[h3][color=#90adb1]Marcus Bradley[/color][/h3] [sup]Location: Cafeteria ->[color=f26522]Bedroom[/color]
[/sup][hr]

While Marcus was in the middle of bag 3 of potato chips, the intercom buzzed on, with the researcher lady putting out instructions. Marcus was going to disregard it as more instructional nonsense before the word "call" was mentioned. He sat straight up to listen. SO there was to be only one call? What kind of arbitrary limit was that and why? Shaking his head, Marcus immediately felt a mix of distrust and irritation at that point. Why were they holding contact with his family at an arm's length like this? What purpose did that serve other than to cause him more stress? Grinding his teeth, Marcus began walking out of the cafeteria, three tiny bags of chips in hand, with his focus solely on his thoughts. 

Damn these people.

First they take him out of his house, as if that's fine, tell him he's sick, as if that weren't mildly disturbing, shove him into here with a bunch of random strangers, limit his contact with is family, the outside world, the sun itself, and as if that weren't enough they were basically telling him now-- [i]"Oh, you can contact your family but on our time, when we want you to, and only ONE person because screw you, that's why."[/i] By the time Marcus made it to his bedroom, his temper was fully flared, and he figured he'd already had enough of this place. Marcus slammed the door behind himself so hard that he heard several, rather loud, cracking and snapping noises come from it but he didn't spare it a glance over his shoulder. To hell with this place, that door, and these "illnesses". Growling, Marcus walked further into the bedroom, then picked up the remote. 

Soon he found the calling application then looked over the list of contacts. Shaking his head slowly, Marcus figured that whoever assembled the list was just reaching for straws-- to put it simply, Marcus didn't give a single thought about half of the six person list until he saw their names here again. Three were people he interacted with solely for business, one was a friend, and two were his mothers. That was it. They should have put his dog on this list because Marcus felt more strongly about Coco than the work contacts. Still. If he was stupidly afforded only one call "for now"-- which that phrasing implied more that made Marcus feel irritated-- then he needed to call someone who would have the highest possibility of answering. 

This unfortunately meant he was going to call Isiah. A deep sigh escaped Marcus as he settled more firmly into his decision, then activated the app. Isiah answered after the second ring. 

[b]"Woah dude,"[/b] Isiah spoke as soon as the video activated, [b]"When you get a call from some weird application and then you see a guy who you were SURE got abducted by aliens."[/b] Leaning back in his large padded desk chair, Isiah nodded at Marcus, tented his fingers, then continued, [b]"Very interesting. Blink twice if you bein' held hostage."[/b] Pinching the bridge of his nose, Marcus told Isiah, [color=#90adb1]"Open your blinds, brah? What time's it there?"[/color] Isiah went over to an unseen window and let in orange evening sunlight.

	[b]"'Bout eighteen,"[/b] Isiah answered once he was at the computer again.
	[color=#90adb1]"Man... tell my moms I called."[/color]
	[b]"Yeah right-- What else tho?! I mean-- c'mon there's gotta be more'n that, huh?"[/b]
	[color=#90adb1]"Well,"[/color] Marcus cleared his throat, [color=#90adb1]"I'm pissed off. That's somethin'."[/color]
	[b]"You bein' real vague right now."[/b]
	Silence passed between them briefly. Marcus shifted uncomfortably under Isiah's concerned stare.
	[color=#90adb1]"How's Coco?"[/color] Marcus asked after a second.
	Isiah rolled his eyes, [b]"Still a dog."[/b]
	[color=#90adb1]"Good,"[/color] Marcus mumbled before running a hand through his hair.
	[b]"You ain't ever been this quiet or awkward before-- they do some shit to ya? Injections? Lace ya food? You gettin' probed in the butt, huh? Oh man, they probin' ya butt ain't they..."[/b]
	
As much as Marcus tried not to laugh, he couldn't help it, not after Isiah began tossing jokes one after the other. They were always like stand-up comedy routines, complete with sound effects and outrageous stories. Isiah went on for a length, making Marcus feel more at ease than he had been since he'd arrived, when the screen suddenly went black. Marcus sat upright, his laughter choking into silence, as he fumbled with the remote briefly. [color=#90adb1]"No no, come on, don' do this shit,"[/color] he began to groan as he began trying to troubleshoot the problem. He was sure he tried everything to get the application working again-- turning the TV on and off, unplugging it, everything! By the time Marcus finally gave up trying, he was panting slightly, and sitting dejectedly on the bed. He stared at the TV for a long moment before laying back onto the bed in defeat.

[color=#90adb1]"I hate this place,"[/color] he groaned before adding with a smirk, [color=#90adb1]"But at least there ain't no butt probes."[/color]