Snippet #2525682

Brandon heard what Gabriel ordered the officers, to do, and his eyes filled with gratitude, he went forward, possibly to hug the young man who ordered his release into a comfortable room, but the chains held him back still, as did the pain. The shadows around the place stopped tugging from their original spots on the ground, ceiling or floor.

The officer looked at Gabriel and blinked. "He's dangerous! This is the only way to contain him!" he said. After a while, he sighed loudly. "Fine, we'll put him in a room like you said." he said. And if he tries to escape, we'll have floodlights stationed outside every entrance.

Another officer opened the cell, and walked in, cuffing Brandon's hands together before undoing the chains. They then led him, under armed guard, to the very back of the station, where a heavy steel door hung in the wall. It opened to reveal a quaint room that looked more than comfortable enough with chairs, couches, a bed, kitchen, etc.

Once out of the cell, the shadows on the walls suddenly leaped from their places, and stuck to Brandon's body, his whining and screaming stopped as soon as they did, as did his squirming. Once in the room, they took the cuffs off of his hands and pushed him in, and the room grew dark, with only his dark red eyes to illuminate the darkness as the door was closed.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Gabriel." the officer said as the floodlights were wheeled into place to cut off any shadows from reaching the entrance of the room. "We normally reserve this room for people with super powers who absolutely need to either remain contained, or calm. But then again, if he's who we think he is, then perhaps you have a point in putting him in there." the officer sighed.

Soon enough, a female officer came by with a tray of food and water, opening a slot in the middle of the door and shoving the tray through before closing the slot. As she walked away, she nodded towards the male officer and to Gabriel, before walking away.

Inside the room, Brandon's shadow tendrils brought the food closer to him as he sat in a chair. He started eating and drinking, not complaining about having food, but not happy about the crappy quality of said food. "You should kill them, Brandon, you should kill them all."

"But I don't like hurting people!"

"But they hurt you first, so they deserve to die! Everyone who has hurt you deserves to die."

This argument played out in his head over the course of fifteen minutes while inside the room. If anyone looked inside, they'd need night-vision or thermal vision goggles to do so, but all they'd see is Brandon sitting in a chair as if it was a throne, staring at the door.