Being in some juvenile justice system wasn’t that bad. You were stuck with half-wits, but better than being at school.

That was an exaggeration. You’d take the hot lunch over there than the mucked up prison food that they had, a fortune that there even was food in the first place. That was it. Nauseating substances to which probably had plenty of microplastics, eutrophicated like some kind of lake.

Might you add that at some point in the time that you’d lost your bearings on, a bunch of overly dressed guards waltzed in and eyed everyone over as if you were animals in cages, foaming mouths pressed up to the slats. That's what you’d describe the people here as, though, so who were you to blame.

You lost track of what happened once unintelligible words began to tumble out of their mouths, muffled to the max with the face covering they wore. They’d probably put you up for execution by shooting if you or anyone else spoke their mind.

Attention was not paid when paper was handed out, and you obliviously so signed off your name without a second thought till much after.

After being now, dressed in an almost equally ill fitted outfit that was too large for your form, instructions blaring from the speakers and resonating inside the closed off room.

Decidedly, you didn't want to be here anymore as soon as said person stopped blethering about crystal this crystal that. You instead ushered yourself to move, hands grasping the illegible keycard and practically chucking it into the reader, feet carrying you wherever that AI guided you.

Some number of doors away, Sebastian was waiting, idly. He could’ve gone out scavenging, but he knew that Urbanshade still sent out expendables at this time. He only knew that from the shit makeshift clock that he’d put together with the scraps of a smuggled watch, using it for what he could.

Brought back down from his thoughts was the significantly lighter sound of padding against thin metal, the head of an expendable popping out from the exit.

What the fuck, was a shared thought.