Gage Rogers's Story

Exeric followed closely behind two others that had entered 'Brat Camp', or whatever it was called. She didn't like it one bit, since it didn't at all look like camp. To her it looked more like prison. They were obviously making themselves comfortable, so Exeric took a seat on the other side of the fire, her deep brown eyes fixed on Mike, then at Gage as he introduced himself to Mike.

She thought she'd just plop herself in the conversation to save her seeming anti-social. "Hey. The name's Serenity, but you can call me Exeric" She said, her voice coming out much more quiet than she'd wanted. Exeric palmed her forehead and sighed. She cleared her throat. "Uh, I mean, I-.. Ah, whatever". She gave up. Being all 'meet and greet' with others wasn't something she was great at. Infact, she was pretty terrible.

Her eyes scanned the area. She snorted. 'What a dump..'

Well, this was pleasant. Not. Matvei pursed his lips, looking around the small camp. Now, why had he chosen this place over jail? Jail certainly seemed like a far nicer alternative. At least you have fairly decent rooms there. The wooden cabins did not seem to be very nice. There were probably spiders and all sorts of other pests living in them. With his luck, he'd probably get bitten by a black widow on his first night here. And, at least in jail there were people who were fun to manipulate. Judging by the teens who were already gathered there, Matvei decided he'd be lucky if some of them were able to form coherent sentences, much less pose any sort of challenge to manipulate.

"Can you please take off these handcuffs, love?" he murmured, speaking just loud enough for the probation officer standing behind him to hear. He still wasn't sure why that man was here anyways. It wasn't like either of them were enjoying being here, after all. Did they not trust him?

The handcuffs and probation officer immediately answered that question.

Matvei tilted his head slightly as he heard only a grunt from the officer in reply. Standing at 6'3", he was a couple of inches taller than the officer. Then again, Matvei was usually a couple inches taller than just about everyone, something which he liked. "Really, hun, the grunts aren't that flattering. At least try to form decent sentences. I know you're intelligent enough to do that. Now, darling, please take these handcuffs off. It's not like I can get away if you do. The security here would probably have me lying on the ground with a bullet in my leg if I so much as glanced at the exit. Besides, these handcuffs are becoming rather embarrassing. They don't suit me."

There was a satisfying click as the officer unlocked the cuffs, taking them off of Matvei's wrists. He brought his arms to the front of his body, stretching his shoulders and rubbing his wrists, his lips curling into a slight smile at the corners.

"Thank you, love," he chirruped, giving the officer a peck on the cheek. He couldn't help but laugh at the blush that appeared on the officer's face. "What, did they forget to warn you about my habits?" he said. The officer did not reply, and instead shoved him forward, clearly deciding that they were walking too slowly.

"What charming manners you have," Matvei muttered angrily, his pleasant facade suddenly gone. He stalked forwards, heading towards the circle of cabins. Arriving there, there was an exchange of paperwork between a man standing there and his officer, and then a stack of clothing was shoved into his arms along with a gruff command to get changed in one of the cabins and then enter the circle. "Good grief, these are hideous. Did the concept of fashion sense not reach this place or something?"

The glares he got were enough to shut him up. "Fine, fine, I'll go change."

A few minutes later, when he walked out of the cabin, his officer had disappeared. The man who had been standing by the cabin pushed him over to the circle. Matvei stumbled slightly, shooting a glare back at the man once he regained his balance. "I can understand English, you know. You didn't have to push me," he muttered under his breath in Russian, his mother tongue.

There were already a few people sitting in the circle by the time he got there. He sat down on one of the stones, scanning the small group. "Well, hello," he started amiably. "Do we all want to introduce ourselves, perhaps? I'm Matvei Markovich. I apologize for my hideous clothing; normally I would be wearing something that flattered my appearance much more. They just don't have much fashion sense here, it seems. Who are you guys? Why are you here?"

