[IC] Ju-V

A still with a Federal Insignia and the words "This video is not for public distribution or release" flashes up and holds for three seconds. Before it disappears just as suddenly.

The static snaps to clarity and a talking head shot of a man with a broad smile in a suit appears.

"Hello. I... am Virgil Rowell, the Director of this Aegis Center, and caretaker for your time and experience within the Ju-V program."

"During this Orientation video, we will walk you through our facilities here at the newly refurbished Alcatraz Island. We trust that you will find them far more comfortable than it's previous tenants historically did..."

Director Rowell gets to his feet, and the camera pans back to sweep and follow him as he walk-and-talks.

"As we leave my desk behind, you'll see we have a number of offices and conference rooms that provide in-house training for our own staff and personnel. To ensure that those teaching, and caring for those under our jurisdiction get the highest quality care and education throughout the process. If we continue, in this direction we'll reach the Staff boarding quarters - many choose to stay at the facility full time, and we provide for that possibilty should it be necessary. In order to preserve their privacy, however, we'll cut away and come back somewhere more appropriate..."

The video hard cuts away, and the footage returns to a clean eating area, kept immaculately.

"This is the canteen. Presently catered for by three Michelin star chef Tony Girelli, as well as a hand-picked staff of his choosing, he's also often aided by many within the program who are working towards their own experience in the culinary field. Tony is currently training young Brian, I believe, in learning 'the pass'. Brian is a metahuman with heightened taste sensory capabilities, and as such, well... at this point my explanation of the reasoning may well be quite redundant."

We see as Brian is carefully watched by the Head Chef, he shakes his head glumly, and the food is returned down the line, as the pair explain what improvements are required.

"As you can see, the utmost care is taken with the quality of food here. Those within the program can be assured three delicious meals, from a handpicked nutrition plan set out by Chef Girelli, and the Mess is also left open between meal hours for any who may have extra food requirements."

The camera pans to show the extensive rows of tables and seating.

"The refurbished facilities have been designed with both comfort and ease-of-cleanliness in mind. Gone are the bolted down tables and steel seating. Now this place walks a more humane path, for how can you expect to create the sensitive people of tomorrow when you treat them like animals today?"

The camera pans back to Virgil, broad smile still pasted upon his face.

"--And with that message in mind, I think it's time we move on to the Boarding facilities..."

Another hardcut, and the Director stands before a cold, solidly built, no-nonsense building.

"Just ahead lie the Residential Quarters for those within the program. Admittedly, from the outside, not particularly inspiring..." The camera sweeps up the stairs, slightly shakily due to no use of dolly cart. Virgil opens the door.

"Two-to-a-room dormitories and with freedom-within-reason to personalize living space, we believe this should provide more than adequate space for personal expression and comfort, during your tenure within the program. These are well stocked technologically, we do expect those staying here to respect the desire for privacy and to be mindful of noise for the sake of their fellow man. Much as you will be in the outside world, the place within these walls is itself a community, and consideration is key."

"Ah... but speaking of technology, and noise, why don't we check in on where those within our program may be having more fun, yes?"

Another hard cut and Virgil is seen outside of another cold, stone, solid building.

"Within these walls is the Recreation wing. If you pan over slightly, you might be able to catch a glimpse of the outdoors sporting field - unfortunately it falls just short of regulation size, due to the size limitations we're working with here on Alcatraz Island. But only by about ten to fifteen yards or so. As such the line marking aren't technically accurate, but just proportionate to the space being worked with. Behind this door, however..." Virgil swings the door open.

"We have a full sized basketball court, also convertible to indoor soccer, badminton, uhh, I'm sure a handfull of other sports that--"

"Pickleball." Comes a voice behind the camera.

"That's right. Pickleball, as well as tennis. Volleyball as well, now it comes to me. As well as gymnastics mats, a climbing wall. As we leave the court itself, though... We have a fully furnished gym. Both free weights and resistance machines. Ah... now a restriction - hate that word, but it needs to be said. We do expect NEW people within the program to use the resistance machines until they've demonstrated an adequate understanding of how to safely use the free weights. We would like to keep people out of the infirmary as much as possible. We also have a half-length lap-pool, a dive-pool - again, some restriction on the higher boards, for newcomers. As well as spa, sauna and even steam room facilities. For the sake of the camera, we'll expect you to trust us on that without going in. Oh... around the OTHER side of this wing there is the recreational library, well stocked with novels appropriate for all ages and stages of development, uhh-- we're also very fortunate that a local comics store in San Francisco donate graphic novels about three to six months after their sale date, for no charge. Also in the rec library, there's a revolving catalogue of movies and video games which can be borrowed for three days to a week at a time. I left that out before, the dormitory facilities have some capabilities to play games in communal areas and we have a small Federally approved in-house streaming selection called Juiced-V. But the Recreational Library allows for a wider selection, and also the capability of borrowing for more private usage, beyond just the common rooms." The same broad smile.

"But enough fun and games..."

Another hard cut, and we're taken to outside of yet another no-nonsense cold, stone building.

"Behind these walls we have the Educational Wing, we attempt to provide all within the program a baseline of maintaining current High School pass-level education, and generally aim to far surpass that level. Last census, I believe we had a 97% pass rate, and 85% received acceptances for further college education for once they left these walls. Beyond which we are particularly proud of our Philosophy and Ethics classes, where the youth of today become prepared to face and answer the big questions and dilemmas faced by those with their capabilities."

Panning back to Virgil's everpresent smile.

"This of course is for dealing with the theoretical knowledge of the youth of today..."

Another hard cut and we find ourself outside of a larger, more modern looking building. Still cold and concrete in appearance.

"--But behind these doors, lies the Heuristics Wing. In here we have the most bleeding edge technology for the training purposes of metahumans that currently exists. Here is where your practical knowledge and skills with your own personal powersets will be tested, to allow those within the program to come to terms with the limits of their own capabilities in a relatively safe, constantly supervised environment. Now because there's always limitations to just how safe such an environment can be, this building is also where the facility's infirmary is located, but that also makes it centrally located for any other health related issues which may occur across the facility. Now, due to the fact that we treat the powers of those within our facility as personal information, combined with the large amount of Aegis-owned proprietary technology, we won't be going in there for this video."

"You can save that experience for your first session." Virgil's broad smile flashes once more.

Another hard cut.

"And finally, here we have the Research Wing. Not a daily experience for the teaching staff or those within the program. This is where additional focus and understanding about the data collected regarding your powersets can be shared and understood. Occasionally teaching staff will be brought in to better understand the parameters and capabilities of those under their supervision. General research is undertaken by many of the leading scientists, not merely from the West Coast, but across the world entire, as they look to answer meaningful questions about what we are all ultimately doing here. Finding ways to better understand the metahuman condition. Because only in understanding can peace be acheived."

An awkwardly hard cut and we find Virgil Rowell back behind his desk in the Director's office.

"So with that we hope this orientation video has answered a few of your questions, and perhaps even addressed some prior concerns, about your upcoming tenure in the Aegis-operated Ju-V program located here in San Francisco. We look forward to meeting you in person, and hope we can learn much from one another."

The video ends sharply.

[Hound55]

The sun beat down hard on San Franciscan streets. The bus rolled smooth. It was electric. Disquieteningly silent.

At a volume loud enough to be heard, but barely loud enough to recognise it, a song was piped through the speakers on repeat.

It had three passengers, scattered a socially reasonable amount of space apart to allow for personal space, but all three seated between the front and middle of the bus.

At the very front was perched a short girl of South Asian descent with a prim, clipped British accent. She was completely self-contained in her seat, and in her own occupation and sat with upright patience, despite having been on the bus the longest. One of her small hands was folded in her lap, the other propped open a notebook, filled with a neat script. The journals seemed to have her unwavering attention, save for the brief stolen glance and short "Afternoon" that greeted each new arrival on their journey, only to retreat back to her original focus. Not until the bus hit the more interesting famed hills and streets of the City itself did her raised hand finally fall as well, closing the book in her lap as her face turned towards the window. Her parents had seldom brought her to the city proper, and never as circuitous a route; always a direct clear purpose and home.

On the other side of the bus about three rows back, sat an excited girl dressed in green, of Japanese heritage.

Despite frequenting the city on a regular basis she still gasped in wonder at the sights. There would be time to befriend the other two new program entrants when they seemed more relaxed. She was happy to look upon the sights, some she'd seen, many she hadn't. More than happy.

Sitting halfway along the bus, but on the same side as the first girl was a cleancut male who'd been on ever since the bus stopped at Sunnyside. He was deep in thought and paid no attention to the whereabouts of the bus. Trusting instead, that it would hit its destination in reasonable time, he was clearly well within his own thoughts. The furrow of his brow forming a gentle crease beneath the discolouration of his hair as a result.

The bus came to a smooth stop at the Courthouse, and the doors opening, picked up a single passenger who was expeditiously uncuffed and had come fresh from Holding.

The older teenage male, with a distinctive hairstyle and a penetrating green stare looked up and down the bus at the assortment of passengers, before giving an unimpressed exhalation and getting on the bus, walking all the way to the back, one row ahead of the Aegis Security team member, he slid in and slumped himself against the window on the same side of the bus as the second girl.

The bus smoothly started again, whisper quiet, and made its way through traffic to get on the 101.

Once it eased from the on-ramp it swiftly made speed, all the while still whisper-quiet. The music continued to play at a barely audible volume, punctuating the mood periodically in the background, before drifting away again.

The bus moved to align itself for the next exit, which was foreshadowed by a sign as 'San Francisco International Airport'.

This drew great attention from the newcomer and the young girl of Japanese descent, who swapped sides of the bus and leaned against the windows to see what was going to happen.

The Security guard paid close attention to the male at the back, who was pressed against the side of the bus - he'd been briefed on this one - and unclipped a holster which held his radio, should the situation change.

The male let out a low-but-rising impressed whistle as he watched who the bus approached, before jumping back to his seat on the other side again, leaning back against the window and cooling out.

The bus made it's uncomfortably smooth, silent stop, and the doors opened.

Outside was a redheaded girl wearing dark sunglasses and with headphones in, seemingly sealing herself off from the ultrasensory situation of the outside world, and a blonde who was talking with a much older man. They seemed to be discussing exactly what would be happening, and when he would be speaking to her next - evidently he had the means to do so. The redheaded girl waited, part in patience, part because movement did not seem comfortable right now. The trio had flown in from Seattle, Washington.

Both girls boarded the bus, the blonde girl wore a telnyashka in the heat, looked up and down the bus and picked out a seat in the biggest vacant space, between the girl-in-green and the boy-with-the-hair from the courthouse.

The doors shut behind the redheaded girl, she grabbed a seat back in anticipation of a jerky, loud start, and when instead was only met with the electric bus's smooth and silent one, smiled slightly despite herself and made her way aboard the bus. Choosing the seat directly behind the quiet, introspective boy, who would likely be no bother to her in her current condition.

It wasn't long through the airport pickup line before the bus stopped again, this time to pick up a series of passengers who had come in from LAX. A quartet of people in various states of energy levels. Two boys appeared the most tired, particularly the young Hawaiian in the tanktop and shorts with his hair tied back and carrying a large board of some description. He'd transferred to San Francisco via LAX and the multiple flights were starting to show the effects. He embarked, and looked for a seat, considering who he had to work with, and immediately spotted a cool looking kid sitting at the back. He jumped at the opportunity and waded through the rows of seats, putting his board in the back seat next to the security member and sat in the seat opposite him. Shrugging off the fatigue to greet the other boy with a smile and a "hang loose" shocker hand gesture.

An African American girl with a full head of hair and a silver pendant, who seemed far fresher than the other three pickups here, stepped on the bus and made her way to the middle of the throng of passengers, choosing to sit about two-thirds from the back, in front of the Hawaiian transfer where the more sociable sort seemed to gradually be assembling.

A blonde girl boarded, and carefully selected a seat just behind the girl in green. Leaving a vacant two rows of seats as a social buffer. She eyed the final boy who was behind her to ensure he didn't intend to sit by her. And then briefly checked that the quiet, introspective boy with the white patch hadn't made any kind of moves to make eyes at her. He hadn't moved. He looked uncomfortably upright at this point, the blonde girl was so far from his mind he hadn't even grown aware of her presence yet, to her relief.

The final boarder from the LAX transfer was a Native American male, despite looking fit by his physique, he looked tired and weary. As if he'd had a late night. This was combined with the fact he'd been on a prior lengthy bus trip from Nevada to LAX before this bus got here. The blonde watched as he passed, turning in her chair and sitting more comfortably after he'd gone by. As if sensing the disapproval he sat further back behind the other blonde in the striped attire.

The bus once again smoothly pulled out in silence, before making another stop just ahead to pick up a solo transfer. This was an average looking kid in a hoodie, with auburn hair and the headphones of his MP3 player obscured deep within the recess of the hood. He exhibited no signs of being bothered by the day's scorcing heat. He sat several rows behind the red headed girl, opposite the last guy who got on from the LAX transfer.

The bus pulled further along before stopping to allow on program attendees who had transferred from Atlanta's Delta hub. These were a shorter African American male and a colossal boy comprised of granite.

They in turn sat between the Native American guy and the green eyed boy with the hair, and the auburn haired kid and the African American girl.

The bus lurched mightily to the left side as the slab of granite took his seat, disturbing a few of the program attendees before the bus settled into its balance and smoothly moved on once more.

Another stop, and an athletically built girl got on the bus mousily, as if trying not to take up too much space, or get in the way. With this in mind she sat close to the front, behind the small girl with the British accent. As she turned to get into her seat it became apparent why she had these concerns. A large set of wings tucked behind her as well as she could, which would have easily spread far beyond the bus on both sides if extended fully. She sat as comfortably as she could, all things considered.

The sight of the wings in his peripheral vision was even enough to jerk the quiet introspective boy out of his own head... for a few seconds, before he went back to his own thoughts, as if the wings she had were merely a new fashioned jacket he'd never seen before.

The bus pulled away quietly again, before making a stop to pick up some Northeastern transfers. A brassy rockabilly blonde girl and a smaller unnaturally blonde girl who was dressed in a hoodie despite the damnedable summer's heat.

The rockabilly girl walked to the middle and sat between the boy in the hoodie and the red headed girl, who by now was asleep - her protective instincts spiking. The smaller girl in the hoodie, walked to the middle of the bus. Briefly grabbing one of the metal seat backs, only to quickly release it as it almost instantly frosted up. She rapidly slid into the seat just in behind the blonde girl in the Russian striped garb, and the Native American and hurriedly reached into her pockets, putting on a pair of gloves in a rush.

The final airport stop picked up a bedraggled pair. A boy and a girl, both lean to the point of appearing unhealthy, boarded the bus and found seats near the front. The boy sitting between the winged girl and the other boy who was still trapped in his own head. Whilst the girl deciding to sit immediately behind the young girl of Japanese descent.

The bus pulled away and swiftly and silently took the on-ramp to get back on the Highway, leaving the airport behind them.

The electric bus cut silently through the traffic on the highway, eventually jumped on the I-280 and eventually went down the waterfront. Anticipation lifted amongst the kids on the bus. Water meant Ferry. Ferry meant they were close.

The bus pulled up by the Historic Ferry House, kids began to get excited. They were here. Many of the kids towards the back started to stand up. The excitable young girl in green was already bouncing on the balls of her feet, so she hadn't even had to stand up.

An Oxford accented voice spoke up from the small girl in the front. "The Ferry to Alcatraz Island doesn't leave from the Historic Ferry Building. What are we doing here?"

The doors opened, and with a small slap, a tiny otter dragged itself up the first step onto the electric bus, before shaking off its still-wet fur from swimming in the bay, beginning to look down the rows of seats.

"What. The. Fuck?!" One student called out.

The otter worked its way down the aisle as the bus started rolling again smoothly. It attempted to climb up into a seat near the front, and failing in the attempt chose to instead attempt to cling to a seat with tiny paws. It wasn't far from where the ferry actually would be, so it wouldn't need to hold on long.

The bus continued on its way to its final destination. The wharf had a smallish boat docked against it. The M/V Warden Johnston, the historic passenger transport vessel which would take these adolescents to their new home for the coming months at least.

Most of the youngsters once again stood up before the bus reached its destination in anticipation. The bus stopped and they all disembarked, except for the boy who was so stuck in his own head he hadn't realised the whisper-quiet bus had stopped yet, and the girl who was asleep in the seat immediately behind him. Getting to his feet and seeing her, he chuckled in realization, and bent over to try to gently wake her up and tell her they'd arrived, when the security guard barked at him from the back of the bus.

"Hey! You! Keep your distance! Leave the bus now!"

In stunned reaction, he raised both his hands in innocence. His eyes wide, as he looked at the officer, slowly backing away as he walked to the front of the bus. When he got to the door he turned back and checked on what he'd left in his wake. The guard was helping the girl to her feet as she woke. The boy stepped off the bus and joined the others.

