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[right][h2] MP-2011-JB; Justin Böhmer[/h2][/right]
[right][h2] [color=purple]Purple[/color] Containment - The Ward [/h2][/right]

[@BCTheEntity][@Randomness][@Nyxira]

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"What, and yours wasn't?" Justin - Klaus - Beobach turned snappily towards the latino. His mind worked fast, clicking like cogs, turning like wheels electric; this other man was surprised that his door was locked - not just locked, but [i]still[/i] locked, implying that the others' doors had been unlocked, seemingly remotely. Why then was his a traditional manual lock?

His brow furrowed.

In the back of his mind he already knew. He could not be contained if the lock were electronic. That was what was missing - the scratching and quiet clawing against the soft tissues of his mind, that was what caused it, a lack of... connection.

The lack of a Network.

"Rigged to blow?" Justin's eyes widened, and he stepped back, following his orders.

But that too rang false. His hand went to the collar around his neck, heavy with the weight of the bands around his wrists, and he felt the hard rubber coating it between his thumb and his forefinger. Perhaps there were, or were not, explosives in this - something to discourage tampering at the very least. But why the door? He was small, little threat when so disarmed. If he tried to pick the lock then his captors would not need explosives to bring him down - and indeed, even if there were any they could not simply be triggered by... by microwave, or radio, or something - he would know if that could be done. So what, trap the door? Why even bother with a door then? That sounded like a bad idea, setting the door up to blow.

“Hey, I don-”

Then the lights went out.

“FUCK!” He shrieked, leaping half a metaphorical mile in the air, brandishing the standing lamp like a staff. He barely even noticed the other guy talking when the lights came back on.

“Fuck? Oh yeah, fuck, don’t worry man. Take your time - I don’t think the door is gonna be rigged though, friendo.”

He was, of course, right.

And when he stepped over the threshold, past the confines of the Faraday Cage he had been confined to… his mind calmed. The scratching stopped. The need was fulfilled.

He smiled, warmly and truly.

“It is… good to be free.” He almost started to laugh as the warm bath of information filled his skull again, and his brain started to float on the currents of nonsense - and nonsense it was, for the time being, just the background noise of an informatic world. “Even if I’m only a bit more free than I was two seconds ago, it’s… good.” He gave a grin to the other guy.

“Wait, a little girl? What kind of fucking…” He looked around at the walls. The other guy was right, this didn’t look like how he imagined most prisons did, either - and if they were keeping kids around, it definitely wasn’t the sort of prison anyone was publicly familiar with.

He pushed the thought from his mind.

“Wait, you’ve been to prison?”

A short walk and some tannoy bullshit later, the four Containees of the Purple Ward had been united.

“Yo, these your guys? Um, is he alright?”