Harlem raised his head at the sound of an angry voice. The...female... that was speaking was anything but attractive. 'Man, that is one big bitch' he mused to himself. He didn't want to seem like a wimp or nothing, but he would certainly try avoiding a fight with that one. Not that fighting was generally his thing, but he'd be especially fervent about not pissing off her. Then again, wasn't it just a week or so ago he'd been attempting to kill himself? Well here's the opportunity! Bam. Suicide. Right there.
He looked around at all the other people who had since joined around the fire. Yep, sure enough, they were a bunch of weirdos. Like the overly-masculine looking female with the horrible accent if that wasn't enough.
Some blonde chick... wait, no, dude. He faintly recalled somebody complaining about fashion and figured it must be that guy. He didn't really think it was right, that guy looking so damn pretty. No guy should look that damn pretty, and what was he, a fucking elf? What could such a pretty little guy like that possibly done wrong to end up in a place like this?
Some scene chick with the world's stupidest name... Scene kids. They had to be some of the most vain people on earth. This chick sure didn't look like she had much substance to her.
The other two girls looked pretty harmless. What the hell could girls like that do that would result in them being sent here? From what he had gathered, this place was pretty hardcore. What, petty theft? Skipping school? He couldn't imagine it being worse then that, and those things didn't seem bad enough to be sent here about.
There was some emo kid and another guy. In his eyes, the only one who looked like they really belonged in this place was that butch-as-fuck chick. Yeah, he didn't think she belonged anywhere else other then jail...or an asylum. Somewhere with bars.
Harlem's body was still in agony. He wondered how long it would take for something to happen. Was he just meant to sit here all day, watching weirdos interact? What was the lesson he was meant to learning? If this was all he had to do, well, it was pretty shit but he'd imagined it to be a bit more brutal.
Maybe he could sneak off round about now. Nah, some of those guards who'd brought the others in were still hanging about. Man, he just wanted a fix and then he could deal with this shit, maybe. Even just a smoke and this pointlessness would be a bit more bearable.
"What the fuck is even happening here?" he said, growing impatient. He doubted much of a response from the weirdos around him. If he didn't know, chances are they wouldn't either.
His breathing was getting more intense as his craving peaked. His agitation was making his head throb. He stood up impulsively, scanning his surroundings for escape, and not finding a solution, kicked the seat he had been sitting on. Spontaneity can be very stupid. His foot and ankle suffered for his rash actions but the pain just made him angrier. He sad back down, gripping his hair, near-on tearing it out. This was sheer torture, and pointless torture at that. He didn't even see no fucking horses.

Baby had shut her eyes, her fingers slowly circling her temples in a massaging way. She had already gotten a headache. If these people weren't giving her one already, she was suffering from the lack of meth and tobacco in her system. The other teens around her did not seem all too much for her to handle, but her eyes flew open when she was addressed by a masculine tone across the way from her.
"Baby? You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," The voice rang out.
The blonde girl sighed half-heartedly. "It's not like I picked the bloody shite." She said, rolling her eyes. She wondered where the lesbian, male resembling girl got off. She was just reeking of problems, but she did not bother Baby in the slightest. No one did. And if the brute of a girl were planning to break her neck she would stand her ground and welcome whatever would come.
I fuckin' hate my name. She growled inside her head. She recalled once when she had just gotten off of the bus from school - when she was still allowed there, that is - and had been heading home when another group of kids her age had pushed her down. The lead male had stuck his own thumb in his mouth and began sucking on it dramatically.
"Wah! Wah!" He had mocked. "The little slag is going to run home to her mummy like that Baby that she is." Quickly following, they had begun to jump the small girl leaving her to limp home with a black eye, a puffy cheek, a cracked rib, and a twisted ankle from trying to be dragged.
Her mother had hurried over to her with a warm towel and had begun dabbing her eye with it. "Just brilliant, Baby. What have you gotten yourself into this time?" She had complained.
"It's not my fault!" Baby defended. "It was those tosser's that caused this." Her mother had brought her palm in to swing on her already swollen face.
"Where on Earth did you learn such foul language as that? You're really going to the dogs, babe." Her mother had turned away and began to complain to her father, 'That ankle biter of a daughter of yours is really something.'
Baby was so furious she had grabbed a fork and had surged it into her mother's waist. "Piss of, ya tallop! It's your blooming fault for naming me this disgrace!"
Her mother had been pregnant at the time and she had done damages to her uterus causing her mother to miscarriage. She had been only fourteen at the time.
Baby pulled herself out of her memories. From what she could tell by the judgmental looks she was receiving she was already being judge by her appearance. Probably being called, scene or emo or whatever the kids called it these days. She could not stand labels, but that was all people were good for was placing a certain title to a certain way people were or how they dressed or what they liked.
Baby scowled and pulled the red hood up over her head, repeating the motion of pulling the sleeves past the palms of her hands.
Everyone was getting so acquainted with one another. A male that had previously been screaming for everyone to put a sock in it was now greeting another. Pretty bipolar in my opinion. She thought to herself. Another male that was only sitting two people from her had kicked over his own perch and now seemed to be in pain. The blonde merely looked at him. She felt bad. He seemed to be suffering in his head worse than she was. At least she could slightly control her impulses. Even though every fiber of her being was pushing her to find the nearest sharp object and jab it into the buff girl's eye.
She stayed quiet, though resting her chin on her curled up fingers, her arms resting on her knees that were brought as close to her as possible.
She would have given anyone the clothes on her back for a few squares. Alas, she doubted that they even allowed anyone else into the camp that was not there to be tortured and forced to care for giant dogs with hooves.
She looked past the other 'campers' and observed the cabin, taking in every aspect, as well as anything that could turn into a make-shift weapon if need be. There was a possibility, though, that they had 'round the clock room surveillance to keep sure that there was no one up 'past their bedtime'. But if she studied their usual routines, maybe she could figure something out.
After sizing up the room she looked around the group again and shook her head, but the movement would have hardly been noticeable to the human eye it was such a small action. She had a feeling that not even one person would go out of their way to care about anything that she had to say at all. The only people that somewhat seemed like her was the spazzing guy and the other dude who also had a few piercings of his own. Maybe the girl with the more of a bronze hair color who had just recently entered, but other than that...

