect figure (slightly more filled out than in real life). She slowly moved her hand to brush away at stray lock of ebony hair, purposefully drawing attention to her blood red fingernails.
She purposefully left Amaro out of the illusion knowing that he wore a psychic band and this would make her tire out. Not a good idea if they were going to floor five. They finally reached the lift, and sure enough Amaro pressed the small button with the number five on it.
Damn.

Fletcher's body stiffened as a rush of endorphins was triggered within his brain from an unknown source. Pleasure? A euphoric happiness possessed his mind for a fleet second, scattering throughout his body and shutting everyone, everything up. A huff of air escaped his lips as he slumped backwards, overwhelmed by the sudden giddiness in his system. his eyes closed halfway, only to flutter back open again with the rush of adrenaline that followed the endorphins through his neural paths. His body resisted the sensations, but his mind welcomed them. His hands shook harder, and his respiration rate quickened rapidly.

This was more than he could take. When was the last time he'd experienced such...such...happiness? Even if it was merely an illusion, brought on by another. A bit of his mind knew that. As the rush faded almost as quickly as it had begun, the blonde found himself empty. All the voices were silent, dazed by the sudden imbalance in their home. The man scrambled to the bars of his cell across the tiny room, the chain on his bony ankle rattling. He pressed his gaunt hollow face to the bars, his eyes hungry. Where was the girl? The 'she-witch' as Eris had dubbed her.

All Fletcher could see were the backs of two men. One at one cell and one at another. He recognized one as a man that was often down there, watching them. Fletcher liked to watch him too, even if the little fact he picked up about mannerisms were meaningless to him when he was in a state like this one. Suddenly another figure appeared.

The girl.

Fletcher instinctively reached for her as they passed, the enchanting figure. He didn't really receive the full force of her illusion though, as he was too intent on his new need to experience another pleasure high. Ironic, because the emotion wasn't an unusual one for the average human. but then again, this was Fletcher.

The man withdrew his hand with only a fistful of smoke. He let out a sound of annoyance, and pressed his face harder against the bars. After the passing of the two, a light draft of air stirred by their moment smacked Fletcher in the face. Whispers swirled in his head, telling him of many things. The voices of people everywhere within the building, all jumbled up at once.

It's been a while. I've missed you, Doll-face. Cannis cooed in his ear as he tired to process all his new found information, borne to him on the wind.

One of the guards has been sleeping with another's wife! You know, that red-head one? Saar, always one for gossip, whispered excitedly, swirling about his head, trying to stay near Fletcher as long as possible. He was talking about it on the second floor with the fat guard. Also, That stupid girlie got her..... Her voice faded from Fletcher's hearing as the spirit began to fade. So interesting, Don't forget it, Sweetheart was her goodbye, a faint shout, a buzz in the man's ears.

The words of the spirit, upon entering Fletcher's consciousness, poured from his mouth. Loudly. Cannis clucked at him a couple times before fading away too. Fletcher was left disoriented, the lingering echoes of voices from all over DOG mountain. Something about pizza, that was the strongest voice. Pizza, pizza. What was pizza?

Pizza is a funny word.

Also, he could pick out someone screeching something about hot. Hottie? Quiet conversations that were faint, from the highest level of the building. Screams also mingled in his memory, scarring his brain synapses with their raw pain. Fletcher whined, trying to get that sound out of his head. He withdrew from the bars, empty, confused, and disgruntled. No one lingered in his mind, even the lucid bit had flickered out. Now he was a confused child again.

Pale trembling hands clutched the bars, too attached to the freezing metal to let go, but dearly wanting to. He made a soft feral wail of discomfort, his head throbbing in time with his poor heart.

Finally, after the several pain staking minutes of terror, Mitchell's racing heart managed to slow to a reasonable pace. He had nearly been scared to death when the voice rang through the intercoms, which had caused him to bolt out of his position on the floor and huddle in the corner, his breath shotting in and out of his lungs with frightening speed. Now back in a much more calm state, Mitchell made his way to the door of his cell, scanning the outside world form the safty of his window.

To be honest, there wasn't much to look at from his vantage point. He could see the other cells across the hallway, but he had later found out there was no one in them. If he strained enough without catching the guards attention, he could see the cell next to him, containing some woman named Raven.