The large boy of granite looked at the size of the boat with skepticism. With great care the security personnel helped the colossal stone teen aboard the boat, which creaked and rolled with the weight. They positioned him in the centre, where his size would be more manageable. They added the boy with the iconic hairstyle from the courthouse, the girl with wings, the boy with auburn hair in his hoodie, the girl in green and the otter. The rest would have to take the ferry when it returned from its first trip.

The others watched as the boat slowly drifted away from the wharf, before it's motor fired up and it powered away toward the Rock. The water was more still than normal on the hot day, but not without its chop.

Time trickled onward for the youths who had already had to wait so long just to get to this point, and anticipation was high - with a nervous energy amongst much of the group.

After a while they saw the boat finally reach the other side, moor, and the program attendees begin to alight.

As soon as the last one was off, it once again began to power up and come back.

They formed a more cohesive line as the Warden Johnston returned, so the larger group could more quickly and smoothly be situated on the ferry's second trip.

Once the boat was moored they were poured into the boat with far less consideration for weight distribution than the first trip had seen. The smaller blonde girl in the hoodie was very nervous in checking her balance and gloved hands as she stepped aboard the boat, as it rocked somewhat from the chop its motor had created in returning to the wharf.

As the last took their seat, the rope was away and the boat cast adrift. The nose of the Warden Johnston raised slightly as the motor powered up to send the second batch to Alcatraz Island.

Soon enough the ferry was being moored on the other side and all of the new Ju-V program attendees had reached their destination. They were escorted through to a set of gates where security personnel searched their items.

Numerous items were seized, the officers met with a mix of different levels of disappointment from the property owners in general, but it was too late now. Each person's seized items were bagged up to be returned upon their departure from the program and the compound. Some items would only be taken temporarily, to be more extensively searched, and returned to their owner's room with a large yellow sticker declaring that it had passed through security's scrutiny.

The group were then herded together and walked down a long corridor where they were brought to the Recreation Wing's sports court, and stood in attendance as a full group of nineteen.

The clipped sound of leather dress shoes walking across the stadium floor echoed before the assembled group.

"Hello newcomers. I... am Director Virgil Rowell, I will be responsible for your tenure in this facility; your rehabilitation, your growth. Between yourselves and I, we will decide the person that YOU will be. Much like the world outside of these walls... this place is a community. You will be expected to behave in a socially acceptable manner. If you do not, you may find that your time here becomes more difficult than it need be."

He walked along the line, stopping in front of the child with the distinctive hair from the courthouse.

"There are many people in here for numerous reasons. Theft of personal property will not be tolerated... but at the same time, taking things into your own hands, should property be stolen will be treated more adversely than the initial theft. If we are to be a community OUT THERE we must be a community IN HERE. I hope I have made myself clear on this matter and it will no longer need to be addressed."

"After all, for many of you this place is about rehabilitation. Continually dragging this up and treating you in this fashion is not good for this purpose either."

"Welcome to Alcatraz Island."

[Retired]

_{"Welcome to Jamrock"}

From the moment he had stepped off the airplane earlier, Weston Cassidy knew things wouldn't be as advertised. The six-hour trip across the North American skies, fully paid for by the Aegis Center for Metahuman Rehabilitation, had been entirely uneventful. Entering the San Francisco International Airport, however, proved otherwise. Almost immediately, the teenager had been joined by an adult man with a no-nonsense expression who had fallen into lockstep aside him. The patch labeled Junior Vigilante Program had told Weston this individual was to escort him to his next destination. The hand casually resting atop a holstered security baton and the cautious distance between the two had told Wes this was a man whose purpose was to handle the young metahuman.

Not that it mattered much to Wes in the long run. Regardless of whether or not the Ju-V program was less altruistic than he might have first believed, it didn't change his thoughts or desires. He had volunteered for the initiative with a goal in mind, and so long as attending the program brought him closer to achieving it, he'd tolerate just about anything. After all, the runaway had been through worse in the past several years.

Hours later, when the bus rolled up to his stop, Weston ambled up the steps. The handler from the airport stayed behind only to be replaced by another already present at the back of the extended vehicle, this one much more apparent in their guard duties. The soft notes of Journey lightly bouncing around the bus went unnoticed by the young man whose headphones were instead pumping a different rhythm directly into his ears. As he moved down the aisle from beneath his hoodie, his eyes briefly flicked across each other passenger.

A diminutive girl sat up front. Her outfit and posture gave a tidied, proper appearance. Near her was an almost equally petite young woman, though the similarities stopped there as this one exuded more energy than even Weston was capable of. Beyond the two of them was a teenage boy. His shock of white hair kept Wes' attention a moment longer than the others. The red-haired girl behind the boy also garnered an extended glance; her earbuds briefly enticed his interest.

However, the following five occupants barely caught his eye as he raised his head to look for an empty seat. Then he noticed the teen at the back of the bus who looked like he was on his way to audition for a boyband. The guard behind the boy never took his eyes off that one. Weston noted the radio clutched in the man's hand and the tenseness with which he sat, poised to act if need be. For a moment, Wes considered moving toward the back to take a seat across from the boy, but just as he did, the bus began to move again, and he quickly sat on the closest empty bench.

Positioning himself so his back was against the window, Wes kept his gaze settled toward the vehicle's rear during the next portion of their journey. He had spent enough time on the streets to recognize when someone readied themselves for a confrontation. The adult guard, for whatever reason, was prepared just for that. Weston likewise prepared himself to intervene should the boy with the pretty hair find himself in danger. Wes adjusted the volume of his MP3 player. Maxxed out, he had no doubt those sitting near him could now hear the bass pulsing through his headphones. The beat coursed through him, and Wes felt the familiar buzzing sensation work through his system.

After several more minutes, the guard eventually slid his radio back into its belt holster, and by the time they were pulling up to their next stop, Weston decided nothing was likely to happen. Shifting his body to face out the window, Wes occupied himself by watching the rolling hills of San Francisco. Coming from the almost entirely flat city of Philadelphia, the ups and downs of San Fran were a marvel to him. At specific points along their trip, Weston could only see the sky over the massive hills they rode up. The pedestrians along the sidewalks going about their day also looked strange to the teenager, almost as if they were perpendicular in comparison to him. He wondered what it would feel like to walk those streets himself.

The shifting of the bus pulled Weston from his thoughts. He quickly looked over his shoulder, catching just the large frame of a broad-shouldered young man taking the seat behind. He eased the volume of his MP3 player down some, feeling that tingling sensation subside in return, as Wes slid himself toward the outside of his seat. Leaning into the aisle, he caught the arrival of the newest passenger, a girl who looked close to his height and was wearing her light brown hair up in a ponytail, with several locks hanging loose to frame her younger features. She stepped hesitantly onto the bus, taking great care with her movements as she navigated to a seat in the second row. Weston sat upright, his left hand gripping the back of the seat before him as the girl turned around to sit. Protruding from the girl's back were large wings of light and dark browns.

Wes had been operating as a vigilante for the last three years. Since discovering his metahuman nature, his life in Philadelphia had primarily been full of dangerous situations and exciting figures. In all that time fighting crime, though, the young man had never encountered another like him. At least, not that he knew of. He wasn't stupid, either; Weston knew the Ju-V program would be full of other metahumans, but he hadn't considered that some would have unique physicalities to them. While he understood that each of the other teenagers on this bus were, in fact, metas, it was different when faced with the unmistakable evidence of someone's nature.

He couldn't keep his eyes off the girl. For the rest of the trip, he leaned into the aisle to get a better look at her. Wes studied every visible feather of her wings, the gradual shifting in colors, the way they ruffled slightly each time the bus' doors slid open. He couldn't imagine how it must feel to have them.

So focused was he on the girl's wings he barely noticed as a small, furred creature boarded. If it wasn't for the shouts from another passenger, he might not have registered the otter. Still, the lightly dripping beast was more an afterthought to Weston than anything. One of the teens bringing a pet to the program was odd, but the winged girl still held his attention.

When they arrived at the harbor and it came time to disembark the bus, Weston moved with uncharacteristic haste to get down the aisle before the others. He wanted a closer look and ended up just two behind the girl. Thumbing the pause button on his MP3 player, Weston stepped off the bus.

Whether or not the experience would be as advertised, Wes now knew, without a doubt, that his time in-program would be worth it.

[Pirouette]

Almond. Almond. Cashew. Raisin.

Ugh, I hate raisins.
Lina's face soured as she lifted the shriveled-up fruit to her mouth and delicately snatched it from her offered fingers. Her expression didn't soften as she looked down into the trail mix bag she had in her hand. It was nearly full and her shoulders shrank exhaustedly. She had been unfair to the raisin because she hated everything in this bag. Anyone would, she resigned, if they had to eat it for the nutrient and mineral content, every day, for the rest of their lives.

Peanut.

A waste since the little nut contained no considerable amount of iron nor fiber for her. She tossed it to her feet, lifting one of her black dress flats to lightly stamp on the peanut and snuff its existence. The only bit of fun she was getting waiting here was to senselessly destroy something. Although outside, she had to be careful not to push herself. Sighing audibly, she looked herself, namely her outfit over. Her blue floral Brooklyn skirt hung down to her ankles and the loose black top she wore was still unmarred with crimson. She hadn't started sweating yet, but any longer in waiting and she might be in danger of doing so. She retreated further into the shadow of the overhead awning of San Fransico's airport.

Dried Fig.

She chewed on the depressing fruit, turning away from her chore to stare over at the other person who was also waiting. A boy, no that wasn't right, he looked older from his withered experience. Features sharpened through wear and exhaustion that gave his bony features an edge like a knife. The instructions for the shuttle to the Aegis Center did specify this particular region prompting that chance of encounter others like her, Metas, as some liked to shorthand the name. Did others struggle with drawbacks to their meta-ability like her, she wondered. Maybe others did struggle like her. It'd be nice to not be alone because normal people could never understand.

The bus arrived after Lina pulled her third dried fig in a row. Opening its doors for her and the boy that caught her interest early, they boarded to truly mixed group of individuals. Lina would navigate and find her seat behind another girl, Nat, she'd come to know as they set off.

---
Others. She'd take some time to turn away from her sketching of the Golden State bridge to consider what the other Metas were like, namely what they had to deal with. The girl with wings, Lina considered, wouldn't be able to sleep on her back or maybe even sit in a chair the same. At least she didn't scare everyone with her anomalous power. Some cultish weirdos might even worship her, she mused before considering the others. There was the girl that had chilled her seat to the point of freezing. Did she do that on purpose to prevent anyone from sitting around her or did it just happen? Body temperature changes was something Lina could relate to, and she wondered if it was just always "on". She'd never be able to get close to people, never really feel warmth in the same way.

The others didn't appear afflicted in the same regard, at least in an obvious way. That was until the new and last arrival. An otter.

Lina's eyes narrowed as she watched the little creature navigate up to a vacant seat. Was there a person in there or was an otter a Meta? She couldn't imagine being stuck as an otter. How different would that be? Would her mind still be the same or would it be distorted by the change in species? Filled with thoughts of swimming and eating fish seemed almost blissful but then again, you'd never fit in as a human nor as an otter. How truly lonely that would be.

Arrival to the ferry yielded one more, and the last obvious candidate for adverse meta effects. The boy with the heavy weight and rocky flesh noticeably rocked the ferry with his abnormal mass, cluing Lina off to Meta affliction he had. He would never get to experience the same things as the others. He couldn't ride a bike, for example, crushing the frame under his weight. Elevators, unless they were rated for freight, wouldn't be able to hold him. Hell, could he even feel anything anymore? Although he was still a human and not an otter. So he'd still be alright. Better than being stuck as an otter, at least.

---
The ferry ride over was uneventful, aside from Lina knocking her trail mix down to a quarter left and her noting her mistakes with her sketch of the bridge. The island, and by extension, Aegis, looked dreary. She frowned, stepping off the ferry and joining the others as the Warden welcomed them.

Lina opened her bag of trail mix again as she looked around the island, her sightseeing tour ending rather swiftly as she came to look at what she drew.

Raisin.

And on top of that, she traded the heat for prison. Great.

[psych0pomp]

^{INTERACTIONS: Virgil @Hound55
MENTIONS: Holt, Wes, Haven, Nat, Seo, and Noah
LOCATION: Welcoming Area—Alcatraz, San Fransico, California, US}

---

“Why don’t you just turn that off,” one of the guards remarked while pointing at Rex’s entire body. The guard was an inch short of being perfectly round, and if Rex remembered correctly his name was Ted. The other guard, a man that was the physical opposite to his partner, made a face. His name was Jeff. Rex had dealt with Jeff, and they’d formed an understanding. A very terse one. Ted was new, though.

“Sure, let me get out my rock remote,” Rex said. Ted gave him a strange look, but Jeff rolled his eyes knowing what was next. Rex fished around in the pockets of his pants as if he was really looking for something. He then reached into his right pocket and pulled his hand out, middle finger extended. “Fuck you.”

Ted turned as red as the apple he was. He reared back. Jeff placed a hand on his shoulder. “Ted, you’re just going to break your hand on his face. And both you and I know that you won’t get worker’s comp for that.”

Ted deflated like a balloon, and his shoulders slumped. “You’re right. Sorry,” he then clarified, “not to you Mister Kingsley. I’m apologizing to Jeff.” He turned away from Rex and rubbed the side of his face and the well-kempt beard that outlined it. “Things with Cecilia haven’t been going well.” He leaned into his seat which was just a leather bench with the metallic inside of the van forming the “back.”

“Oh, Ted. You mentioned going to therapy with her?” Jeff asked. Suddenly, Rex felt like the weirdest third wheel imaginable. If they wanted him to stop antagonizing them, they sure picked the right way to do it. He just crossed his arms over his chest. The granite scraped together and made a noise that he’d spent a while getting over. It wasn’t pleasant, but like someone feeling their bones popping underneath their skin every time they moved, it could be blocked out.

The large white van hit a bump. Instead of jostling them around, it scraped against the ground in anguish. Rex hadn’t been chained to the interior for safety reasons. Not his safety. It was for the other people in the van, the people outside of the van, and the road itself. He’d agreed to it. Not like he wanted to draw more attention to himself while in the state of Georgia. He was one more headline away from them chasing into the ocean with flaming torches—tiki torches in this climate. In return, they stuck two guards with him. Despite him acting as if they wouldn’t be a challenge, they would be. Both were armed with aerosols that could knock him out in less than a second. So, there was this tense peace between them.

Right now, though, Rex just ignored their conversation. Therapy. After everything that happened with his dad, psychiatrists and therapists practically climbed over each other to talk to him and his mother. The aftereffects of an extended period of mind control hadn’t been researched, according to them, and this would be groundbreaking information. And sure, they got their fucking data points, but Rex couldn’t say he had worked through anything. Seventeen years passed, and his father made sure he never felt the natural ebb and flow of emotions. Anger. Nope. Sadness. Never. Anxiety. Pfft. Even teenage awkwardness had been evaded by his dad commanding that Rex not engage with it. So, when Trent Kingsley was locked away in a supermax of his own making, Rex suddenly had to deal with an onslaught of emotions. If he had the chance, like all kids, to work through it slowly he would have been fine. But he had to grasp everything—at once. It was through his failure to do so that he realized he was a metahuman. Had his father known? Or had he been tranquilized for so long that neither of them was aware of it?

The first time it happened, he was able to slough the stone from his body. The second time, a few deep breaths dealt with it. Like a rubber band that was popped in short intervals, it bounced back. Until that fateful evening—something he didn’t want to revisit—he could control it. That was the night the rubber band was stretched too far for too long. It couldn’t snap back. No. He couldn’t turn it off. He didn’t know if he could snap back.

The van came to a complete stop in front of the airport, and Rex was unloaded with expediency. The van rocked hard and sent both guards tumbling back in as he stepped out. He didn’t run, but instead, he just laughed. Both Jeff and Ted shot him a look.

Whatever revenge they wished upon him was swiftly enacted as Rex was pushed through the TSA, all cavities searched, and then placed onto a plane. He was sat in the very back while everyone else balanced out in the front. He had to be perfectly in the middle. So, no window seat for him. Just the carpet that smelled of urine and cleaner.

They landed, he was unloaded like luggage and then ferried through the back of the airport until he was at the second pick-up of the day. Rex shoved down a yawn as he looked at his traveling companion. He hadn’t spoken to the other kid, but he figured since the other kid was waiting for the crazy bus, he was a metahuman as well.

When the said van pulled up, Rex noted that it was constructed far sturdier than anything he’d ridden in recently. Still, it jostled as he pulled himself into it. He grimaced as he made his way to a free seat. The bus rocked as he plopped down. Rex probably should have apologized. He just crossed his arms. If anyone looked his way, he just responded with a terse, “What?”