Harlem looked to the emo looking guy who had spoken to him. "Look, man, I don't mean to be rude, but unless you can get me a fix, or get me out of here, I don't give a fuck who you are". Maybe it was rude. He wasn't usually like this, it was just these fucking withdrawals. Well, okay, at no point in his life would he be happy to be here, would he find it fine and dandy to be forced to participate in this weird horse shit. And sure, he actually doubted he would even acknowledge any of this people if they were anywhere else, but normally he would be at least a little more approachable. Certainly wouldn't be kicking chairs, that's for sure.
He smirked at the scene chick with the absurdly stupid name's crude response. Well, fuck. The chick's around here certainly couldn't be described as 'ladies', by any means.
His hands still pulled at his hair. This was one of life's funny things. In this situation, when his head was throbbing like mad to the point he would gladly die to have it over with, all he could do was rip at his hair. It was basically automatic, and yet, it seem just about the most stupid thing one could do to attempt nursing such an ailment.
He really wished he had his music. Music made everything much better. Being able to drown out this lot's useless jibber-jabber would be a good start. It was doing his head in. I mean, seriously, couldn't his folks wait until he'd kicked the h. before they shipped him off here? Couldn't they at least give him somewhere a little more homely to be while he got clean?
Yeah. That was probably his fault. His dad had been very lenient (especially for such a fuckhead of a man) and allowed Harlem to get off the stuff before sending him here, even though he'd nearly offed himself on it. But you know, he couldn't resist the weightless, sweet temptation of heroin when it only required him jumping from his window and walking a block to get it. Yeah, after the second time he did it, he ruined his chances of a peaceful comedown.
But come on. This should be illegal. You can't just deprive somebody of something which has basically become the bane of their existence, can you?
He needed to stop thinking about it, needed to distract himself, but he was in absolutely no mood to engage in idle chatter with an all manner of delinquents.
Maybe they were all just in here like him, for drug use. Nah. The others didn't seem to be writhing in knots or sweating from the inside out. What, then? He wouldn't put violence past the butch chick.
Harlem was going to make sure he was away from that chick by at least 5 meters at all times. Even that didn't seem enough. Nothing like a overbuilt, foul-mouthed, psychotic dyke to scare the suicide out of a suicidal person. Harlem's new middle name was optimistic! Okay, well, not quite... Not even close.

Serenity watched the group with a harsh glare, her fingers curling themselves around the edges of her shirt. A nervous habit. They really weren't the most social bunch. Despite her violence issues, she really wasn't that aggressive towards others. It was only when they annoyed her that she would 'unleash her wrath', as he mother called it. Every little curse or dig, every little flinch and movement made her tighten her grip on her shirt. It was kind of like being surrounded by a bunch of loonies.. Actually, it was exactly like being around a bunch of loonies.

They were communicating alright, but it wasn't exactly pleasant for anyone. Such a shame. It was already a sucky experience to have been sent to the stupid camp, and no one was making it better by arguing. They could atleast make it better for themselves and get along for just a short amount of time.

