[sup][hr][/sup][COLOR=GRAY][INDENT][INDENT]The visitation area was one of the places Iñigo Giménez-Pozo frequented for the last five months. Guards usually made a big deal whenever he left his cell that it just became a procedure. One guard would wait to escort the detainee to their destination while the other fastened an inhibitor onto them. Whether they were heading to the cafeteria or the library didn't matter to the guards. Or how often trips to the infirmary were for recurring migraines and nausea—the result of frequent inhibitor usage. But as expected, the guards didn't care about the state of an [i]illegal[/i] hyperhuman. Like many other detainees in the detention center, Iñigo was subjected to verbal and physical abuse from them. There conveniently was no evidence of their wrongdoings to file a complaint against them.

And detainees that push forth despite the threats and intimidation tactics often find themselves deported or in solitary confinement for weeks. That was how Iñigo ended up in solitary for one week. On the sixth day, he began to feel his sanity gradually slipping away. The constant noise of pounding against the metal doors and windows that kept him up during the night wasn't helping. His mind would've been lost on the third day if it wasn't for his ability. The very thing that got him condemned by society and tore his family apart was keeping him sane. And with each use, Iñigo understood its benefits and limitations better. Then, while altering his right hand to appear slightly wrinkled, a lone guard opened the metal door, holding an inhibitor in his hand before tossing it to him.

Iñigo smiled for the first time in days.

Waiting in the visitation area for a half hour was nothing compared to a week in solitary. Iñigo followed his attorney into one of the secluded rooms and sat on the plastic chair. There was an absent expression on the attorney's face while pulling papers from his bag and placing them on the table. Before he could ask if he was alright, two complete strangers in professional wear entered the room and approached the chairs across from him. Iñigo turned to his attorney with a nervous look, whispering a question about their presence. One of them was an older woman with her graying hair in a neat ballerina bun, wearing a decently expensive navy blue sculpted suit. She also pulled out papers from her leather bag, along with a laptop, and placed them next to her on the table.

The other was an older bald man in a black lazio suit, staring at them as if trying to listen to their conversation. But he was confident and poised with no emotion like he had done this act over a dozen times. Iñigo looked back at his attorney and started getting up from his seat, which was when the older man cleared his throat. His arms were now resting on the table as he spoke with an authoritative but soft-spoken voice. [color=white]"I suggest remaining, Mr. Giménez-Pozo; you'd be interested in what we have to offer."[/color][/INDENT][/INDENT][INDENT][sub][hr][/sub][/INDENT]
[CENTER][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1070187379547176990/1080153140189483129/image.png[/img][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=SILVER][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]PRCU[/I] - [I]Western Canada[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=SILVER][b]The Homecoming Trials #1.15:[/b][/COLOR] [I]New Arrival[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][sub][hr][/sub][INDENT][sub][color=SILVER][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR] [I]N/A[/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=SILVER][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR] [I]N/A[/I][/right][/SUP]
[INDENT]There were eyes on the new student upon his arrival on campus, which was hard to avoid. Students and faculty alike stared at the stranger dressed in a blue prison jumpsuit with canvas slip-on deck shoes. Of course, it didn't help that he was the only person with an armed escort consisting of two guards. Their presence was required to "complete the transfer of custody over to the university from United States soil." But the arrangement never considered how humiliating it would've been to be paraded around like a hardened criminal for everyone to judge in silence. It wasn't helping that the inhibitor was causing the worst headache imaginable ever since arriving on the island. And, as almost expected, those sensations worsened upon entering the Administration Building.

Inside, every student waiting by the chancellor's office was immediately staring at the new arrival. One of them even took a discreet picture of him before acting all innocent. Iñigo Giménez-Pozo glared angrily at them before staring down at the floor in defeat; he was too exhausted to respond accordingly. The office, for the most part, didn't stand out to a former university student other than being more vintage. He kept staring down, minding his own business as the guards approached the chancellor to receive confirmation of the transfer. And with the sound of pen on paper, Iñigo officially transferred from one prison to another—but this one was more liberating in a sense. He heard the guards leaving the room but didn't notice the chancellor had taken off the inhibitor.

[color=white]"I'd normally begin with a question to better understand my students, but..."[/color] Jonas Lehrer sighed and discarded the inhibitor into the small trash bin beside his desk. For a brief second, subtle sullen lingered in the air that would've gone undetected if it wasn't obvious. It was defused by a warm, soft smile from the chancellor. Iñigo admittedly felt awkward with the sudden shift towards a more sympathetic environment after living in a dentation center for five months. It was quite bizarre to experience. [color=white]"...you need rest. I had my assistant set up an appointment at the infirmary for a check-up tomorrow. Your uniform is on the desk, along with your belongings. And the opening ceremony will start soon if you're up to attending it. Otherwise, you can rest for the day in your room."[/color]

Iñigo went over to the desk and seized the plastic bag containing only a photo of his family that was originally in his wallet. The rest of his belongings (his wallet, phone, and clothes) were declared "lost" months ago by the dentation center. A complaint was filed, but there wasn't enough information for them to reach a decision. Nevertheless, he was relieved to see the photo untouched by those bastards. [color=799E5E]"Gracias."[/color] Iñigo said softly before cursing at himself for the accidental slip-up in language, all ready to apologize.

But instead, Jonas shook his head and said without any hesitation in his voice, [color=white]"It's no problem, Inigo."[/color][sub][sup][hr][/sup][/sub]By the time Iñigo changed into his school uniform and arrived at the stadium, the opening speech had ended as students went to their designated teams. He was assigned to Team 21, known as Blackjack, and scrambled toward the other members hoping the others didn't notice the late arrival. As he got closer to the group, conversations were already taking shape. And it was quite daunting for someone that didn't have many buddies back at the detention center. Sure, there were visits between his lawyer and chats with his remaining friends over the phone. But those were nothing compared to informal talks with complete strangers in an unfamiliar environment. So instead of initiating a conversation, Iñigo waited for someone else to do it while relaxing near a planter.[/INDENT][/INDENT]
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