Then came probably the most awkward bus ride he’d ever been on, and he’d been on the team bus when the cheerleaders were allowed on as well and the driver was so high he could only focus on the road. Viola hadn’t been a cheerleader. So, Rex had been knee-deep in the musk of everyone else’s hormones while he stared out the window and at the rolling, bland scenery. Now he couldn’t decide what was more interesting, the scenery outside the bus or inside. He’d never been to San Francisco. He’d also never been sardined between so many weirdos—he thought while being the king of the weirdos. At least he didn’t have to worry about any hormones. He was entirely made of granite. When asked if that fact traveled down to his you know, he’d just shrug. Yes—he was entirely made of rock. And the less that everyone dwelled on that, the better. He couldn’t fuck, and he could bet that no one else on this bus had that problem.

Yet, it was not a hill he wanted to die on or a record he wanted to hold—especially among this group. There were some confusingly attractive metahumans on this bus. Rex ran his hand over his face, trying not to think about any of that. The scraping of rock against rock was audible in the eerie silence of the bus, but it was not the only noise. There was the soft hum of music in the background and the muffled noise of a few different people’s headphones. One a kid in front of him who—for all intents and purposes—looked socially awkward. Another was from a hot girl—not literally, as he had to make that distinction in the bus of kids with powers—with red hair. She was dead asleep, though.

They eventually made their last stop, to the confusion of the British nerd up front. Rex found that his position as royalty was quickly dethroned as an otter climbed onto the bus. Fine. The otter could have the crown. Wear it snug on his cute, little otter head. Fuck. He and the otter had something in common—neither of them could fuck. Why. How. Was this the thing that brought him to the same level as the mammal? Wait. Otters were mammals, right? Shit.

As Rex racked his brain about that, they pulled up to the ferry. As they all got off the bus, it rocked as he stepped down onto the ground. He looked at the boat, the sea, the boat, the AEGIS personnel, and then back at the boat again. “If this fucking sinks, so do I. Hey. At least I’ll get to see the bottom of the sea. Me and the otter will have that in common.” He paused. “Unless it’s a freshwater otter. You know what—fuck it.”

He was treated with the same care and concern as a hundred-year-old woman would be as he boarded the boat. It rocked. He tried not to panic. It then settled. There was a caw from a seagull overhead. Rex dared for it to land on him. He’d rip its damn head off and apologize to the winged girl later. There were so many insults to his character today that his minimal patience was as threadbare as a sorority house’s couch.

Rex crossed his arms as they made their way across the water toward Alcatraz—his new home. At least it was a roomy prison. Not like the one they’d thrown him into in Atlanta. That one hadn’t been surrounded by water, though. He didn’t know which he preferred. The girl with the wings was here, the nerdy kid with the headphones, the otter, and an awkward girl in green. They’d left the bulk of the kids back on the shore. That was another slight that Rex would just ignore for now. Had they brought everyone that would survive a boat capsize? The otter and the flying girl would—at least. Well, if he wasn’t a freshwater otter. Why was he dwelling on that? Probably because it was easier than to think about how he’d be trapped underwater for days, weeks, months, or maybe even years. His arms wrapped tighter around his torso, pulling at his shirt. It was already clinging to dear life across his thick shoulders and “muscular” chest.

When they got off the boat, he went from a concerned scowl to a frustrated one. They’d made sure he’d worn thick-soled boots so he couldn’t easily access the ground beneath him. He still felt the pulse from the rock below tickle his senses. It was—comforting. Like a weighted blanket. If the silicon beads were instead tectonic plates.

Another awkward cavity search. The AEGIS agents didn’t have anything on the TSA, though. And Rex was now confronted with it—his immediate future. Next thing he knew they were lined up like cosmopolitan cattle, and the director walked along the length of them—taking each one of them in. It was a spiel that was laced with pretty words. But like slapping a doily on a lion, Rex knew the fangs that waited for him underneath all the fancy crochet. He would be fucked if he tried to escape. But escape to where? The only thing that awaited him was the abyss and after that—probably a mixture of crabs and seagulls but more realistically—shitty and angry people. At least here he was offered some measure of safety. That being said, he didn’t have to be happy about it.

“Fuck you very much, Mister Warden.” He paused. “Shit. I meant ‘thank you.’ Thank you very much, Mister Fuckden.” He couldn’t help it. His nature was to be chewed on by the lion and dragged back to the pride to eat. Pride for a pride—if he’d been smart enough to make that play on words.

---

[Kuro]

Aegis. Ju-V. Rehabilitation.

Being native to San Francisco, Natsumi was vaguely familiar with the organization that she now found herself under. It had been the talk of the city as Aegis swooped in and redeveloped the former Alcatraz Island for "metahumans", or otherwise people with superhero-esque abilities that differentiated them from normal, everyday humans.

Despite the island being a former prison, Natsumi had often looked towards it with a peculiar interest, frequently wondering what sort of people now lived on the island. Was there someone who could shoot lasers out of their eyes? What about someone who could control the weather? Her endless curiosity never seemed to be sated, constantly desiring to know more about the Aegis Center and the island's new inhabitants.

That said, she never expected to travel to the island as a metahuman herself.

Admittedly, a piece of Natsumi was still nervous. She wasn't human anymore. At least, she wasn't in a non-meta sense. Her body had gained the ability to disappear into thin air, turning herself completely invisible. The first time it had happened, Natsumi hadn't even noticed until she had watched the following news reports that day. There she had been, cloaking herself in the middle of the street, on live television. And where she had been chased off by an angry mob for "causing" a car accident, too.

Like many metahumans before her, it had left Natsumi with more questions than answers. But thankfully, Aegis was already on the case. They promised her help; to handle the news reports and everything else while also extending a personal invitation to Natsumi to come to their metahuman complex on Alcatraz. It felt like coercion, yet Natsumi believed she didn't have any other choice but to accept their offer. She couldn't put her adopted family at risk by staying in San Francisco. The city's eyes were already upon her, even if she could disappear. The only thing Natsumi could do was run straight into the clutches of Aegis.

Putting on a brave face, Natsumi had left with Aegis agents in tow. This was for the better, she believed. She loved her family and would've rather preferred to stay, but this way they would be safe.

She'd be able to protect them. She'd be their own personal hero, this Natsumi swore.

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_{Location: Aegis Bus - San Francisco, California}

Issue #1: First Impressions

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_{Interaction(s): Linnie @mickilennial & Lina @Pirouette}

Previously: N/A

A quiet yet familiar song echoed through the Aegis bus speakers. The driver's choice of song hadn't been Natsumi's particular taste of music, but she didn't mind it. At the very least, the 80's-sounding music broke up the awkward silence that was being held by the bus's three passengers, two of which seemed to be absorbed off in their own little worlds.

For a moment, Natsumi had considered talking to them; to strike up a conversation and get to know some of her soon-to-be peers. Her mind had been alight with countless questions she wanted to ask them, with a new question to ask popping up every second in Natsumi's head. Where were they from? What was their ability? What were some of their favorite movies? Did they like pineapple on pizza? What did they like to do for fun?

So on and so forth.

As the boy with a white tuff of hair furrowed his brow, however, Natsumi decided to let off the brakes. Perhaps right now wasn't the best time to hit someone with a billion questions to answer. They seemed deep in thought, and Natsumi wanted to make a good first impression today. She hadn't wanted to chase anyone off with her chipper yet aggressive friendliness, though knowing herself that was bound to happen regardless. It wouldn't be the first time Natsumi had been told she had ambushed someone or that she was outright nosy, after all.

Turning her attention to the window, Natsumi decided to preoccupy herself with the sights instead, in turn leaving the other two to their own devices. San Francisco had plenty of amazing sights to see, such as the Golden Gate Bridge, Ghirardelli Square or the ever-famous Lombard Street. She had already seen a number of such landmarks prior, having grown up in San Francisco, though somehow the city still seemed to wow Natsumi as if there was always something new to see everywhere she looked. Such was the City of Love; the Paris of the West–every corner always held something to surprise you, even for the locals.

When the Aegis bus pulled up to the courthouse, Natsumi turned her attention away from the window momentarily to see who they were picking up next. This time around, it had been another boy, one with a rather chic hairstyle to boot. An unimpressed huff was had as he waltzed to the back of the bus and took a seat in front of the Aegis guard in the back. Another one for the list of people that didn't feel interested like talking, unfortunately.

Returning her gaze to the window, Natsumi awaited their next stop. To her surprise, the bus was destined for the San Francisco International, the city's local airport. She immediately wondered who had to fly in upon seeing the sign, nearly leaping out of her seat in curiosity to lean against the other seat's window in anticipation.

Two passengers boarded the bus. The first, a red-headed girl off in her own world, and the second: a blonde wearing a striped white-and-blue tank top. The redhead took a seat near the white-tuff boy from before, while the blonde sat somewhere between Natsumi and the teen that took a seat in the back.

Much to Natsumi's disappointment, it continued to appear as if no one wanted to sit near her. Was her upbeat positivity already chasing people away? It certainly seemed that way.

Pulling forward in the pickup line, the bus made another stop. Again, a number of people boarded the bus, mostly men who had tired, exhausted expressions upon their faces. The jet lag must've been rough, Natsumi figured, as the group began to pick their seats, with a blonde girl taking a seat two rows directly behind Natsumi.

As the bus lurched forward to pick up the next set of passengers, Natsumi quickly turned in her seat and waved a quick and friendly hello to the blonde girl. Two seats back wasn't that far off from her, and although Natsumi could certainly feel a tense air radiating from the blonde as she eyeballed two of the male passengers onboard the bus, she refused to be deterred this time around and flashed a smile on top of it.

Unfortunately, Natsumi hadn't received much in kind. The blonde girl looked back in her direction, sighing, before going straight back to minding her own business.

Slumping back into her chair, Natsumi reassured herself while the bus moved onwards to pick up some more transfers waiting in the pick-up line. That could've went better, but it was at least a good start. There was always more time for interaction later on in the day. More time to meet and disc—wait a minute.

IS THAT A WALKING STATUE? A PERSON WITH BIRD WINGS?

Natsumi had practically locked on the two, watching both with great curiosity. Obviously, everyone onboard were all metahumans, otherwise they wouldn't be on this bus. Truth be told, however, she hadn't expected someone with literal bird wings, much less someone made of actual stone. Granted, Natsumi was probably not the type of person who should've been surprised. Her own body could turn reflective and disappear from plain sight, after all. But, just.... wow. They seemed, no, were cool.

So cool that Natsumi hadn't noticed that two more transfers had boarded the bus—a girl who appeared pulled straight from the 50's, along with another female that panickily hurried to put gloves on after freezing one of the metal seat backs.

By then, the bus moved on to its final stop at the airport. Two passengers boarded this time, both looking equally in rough shape. While the boy had taken a seat elsewhere on the bus, the girl took the seat directly behind Natsumi. Finally! Someone who didn't seem deterred by her overwhelming presence of POSITIVITY!

"Hey there," Natsumi said, tossing her a quick smile as she sat down. "Did you have a nice flight?"

The girl looked up from her half-finished sketch of the Golden Gate Bridge. She had seen it flying in and was trying to capture it from memory. "Hi." She replied meekly, "I suppose". She reached over and drew from her bag of trail mix. Cashew. She ate it, grabbing the bag and extending it to the other girl. "I've never flown before."

Grabbing a handful of the trail mix, Natsumi nodded a thank you back at the girl.

"Me neither. My family never travelled much, so all I've known is San Francisco." She grabbed one of the cashews and popped it into her mouth, eating the nut before continuing to speak. "Natsumi. Most people tend to call me Nat, though, so feel free to use that instead. What's your name?"

Lina withdrew her bag of snack mix to pluck another singular item. Raisin. She paused before eating it, her face souring slightly at the poor draw. "Lina." She placed the raisin into her mouth, chewing slowly as she brought her gaze back to Nat. "I live in Flagstaff. Well, lived." It was doubtful she'd return to the oppressive heat and sun.

"Too much sun for me." She muttered, shaking her head.

Natsumi wasn't certain how to reply. She hadn't known how sunny Flagstaff was, but Natsumi at least knew that San Francisco received a solid helping of sun. If Lina disliked the sun, then San Francisco might've not been the place to be.

"Well, I hope San Francisco isn't too sunny for you, Lina." She replied, before changing to a much more positive tone. "I'm certain the Aegis complex has plenty of shade if it is, though!"

Lina's gaze dropped as her mind shifted to the Aegis complex. What was it all going to be like? It was mandatory, so she didn't have a choice in the matter, but was this really going to be bring about a positive change in her life? In all their lives? "I hope so." Lina muttered in resignation to her thoughts and Nat's confidence.

Noticing Lina's gaze drop to the floor, Natsumi quickly tried to step back into the conversation. She wanted to cheer up the girl, who now had the look of uncertainty across her face. Yet before Natsumi could manage to say anything, however, she found herself cut off by a sudden, loud exclamation from one of the bus's many passengers.

"What. The. Fuck?!"

Turning her head to the front of the bus, Natsumi noticed an otter struggling to take a seat. Much like some of the bus's occupants, Natsumi was equally confused and enthralled by the animal. Was it someone's pet that she hadn't noticed before? Or was the otter a person, like a metahuman shapeshifter of sorts? Natsumi had absolutely no idea, but given that there was a man literally made of stone on the bus, she had been inclined to believe the latter. Things had already twisted themselves strange and outlandish, so a shapeshifting otter riding a bus wasn't as crazy as it might've once sounded to Natsumi.

Still, Natsumi felt bad for the animal, watching it give up trying to climb the seat and instead chose to hang onto the edge of the chair. Thankfully, for its sake, the remainder of the trip to the ferry hadn't been long.

Once the bus rolled to a stop outside the ferry wharf, Natsumi was quick to jump to her feet and disembark the bus. She stretched her limbs, having been stuck on the bus for much longer than most of its passengers, before looking around for Lina among the crowd. As Natsumi spotted Lina, however, an Aegis employee called her over to go on the first ride over to Alcatraz, forcing her to leave her new friend behind momentarily.

"I'll see you on the other side, Lina!" Natsumi called out, waving a quick farewell to the other girl.

Although the Aegis employees seemed worried that the boat might capsize under the weight of its passengers, the ride over to the island instead proved to be relatively smooth. For the ocean, the water was stiller than ever, and the boat chopped right through it on its way over to the island. Before Natsumi even knew it, she and all the others had arrived.

Once the ferry had made a second run back to the island, an Aegis employee led them through a series of security gates where their person and items were to be searched. Without much of a thought, Natsumi handed over the few belongings she had brought. Truthfully, Natsumi felt she didn't have anything to hide from them. Regardless of that belief, however, her electronics were among the items set to be temporarily confiscated by Aegis and given back at a later date once searched. Apparently, the memes on her phone from the family's group chat must've been dangerous or against protocol, Natsumi thought in jest.

Finishing up with security, Natsumi followed the rest of the group out to onto the stadium court. Spotting Lina once more, Natsumi swung by her side with a quick friendly wave as they were suddenly left in the care of the Aegis facility's director, Virgil Rowell, who gave a short speech and welcomed their group to the island.

Although Natsumi had found the warden's speech to be agreeable, evidently not everyone had thought the same as she had did. The stone man, who Natsumi had yet to catch their name, spoke up from the crowd, deliberately attempting to be a bit of a smart ass to Rowell in front of everyone else.

Well, this introduction was certainly awkward now, Natsumi thought as she watched the display from the sidelines.

[mickilennial]

Last Ride to Alcatraz

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_{Location: AEGIS Bus → Alcatraz Compound}

Issue #1: Last Ride to Alcatraz

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_{Interaction(s): N/A}

Previously: N/A

After refusing to engage with a girl in front who was eager to talk, Kaitlin Langstraat kept her eyes glued to the bus window near her, planting her head against it as they drove through San Francisco to their next destination.

Between her hands was an old silver dollar, one she kept rotating in her hands to try to think about anything else than the events that led her to her current situation. It didn’t work, not really.

Being diagnosed as a metahuman would’ve been world-shattering enough for her, given society’s particularly uneasiness with those with the affliction, but the universe had decided it would be much more fun if a bunch of other things happened around that as well; because the universe was a practical joker. A comedian. A laugh riot.

The funniest joke of all was that her abusive father that she had avoided for several years turned up in Santa Clara, when she was at work in the local mall.

She couldn’t even remember what happened. What he said. How he looked at her. None of it. She had been told she had an “episode” by the police and doctors. There had been damages, injuries. They weren’t forthcoming with the details and neither was AEGIS when they showed up and gave her an offer she couldn’t willingly refuse. With a pending lawsuit from the ownership group who owned the shopping mall and official charges lingering in some kind of legal purgatory, she found herself scared and out of luck. Of course she took the offer from AEGIS. Legal protections? Evaluation and training of her metahuman abilities? Making the lawsuit go away? They did all that. Part of her was grateful for it, it was like a Get Out of Jail card from Monopoly but in real life.