Serenity bit onto her bottom lip in frustration, listening to every little comment. It wouldn't be easy, but she thought she might as well have given herself the role of peace-keeper among the group, regardless of how much of a hard task it seemed to be at that time.

Mike sat silently, staring at the fire before him. He heard the others talk, but did not attempt to make contact with them. No, he would certainly not. He would behave, and go home and go back to who he was and what he was doing at home. That be just so much more better, and yet, he realized why his parents had send him here. He had been destructive, expelled and run into trouble with the police. His parents had said this would be better, and he would learn how to behave. And they had hoped he would return anew, and now old. Mike had to see about that just yet.

He looked up from the fire as someone walked in. An old looking guy, friendly looking, but he was sure the man would be the biggest problem around here. And then the man spoke.

''Right, boys and girls,'' the man spoke as he clapped his hands together and looked at them, ''I am Brandy, and I shall explain the rules and make sure you'll follow them. Within a few minutes, you'll be stripped from every juwelry, piercings included. We'll wash your hair and bring it back to its natural colour. If you don't agree on it and won't remove them, it will have consequences. From tomorrow on, you'll be ordered to stay in a stone circle, make your own breakfast and dinner, above your self-made fire. You may not talked unless you are asked something, and you may not leave the stone circle unless asked to. But tonight, you may just sleep. We have no mattresses, so you'll be handed a blanket and that's all you'll have. I don't want to hear any complaining, swearing, there will be no drinking alcohol or smoking cigarettes. Again, no talking unless asked to from tomorrow on. Now, if I call your name, you will follow me and remove every juwelry and anything that can harm me, or one of the staff.''

Mike looked back at the fire and nodded simply.

Alison Keegan

Just when things seemed to be not that bad, the muscular woman blew up. Not literally, that would have been cool, though.
As if Alison wasn't already completely irritated, the yells coming from this very.. burly girl wormed their way into her ears, resulting in a mild headache. Nothing she couldn't handle, but still annoying. Then they all started complaining - maybe they had just realized that they would have to spend a month, maybe more with these people. Allie was just starting to realize it, too.

People started to settle down slightly when an old man walked in, and Allie immediately decided he was perverted, for no other reason than the fact he worked at this shit hole. He clapped like a seal to get their attention as he began, ''Right, boys and girls, I am Brandy, and I shall explain the rules and make sure you'll follow them. Within a few minutes, you'll be stripped from every juwelry, piercings included. We'll wash your hair and bring it back to its natural colour. If you don't agree on it and won't remove them, it will have consequences. From tomorrow on, you'll be ordered to stay in a stone circle, make your own breakfast and dinner, above your self-made fire. You may not talked unless you are asked something, and you may not leave the stone circle unless asked to. But tonight, you may just sleep. We have no mattresses, so you'll be handed a blanket and that's all you'll have. I don't want to hear any complaining, swearing, there will be no drinking alcohol or smoking cigarettes. Again, no talking unless asked to from tomorrow on."

Her piercings had to go? Well, now, Brandy, it seemed that they had stumbled along a little problem there. Already, without hearing the rest, she knew she was going to be pissed with whatever the rest of his speech was. Now what was he saying, a fucking stone circle? What are they - actually, no animal lives in a stone circle. Make food, yadayadayada.. wait, she couldn't make a fire. I guess she'd just starve herself then. Then a blanket, well it was an upgrade from this little 'hut.' Then there was the no talking, complaining or swearing.. pssht, yeah right. Alcohol and smoking, none of that bothered her.

"Now, if I call your name, you will follow me and remove every jewelry and anything that can harm me, or one of the staff.''
As soon as her name was called, Alison stood up and walked over to the old guy.
"No hair color, and I can't take out my earrings, Mr.. uh.. Brandy. If I do they'll get infected. It's not pretty," she shrugged, in a whole 'It's not my fault or my problem' kind of way before continuing. "Oh, and here," she handed him the cheap ring she had bought before she arrived here, and then slipped off the necklace her mother had given her as a going away present. She didn't really give a damn about either of those.

She threw them on the ground at her feet. "I know out here you've been living off horse shit for your whole lives or whatever, but I don't know how to make a fire," she added sharply. "We weren't all raised in the wild you know, we're not animals." She rolled her eyes, before turning around.