[center][h1][color 33ec06] The Wheels on the Bus... [/color][/h1][/center]
[center][color 33ec06] An Autobiography by Marcus Howell [/color][/center]
[center][img]http://i65.tinypic.com/21o8tg4.png[/img][/center]

The pickup and transportation were a little bit rough, but that was about how Marcus expected it to go down. He hadn't quite expected the 'prisoner' treatment of transportation, but upon reflection, he figured it made sense. Not many people were very fond of the empowered, so it made sense that they'd be on their guard. Everyone else in the transport seemed to just be quietly riding it out; Marcus figured that some of them probably didn't have a choice in the matter. He, while quiet for most of the ride, punctuated the most dreary of silences with the occasional comment:
[color 33ec06]"Hey! Can somebody tell me where the mini-fridge is back here?"
"Any chance we can turn on the radio? It's dreadfully silent back here!"
"Are we there yet, are we there yet, are we..."
"Oooh! Can we stop and get ice cream!? I'd really love some ice cream right now![/color]

None of these really caused anything but an angry glare his way, but he still sat back with a smile on his face. The humor helped him take his mind of the crippling fear of wherever the hell they were going right now, but the occasional deep breath helped too.

When the Precursors had shown up, Marcus of course craned his neck and pressed his face up against the transparent side of the truck, like an eager child looking at Christmas lights. [color 33ec06]"Awww, you guys put together a fireworks show for us? It's not as interesting as the radio, but I suppose it'll do!"[/color] he said to the truck, watching the battle outside. 

It was the shout from the captain the shut Marcus up for the rest of the ride. Clearly these things were not for show and tell, and something out there was going wrong. The weird insect thing would certainly make an appearance in his nightmares, but that was norm nowadays. He sat silently in his seat, trying not to slide to the back of the vehicle, until they arrived at the complex.

[b][u]New Arrivals[/u][/b]

[color 33ec06]"Holy moly, does everyone around here have a stick shoved up their backside!?"[/color] had been one of Marcus's comments as they were being unloaded, before the Director showed up. Nobody in the facility seemed to have any concerns regarding the openly hostile treatment of the newest members, and Marcus was starting to get a little irritated. Not irritated enough to pick a fight with one of the guards, but irritated enough for his jokes to start accumulating the telltale inflection of contempt.

He stood in line, listening to the director's speech as she pointed out the various ways that she was gonna end their miserable existences. [i][color 33ec06] Oh man...threats to splatter us across the floor like paint, what  way to make a group feel at home![/color][/i] He felt slightly validated when a couple of the other attendees spoke up. He smirked as the man with the mug spoke, grateful that he was at least somewhat aware of the current mood in the room. 

[color 33ec06]"Um, yeah, Queen Stick, question over here!"[/color] Marcus said, looking to the Director. [color 33ec06] "Can I get my mandatory criminal ankle bracelet in chestnut? Anything else tends to clash with my eyes." [/color] He said this with a defiant smirk; he wasn't necessarily being openly [i]defiant[/i], but he had to have some sort of outlet for his irritation, and it felt like a small victory to him.

Of course, now that he'd said it, he gauged the director and the rest of the room for reactions. If something were about to happen and he were about to get punished for his smart mouth (it wouldn't be the first time), there wasn't much he could do to stop it, but he could at least try and brace for it.