What else could she do?

And then they arrived at the island. It took two trips, but the beginning was over.

It was a relief in a way, she mused, as she tried to get a good look at her surroundings to the best of her ability. Not that she was preparing an escape from Alcatraz like that old Clint Eastwood movie or anything, but more in line with her not liking surprises. Being perceptive had kept her alive since forever ago and that wouldn’t change, even under someone else’s care. Anything she could see and remember she would be sure to take mental notes of. One particular thought came to mind as they were already being treated like numbers on an orange jumpsuit.

_{I guess this being like ‘Summer Camp’ was a mild exaggeration. Cool.}

It felt so surreal.

Lined up. Being ready to be shipped off to their least favorite corners of a historic prison. All for the common good of America. The good of the community.

It was absurd how the warden tried to paint it. So absurd that one of the other metahumans, a boy, made of stone, made a remark that actually made her giggle, a giggle she quickly covered with her hand. Not a common occurrence, but she didn’t expect it so readily dispensed at the warden’s expense. It was enough to maybe, just maybe, make her think that this little situation wouldn’t be completely terrible.

Just maybe.

[PatientBean]

^{INTERACTIONS: @psych0pomp
MENTIONS: Brick, Noah
LOCATION: Bus to Alcatraz}

---

Shit.

Brooklyn was used to dealing with law enforcement. ACAB all the way baby. She stuck her middle finger to the pigs whenever she got a chance. Hell, her best enemy in the world was the chief of police in her little neck of the woods. Still, whenever she was picked up, she managed to get out. It paid to have allies, especially those who owed you favors for working on their rigs or for roughing up someone who was bothering them. Hard to catcall a girl with a broken jaw and ribs.

So what the hell was she doing on a bus to Alcatraz?

It was Eleanor Carmichael's fault. She was sure of that. The two tussled for a while, it was only a matter of time before she was caught. However, this wasn't a transit to some prison. This was different. This was for special cases like her. A normal prison wouldn't be able to hold her. Heck, if she wanted, she was sure this bus wouldn't hold her.

But Brooklyn was curious. And curiosity won out over freedom. For now anyway.

So Brooklyn got on the bus. Dressed in a polkadot top, leather jacket, black leggings and red heels, she scooted through the bus. It brought back memories of high school. She sneered at the thought. She saw an empty seat next to a red-headed girl who was fast asleep.

"Stupid", she thought to herself. A bus full of strangers and you fall asleep right next to them. Who's to say they were trustworthy? They were being brought to Alcatraz of all places. So Brooklyn sat herself right next to the girl, glaring at anyone who tried to make eye-contact less they think they can try something.

She looked at a few of the others, but paid them little mind. She wasn't in it to make friends. She probably wasn't going to stick around. Soon as she could she would make her way back to New York, back to her shop, like nothing happened. Or hell, maybe she'd move the shop elsewhere.

Along the route, they made a few stops here and there. Brooklyn kept an eye on them as they came in, sizing them up. Better to see who were threats. Not like many could threaten her if they tried.

One stop surprised someone on board. She couldn't place the accent, but it piqued her curiosity. Brooklyn tried to see who was coming on, but didn't see anyone.

That is until she looked down to see an otter moving on. An otter.

Seriously?

"Ok. What. The. Fuck?" she asked no one in particular. "No one is going to say anything? What, does the zoo let out its animals on field trips?" Brooklyn let her New York accent take hold. She looked around and no one seemed the least bit surprised.

They might be superhuman, but even an actual animal was sure to get looks.

Brooklyn threw her hands up in defeat. This bus was full of idiots.

---

Eventually they reached their destination and they all filed out. Their items were inspected with some being taken. Made sense. She didn't have much on her. "Need to search me? Get out of line and I'll break your wrists." she said to the person searching her stuff.

Once that was done she joined the others for the...I guess it was an orientation? She paid little mind to his speech. This place wouldn't last long. Who cared about its amenities?

The warden was finished and one of the guys spoke up. “Fuck you very much, Mister Warden.” He paused. “Shit. I meant ‘thank you.’ Thank you very much, Mister Fuckden.” Brooklyn caught herself chuckling. Seems not all of the people here were dumb. "Fuckden. Nice touch. He'll probably cry himself to sleep at night with that insult."

Brooklyn cracked her knuckles. She knew how this would go. Insult the warden, get beat up on by his staff. She figured she could take down 10 or so before breaking a sweat.

[Lord Wraith]

After what was a rather humiliating first impression, the small otter turned around to see if anyone else was watching him before making another attempt at climbing into the bus seat. Claws tore into the leather, but the attempt was successful. Plopping down triumphantly on, Holt tucked his tail around beside his spread legs before reaching into the pocket on his chest and producing a small iPod classic. While he could manage touch screens with the otter claws, they tended to get too scratched up. The iPod Classic on the other hand, while possessing a small screen, though aptly otter sized, also possessed an actual tactile interface meaning small claws could improvise a method of using the device. As nice as the iPod was, Holt would have killed for pants. The thick fur coat only hid so much and it wasn't like he was proud to go around hanging dong for the world to see. In this form, there wasn't exactly a lot to be proud of. So yeah, pants would have been a welcome change. His claws were personally crossed for an orange jumpsuit. Orange was definitely in right now. As for the others, Holt couldn't really care less. He knew what the usual reactions to him were, a pet, a pity party, utter confusion. There was no doubt he was just being shipped off to more of the same. It wasn't like he intended to be trapped in this form. Everything had just happened so fast. The gunshot. The crowd. The kid. The enclosure. "Ok. What. The. Fuck?" And there it was. "<Hey!>" Holt suddenly squeaked from his seat, perking up to look around at the eclectic group. "<Can any of you superfreaks speak otter?>" The question was only met with silence. "<I'd settle for weasel at this point, stoat even? If I had to, I could probably manage a little rat. At least one of you has got to be a rat.>" Still nothing, just a few bug-eyed stares as meaningless chirps came from the small mammal. Shrugging, or at least approximating the gesture with what mobility was afforded to him, Holt sunk back into his seat and returned to his music. "<Hey, me again! Can I smoke in here?>" The otter asked, standing up on the bus seat. "<Silence is compliance, peeps.>" He chattered, reaching once again into the little fur poach and producing a cigarette case, complete with a lighter inside. "No one is going to say anything? What, does the zoo let out its animals on field trips?" "<'Sup with'choo, Sugartits?>" Holt asked between drags, nodding his furry chin towards one of the blonde Yorker who had earlier addressed his arrival with an unnecessary expletive. It wasn't like he could drive himself, everyone takes the bus on this trip. With the bus coming to a halt, they all filed off. Holt made his way to exit, the girl with the wings letting the otter off in front of her with a smile. "<Thanks, Wings, much appreciated.>" The trip across on the ferry was uneventful. Holt had wanted to go and do his best 'Titanic' on the bow but got the impression he wasn't allowed to leave his seat. He opted inside to wiggle in place, moving about to his music as obnoxiously as he could without meeting the end of a baton. Exiting the vessel, Holt made his way inside with the others. His chest pocket was thoroughly violated as he was relieved of his belongings. "<At least buy me dinner before you finger my pocket.>" He chattered before pushing his way to the front of the small group. “Fuck you very much, Mister Warden. Shit. I meant ‘thank you.’ Thank you very much, Mister Fuckden.” Sugartits looked like she was gearing up for a fight. Holt on the other hand let out a sort of chortle, making a small fist and holding out towards Rex while "<Give me some skin my dude, frikkin' got'em.>"

[Roman]

_{^{INTERACTIONS: Haven, @Skai}}

---

When the bus arrived for Fritz and whoever this other girl was - so pale that he was semi-convinced she was another street-cleaner sweep up, though he denied himself the notion of kinship - he finally came to realize that this mystery tour from his familiar haunts, through a courtroom, bounced across several holding cells of steadily-increasing quality yet uniform purpose, to being quietly-yet-firmly escorted through three separate flight transfers was nearing its promised end. It had taken several weeks to arrive at this precipice; and yet, it wasn't until Fritz was seated at the front of the bus, surreptitiously swiveling his head to scan the other passengers and suddenly noticing that the girl sat beside him had wings, that it really hit him that despite all expectations, this hadn't simply been an elaborate ruse to relocate him and his particular brand of 'problem' and 'statistics' to another city's municipality.

This is all to say that Fritz remained in something of a stupefied fugue for the majority of the remaining commute to Alcatraz, occasionally surfacing only to acknowledge and file away some new oddity. A native off the rez. A boy made of stone. An otter. He was certain that each and every one of them, sat like sardines in a tin with wheels, hid qualities that only a select few were forced to wear in the open. For his part, Fritz clenched and flexed his fist repeatedly, fingers aching for a familiar blade that had been permanently severed from his personage some handful of months previously. He wasn't sure what he missed more: the reliable access to his self-taught abilities, his first and last line of offense and defense alike, or the only tangible item he'd ever truly considered his own singular possession. He fixed his gaze on the notebook held by the girl sat at the front, plotting on how to obtain even a single page. It would do for now.

The bus gave way to a slow, supervised shuffle, gave way to a ferry, gave way to more shuffling. Fritz had failed to attain a page while disembarking either the bus or the ferry, and now he was on-alert and it was out-of-mind; instead, he focused on absorbing his new surroundings and supervisors, as well as his erstwhile peers. He pondered their natures, both psychological and metaphysical, musing which of either would serve the best purpose to him. The wings were of particular interest; not only did they offer a tantalizing degree of freedom, but each feather, with its pointed quill, was another avenue for Fritz' own personal talents. A useful early ally in all respects; all he needed was the angle of approach, and that would reveal itself simply enough, given time.

His study was interrupted by a lecture that Fritz found put his hackles up and set his teeth on edge, its hollow, well-rehearsed welcomes and honey-coated warnings all-too-familiar to the boy who had heard the same sickly spiel from scores of fosters and would-be guardians. He rolled his eyes, letting his vision glaze over as he resolved to simply drift in absent thought until they would be finally left to their own devices.

Although, if Dwayne 'The Pebble' Fuckface and his cheerleader pining for a time out of style 70 years ago at its conception had their way, it would appear they'd all be on whatever Aegis' equivalent of the naughty step was; or more likely, in Fritz' known experience, the empty pantry cupboard with the burnt-out bulb and lock on the other side of the door. Even the otter seemed to approve of the juvenile display. Fritz still found it outlandish that an otter was even among them inferring what behaviour it did and didn't approve of.

His fingers itched. He'd lived several years forced to wear eyes on the back of his head and sleep too lightly to actually rest. He could tell himself there were no immediate threats all he liked; instinct refused to let him forget he was surrounded by strangers, every last one representing their own unique and unknown potential, and had been forcibly left bereft of his sole line of defense. He felt painfully vulnerable. He eyed the winged girl, feathered wings partially splayed as she took the opportunity to stretch out after the cramped journey.

He moved before thinking about it, and if he had thought about it, he wouldn't have done it, but this wasn't Fritz operating on thought; this was Fritz operating on barely-restrained, permanently-etched fight-or-flight.

It was so easy. His hand reached out and took the calamus of an outer-edge feather firmly between thumb and forefinger, and yanked sharply down. The feather gave slight resistance at the tug, but came free nonetheless, and it quickly moved to his right hand and got palmed, the quill's point protruding out and seeming to glisten in the light.

Haven, for her part, did not fail to notice the intrusion, yelping sharply as she felt the feather rip out with a painful and unpleasant 'pop'. Wheeling round, fist already raised and drawn back, she paused only momentarily as she locked eyes with Fritz and recognized an uncomfortable familiarity with the coming violence, as well as an equally-disturbing feral eagerness. Her eyes flitted to the feather in his hand, proffered upwards in a clenched fist like a shiv.

She didn't have time to land the punch. A shout went up from one of the observing guards.
"EDGE!"
And then Fritz seized as the prongs of a tazer lodged in his back and he tipped forwards, feather dropped and quickly kicked away as the same guard approached with a zip tie, quickly and carefully slipping it around Fritz' wrists as the shock-induced shudders subsided. Shortly thereafter, Fritz was up, sat on his arse on the floor, hands restrained behind his back and cursing himself for his moronic impulse, and cursing himself again for giving into it.

Haven, from her standing point, gave him a quick slap across the back of the skull, which everyone - Fritz included - surmised he probably deserved.

[Skai]

H A V E N B A R N E S

---

Haven never wanted to fly like that again.

The agent had her board a tin can only held aloft by metal wings; propelled not by air, but by two extremely loud whirring engines. Haven quickly asked for a pair of earplugs before the plane left the ground. As the plane took off, she instantly regretted saying no to the medication the agent offered before boarding. She'd never taken anything but painkillers, so a relaxant sounded like something that would make her unaware if the plane started going down. So, she white knuckled the armrests, shut her eyes tight, and begged whatever higher power was out there that the metal bird wouldn't wrench apart. The sounds it made as it lifted higher into the air weren't comforting. She hadn't taken to the skies this roughly since she first taught herself to fly...

The earplugs remained in her ears the entire flight. She'd been given a window seat. A bittersweet relief that Haven could still see the ground passing beneath them as she left her lake home behind. She gazed out of the window, wishing that she was flying herself to this Aegis Centre instead. She already missed the feeling of the wind in her feathers and the sun warming her wings. How long would it be until she could fly again? The agent told her that she would have recreational time. Did that include an evening flight along the coast, or just a brief pass around the centre's island to keep her wings mobile? The uncertainties about this new situation were settling in her gut like a lead ball.

The planes landing was even worse than it's takeoff. She found herself holding her breath, and didn't release it until the metal bird was easing its way off of the landing strip and into the terminal. Even the air on the plane was stale and lifeless, she thought bitterly when she finally took a breath. The plane came to a stop at the terminal. She turned to see how long it would take to get off of the plane, eager to put her feet on solid ground again. She didn't notice the agent's concern until she caught her gaze. "You held your breath for almost ten minutes. I thought you were going to pass out on me."

Haven merely shrugged, pressing her lips together before she could come up with an answer. "That's... another thing I can do." That was all she could say on the matter. The deboarding process was already under way, and Haven tried her best to be polite as she urged the agent to cut the line and get her off the metal bird.

The earplugs remained in her ears as they deboarded. It didn't do much to silence the overhead speakers, but the chatter of the crowded airport was muffled, which was enough of a relief that she was already starting to feel better. She walked silently beside the agent, carrying her dark blue, salvation army tried and true, Jansport backpack in her left hand. Normally with a jacket to hide her wings she'd wear it on her back, but after that cramped ride on the plane Haven was itching to stretch her wings.

The two made it down to the airport pickup zone. Haven instantly crinkled her nose at the smell. A stuffy mixture of gasoline and sweat. The horns alone were starting to give her a headache, as well. Then the Californian heat hit her, and despite her abilities she found it suffocatingly hot in her jacket even with the hidden slits in the back. She looked around with an unsure gaze, and then looked to her travel buddy.

"Is it ok to take off my jacket?" She asked softly, and hoped that the agent would understand the implied question behind it. The agent paused, checked their watch for the time, and then made a passing gaze at the crowd around them. "Go ahead. It might be a while before the bus gets here." Haven bit her lip and glanced around again. "I can handle any unwanted attention. Go ahead."

Haven nodded once and handed her backpack to the agent. She slowly slid the jacket off of her shoulders, taking great care not to snag any feathers on the way down. She kept her gaze forward, choosing not to see any passing stares as her wings came into sight. The sudden rush of air in her feathers instantly cooled them. She took a relieved breath and nodded to the agent again. "Thanks." She murmured as she retrieved her backpack.

"OHMYgod." ... "She has wings!" ... "Stop staring, she might sqwuak at you." ... "Honey let's move down to the next pickup line. I don't want Olivia to see that."

Haven's face was solemn as she stuffed her jacket into her backpack. She offered no reaction to the hushed whispers and jokes made by the zone's occupants. The agent seemed to be ready for an altercation, from Haven herself or someone who decided to confront them, but also looked almost like she pitied Haven. Haven hated that look. She cleared her throat, held her backpack with both of her hands, and held her chin high as she looked at the agent once more. "How long do you think it will be?"

---

After what felt like ages of staring at the concrete wall across the road, the agent let out a small sigh of relief and notified her that the upcoming bus was the one she would be taking.

Haven looked to the left, spotting the bus as well and the emblem on the side of it. She took a deep breath and turned to face the agent. "Thank you for standing with me... Agent...?"

"Agent Wallace. I wish you luck at the program." The agent said with a soft smile.

Haven simply pressed her lips together and nodded a goodbye. She walked towards bus stop, the only one standing in line for this particular bus, and felt her wings twitch as her fight or flight began to kick in. She didn't dare glance back at the agent and let the woman see the growing panic in her eyes.

