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The bus was empty when Sunita boarded, save for the driver; a man who refused to make eye-contact even after being offered a greeting. Instead, he was busy selecting an unfamiliar song for the vehicle's stereo system.  Sunita sighed and took one of the front most seats, somewhere she'd easily be able scope out anyone who came aboard.  They began moving without warning, and the Palo Alto suburbs Sunita had called home for five years started blurring past her window.  She redirected her focus on the bag she'd brought along. Pulling a journal out, she opened it to a book-eared page.  It was one of the three sole-surviving journals that documented her life.  From the age of 9, she'd taken to recording her innermost thoughts and notable events. She swore never to make such a stupid mistake again, having burnt the first six earlier that same morning. The smell of smoke still clung to her pressed skirt, blouse, and scarf.


It wasn't a long wait before they came to a stop again, taking a small East-Asian girl aboard. Sunita briefly looked up, giving a short hello, before turning her gaze back towards the book.  A similar greeting awaited the boy with white streaked hair, and the others following him.  Not for the boy in cuffs picked up from the courthouse, though.  When he boarded, Sunita's grip only tightened on her journal until he took a seat; a comfortable number of rows away.  At least she could always rely on her off-putting energy to keep strangers from prying into her business or sitting too close.  The humiliation of having multiple police and AEGIS agents reading through her private life was still fresh in her mind.  The idea of one of her soon-to-be peers getting a peak was too much to bear.   

The bus pulled away from it's stop at the airport, and she had just fnished reading a particularly mortifying passage of her 14-year-old-self gushing over a celebrity crush. Needing a break, Sunita lowered the pages to look out the window while they passed through the downtown San Francisco area, heading for the docks. Her family had rarely visited the city, and such a long journey alone was forbidden by her parents for most of her life.  Tight streets, packed even tighter with aged buildings, caused her to reminisce about her first home one the other side of the world.  
It was a quiet, almost somber, bus ride. No more than a few whispers made their way to Sunita's ears above the noise of the driver's dated choice of music. Eventually they came to a stop, the ocean in view.  Sunita stood, eager to be off the crowded bus and free from the music. Pausing in confusion as she recognized the sight outside of the window. There had to have been a mistake.

[color=C1FF57]"Excuse me,"[/color] She began, attempting again to gain the attention of the driver, to no avail.  Instead she turned to the other young adults on the bus.  [color=C1FF57]"We're at the wrong harbour."[/color]  She explained to them, [color=C1FF57]"The Ferry to Alcatraz Island doesn't leave from the Historic Ferry Building.  What are we doing here?"[/color]

No sooner had she posed the question than it was answered by the arrival of their final member.  If they could even be called that.  A small, furry animal scurried past the front rows, beelining to the back seats. Sunita quickly sat herself down again, tucking her skirt underneath her and willing the heat to leave her cheeks. At least she didn't cause a commotion like someone further back, but then again, they must have all been thinking it. Whether it be streaked hair, inhuman skin, even wings; all were to be expected when dealing with Metahumans. Sunita was familiar with research of mutated genes; but an animal without visible human traits, unable to even speak in a language they could understand, was staggeringly strange.  Her eyes returned down to her journal again until they arrived at the true destination of their journey; remaining withdrawn even after they'd left the bus and crossed the ferry to the island.

While reading worked to keep anybody from approaching her, it caused uncomfortable levels of motion-sickness.  Feeling ill kept her from putting up much of a fuss, as once again, her belongings were taken away to be searched.  After all, what were another dozen pairs of adult eyes peering into her deepest secrets. Sunita just kept her head down and moved along with the crowd, happy to just pass by unnoticed.  A snide comment from the stone-skinned boy made her cringe, and then all hell broke loose.  Her own attention had been focused on the warden, missing the start of the scuffle. She managed to catch sight of the winged girl smacking one of the boys, and the Japanese girl vanishing into a cloud of pepper spray.

Sunita watched impassively, lips pressed in an indifferent thin line.  The warden continued his speech, though it took on a much different tone than the first; all while the pepper-sprayed girl laid crying on the ground.  It was too bad, she'd been hoping for an uneventful first week.  Then again, what more could anyone expect from a bunch of teenagers sent to Alcatraz?

[colour=C1FF57]"Here,"[/colour] Sunita stopped the brunette that was helping the spray victim towards the guards.  In her extended hand was the silk scarf that had been tied around her shoulders up until now.  [colour=C1FF57]"I think you're..."[/colour]  She trailed off while pointing to her own forehead when she realized it wasn't actually blood on the other girl's face, but something else entirely. She almost inquired further, but stopped after a loud sneeze from the Japanese girl. Stepping out of their way, she fell back in with the rest of the group.  They were on the wrong side of the bay to start picking fights and fussing about their situation now.  Sunita could only hope to be forgotten and left to her own devices, for as long as she remained on the island.