[sub][h3][center]Matthew[/center][/h3][/sub][hr]Aside from the sound of easy swing music and the distant but ever humming low noise of generators, a child’s room at the top of the tallest spire, was quiet. The room was adjourned by pictures and sketches in various styles- from the quality of crayons to photo-realistic oil pastel paintings. A boy, no older than seven years old sat by an easel in front of a window that looked out towards space. He worked silently, a pencil in his hand sketching out what appeared to be the beginnings of a new piece.

He spoke up.

“Cara?”

[i]“Yes, Matthew? How may I help you?”[/i]

“Could you ask for mister Black and mister White?”

[i]“Of course, Matthew.”[/i]

He continued to work, waiting for a sign that the two have arrived. It didn’t take long, of course. Two figures manifested at the other end of Matthew’s room. Two men, perfectly symmetrical in their forms. One black, and one white, both dressed in formal attire. The only differentiation in their appearances were their ties - swapped colors. Their faces were entirely featureless, as if the both of then were walking mannequins. They stood side-by-side with their hands folded behind their backs.

[b]“You’ve summoned us, Master Detmer?”[/b] The gentleman in white asked.

[color=gray][b]”Something you require?”[/b][/color] The gentleman in black added. The boy stopped working, releasing the pencil- which kept moving on its own accord. As if it was still being handled by a hand, rather than a mind. The child turned in his seat, studying the two men for a moment before the edges of his lips curled up ever so slightly.

"I'm sorry for asking you to come on such short notice. I just- I just wanted some advice."

[color=gray][b]”No trouble at all.”[/b][/color]

[b]”What is the issue?”[/b]

The smile falls away from Matthew’s face and he leans forward, resting his chin in his hands.

“Today, new people came aboard.” He explains, his eyes averting from the two figured and looking down at the floor. “And I see [i]pain[/i].”

[b]”As is the same with many who come aboard this station.”[/b]

[color=gray][b]”Pain. Regret. Things of such sad nature.”[/b][/color]

[b]”Rehabilitation is possible, but...[/b]

[color=gray][b]”It depends on the recipient.”[/b][/color]
 
Matthew sighs. “I see... a different struggle. One that few have faced before, here. It hurts. How do you deal with that kind of pain? The kind that makes you want to help, even if you shouldn’t?”
 
Black and White glance at each other for a moment, thinking.

[b]”The greatest pain can lead to the greatest catharsis.”[/b]

[color=gray][b]”But the solution can’t be something forced upon the victim of such pain.”[/b][/color]

[b]”Healing is a gradual process.”[/b]

[color=gray][b]”And the beginning is always the most important part.”[/b][/color]

[b]”Wait for this person’s problem to be identified. Not by you...”[/b]

[color=gray][b]”But by them.”[/b][/color]

Matthew’s frown deepens, but he nods as he comes to terms with their words. His gaze becomes neutral once again and he looks up at them.

“Thank you, mister White, mister Black.”

The boy turns to glance at the canvas he has been working on, leaning away some so they may see. It depicts a dark room with a lone, bloodied, empty chair. Torn bindings woven are woven into the metal, and a hazy figure is in the doorway. 

The words ‘Welcome to AP Biology!’ are written on a whiteboard.[hr]

[sub][h3][center]Archie[/center][/h3][/sub][hr]Archie had passed her three times now.

They were pretty, sure. But that was definitely not the reason why he had found himself orbiting their general presence. He had, for lack of better wording, been made genuinely uncomfortably by the looks he had been receiving from various people wherever he had tried to sit. Conversation quickly died, and while he was not a man of particular intuition he had sure as hell noted the sideways the others had given him and each other. As if they had expected him to [i]explode[/i] or something because he had been restrained so much. He wasn't a very confrontational person, and he had been made to feel sufficiently awkward that he had moved from table to table, trying to find his place.

His phone went off.

[quote][code]
// Cara: Hello! My name is Cara, The Promise's AI companion. I have instructions for you to 		 
    follow when setting up your lodging.
// You will be staying in: Millennium Hall. Single room, number 227.
// Curfew: 9PM-8AM.
[/code][/quote]

That didn't sound too bad, all things considered. His phone dinged again. Supplying a picture.

Archie's jaw dropped. His room was a [i]fucking[/i] confinement bunker! A small, twin bed in a room that couldn't have been more than twenty feet along all walls, which were made of concrete! It was almost exactly like his previous dwellings, except he was allowed to leave during the day. He mused that it was a notable step above, and it made sense given what his ability often did, but it still made him uneasy. As if he was a prisoner here still, with the only difference being that he had a new cage. He jabbed his phone back into his pocket and continued his search for a table. He found himself in front of a table with two women that he had passed a few times now in search of a comfortable spot to sit. One had bright yellow hair and the other, stark black. The first girl was notable because she looked like she wanted to fight the whole room. And the table. And her food if the way she was eating was anything to go by. The other girl was far more reserved in the way she acted. She attempted, vainly, to eat, but the silver collar on her neck was visibly upsetting her. He couldn't blame her, though. Not even [i]he[/i] had received that treatment and he had been more restrained than all of them. These two women made him uneasy. They were pretty and he was a man, so that part was a given. But they had also been restrained- one of them was [i]still[/i] restrained. A part of him reminded him that he had been tied up just like them and he was not a dangerous man. Most of the time. How bad could they possible be?

He hesitantly placed his food down between them, slightly closer to the dark haired girl as to not aggravate the angry looking one any more than she already was. God she looked like the type that would treat his nuts like a speed bag if he even looked at her wrong! He steeled himself and sat down, preparing himself for any verbal lashings that were coming. He looked between the two as if they were both two angry praying mantis' and he was a simply fly that was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He caught sight of the dark haired girl's face, and while his apprehension was still there the empathetic side of him swelled. His chest hurt, but not in the way that it did before the other guy came out. He reached out, hesitantly at first, and placed a hand on her shoulder in an effort to be comforting.

"Hey," he said, his lips curling upward some in a dejected half-smile. "Don't let it get you down. [b]All three of us[/b]," he began, glancing at Lynn and motioning to her with his off hand, "...had our kink exposed today."

His half-smile broke out into a small grin, as if to signal that is was a joke. He had to tread lightly here, lest he make himself the target of the freak squad that was slowly building. Not missing a beat, he pulled his hand away and put it on his chest to gesture to himself. He looked from the dark haired girl, and then to the light haired girl as if asking the question to both of them.

"My name is Archie. What's yours?"
[hr]
[@He Who Walks Behind][@Silver Carrot]