The bus came to a stop in front of her, and the doors slid open. She released the breath she'd been holding, composed herself, and made her way up the stairs.

Aboard the bus, she felt cramped once more. She only looked for the first seat available and didn't even dare look at the other occupants. With her wings out, she immediately felt a shiver go up her spine as she turned to carefully take her seat in the second row. It was feat enough to keep her feathers from ruffling, and to sit as comfortably as possible when it felt like most eyes on the bus were on her.

The bus finally pulled off after what felt like ages in a few seconds and she was relieved that it made no sound. She would have relaxed, if the hairs on the back of her neck weren't standing tall. She thought she'd at least catch a break on the bus, surrounded by what she assumed were other metas, but she could still feel a pair of eyes on her. The bus let others on, yet still Haven felt their gaze. In an attempt to prove her suspicions, Haven turned her head to the side, as if she were looking out of the windows opposite the row. From her peripherals, she saw the culprit sitting a few rows back and to her left. A boy with auburn hair in a hoodie despite the heat, leaning into the aisle to get what she assumed was a good look, and a pair of headphones that she'd heard buzzing since she got on the bus.

His eyes were on her wings. Another shiver crawled up her spine. She couldn't figure out the expression on his face unless she looked right at him, and yet she found that she couldn't turn her head any further. The other passengers in her peripherals weren't looking, at least. What's his deal? She thought bitterly before turning her head to look out of the window beside her in the hopes that the city would distract her. More passengers boarded, and she got the usual glances, yet she still felt that watchful gaze.

The bus stopped close to the water, getting a few passengers behind her excited. Haven saw who they were picking up from her window, just as the girl in front of her asked why they had stopped here. An otter, fresh out of water it seemed, was making its way to jump onto the bus. Her eyes widened for a moment at the sight. An otter? She subtly turned her head forward this time, to watch the otter as it stopped at the seats next to her from the corner of her vision. She knew it wasn't right to stare directly... unlike the guy in the hoodie.

The otter struggled to take a seat, unsurprisingly. Haven turned as if she would help it- them- A shapeshifter?- into a seat, but she caught those watchful eyes again just within her range and froze. The otter had made their way onto their seat by then and looked like they were getting comfortable. They even pulled a music device from their chest, which only further proved they were a someone and not an it. With this conclusion, and just the pair of eyes to worry about now, Haven decided to slowly scooch further into her own spot. At least this way he could only stare at the top of her wings.

What felt like the longest five minutes of her life passed by, although it wasn't boring. The otter started chatting with no one in particular, and then Haven tried her best not to react when they pulled a pack of cigs from that same pouch in their chest and lit one up. She heard a girl in the back with an accent she couldn't place make a crude remark. The otter chirped up again, still puffing on the cig. Haven had to appreciate their attempts to snip back.

The bus reached it's destination just as the otter was finishing their smoke. Haven pulled herself to her feet, grabbed her backpack from the floor, and hoped that the air outside would smell better than cigarettes. She turned to join the line the girl in front of her started, and chose to let the otter out first with a soft smile. They gave her a chirp, with a tone that sounded like gratitude. Even though they couldn't form words, Haven thought that they must have been human at some point. Just like her. Maybe they could find a way to communicate, and relate to one another.

The staring boy was quick to his feet. She heard him rush to the front, his music giving him away. Her wings tightened to her back instinctively. Did he have a crude comment to make, this time? Haven was preparing for the worst as she followed the otter off the bus.

In the open air, the minor claustrophobia eased and it did smell much better than the otter's cig as well. From this spot on the shore, she was also able to get a good lookover of the island. It's appearance was a bit similar to the girls home, Haven realized with disappointment. She frowned lightly, and decided to turn her attention towards the ferry that they would soon board.

A few steps, those eyes still trained on her and Haven decided she'd had enough. She stepped to the side and turned, letting the two behind her move ahead as she set her vexed expression upon the boy in the hoodie.

"If you want to stare at wings all day, go to a zoo." She said with a vexed look. Her wings flared a couple of inches behind her, the movement releasing some of her frustration as well.

The boy turned to her with a start, as if he hadn't expected her to confront him. "Sorry?" He looked unsure for a moment before Haven noticed a flicker in his calm demeanor. Almost like he suddenly realized what he was doing. Pulling back his hood to reveal his features, his green eyes met her own. Haven kept his gaze, unwavering in her quiet confrontation despite that flicker of remorse. The girls back at the home faked nice before. Who's to say this boy couldn't do the same?

"I just," the boy's gaze flickered to the wings- again, with the wings- then back to her eyes. "I didn't mean to stare. Or, I guess I did. I just think they're..."

He paused, searching for the right word. Haven let him think... while her mind was already assuming what he was going to say next.

"They're incredible."

Haven's wings flared for the briefest of moments. Her mind was a momentary mess as she tried to process his body language, facial expression, and tone of voice all together, her eyes quickly darting about him as she scanned for any signs of malice or insincerity. She came to one conclusion, but she couldn't believe it. He means it... She thought to herself.

"What does it feel like?"

Haven was at a loss for words. Was this when he'd say something cruel?

He clarified, "what's it feel like to fly?"

Haven's own realization was setting in. Her wings relaxed behind her, and her steeled expression melted into something soft and understanding. "It's..." She thought of the sensation, and struggled to find just one word for it. She decided to acknowledge his earlier statement about her wings, by saying, "Incredible, too."

He broke eye contact momentarily, lifting his head to peer at the clouds above. "When I was little, my mom and I would sit for hours and talk about random, silly stuff. Like what stuffed animals do when people aren't watching. Or what movie would be the most fun to live in. Things like that. It's dumb, but I don't know. It kept our minds busy and off of... other things."

The boy paused, lost in a memory. Haven listened to him, trying to ignore the small hurt she felt when he mentioned his mother. "Anyway, uh, one of my mom's favorite things to talk about is what it would be like to have wings. Me being young, all I could think about was the stupid things I could get up to. But my mom had these amazing, vivid stories she would tell me. She'd tell me about all these made-up adventures she went on. All the wonderful places she'd gone. And I don't mean like France or England or anything like that. She'd talk about flying to mythical places, like Avalon.

"That's, uh, that's where they took King Arthur when he died," he added, although Haven had no idea who he was talking about. "She'd tell me how she met the fairy queen and Merlin and all these other things."

He laughed softly to himself, "it was really silly. But I loved hearing her talk like that."

"Anyway," he ran his fingers through his auburn hair and a sheepish expression crossed his face as he realized he'd been rambling. Haven also noticed that the small group to board the ferry, including themselves, were quickly boarding. "Sorry. That's all, I mean, uh, my point was just that when I saw your wings, I guess it made me think of those moments again. Of those stories and the amazing adventures she talked about. I don't know. I guess... it's just incredible. You can fly and that's... that's really incredible."

Haven would have smiled at him, but they were being called to board. She gestured for him to come along and lead the way towards the boat. "I... think that's great. With your mom, I mean." She went quiet as she stepped onto the boat, careful not to clip the ends of her wings on the edge. She slowly moved into the seating area, and she looked at where the others took seats and suddenly felt uncomfortable again. She turned to look back at the boy. "I've only met one person that thinks of them that way, and I haven't seen her in years." She pressed her lips together, feeling like she gave away too much about herself already. She wasn't comfortable enough with people to just share memories like that.

So she changed the subject. "Just... be careful who you stare at in here. They might not be as friendly."

"Thanks for the advice," he told her. "I feel like I'm going to make a lot of mistakes like that. Not exactly used to this whole... thing." He gestured toward the group as he said this. Haven could say the same, too. She'd been on her own for so long.

"Oh, uh, sorry. I should probably have said this sooner." The boy offered his hand to Haven and met her eyes again. "I'm Wes. Thanks for being understanding. I promise I won't stare at you too much from now on."

Haven glanced down at his hand, feeling strange for a moment, before she put her hand in his and squeezed. "Haven." She offered him a small smile. The ferry jolted to life, and Haven's wings flared as she tried to keep her balance. She released his hand and glanced at the seats. "I don't feel like sitting. Want to find somewhere to stand?"

"Sure. Between the plane ride and the bus, I've been sitting all day."

Haven frowned lightly as she thought of her own flight.

Wes pointed toward the island in the distance as Haven let him lead her towards the front. "Can you believe this is where we're going to be living? It's like a castle."

She took a hold of the railing and looked at the island, but she couldn't see the centre as a castle. She decided to make a joke out of it, instead of expressing her true thoughts. "I've seen better places to stay," she started, "but I'll have to see what the inside looks like first."

"I mean, it probably has actual beds," he said without a hint of sarcasm. "That's already an improvement."

Haven glanced over at him, and then smirked. "I've slept in trees. Any bed is a real bed." She turned her head back towards the island as the ferry pulled into the dock. This was it. Her new home, new life. At least she already met one friendly person. Who, she noticed when she looked at him, had given her enough space to rest that her wings had naturally stretched out behind her with the space. She slowly pulled them in now, the uncertainties about the centre returning to the pit in her stomach.

"If you ask me, I'd choose the tree instead." She murmured before pulling back from the railing.

The ferry soon docked, and Haven gave him a nod before making her way towards the front.

---

Haven did not speak to Wes as they waited by the docks for the next group. She was too busy trying to ignore the growing pit in her stomach. This was likely her last chance to bolt. She could be over the water, through those tall metal buildings that stood like unnatural trees, and on her way to some mountain range that the Aegis agents couldn't reach her without plenty of time to get there.

Would it be worth it? Would her freedom last?

The other ferry group was on the island before she could make her decision. She shuffled into line once more, only giving Wes a quick glance to see where he stood in line before she continued on.

She reluctantly handed her backpack over to the security team waiting for them. Nothing in there but well-worn clothes and a sewing kit. The latter was taken for further consideration. She noticed one of them eyeing her wings and felt her stomach twist. He glanced over at his coworker, looking a bit unsure. "Should we pat them down?" He murmured. Haven's expression steeled, and she pulled her wings against her back. She raised an eyebrow as the other knucklehead looked her way, daring them to say yes. The guard cleared his throat, quickly turning his head back to the other and giving them a subtle headshake. Haven snatched her bag back from their table and moved on.

Soon the group entered the building, taking an exaggeratedly long walkway towards what Haven noticed was titled the "Recreation Wing Sport Court". She frowned at the name. As they waited for whatever came next, Haven looked at the ceiling of the room. It had large windows... How strong were they? Could she smash through them with some sport equipment?

The sound of footsteps echoed as what they were waiting for finally arrived. Haven tilted her head to the side as she looked him over. He was just a man in a suit. Different from the agents in the way he dressed. She didn't realize he was the director until he stated it himself. Something about that made her stand straighter, and she kept her face blank as he passed by her spot in line. Her eyes followed his facial expressions as he went. He was just another suit, like plenty of others she'd met in the foster care system. He had an air of cockiness about him that she didn't like, too.

He stopped in front of a boy with brown hair, and seemed to imply that his speech about theft was aimed specifically at him. Haven looked over him, noting the air of indifference around him. He must have stolen to survive, also.

The director soon finished his unpleasant welcome speech, and whether or not he expected applause to follow, he was met with a smart comment from the boy made of stone. Haven's eyes darted to him. While others chuckled and cheered him on, the otter giving him an extended fist, Haven looked back at the director to gauge his reaction. Unfortunately, she didn't get a chance.

She felt their presence first, a little too close to her for her liking, and then she felt the pain. A shot of what felt like lightning in her left wing travelled the length of it and sent itself right into her spine and the muscles on her back. She let out a yelp, her wings pulling themselves tightly to her to avoid any further damage. Her right arm rose into the air as she turned, a prepared strike waiting for wherever the fucker was that thought they could take from her. Her eyes caught sight of him, a pallid man whose expression halted her oncoming rage for just a second. His eyes... she recognized that look. Her eyes flitted to the feather in his hand, poised like a weapon in his white-knuckled fist. Who was the blow meant for? Hit him before you find out! Her instincts screamed.

She pulled her elbow further back, ready to make the blow, but the guards around them erupted before she could release it. They rushed in, the thief getting an electric shock that sent him to his knees. The guards that weren't rushing in with zipties turned her way, their own tasers drawn and prepped to use against her. Haven dropped her right arm and immediately moved both of her palms to face them, her face expressing her fear of their stun guns. They quickly relaxed, a movement that made Haven's shoulders sag in relief.

She looked down to the ground and noticed her poor feather had been kicked against her backpack. She'd dropped her pack the moment the pain hit her. With a cautious glance at the guards, Haven knelt down to pick up her pack. She casually slipped the feather inside of her bag before standing. It was her property anyways.

The thief was now on his ass, his hands tied behind his back to ensure no further violence. Haven looked down at him as he cursed himself repeatedly. She would have pitied him if he hadn't just yanked a piece of her flesh and feather off of her body. She couldn't let him get away with it without a blow of her own.

So she whacked him on the back of the head. It could have been harder, but Haven didn't want to alert the guards again. She turned away from him, her lips a tight line, and moved down to the other end of the line. She couldn't even look at Wes as she passed. For good measure, she stood five feet away from the closest person this time. She kept her wings tight against her back and crossed her arms in front of her, glowering at the wall across the courtroom.

Fuck.

[Lawful Newtral]

^{MENTIONS: -
INTERACTIONS: None
LOCATION: New Alcatraz, San Francisco, California, US
NOW PLAYING: ♫ Spectre - Radiohead ♫}

---

This wasn't the first time Zee crossed the States alone on a bus, but it was the first time she saw this many metahumans in one place.

Metahumans. The notion still didn't sit right in her mind. Once upon a time, she had been nothing more than a upper-middle-class WASP well on her way to college. Now, she knew that she wasn't even human. Part woman, part force of nature, a sub-zero body that froze anything it touched. Tony and Liv DiAngelo, her own parents, found that out the hard way. Nothing about this sat right with Zee. Her parents were cold, dead corpses, their pained screams haunted her head, and for the sake of 'safety', she was being shipped to Alcatraz of all places. Her life was flipped on its head, she should have broke. She should have raged against the machine. But she didn't.

She couldn't.

The unbearable weight of circumstance and all Zee felt was the slightest discomfort. Like a primordial monster slumbering under miles and miles of ice, the pain was imprisoned under her frozen disposition and she could not feel what she should have been feeling. Was that another part of her curse; tragedy with no way of processing it healthily, like a human? Was that another one of the universe's sick jokes?

^{"Spectre, how he laughs..."}

So went the train of thought that she forgot to put on her gloves before getting on the bus to Alcatraz. The metal parts of the bus seat began to freeze over. "Shit," Zee swore under her frosty breath. Pulling her hand away, she immediately slipped on a pair of cloth gloves. Only then was she calm enough to sit down. The old Zee might have been bothered on how public that was. How many people saw her almost freeze a seat? The old Zee's answer would have been 'enough to be embarrassed'. Now, her answer was 'not enough to care'. The side-eyes and glances bounced off her icy exterior like winter sunlight against a frozen lake. Nothing seemed to faze her.

Not even when an otter pitter-pattered its way into the bus.

---

The entire ferry ride, Zee's eyes were glued to the waters of San Francisco Bay. It felt...strange. She had always been leery of water any deeper that she was tall, since her idea of swimming was 'paddling helplessly until her head was above the water'. Now, she had ample reason to fear water. For all she knew, she could freeze the entire bay if she gave it so much as a touch. Already, stray splashes from the ferry that fell onto the frigid Zee condensed into slurry and mist. She was already responsible for two deaths, let's not add crippling an entire city's maritime ecosystem to the list.

Maybe Aegis had a point with the whole Alcatraz thing.

The inescapable compound was an intimidating structure no matter how many coats of paint it received, once home to such notable criminals as Al Capone, the Birdman, and Sean Connery in that spy thriller movie. Zee had her own initial misgivings at the thought of teenagers and young adults having to live their lives in such a daunting compound. It was a prison of stone inside a prison of water. And yet the more she put her mind to it, there was no place safer. How many of these youngbloods had powers just as destructive as Zee's? How many of them had much more destructive psyches than hers? The world they used to call home was inherently (and rightfully) mistrustful of the inhuman. People have lost their lives to the mob for much, much less. A secure philanthrophist facility where the young metahumans would learn how to be...metahuman.

Zee's mouth curled into a silent sneer at the thought. Maybe she was just looking for reasons why she felt nothing upon seeing their newfound home of a compound. Why she felt a profound nothing at the inspection and seizure of forbidden items. Whe she felt that very same nothing when the Director—Virgil, was it?—gave his matriculation speech, even as her fellows raved and chafed against their bindings. The chiseled jock and the other New England blonde made their juvenile displeasure clear as day. Others awkwardly looked around and mumbled their own ways of assent or dissent. Some bastard even tried to nick a feather from a winged girl and got a wicked smack for the trouble. Life at Alcatraz was to be exciting, this she could see. This she could understand.

