[centre][h3]About a week later...
[color=8493ca]Matthias Llywelyn[/color] - New Haven, Connecticut[/h3][/centre][hr][hr]

[i]"...This new theory seems to be dwarfing all those other conspiracies before it. Crop circles, alien landings in the Nevada desert, 9/11 not being a terrorist attack. Unusually this new theory seems to be gaining traction from different groups and not just the usual hardcore fanatics and some are claiming they know people who were 'Gifted' and disappeared..."[/i]

[color=gray]It was one of Matthias' habits to lie in bed and listen to the morning news for a while before getting out, the alarm always timed for a good twenty minutes before he needed to truly think about starting the day. Of course he was used to the British Broadcasting Corporation's Radio 2 Breakfast Show with Chris Evans but ever since he had moved to the states the timing had been wrong. Someone had once set up his laptop so that it would play the catch-up version via a VPN so he could still keep that routine but then daylight saving had kicked in and thrown everything out the window. Now he ended up getting one of the [i]really[/i] early morning shows which was usually pre-recorded or hosted by a DJ who had never quite made it. The news was still the same, though, although the reader always sounded a little dejected at doing the early shift.[/color]

[i]"...police say that the 'sources' often cited are merely missing persons reports and that the theorists are taking advantage of unhappy events to spread wild speculation unhelpful to peacekeeping activities. They urge the public to ignore the 'wild' stories circling online and only call the emergency line in extreme circumstances.  And now the weather..."[/i]

[color=gray]His second alarm, an incessant beeping from his phone on the other side of his small bedroom and seconded moments later by the FitBit vibrating aggressively on his wrist, called an end to this particular news cycle and Matthias pulled himself up and out of bed. After showering he sat down to a cup of tea and a bowl of cereal while cycling through news sites on tablet propped up against the fruit bowl in the middle of his small table. It was a bad habit for him, Matthias knew, to be so plugged into current affairs all the time as it often made him feel stressed and anxious, what with every story on the front page shades away from being apocalyptic, but he told himself it was important to know what was going on in the world, especially as a historian who was experiencing contemporary events.

A message from Rhian popped up on his phone, delayed so that it would not send in the middle of his night, drawing his attention away from the depressing reel of tragedies journalists were compelled to report on. It was just a short, standard 'good morning', the type she would send without fail every day to him along with a corresponding one just before he went to sleep. The woman never missed anything and once she had a habit she would stick it to like no one else could.

He smiled gratefully, sending a reply back which would not disturb her sleep despite the early hour back in the UK for she also had her phone switched off at night so as not to disturb her REM cycles, at least according to she had told him. Those small communications, along with their regular catch-ups via video chat, were key to calming those voices in the back of his head screaming that a long distance relationship was impossible. Had those of his friends not all failed, even if with varying timescales involved? Sure, one or two had been down to his friends' own discretions and he had promptly severed ties with such foolish people but such reasoning was useless in the face of paranoia.

The morning rolled on in usual fashion and he left his small apartment, heading to his usual morning haunt for another cup of tea with a fresh book in his coat pocket.[/color]

[centre]~~~~~~[/centre]

"Morning Matt."

[color=8493ca]"Good morning, Brian. Just my usual please."[/color] [color=gray]Brian nodded and set about brewing Matthias' tea, humming something to himself. The cafe was empty except for the two of them, the tables freshly cleaned and there was no sign of the usual morning crowd who found their way to the venue in the early hours. Matthias enquired about the oddity but Brian merely shrugged and said he would bring the drink over when it was ready.

The news that morning began to run through Matthias' head and he had to shake himself mentally to be freed of the suspicions weighing down on him. What would Rhian say if he were to fall prey to this newest of conspiracy theories? Without proof she believed in nothing and would dismiss it all as qualitative nonsense.[/color]

"Eve's not here, didn't want none of it she said."

[color=gray]Matthias looked up, startled from his reverie as Brian placed the tray on the table and carefully moved the small teapot, jug with milk and teacup in turn onto the surface before tucking the tray under his arm and heading back to the counter.

[color=8493ca]"None of..."[/color] Matthias started but Brian was already back at the counter, putting the tray down, and then walked out through the staff door behind it leaving the research student alone in the cafe, steam rising steadily from the teapot in front of him. The paranoia was beginning to feel more justified by the second and flared rapidly as a small team of men in matching suits pushed their way into the tearoom, the final one turning the 'open' side round as the door shut.

[color=8493ca]"I... don't suppose I can have my tea first?"[/color][/color]



[centre][h3]An unknown location[/h3][/centre][hr][hr]

[color=gray]The room came into focus slowly, his mind feeling slow and groggy similar to the most intense hangover he had ever felt the day after his Master's degree graduation ceremony. Except that he had had no alcohol this time and the feeling passed quickly, memories speeding back to him and bringing him back to alertness rapidly.

Sitting up he looked around the room. It was spartan to say the least, no apparent furniture beyond the semi-comfortable bed upon which he had been asleep and two doors leading out. He soon found out that one of them did not open while the other led into a small shower room, just big enough for him to stand in either at the basin or under shower head but with every wall in touching distance from the centre. Everything was a clinical white colour and looked plastic or metal, like the most extreme of hospitals but at least the lighting was dimmer than one might have expected; the stereotypical facility of this apparent type usually possessing unbearably bright overhead lights which only accentuated the whiteness of the surroundings.

He returned to the bed, sorting through his memories. Brian being a little distant, the empty cafe, the men crowding in and closing the shop. They had, indeed, allowed him to have his tea before commanding him to consume a small pill with the ultimatum that either he eat it and, in doing so, incapacitate himself or else the men would see to it that the same effect was reached far less comfortably. Matthias was hardly a fighter, he had barely been in a pub brawl, and so has consumed the pill without any other available way out apparent.

Did they know that he was British, he wondered? Should he mention it, demand to be taken to an embassy? Such a line was unlikely to change the actions of these people, he sensed, but perhaps it would be worth a go. Without any other plan of action coming to mind he strode across the room and tried to open the door but it was still locked. Somewhat dejected, with fear rising steadily at his incarceration without explanation, he retreated to the bed and lay down and lost himself in staring at the unbearably white ceiling for what else was there to do? The last thing he wanted to do was think about his family, friends, Rhiannon or his life; that way lay a spiral of true panic and so he proceeded to try and find intense interest in the most bland thing he had ever seen.[/color]