Raven, such an odd name. Hmmm...wonder if I can get her attention, Mitchell thought suddenly, the urge to talk to another human being that wouldn't harm him growing in his mind.

However, his plan was cut short at the sudden appearence of a dark and calculating network of energy that had appeared from down that hall. Mitchell nearly threw himself against the other wall trying to get to the shadows before he was seen by the one person he truely hated in this world, Amaro. To Mitchell, he was the cause of all this pain and suffering he was having to endure, why he was huddled in a corner most of the day like an animal, why this THING was around his neck. He began pulling on the emitter around his throat, brooding over his thoughts.

"You have caused much trouble this week Raven. I think it may be time for you to fess up, don't you think?"
"You know what? I don't particularly feel like it today. Why don't you come back next week?"

A click sounded.

"...Fine, actually I think I feel like going now"

Regaining his courage, Mitchell managed to pull himself out of the shadows and back to the window, peering fearfully into the hallway as the door next to his cell opened. Amaro, along with a woman he believed was Raven, walked out of the cell, and instantly, Mitchell's sight was filled with a sudden complex ties of energy that weaved their way around Raven, changing her appearence darasticly, black smoke flowing from her new, beautiful form.

Mitchell blinked sudden times, turning the event over in his mind as he watched her go, escorted by Amaro towards the elevator, no doubt being lead to the torture chambers for what she had done earlier that week. Deep in his thoughts, Mitchell wished her luck, knowing nobody deserved to go down there to those bloodstained floors. However, his attention was being drawn to a wisp of smoke that was lingering closely to his cell, the complex pattern of energy pulsing through it like lightning.

Instinctivly, Mitchel reached out his hand through one of the slots in his door, ripping the lines of energy out of the smoke, causing it to phase out. He quickly pulled his hand back inside, holding the tiny light that now floated in his palm close to his chest. To him, this minescual light provided more heat than any bonfire.Blessed warmth spread through his body, returning feeling to his numb hands and feet, strength returning to his limbs. Smiling at what he achived, he noticed that the pain from the emitters had suddenly reduced, which nearly caused Mitchell to jump for joy. Holding his hands around the light, he shaped it until it formed a band that fitted neatly around his wrist, only visible to his eye, and walked back to his cold bed. He sighed contently, staring at the ceiling with purpose.

Now he had something to work with.

Wymarc gained no response. Saddening really, she put all this blood on her face for nothing now, nobody was going to come to the bars and give her a good old kiss. Obviously nobody likes "hotties" anymore. She pressed her face tighter to the bars, squishing the skin and muscle against her smooth cheek bones. Her jaw held clenched gave her an immense headache as the strength of her neck and the strength of the iron pressured her skull. She pulled back and fell to the floor, pulling out hair that got stuck in the tiny snagging grooves of the iron bars. Red hair blew out of the cage onto the corridor floor ahead. It floated like the crows feathers back home when they molted for the seasons.

She sat their on her hind, looking out to the end of her small territory. She was always free, and wanted to be free now, she wanted to dance with the ravens, throw spears at the deer, steal a nice bottle of perfume. This was all she had now, not a raven could find his way down there, down to her hell, where guys didn't like hotties.

Her throat birthed a lump, and her eyes began to burn. She rocked in a fetal position on the dirty floor. A tear fell, splat, now mud between her thin thighs. She opened up her mouth again and screamed louder.

FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! DO YOU ALL LIKE MEN OR SOMETHING? LOOK AT ME ALREADY!

She didn't quite know why she wanted to be noticed so bad, she tried to stay unnoticed in the wild, why when she is behind bars she wants the world to admire her? Her tears quickly formed a mucky soup of rat feces and perhaps human between her legs. This was her only pair of pants and she didn't want to wear the ones the guards threw at her. Wymarc moved from her position in space and time to a new position in space and time, passing through the presumably 3rd dimension. The mouse squeezed its headless body out from under the mattress and fell on her boot. She picked the lifeless form up and chucked it at the wall. It feel with a splat, surprisingly for its size.

Her mind ached for the attention, a real addiction she has here. Wymarc let out a long and high squeal through the corridors, floors, walls and ceilings. Maybe somebody would here this time. She would scream continually until she spit strands of vocal cords up.