And still, Zee felt nothing.

^{"A spectre of my mortal soul,"}

She could only imagine how it must have looked like to the others. This stark bleached blonde with a stone cold disposition, standing there motionless, emotionless, frozen even as the flames of youth were stoked around her. Pale eyes looked onwards, but it was as if there was nothing behind them. Maybe there really was nothing behind them. Maybe Zee DiAngelo really did freeze over on her graduation day, just like her parents. And this was all that was left.

Just Zero.

[Kuro]

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_{Location: Sports Court - AEGIS Complex, Alcatraz Island}

Issue #2: And Now For My Next Trick...

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_{Interaction(s): No One}

Previously: First Impressions

Before the warden could respond, the introduction ceremony turned from awkward to chaotic.

A sudden yelp of pain echoed from the crowd of AEGIS attendees, prompting Natsumi to turn around towards the commotion. As she looked back, however, Natsumi felt her body seize up in place. One of them, a man that looked worse for wear, held a blade-like object made from a tawny-colored feather between his hands. Her nerves were on heightened alert, and she panicked in her mind, uncertain what to do or how to react. She had never been in such a scenario before, being face-to-face with an armed individual. All Natsumi could focus on was the knife in his hands, and whether to fight or flight.

The second tasers and fists went flying, her body made a choice—flight.

Her attention locked on the blade, Natsumi was too oblivious to notice the change. Had anyone looked in her direction, they would see Natsumi vanish into thin air. Flesh and clothing bent and reflected off light, and in mere seconds every segment of Natsumi had phased out of existence to the human eye. To an onlooker, it would be perfectly safe to assume that she was gone; that she had used the chaos to get out of AEGIS and escape.

"SHE'S VANISHING!"

The guard from before shouted again, much to the surprise of Natsumi. She looked down at her own hands that were now invisible, and her mind suddenly panicked. No. This wasn't happening. At least, not now. Not here. She hadn't been trying to run or flee from the compound. This incident was just out of reflex; a defense mechanism that took over due to the sudden brawl. Surely, the AEGIS staff would at least understand that, right? RIGHT?

"Wait!" Natsumi pleaded; her voice coming seemingly from nowhere. "Sorry, I don't know how to tu—"

Unfortunately for Natsumi, her pleas fell on deaf ears. The next thing she knew was pain as she faded back into existence, having collapsed to her knees in the process. Her eyes burned with pepper spray, while her lungs ached from an endless cough. She tried to open her mouth to speak, but the pain and irritation was simply too unbearable to do so.

[mickilennial]

Escalation: How to NOT Handle Teenagers in 5 Steps or Less!

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_{Location: Alcatraz Compound}

Issue #2: Escalation: How to NOT Handle Teenagers in 5 Steps or Less!

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_{Interaction(s): N/A}

Previously: Last Ride to Alcatraz

The blonde gritted her teeth, the good humor she felt from her fellow captives being wiped away in an instant.

Commanding yells. A taser. A girl getting sprayed like she was a rioter on capitol hill. It got her nerves into a frenzy and she curled her fists tightly. Anxiety was a trigger for her powers, maybe for most of the metahumans she was side-by-side with on an island where it became very much clear that training facility really meant internment camp.

There was an impulse in her to get angry. With the prison guards, security, whatever, exuded their power over them. They weren’t exactly helpless, but they were basically helpless. It was enough to trigger her natural instincts despite trying to not put herself in the line of fire. She had no problem being here. She chose to be. But seeing how they reacted to a few dumb teenagers made her wonder if she wouldn’t have been better off running to Mexico once she got the offer from AEGIS in the first place. She could feel what must have been her power, though she hadn’t been exactly glowing with light energy yet.

She could do something. React. She could–

_{–No. Don't panic. Don't freak out. Don't become a light show.}

She calmed herself, though she still looked utterly pissed and confused.

So much for this being a community.

A community of fascists maybe.

[Hound55]

"HOLD!" A guttural growl came from the man in the suit, who seemed completely unaccustomed to raising his voice.

Once again, the clipped sound of fine leather was all that could be heard over deafening silence, broken only by violent coughing from a source unseen.

The Director strode up to the face of the trigger-happy guard and informed him "Dismissed."

There was no brook for arguments. The guard immediately left.

He turned to the remaining guards. "Leave. Leave. You, take him to the door." He said to the last guard, referring to Fritz, still incapacitated on the floor. "We're going to have an additional conversation." He said to the gaunt boy. "But you still need to hear this."

The children were scattered and staggered, but still roughly in one line. Albeit only seventeen of them visible, and with an auburn haired boy in a hoodie and a blonde in rockabilly attire, seemingly more than ready to take matters into their own hands.

He walked the line again, all the way to the far end where the colossal boy of granite still stood.

"That was inexcusable..."

"...and for that, I apologise."

"Here, in this facility, you will find a lot of regular human guards. Regular human guards who have only been armed with non-lethal ordnance. Who are expected to attempt to enforce order amongst people who, to them, can perform the unimaginable." He walked the line again.

"I make no excuses for them. Again, like I said, 'inexcusable'."

"I do, however, mention this so that you may perhaps be able to empathise with their position, and also understand that old addage of a man with only a hammer sees every problem a nail."

"And hope that you will also extend that empathy amongst yourselves. You are yet to have become familiar with them, and their stories, why they are here. How their lives have thusfar turned out. What their alternatives to here may have been."

"For example, Rex here, Aegis recently purchased the abandoned Old Atlanta Prison Farm and repurposed it as a Ju-V facility down in Georgia. And yet he finds himself here. In San Francisco. Perhaps with time he would trust you with why that would be the case."

"I hope that you would not hold his early behaviour too highly against young Frederick Jackson, either. I assure you, his life has not so far been easy. He likely feels scared and vulnerable. And as someone who's always only had himself he could rely upon, well, his actions to him, I'm sure seem justifiable."

"Likewise... you slapped him." He said, addressing the young winged girl. "When I said taking matters into your own hands would not be tolerated." He continued. "But everyone here saw what happened. And I'm sure others here would empathise, and not begrudge you what you did."

"But would things be different if you'd been privvy to all of Frederick's life? Or if you hadn't seen what happened just prior to that slap?"

"This is why... AFTER YOU LEAVE THIS ROOM. Such behaviour will not be tolerated in any fashion. You will maintain and care for your own property. If it is lost or stolen, the efforts for its return will be undertaken by the people here. Violence will not be accepted. Neither the initial, nor in retaliation. It may seem out of place to be quoting Gandhi in a place like this, but as he said 'An eye for an eye will only leave the whole world blind'."

"I can not and will not apologise for the presence of the guards. Or the impact upon some of your personal liberties. We have people here for various reasons - for many it is their one and only chance at rehabilitation - and we look to remove temptation where possible. There are those of you here who feel 'But I have done nothing wrong', and I sympathise, but please understand that it is for the sake of others you share your space with."

"I had not intended to make this any kind of lengthy speech. But it seems many of you needed to hear more than I'd initially intended."

"Like it or not, this IS a community. You don't have to like all your neighbours, but you will learn to co-exist with them."

"Now... I will continue this conversation with young Frederick Jackson. He will re-join you later in one of our Rec Rooms, where this guard here will now lead you. Please ensure young Natsumi is well before leaving."

[Zoldyck]

Interactions:
Mentions:Noah, Sunita, Natsumi, David, Zachary, Rex, Haven, Zelda, Holt, Frederick
Location: Russia, San Francisco, Alcatraz

---

Russia! Russia... Everything in you is open, desolate and level;
your squat towns barely protrude in the midst of the plains like dots, like counters;
there is nothing to tempt or enchant the onlooker's gaze.
But what is this inscrutable, mysterious force that draws me to you?
-Nikolai Gogol

“...a few more minutes until we’re at the rendezvous.” Alexandra slowly opened her eyes, having to squint through them as they adjusted to the artificial light that illuminated the back of the truck. Little Dimitry sat next to her, the 15 year old boy was holding a large and blocky GLONASS device in his hands to track their progress. He’d been like this ever since they set off from the basecamp two days ago, eyes constantly glued to that little screen.

“Cut it out Dimitry, Sasha had just fallen asleep!” Vasily hissed at the boy, who made himself as small as possible by hunching over his GLONASS device. It was surprising to hear him snap at the young boy as he’d always been more of a jolly fellow back at camp. But after one quick glance was enough to reveal the obvious anxiety that he was feeling and the whole idea of this insane operation. They all were anxious of course, but Vasily seemed to take it particularly harshly.

Suddenly the truck rocked violently from side to side, eliciting exclamations of obscenities by the passengers in the back as they almost fell from the benches. “It’s fine Dimusha, that would have woken me up anyway.” Alexandra tried to put on a reassuring smile to the young boy, hoping that the annoyance in her voice wasn’t too noticeable. Dimitry’s eyes briefly left the screen as he glanced at her, a cautious smile forming on his lips before returning back to the display.

Getting up from the bench, Alexandra carefully made her way to the back of the truck, pulling the rear flap away to check what caused the violent shaking. It turned out to just be another of the many potholes that covered every road in Russia outside of the capital Oblast. The money that should’ve been spent on fixing the local infrastructure had likely been siphoned away by at least one oligarch, three different government agencies, six local officials and ten private contractors. The idea of those leeches living in luxury at the expense of the Motherland made her stomach turn in disgust.

Or maybe that was just the thought of her father, that perfidious traitor who had robbed Russia of its saviors for his own selfish gain.

The image of her father left her mind as quickly as it had come because the truck turned to go off the road. A few minutes later they would stop in what seemed like the middle of nowhere. “We’re there!” Dimitry exclaimed with excitement as the worn brakes squealed in protest to the halting of the old vehicle. The passengers got up from their benches, picked up their duffle bags and then leaped out of the back of the truck, Alexandra being amongst the last to leave.

Looking around it seemed like they were a couple kilometers away from the Vladivostok International Airport. Almost on cue to emphasize where they were, a large passenger plane flew over them at low altitude as it was making its approach to land.

There was no time to admire the sight though, as Alexandra could hear the cabindoor of the truck slam shut. The group turned to face the man approaching them. A giant of a man wearing military garb that seemed to be twenty years out of date slowly made his way to the group, a somber expression on his face.

The man took his cap off, revealing his shortly trimmed gray hair. He made sure to make eye contact with every single one of them, remaining quiet for a while as he collected himself, clearly fighting back the tears. Clearing his throat The Captain’s booming voice finally made itself heard. “Listen carefully children, and listen well. You all know the details of what to do but let me repeat the bottom line of it just to be certain. Make sure you go to check-in desk 5 where you will meet Anatoly Preobrazinsky. He will make sure you’ll get past security without them properly inspecting you. Make sure to keep your barcodes hidden from anyone out there, as it will out you for being a metahuman! Keep a low profile on the plane until you can see the Space Needle on the horizon. That structure shall mean salvation from the Government for all of you.”

He then addressed Artyom, the most senior of the group. “It’s time Artyom, make sure you guide these kids safely to freedom.” The slender boy swallowed before saluting The Captain and getting the kids ready to set off.

With Artyom leading the way the group started walking in single file towards the airport. Right as Alexandra was about to set her first step she felt a hand fall on her shoulder. Looking back she saw The Captain, his lips in a sad smile that was partially covered by his trademark bushy mustache. “There’s one final thing I want to give you Sasha.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his stainless steel flask. It had the Russian double headed eagle neatly engraved on it and a crimson star emblazoned on the top. Holding it out in front of her his smile widened. “I think you’ll make better use of it than this old sod.” Alexandra’s eyes widened. “I can’t take that sir! I know how much it means to you, it was your-” The old man raised his hand to silence her. “It was, yes.” his smile faltered for a brief moment and Alexandra could see the tears forming in his eyes, much as they were welling up in hers too. “But now I entrust it to you. Just remember to not get spotted with it before you’re 21 out there, those Americans are such prudes when it comes to alcohol.” A chuckle escaped from both of their lips.

Alexandra gratefully took the flask from The Captain, gazing at it for a moment before looking back into his sad blue eyes. “I promise to hand it back to you when our paths cross again!” She made sure to put an emphasis on that they would, in fact, meet again in the future. This got another chuckle from the old man. “I’m sure you will kiddo.” He firmly put his hand on her shoulder one more time. “I’m sure you will.”

---

Alexandra felt the sweat trickle down her forehead the moment they left the air conditioned airport lobby. It was obvious to any onlooker that the Russian and the Californian summer heat did not mix at all. The Seattle weather had been so nice in comparison. This however? She imagined this must be what hell felt like. She almost immediately dropped her duffle bag on the ground once she reached the bus stop so she could stow her hoodie away.

“I told you it’d be hot.” Alexandra shot a glance at the source. It was a sharply dressed man who had been following her from several feet away. This man was her handler, an Aegis agent by the name of Thomas Lynch. He had done most of the arrangement of getting her and her Cell over from Russia and now he was here to make sure she would adjust well to her new environment. A smug grin was plastered on Lynch’s face. “But would you listen to me? Noooo, of course not.” It was almost enough for Alexandra to put her hoodie back on just to prove a point. But then she thought about whether that point was worth getting a heat stroke over and she decided against it. Lynch chuckled as he adjusted his Ray-Bans. “You’re as stubborn as a mule. You’re one of Boris’ students alright, there’s no doubting that.”

Alexandra let out an annoyed huff as she quickly stuffed that infernal hoodie into her duffle bag, before hoisting it over her shoulder once again. She then fished her flask out of her back pocket and took a big swig out of it. Despite him wearing aviators with mirrored glasses Alexandra could just feel that Lynch was judging her. “Is only water. Is fine.” He skeptically raised a single eyebrow to which she responded by extending the flask over to the older man. “Try if you don’t trust me.” Lynch raised his hands in defeat. “Fine, fine. I believe you.”

After returning the flask to her back pocket Alexandra glanced back at Lynch, looking him over with an amused smirk. ((“You know, you dress quite conspicuously for someone who’s supposed to be an ex-spy.”)) She said in Russian, knowing he spoke the language almost as well as a native like her. ((“Only thing missing is the newspaper with the eye holes cut out. I thought the whole point of joining the program publicly like this instead of going through the backdoor was to draw as little attention as possible.”))

That comment elicited a chuckle from the older man. ((“If I were you I’d be more concerned about my own attire than that of an older gentleman.”)) Alexandra frowned at him. ((“What’s wrong with my clothes?!”)) she replied, clearly his comment had struck a nerve with the young girl. ((“Well, for one if you took a look around you’d see that your style doesn’t really mix with current American fashion.”)) Lynch said as that annoying smirk across his face again. ((“And talking Russian right in front of a busy airport probably doesn’t improve things either.”))

Alexandra knew he was right of course. It’s not like she had a large wardrobe, all she had was the stuff she had in her duffle bag and the clothes she wore on her back when she left Russia. And while they had been in Seattle for a few days, she hadn’t gone out to buy new clothes. Today she had been wearing her telnyashka below her hoodie, but the striped undershirt probably wouldn’t have been that out of the ordinary on its own, nor was the ponytail in her hair a real eye catcher. The kamysh pattern trousers on the other hand, that was a different story. And the worn out combat boots probably didn’t help either.

Lowering her head in defeat, Alexandra muttered a short “I see your point.” under her breath, which earned another round of her handler’s amused chuckles.

As they were making their way towards the bus stop Lynch would explain the nature of the Ju-V program to Alexandra. Again. It had practically been the only thing he talked about ever since they met. About how it was there to help Metahumans in a society that reviled them. How the language used to describe Aegis and the program were much harsher than what they actually meant due to public opinion and all that. All that sort of stuff that Alexandra honestly couldn’t care less about. She was just happy to not live with the sword of Damocles called the FSB hanging over her head all the time. If that meant living a couple years on a glorified prison island, then that's fine by her. Anything beats a lifetime in the corrective labor camps.

Or an unceremonious end in a muddy ditch.

Seeing her bus approach in the distance Alexandra was about to make her way to the platform when she felt Lynch’s hand fall on her shoulder. Turning towards him, she half rolled her eyes as she expected to see that stupid smug smile plastered on his face again. Instead she was met by a stone cold mask. “One final thing. As I said before, I won’t be accompanying you on the journey to the facility. But I will be keeping an eye out and regularly check up on you. And while I, for the sake of our shared acquaintance, have your best interests at heart, I should stress that my duty to society comes first. You’ll have to keep in mind that if you get involved into too much trouble there will be only one punishment waiting for you: Repatriation. Have I made myself clear?”

Speaking of a sword of Damocles…

He knew exactly what repatriation would mean for her. It would have to be publicly sanctioned by the government, which of course meant that the government would learn of her existence in the first place. In other words, it would be a death sentence. With those words pervading her mind, the only thing Alexandra could manage was a meek nod.

Lynch’s lips curled back into a smile as he tapped her shoulder. “Good girl. You best hurry along now, because your bus is almost here.”

