Planes were just about the most horrific thing that had ever been invented by mankind. If humans were supposed to fly, they would have wings, or something. Sitting in a giant steel box, thousands of feet off of the unrelenting ground that was just waiting for the plane to return to where it belonged, well, Owen did not like it one bit. It was not is first flight, though. The first time had been when he was sixteen. He had been going to Germany for a photo shoot. He had had to be doped up something terrible; he was freaking out that bad. Luckily, he was handling it better this time, with all the things running through his head.

He felt like he had been cheating. Being a model was all fine and dandy; he liked his job just fine and he was darned good at it. If he was only this handsome because of his abilities, well, it was cheating. It was worse than doping for professional athletes. Then again, it would not be cheating if he was just naturally handsome, right? Well, he was. He was just naturally able to change his looks to [i]be[/i] handsome. Right? He could not exactly help having these abilities.

Owen scoffed at himself and shook his head lightly. Only he would be in a situation like this and still be thinking about his looks.

His mother had warned him about a hundred times that this might be a trap to capture him and his siblings. He had frozen up when she called them his siblings. He had always considered Emily his sibling, his sister, even through all of these mental accusations against his parents. He did not think of them as his “real” parents, but he had still thought of Emily as his sister. It was a little weird. His mother had gone on to warn him about these people that wanted his powers. He had told her that his powers were probably not all that great, compared to what the others might be able to do.

“Really?” his mother had said, looking at him with a look between disappointed and annoyed, “So you don't think that, say, taking the place of a government official is a nice trait to have. You could impersonate [i]anyone[/i] perfectly, Owen.”

He could see her point in how his powers could be dangerous in the wrong hands. For the purpose of [i]saving[/i] the world, though, they seemed pretty useless. What would he do? Morph into a little girl and start crying so the bad guys would feel bad for him? Yeah, right.

---

Ground, sweet ground! After finally returning to the surface of the planet, rather than hovering high above it, getting his luggage and retrieving his bike from cargo, Owen started by getting himself some overpriced airport food. He was starving. He had always eaten a lot and he only ate more when he was nervous or excited. He was kind of both, right now. After consuming his own weight in sandwiches and coffee, he was on his way.

Looking at the address at his hand helped just about as much as singing a carol would have; he had no clue how to get there. He was already straddling his bike, his birthday gift to himself the year before. He had three options in a situation like this. He could hop off of his bike and go ask someone for directions. He could drive around for hours, hoping to find the right place. Or he could call his mother. Asking for directions was out of the question. He had no idea who here was a good guy and who was not. He could risk putting both himself and his “siblings” in danger by talking to strangers. Calling his mother was a risk, too. She might come get him. Driving around for hours it was, then.

Surprisingly, it did not take him as long as expected to get to Malupo Industries. The fact that the e-mail had mentioned it to be the central of the place really helped. It only took him [i]an[/i] hour, rather than several of them. His heart felt like it was attempting to break through his ribcage and onto the floor, though.

He parked his bike and took a deep breath. This could be his last moments. He could be captured, tortured and who knows what. It was best not to think of those things. Bad thoughts usually lead to bad actions, his father always said. 

Once inside, he felt a bit more at ease. Everything looked [i]normal[/i]. It looked sort of like the agency where he got all of his modeling jobs. There was a front desk and a receptionist and all. Actually, it looked more like the place his father worked than it did the agency.

“Uh, I...” he began as he stepped up to the reception desk, earning the attention of the man sitting there, who quirked a brow at him, “I'm here for... the job interview?” he almost questioned. It sounded wrong, to him. Did he remember it right? That was what he needed to say, right?

“State your name, please,” the receptionist all but ordered, though he sounded very bored with the whole thing.

“Owen,” he said, a little too fast so it came out sounding like a cough or something, “Uhh, Owen. Owen Bright, sir.”

The receptionist gave a curt nod, “Have a seat. Someone will be here for you in a moment.”

Owen just nodded dumbly, standing around for a moment before he actually went to sit. He sat at the edge of the seat, looking around worriedly. He wondered how many of the people passing through were his “siblings”. Some others were there for the Job Interview, too, so he guessed that they, at least, were. If it was a trap, it was a big one. Nice.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours, but were probably just a few minutes, a man in a suit came up to him, “Right this way, sir,” he said and headed off, seemingly without giving a damn if Owen followed or not.

Owen headed after him quickly, probably looking like a lost puppy following the closest resemblance of safety it could find. They entered an elevator, where the man pushed the button to the twenty-third floor. They walked around a bit before they came to a seemingly random room, where the man stopped. There were lots of doors, here. And a lot of little machine-thingies that he had only seen in movies; they looked like fingerprint scanners. He silently wished that his mother was there to tell him.

“Place your finger on the scanner, sir,” the suited man instructed, gesturing towards the machine-thingy with a flick of his wrist.

Maybe they would steal his identity and make a non-super clone of him to take his place in the world and just dispose of him. Bad thoughts, bad. He pushed all bad thoughts away and silently placed a finger on the contraption; his face turned the other way and his eyes squeezed shut as if something terrible would happen.

Nothing did. The door simply opened.

Inside was a room. At the end of the room was another door. For a few moments, nothing happened. When something did happen, it was utterly anticlimactic. He did not even have to do anything; the door simply opened.

Looking back at his suited friend, he realized that he was supposed to go on on his own. The man was simply standing by the first door, waiting patiently for him to get the idea. When he seemingly did not, the man nodded and headed over to the second door, standing beside it.

“Right this way, sir,” he stated, gesturing to the open door next to him.

Owen wanted to roll his eyes and the dude for thinking he was an idiot. He did not, though. He just went through the door as he was told. The door clicked shut behind him. Now, if this was a setup or a trap, there were two doors, a maze of hallways, an elevator ride and another door between him and his bike. He had virtually no chance of escape and his odds were not very good from the start. He felt a little bit screwed.

“State your full name, please,” a female voice suddenly sounded over the speakers and Owen nearly jumped out of his good skin. In fact, he sort of did. He shrank a little bit, on instinct, as if trying to hide in plain sight. He always had been easy to startle, but he usually got angry in those situations. Right now, he was too freaked out to do anything, really.

“Owen!” he practically squeaked out, sounding like a scared little mouse, “I – Uhh, my name is … I mean...” he jumbled around, trying to catch his heart and put it back into his chest; metaphorically, of course.

He took a deep breath and sighed, “My name is Owen. Owen Bright,” he stated, “but before my parents named me, mom said I was Subject-087.”