Nodding once more as a goodbye, Alexandra turned around to face the platform. She noticed that there was another girl making her way there, a redheaded girl who had a guitar case slung over her shoulder and wore an equally as eye-catching attire as Alexandra’s, but for completely different reasons. Most striking were the girls' tattoos, which made Alexandra conscious of her own back tattoo being mostly covered up by the telnyashka. She thought about commenting on them, trying to make a good first impression. That’s what Americans did, right? Talk unprompted to anyone? But the bus stopped in front of them before either of them could interact besides the customary nod, so any chance of small talk was lost. Besides, the girl was wearing headphones so it probably would’ve been wasted effort anyway.

Entering the bus, Alexandra was greeted by four other program inductees. Literally in the case of a small South Asian girl who almost as quickly as she said “Afternoon” returned back to her notebook. It prompted a frown from Alexandra, why start a conversation if you don’t plan on saying anything? Continuing on there was a Japanese girl who seemed to be bubbling with positive energy. Too much energy for Alexandra at the current time, so she walked past her while only acknowledging her with a curt nod. She quickly scanned the rest of the bus, trying to see which seat was the furthest removed from any of the other occupants, a boy who seemed to be more concerned with himself than his surroundings and another boy who seemed to be a handful for the guard behind him, before going for the one that suited her the best.

For most of the busride Alexandra stared absentmindedly out of the window, trying to take in the sights of San Francisco. Sometimes she noticed tents in some alleyway, or weird spikes below bridges or on ledges. Sometimes she saw the disheveled looking individuals who lived in those tents. It seemed that even in the supposed most wealthy and powerful country in the world there was still a massive inequality gap. She almost felt like she was back home in St. Petersburg.

Her train of thought got interrupted when the bus rocked from side to side. Looking up at the entrance Alexandra didn’t have to guess twice about who was responsible. A walking piece of concrete made his way down the bus, the noise of stone grinding on stone clearly audible to the rest of the inhabitants. Or at least so she thought, but no one seemed to really bat an eye. Except for the bus’ suspension, which groaned in protest at the sudden increase in weight.

Alexandra tried to let her mind wander off again, but it came to no avail as the next passenger boarded the bus. This time a girl entered who looked as if she had walked straight out of Norse mythology. The wings on her back were mesmerizing to look at, and it took Alexandra a few seconds to realize she was staring. Slightly embarrassed she quickly looked out the window again trying to take her mind off it.

It didn’t take long for her attention to snap back to the bus, as a small girl in a hoodie had just entered. While there was nothing particularly suspect about her except for maybe her hair color, the moment she touched the seat in front of Alexandra the girl in the hoodie had all her attention. “Черт Побери!” She hissed beneath her breath as she saw the girl turn the back of the seat into ice. The hoodie girl quickly took the seat behind Alexandra, who had a chill running down her spine for the rest of the trip.

Suddenly someone exclaimed a cry of incredulity. Looking down the bus, it wasn’t hard to see why someone would be shocked. An otter entered the bus. A fucking otter. Sure, there was a walking statue here and what basically amounted to a valkyrie. But the otter truly stole the cake of being the weirdest thing to enter this traveling carnival of freaks. Not like Alexandra had much room to judge, but at least her Meta-ability’s quirks weren’t visible to the naked eye.

The rest of the ride was, thankfully, uneventful. Having made their way to the ferry the group was split in two. Alexandra counted her blessings that she wasn’t in the group with the human anchor. As the ferry was in the process of making its second trip she took in the sights around the bay, being especially in awe at the Golden Gate Bridge. ((“Dimusha would have loved this.”)) she muttered softly to herself. She then shifted her attention to the island that came ever closer.

The infamous prison island of Alcatraz. Her new home.

They were greeted by a group of guards who confiscated their belongings to check for contraband. Alexandra handed over her duffle bag to one of the guards, who clearly underestimated the weight as it plopped down on the ground the moment she let it go. To Alexandra’s annoyance she also had to give up The Captain’s flask. “Is just water!” she almost yelled out for the second time today. Alas, no matter her protests, the flask had to go through the inspection. She gingerly handed the flask over to the guard, but not before looking him straight in the eyes. “No scratches, or I find you.”

Next the entire group was gathered in what seemed to be a sports court. They were greeted by the man who turned out to be the director of this facility. He held a short speech about how they had to act like a community and all that. It reminded her of what Lynch had been talking about too. Their duty to society. It was good enough for her, not overly long and it got the point across. She was ready to move on to whatever the director had planned next.

Unfortunately, not all of her peers seemed to be in agreement with her.

Michelangelo’s David had some choice words for the director, needlessly antagonizing the man who held all of their futures in the palm of his hands. Obviously amused, a girl who seemed like she walked straight out of a 1950s propaganda picture joined in alongside Bricks-for-brains. And to add even more fuel to the fire, the otter seemed to be making encouraging noises too.

“You’ll have to keep in mind that if you get involved into too much trouble there will be only one punishment waiting for you: Repatriation.”

Great. Wonderful even.

But as it turned out, none of these would risk getting her into trouble.

One of the late arrivals, a guy who looked worse for wear, suddenly plucked a feather from the winged girl and seemed to have turned it into a blade. The guards, already on edge due to the rebellious trio earlier, wasted no time in taking the guy down with tasers. This had a domino effect of the Japanese girl to suddenly completely disappear right in front of everyone’s eyes. She apologized immediately and wanted to explain something, but one particular guard seemed to have had enough and turned his pepper spray on the poor girl and the immediate surroundings. Surroundings that included Alexandra.

With the pepper spray burning in her eyes and a riot on the brink of breaking out within five minutes of setting foot on Alcatraz, there was only one word Alexandra that could summarize her feelings on whatever was happening:

“Блядь!”

Fortunately the Director stepped in before things escalated any further. He gave another speech which hopefully called everyone down and made the rebellious trio more amicable to him. Overall it was a pretty good speech.

Unfortunately the pepper spray kind of limited its effect on Alexandra. But then again, the Director can’t win them all.

[Retired]

_{"Was this over before
Before it ever began?"}

The conversation with Haven ended, and the two teens spent the remainder of their journey in silence. Weston left his hoodie down, enjoying the breeze tickling his short auburn hair. He did his best not to give the slim brunette next to him any further glances. Now that he realized how uncomfortable he had made her, Wes didn't want to repeat that mistake. Wes wasn't sure what he'd have done if Haven hadn't been as understanding.

Slipping his headphones back on, Wes thumbed the play button after lowering the volume to a whisper. He wasn't expecting any danger now that they were close to Aegis Center. The heavy instrumentals swelled as he allowed his thoughts to turn toward what was about to become his new home.

Wes had heard of Alcatraz Island at some point. The name was familiar, and he was vaguely aware that it was once a prison. Anything more than that was a mystery to the young man. Despite its appearance, isolated and foreboding as it may be, Wes saw the complex built upon the island in a positive light. Four walls and a roof; reliable electricity and running water; a space to safely explore his abilities. Weston hadn't exaggerated when he told Haven it was like a castle.

His years without a home, spent in a community of those in similar situations, was not something he'd ever bemoan. On the contrary, Wes' time with the same community his grandfather had once dedicated his life to supporting had been very encouraging. While everyday life had been full of trials, and for most, just scraping by was a struggle, Wes had still been surrounded by those who cared for him. Who loved him. When they learned of his metahuman nature, they uplifted him instead of fearing him. They encouraged the young man to be his most authentic self. For that, Wes would always be eternally grateful.

However, this was a new chapter of his life, and the teenager was excited about all it offered. Weston had volunteered for the Juvenile Vigilante program to learn the skills necessary to use his abilities better. To better help those in need who couldn't support themselves. Though he had spent considerable time doing his own vigilante work, having been entirely self-trained, he was rough around the edges. Wes understood that. He also knew that there was much he didn't understand, like the full extent of his power. Aegis offered the chance to change that.

The fact that he'd be around others his age, to learn and grow with them, and to be able to socialize with another young adult for the first time since his grandfather had passed away, didn't hurt either. It was an incentive he had undoubtedly considered when contacting the program.

Weston's eyes briefly shifted to the girl beside him, her feathers ruffling slightly as the ferry chugged toward their destination. It was a nice incentive.

Once docked, Wes took the time to look over the rest of his fellows. He wasn't sure how, but he had entirely missed the hulking figure with stone-like skin. He looked like one of those marble statues shown in Wes' sophomore year Ancient History course. Weston wondered if the giant boy could feel anything through the hard exterior. Now that he paid mind, Weston could hear the subtle grinding of granite whenever the teenage behemoth moved his substantial frame and hoped that the grating caused no pain.

The girl in green, who looked comically short next to the granite giant, was just as energetic as she had been when he'd first laid eyes on her. Her eyes never seemed to stop darting from one figure or structure to the next. Weston realized that, like him, she might be new to this experience. Perhaps to her, too, the Aegis Center seemed like the start of a new, exciting chapter and not something to dread as so many others from the bus had appeared to do.

The one from the back of the bus was also there, with Aegis guard never too far behind. Wes found it interesting that they seemed more wary of the leaner boy with overly styled hair than the goliath, whose fists looked like they could shatter concrete. Not that he believed appearance equated to power, Wes, of all people, knew that wasn't true, but it did suggest there was a history there. Perhaps, unlike Weston, the boy had done something egregious to earn his place here. Regardless, Weston positioned himself to see the guard's hands and security belt while they waited for the second load of teenagers to arrive.

Then, there was the otter. Weston would have to apologize for writing them off as a pet one day. There was a clear intelligence present, and while Wes couldn't understand them, they were no doubt attempting to communicate. If he had thought his own experience had isolated him from socializing with others his age, Wes couldn't begin to imagine how isolating it must feel for them to be surrounded by people but utterly incapable of enjoying even the most straightforward conversations. A human being born an otter, while certainly a visual oddity, must also have presented many other issues for them growing up. Not the least of which was ignorant people such as himself dismissing them as an animal or novelty.

The rumbling of the ferry dismissed Wes from his reverie. The new arrivals had barely set foot off the boat before the guards began herding the collective group toward a set of gates. Urged into two lines, the Aegis personnel went to each teenager. Wes watched from his position toward the end of one line as the metahumans were stripped of their material items. Bags were removed and checked, and personal effects were confiscated. The red-haired girl had her fancy earphones and the device they came with taken.

Weston considered the items he'd brought. A plastic grocery bag tucked into his hoodie pocket that was stuffed with a couple of changes of underwear and socks; a single deodorant stick, toothbrush, and half-used tube of toothpaste; his MP3 player and headphones.

Wes turned off the device and removed the headphones as his time came. He carefully rolled up the cord to not further cause the exposed wire to poke through. Stepping up to the guard doing the inspections, he willingly handed the headphones over, then removed the rolled-up plastic bag from his hoodie and offered that as well. However, Weston held a firm grip when the man reached for the MP3 player. The older man nearly stumbled forward as he tugged on the gadget, while Wes didn't so much as wobble.

"I get this back, right?" He asked softly.

"What?" The guard grunted. "Kid, just let it go."

"You'll give it back to me soon. Won't you?"

The man tugged again. Harder. He planted his foot firmly behind him and leaned his body weight away while maintaining his grasp on the tiny MP3 player. "Yes. Just... let... go!"

Wes released his hold, and the guard tumbled nearly head over keister, landing roughly on the concrete.

"Okay," he said. "Just take good care of it, please."

Weston stepped past the guard to join the Ju-V members waiting for their final numbers to clear the security checkpoint. The group was escorted through the outer facility once the last of the teens had gathered together. The area they were led to, marked as the Recreation Wing's sports court, was much larger than the gymnasium at his former high school. It was expansive and seemed to be well-funded.

Approaching the nearly twenty youths, an older gentleman announced himself as the facility's director. Virgil Rowell had at least four decades on the oldest of the group and stood with the most precise posture Weston had ever witnessed. He wasn't sure if it were possible to be more upright.

Weston stood far off to one side of the gathered teens, only half-listening to the man's greeting speech. The young man's attention was more captivated by the immaculate facility they stood within. He imagined himself spending a good deal of time within the Recreation Wing. Maybe the one with stone skin would be willing to spar with Weston one day. He'd never been able to test his body's limits against another metahuman before, and Wes was curious just how capable he truly was.

Just then, a startled cry pulled Weston's attention to the rear of the crowd. A haggard man, caught between youth and middle age, gaunt and covered with tattoos and scars, held a blade vaguely pointed toward Haven. It clicked for Wes later than it should: it wasn't a blade he brandished but one of Haven's feathers. A feather that had just been ripped from her wing.

Weston stepped forward, about to sprint at the assailant in world record-shattering time, but another had already moved to strike. Haven was quick. She pulled back her fist with a swiftness that impressed him, and Wes had no doubt a punch from her would be enough to knock down her scrawny attacker. She hesitated, though, and, in that moment, several security guards pounced. Well-placed stun guns brought the aggressor writhing to the ground.

Wes watched as the guards spun toward Haven, who hurriedly brought her arms up placatingly. Thankfully, they lowered their tasers, choosing to focus on the actual perpetrator. Haven stepped forward, recollecting her poached feather, then towered over the frail boy as he was subdued on the ground. She looked over him momentarily, then, without a word, she brought her palm down against the back of his head. Weston thought it less than he deserved.

Turning on her heel, Haven marched back toward the group. Weston noted her face was firm as she moved past him, and something burned behind her eyes. He opened his mouth to ask if she was alright, but just as he did, the tension between Aegis personnel and Ju-V inductees that had persisted since stepping foot on the bus broke spectacularly.

"She's vanishing!" A voice called out.

Spinning in that direction, Wes caught the last fleeting image of the green-clothed girl as she faded into nothingness. The guards had also seen as much and unclipped the canisters of pepper spray from their belts. This time, Weston was already moving when the chemicals were unloaded toward where the disappearing girl had once stood. Wes was nearly fifty feet from the girl's spot when he began moving. He covered more than two-thirds of that distance in just over one and a half seconds. Weston could feel the burning of the pepper spray as the chemicals entered his lungs, realizing too late that he'd not thought to hold his breath. His eyes were already watering. Wes tried to lock his gaze on the offending canister through his blurry vision. In just another second, he'd be on the guard and able to restrain the man before more harm could be done.

Director Rowell had other thoughts on the matter. "Hold!"

The order rumbled throughout the space like the roar of thunder. Weston planted his foot solidly in front of him and kicked off, pushing himself back and to the side before skittering to a stop. He didn't turn towards the director, who continued to give orders, instead keeping his eyes, now puffy and red, on the overzealous guard responsible.

The onslaught of chemicals had ceased, but the still-invisible girl was hacking and wheezing somewhere between Weston and the guard. The boy couldn't hold back his coughing for long, either, eventually forced to break eye contact as he gave in to the relentless fire growing within his throat.

When he decided to come to San Francisco to enroll in this Ju-V program, Weston had thought he'd pause his vigilante activities while he learned, studied, and trained. The countless nights in Philadelphia spent on alert, continually monitoring for threats to his city and community, would be in his past, at least momentarily. It dawned on the young man now, after witnessing two attacks on innocents from both within the program's attendees and without, that that would not be the case.

This place was a powder keg ready to blow, and Weston would need to be as vigilant as ever to keep it contained.

[Hound55]

The pen was beautiful, and the box no lesser. It had golden trim, and the box was adorned with a clear 'Montblanc' label. It was something called a 'Meisterstück Le Grand Rollerball'.

"Don't worry. It's not going to be your only present..." Their father had said. Craig didn't even try to hide his relief.

"...But this is important too."

It was Craig's eighteenth birthday, and both David and he were together, watching his father breakdown the reasons behind this exorbitant, yet somewhat dull, gift. Maddie and Charlie were elsewhere, causing mayhem and being wrangled and pursued by their mother, as is so often the case in a house with four kids.

"Now I know that we're stepping deeper and deeper into the 21st Century. And I know this is going to seem more outdated with every year that passes. But as you get closer to what you want to do in life..."

Craig had wanted to be an architect. Football had distracted somewhat and in many cases interfered with his grades, he intended to take a brief stint at Community College to shore them up, before hopefully transferring over to Stanford where, by then, he could hopefully rejoin his brother. David had joked and suggested he could take the Andrew Luck route and try and go there as QB whilst working for his degree, but both knew he wasn't a natural enough student to make the time work. That was one thing David had always had over him.

"...you're going to realise that people are still going to long for the personal. So I want you to have this. And when you write your cover sheets, your letters, and any correspondence that gets attached to your plans. I always want you to sign it with this."

"Dad... you can scan and auto-print signatures now." Came the response, underlining the difference in eras.

"I know you can. But in a time where so much can be impersonal. This will have more weight. This will show the person behind the plans. It's part of the point of a signature in the first place. It isn't just a rubber stamp brand. Constant. Unchanging. Every one is it's own unique marking, yet still distinguishable as being from the same hand. That's not a bad message to send for an architect, is it..?"

Their father wouldn't know how right he was. Within just a few years Chat GPT could pump out those cover letters and most correspondence with a series of simple prompts. Signatures could still be re-produced on mass with auto-scans, and even design programs could virtually take the personal out of plans, if you really wanted to.

David remembered seeing the pen in its box. It was beautiful in its construction, and showed care in its creation. The card came with a number which showed the batch number.

Even the device that allowed for the personal came out in a production line.

"It's important. The personal. This is what's going to hold us all together." His father had said.

- - -

---

---

David's mind ran wild. It was a scorching hot day, but fortunately the air conditioning of the bus mainly held.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the box with the pen. His brother's pen.

His father had intended to give him one of his own when he turned eighteen, but neither he, nor Craig, nor their mother ever saw that day.

They'd had a quiet day on that day, he and Maddie and Charlie. Went to San Francisco Zoo. Had a day out. He'd tried to keep the day a secret because it would have been another day family should have come together, and would have again been another reminder of what they'd lost - as if that didn't drift in and out of their minds on a constant basis.

Now it was his brother's pen, given to him by his father - and let's face it, probably bought for him by their mother.

In a way it did still bind them.

He put the pen and its box back.

"Remember the pen." He thought. "Always, remember the pen."

"One day at a time, and always remember the pen."

He was the last of the three to board, the other two girls at the front presumably had all lived in San Francisco proper as well.

When the bus came to a stop outside the Courthouse and picked up someone from holding, he barely blinked. He'd expected as much. In fact he was surprised it was only one, from what he knew of the Program. But he also knew there was no use running from it. Best way to pass by it, is to pass through it.

They left the courthouse, and for a few moments the music once again managed to hit his ears. It was soft, an earworm, and relentless. A few hours later it would stil be going through a lot of their minds for reasons they couldn't understand, because it had spent far too long rattling around in the passengers' subconscious.

David's mind turned to how the coming days would potentially be. He wasn't scared. Not anymore. Afterall high school had been enough like a prison for him already, and he'd had to go through that without the ability to defend himself. Sure, Craig had helped where he could, but even he couldn't have his back with every minute. Social pressures often dragged him away, even when he tried to make the effort to bring David with him - and in all honesty, a lot of the time, David didn't want to tag along in the first place. Often he just went with to support his bigger brother - even if he'd have done just fine without him.

There would be no Craig here. But he had something else going for him now. Something which would always be there.

The bus had stopped, David had barely noticed, and on stepped two girls. David didn't pay them any mind, until the second, a red headed girl in sunglasses, decided to slide into the seat immediately behind him. She had the look of one of the many girls from the morning after one of the parties Craig would ocasionally drag him out to that were generally for the football team. Deep hangover. A waft of bubblegum vapour and vanilla scent rose, and his seat back rocked as she slumped down into the seat.

"Are you kidding me? You have the whole bus..." David thought to himself.

The bus smoothly went on, and David's mind tried to travel back to the task at hand. The probable procedures. Plans going forward. Just get through smoothly, cleanly, quickly and out the otherside. Think of the pen. Everything just--

"Why did you sit there? I mean... there's four people here on the whole entire bus. Four of us."

More people had gotten on the bus, but that fell beyond his notice.

"You could tell her off. Except you can't, because that's even ruder than her sitting there in the first place."

"It also doesn't exactly set the best tone. You're going to have to deal with these people. Maybe you could turn around and give her a look-- no, you've left that too long now. She'll just look at you right back and wonder what your problem is."

"But why did-- Ugh. Just ignore it. Move on. It's no big deal."

More bubblegum vapour rose from over his left shoulder. And the hard rock sounds weren't being entirely contained by her headphones.

He exhaled and returned to his thoughts. Through this, out the other side. Don't start shit. If shit finds you, polite but firm. If provoked, finish it. Your personality's your first armour in places like this. Be friendly, affab-- "Great, now your neck is itchy."

David sat more upright, turning his head slightly at the discomfort.

"Well, just scratch your neck. Nobody said you can't scratch your neck."

"Yeah, but its weird now. I feel like I'm being watched. Am I being watched? What if she thinks it's weird that I'm scratching my neck. Or that it has something to do with her sitting there..?"

"It has to do with your neck being itchy..."

"..."

"WHY DID SHE HAVE TO SIT THERE?!?"

He exhaled slowly and fully, and set his mind back on how he was going to get through the coming days.

It'll be fine. Take care of your stuff, but don't grow too attached. If someone fucks with it, or you, firm, but not overly-aggressive. Being seen as some kind of loose-thread whackjob is just as dangerous as being seen as the weak one. If anyone offers you drug shit, say no, but politely. Don't borrow shit off of ANYONE. That's how most prison fights start right there, and let's face it this isn't too different. Property, drugs, debt, over-aggression. Control those four things and-- Holy fucking shit! What the fuck was that!

Suddenly, the whole bus had lurched to the side David was sitting on. He hadn't noticed, but a large stone boy had boarded and sat somewhere behind him on his side of the bus.

--control those four things, and let's face it, that's mostly controlling yourself, and you'll avoid most fights and issues. Don't fuck up the status quo order of the complex. If there's a line, hold your place. If there's chances to call people, mail, don't screw with people's families and the things they're missing. Hup--wings. Wings..? 'K. Whatever, fair enough. She's got wings. --Don't mess with people's families and what they missing.

"And most of all."

"Most of all..."

"Don't tell 'em shit about yours and what you're missing."

The bus broke free from the airport and turned back onto the highway. In the background he could both hear the occasional gentle tones of Journey coming through the overhead speaker, with an intermittent break of harder rock running wild from the headphones of the girl seated behind him.

"Who sits right behind someone on a bus when the whole damn bus is free? What kind of person does that?"

"Still itchy."

At least the plumes of bubblegum scenting, whatever that was, had stopped wafting over the top.

The bus stopped at the old Historic Ferry Building. As a local he knew it wasn't their stop, and if there were any doubts, that thought was punctuated emphatically by the girl at the front.

An otter boarded the bus. Shook itself off and wandered down the aisle to find a seat like it was 8 o'clock and it was headed off to work.

The bus smoothly pulled away and went on towards their actual stop for the ferry to Alcatraz.

David kept rolling through everything to remember, things he'd read up on, precautions to take, surviving life in a facility... It took a little while for him to realise the bus had stopped and people had started to get off.

He put his hand to his pocket and made sure the pen was still securely there, and stood up. Letting the last of the other passengers who had been standing onger to pass him by, then he looked down and saw.

The red-headed girl in the row behind him. She was fast asleep. Looked comfortably so, as well.

"How long had she--"

David smiled and chuckled at himself, over how he'd been driving himself crazy for-- far too long. And bent down to gently wake her up, when a loud bark came from the back of the bus.

"Hey! Keep your distance! Leave the bus now!"

In stunned reaction, he raised both his hands in innocence like he'd just been caught. His eyes wide as a deer's in the headlights, he looked at the officer, slowly backing away as he walked to the front of the bus. "Just keep walking. Head down, and get out. This is how things turn bad. Don't turn back. Forget it. She's not your problem. Just get off the bus." When he got to the door he turned back and checked on what he'd left in his wake. The guard was helping the girl to her feet as she woke. David stepped off the bus and joined the others.

The ferry was already boarding kids for the first trip across, by the time he joined the group. They'd boarded a massive stone kid first, and situated him right in the middle of the boat to best maximise weight distribution. Smart. They then surrounded him with enough kids to ease pressure off the space they'd have for the second trip, whilst not putting too much of a weight burden on the historically restored Warden Johnston for the first.

David watched as the first batch of kids made their way across the bay to Alcatraz Island. Hot day, the water actually looked pretty nice. He wondered how many of the kids were thinking of some fantasy situation where they make this daring escape, swimming back over the bay through the famous cold chop. If that was their thought process, it absolutely was a fantasy. Anyone with any knowledge of the place knew how treacherous those waters would be.

He also knew he'd never have to if he really wanted to. The guard towers... if they had people in them, they only had radios. Strictly Non-lethal under the words of their own Director Rowell, not that he'd ever met the man. But with his power, David could basically make himself a staircase over the wall and down the other side, then basically roll out the force carpet for himself for a leisurely stroll across the Bay. He wasn't the only one, if the girl so chose she could likely use those wings and peace out in a moment.

But it wasn't the initial escape that would be the issue. They'd find you, they'd track you down, your record would be marked with the escape attempt, they'd put you on a watchlist for those to be held in closer scrutiny. All of which were absolutely contrary to what David wanted. He wanted in and out, with as little imprint as possible.

The boat had returned, and they all boarded. David sat in the middle. There were a lot of newcomers to the city, let them bask in the sights and sounds, as the Golden Gate Bridge overlooked their new home. He'd seen it already, beautiful as it was. It was a crowded ferry trip, let them all get in each other's space. He smiled as he watched some of them pointing and soaking it all in. Would this be the last they'd just get to be kids for a while?

The ferry docked on the other side and the kids, disembarked. Once again, David rested his hand on his hip to check his pocket, making sure nothing jostled its way out in the boatride.

They were led through gates and into an area for security screening. They all started surrendering objects, or having objects forcibly surrendered. The more belligerent were only subjected to worse treatment, patted down, frisked. David placed the pen box on the table in front of the security officer.

"I suppose it's best to leave stuff like this here, right? Likely to get stolen in there. You'll have pens and stuff on the inside that can be used anyway, right? I take it there's paperwork."

The security officer confirmed. And sealed the pen box in a bag, labelled with his name. David stood to the side and raised his arms in compliance. He was subjected to a minor, routine pat down, as he looked back at the rag-tag group of kids getting more and more battered and abused in the frisk.

After being patted down, David quietly intermingled with the group of kids who had successfully passed the screening process. Before too long, this was completed, and the group of program attendees were led down a long corridor to a basketball court. David made sure he secured his place well towards the middle, in the non-conspicuous depths of the line.

They were all assembled up in a row, and awaiting some kind of greeting. The question of who exactly was soon answered by the sharp clacking of fine leather shoes walking in an orderly gait towards the group of youths.

It was Director Rowell. He could put a face to the name, now.

Virgil Rowell was a dark-skinned gentleman, with a firm upright stance who clearly took a sense of pride in his appearance. He maintained neat dress and a pair of simple, thin glasses hung from his ears. The sides of his hair had started to gray, but did nothing to diminsh the stature of the man.

Much like his dress, he spoke crisply and neatly. Keeping it brief, he outlined the basic order and greeted them to the faility.

The large stone boy decided to see how far he could push the boundaries, as children do, and served up some sass to test the waters of response...

And then Hell broke loose.

A gaunt figure amongst them had torn off a feather from the girl with wings and was brandishing it like a-- well, there was no 'like' about it. It had become a weapon in the boy's hands. The girl objected, rearing back. The boy welcomed the violence-- Another boy moved. A girl started to disappear-- Pepperspray--

David had heard his mother talk about when she was much younger, how she'd frequent the protest circuit. For the environment, gay rights, numerous causes. David had never expected he'd find himself remembering any of that as relevant. But now he found his eyes burning from trace amounts of the airborne mist. He refrained from touching or rubbing his eyes, despite the burn. As his mother had mentioned, it only spreads the burn and makes it worse. He stepped back from the scene twice, and raising his arms, laced both his hands behind his head in compliance.

There'd be time to rinse the irritant out later. It burned, but he half squinted through the pain to try to keep an eye on everything that was happening.

The Director's bark emphatically ventilated the atmosphere. It sounded foreign, not because of an accent... but as if raising his voice was an unnatural event.

He dismissed the guard who had fired off the pepperspray, and quickly looked to regain a sense of orderly control over the situation.

This time he unloaded a longer speech, it contained a plea for understanding and empathy and further underlined the sense of community that this place was to be.

He'd been here five minutes, and for everything he'd thought of, planned for and considered, five minutes in and he was already faced with the worst possible circumstance. The one he feared most, because it was the one you couldn't plan for. The random anarchy of a near-riot fight situation breaking out.

"Welcome to fucking Alcatraz indeed..."

[Skai]

H A V E N B A R N E S

---

Haven was too busy stewing to even deign a look towards the further disruptions left in the wake. The way it sounded, as loud and raucous enough to get through the earplugs that, thank the mother. still remained in her ears, a girl was unintentionally pulling a disappearing act. The muscles in her back were aching. Not just from the assault, but from the day alone. A long car ride to the airport, the cramped flight, and now her unbreakable will to keep her wings to herself until she was alone. She couldn't feel the gap in her feathers, but she knew it was there.

The tension in the air was palpable.

"HOLD!"

Rowell's unexpected command almost startled Haven. All was silent, except for those shoes Haven could only assume cost more than the security guards' ensembles. What surprised her, though, was that he dismissed the guards. She knew little of this Alcatraz Island, but she knew that it was a refurbished prison. She'd expected the director to send the attendees off, and not his employees.

"You, take him to the door."

Him being the thief. Despite her anger towards him, Haven didn't wish further punishment to be had. She was aware of the term solitary confinement. The home had something like that, although it was dubbed the "reflection room" there. It was something she didn't wish upon anyone. Not unless they'd done something truly horrible. That look... it was instinct for him to take from her. He needed help instead of isolation.

Haven thought about this as the director continued with a new speech. His words cut through the tension. They shed new light on the thief's actions. Frederick Jackson. The thief had a name now.

"Likewise... you slapped him."

Haven saw him coming her way from the edge of her vision. She turned her eyes towards him as he addressed her. "When I said taking matters into your own hands would not be tolerated." Haven felt the muscles in her back tighten. She lowered her arms to her sides, the fear that she would get her own separate conversation creeping into them. Yet he never promised it. Would she have reacted differently if she knew the man behind the fear? No. She was still too stubborn to accept it. After all, she was reacting instinctively too. So must have the vanishing girl.

"This is why... AFTER YOU LEAVE THIS ROOM."

Haven winced, the earplugs doing nothing to keep his voice from echoing within her head. They left a ringing in her ears as she chose to look back at the wall. She didn't want to see the aftermath of earlier anyways, and she certainly didn't want any of the other attendees to see the look in her eyes.

An eye for an eye will only leave the whole world blind.

The feather would grow back in, anyways.

"Now... I will continue this conversation with young Frederick Jackson. He will re-join you later in one of our Rec Rooms, where this guard here will now lead you. Please ensure young Natsumi is well before leaving."

Good luck, Frederick.

[Pirouette]

Lina frowned. What should have been a cold sweat coming from the tension, was a slow blood-like ooze coming from her the top of her head, trickling down the sides of her face. She didn't like to sweat, couldn't sweat technically, but her body still thought it could, triggering perspiration response to exertion or in this case, nervousness, like any other person. She had no control as crimson trials crawled down her face in some macabre display.

She knew this wasn't going to summer camp she had always dreamed of attending. The morning hike refreshed by an afternoon dip in the lake. That night, s'mores by the campfire. She'd be just like everyone else, undaunted by her blood-colored perspiration, and she'd finally be part of the gang. No, that was a hopelessly naive thought, but among others with meta-abilities, the most important part of that could be true. Meeting Nat had been encouraging but as the others began to make themselves known, her perception of her potential friends soured.

The others were turning out to be aggressive, snarling, and underhanded. The stone man barked, backed up by the girl out of time. Delinquency began to show itself in the cast. The gaunt man did something to the winged girl and was taken down by the guards, shifting Lina's image of camp to prison. Would she have to act tough and watch her back now? She had gotten tough before with that boy, Roger Clemmens. He just kept coming after her. Freak, Loser, Witch and he had all sorts of terms to mock her, seeking her out every chance he got. One day she had enough, maybe that was mistake, but she couldn't beat up a boy, not without her edge. She stood up for herself and Roger Clemmens would probably never see again.

It might have been a mistake, but she wanted to stand up for herself. That costed her a visit and the requirement to come here.

As the dust settled, the gaunt thief was down but so was Nat. Lina had shifted to the edge of the group, trying to avoid confrontation but with the event seemingly over, there was only the aftermath to deal with. Her eyes settled on Nat, the cheery and optimistic person she was, lay there wheezing and blinded by the pepper spray applied to her senselessly. She didn't deserve that. Lina shifted, quietly slinking over to kneel at Natsumi's side.

"You're okay." Lina lied, not knowing what it felt like to be pepper sprayed. She wasn't sure what to do to help but found herself reaching out to lightly clasp the other girl's arm, helping her up. The rising fear of others seeing her odd crimson perspiration were falling to the back of her mind as she wrapped her focus around Nat. "Umm..." Lina muttered as she peered at the reddening, watery eyes of Nat. "...Maybe we can wash it out. Hold on to me." She offered, trying to lead Nat to one of the guards who had gestured her over, seemingly for a solution to Nat's current ailment.