The facility.

Fay was sleeping dead to the world, her last drug having knocked her out completely. Her mind was full of demons and monster so scary they could scar a person for life. Her eyes flicked around as she tried desperately to wake herself up, the creatures coming closer and closer surrounding her. She could hear herself screaming, screaming a horrible scream, but it wasn't her scream...No it wasn't her scream but it continued at the crowded around her, reaching for her. Fay eyes flashed open as she woke up to the horrid screaming of a girl in the other room. Within seconds she was standing near the door trying to listen to what was going on outside.

Fay sat next to the door wishing she could help the poor girl out. She looked up as the door was unlocked and someone came in and grabbed her. "How are you feeling." one of the workers said with an awful smirk on his face. He tossed some food on a tray at her, but rather then letting it land in front of her she grabbed the tray and slammed it into the workers shin causing his to scream in pain. She raced out the door and down the hallway towards the screaming.

She could feel herself getting closer, but she could also feel the workers behind her getting closer as they chased her. She looked out the windows and noticed a tree with thick branches growing outside. She stopped and started to work with the branches, they formed and moved, crashing through the windows and building a thick wall behind her.
 
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Ai started to cough even more, as her pupils started to dilate very slowly. She struggled and struggled, still holding onto her throat and feeling like she was about to go crazy again-- but yet, still couldn't use up her powers because of the condition she was in.
 
Alice felt the ground shake a bit but unsure of what it was continued to focus on the workers. Staring deeply into them. "Leave now!" She yelled out at them in their faces. They began to walk away; out through the door. Alice then quickly went over to Ai. "Hey!" She said but then grabbed onto her hugging her. She held onto her tightly but yet trying to put comfort into it. "You need to calm down. Don't let it over take you."
 
Ai calmed down at bit after being brought into a hug, and eventually stopped struggling. Tears started to form in those innocent eyes of hers, for she just wanted to get out of this facility so badly. "I'm...scared.." She actually spoke for the first time. But it was just a shy little whisper, that barely anyone could hear.
 
"I know. I'm scared too whether I look like it or not. No one wants to ever be here." Alice said stilling holding onto her."But you will always have me okay." Alice paused, "Alice. That's my name. What about you?"
 
Notorious arsonist, terrorist, and mad-man Arthur Prince sat across from the Facility's therapist. Even to this day, Lisa Friedmont could not believe that he was actually somebody else, some lost son of the prestigious Norwill firm. He looked like him ; the long blonde hair that had clearly once been part of a military haircut, but had gone to seed years ago, and the blue-green eyes that flickered in the dark light, as if they would glow in utter blackness. The man across from the desk from her's posture was the only indication that he was not Arthur Prince - this was Caleb Norwill. There was a slouch in the chair, a slumped over posture. His long, blonde hair trailed over his shoulders and neck ; wearing nothing but thin, pastel blue scrubs that made him look even thinner than he was. He hadn't been eating again, she noticed with distaste. If she had to call to fore-feed him via drip IV, she would. She had done so before. He was seated across from her, knees pulled up to his thin, faintly stubbled chin. He hadn't been given a razor - they were afraid of what he would do with it - but he didn't seem to be able to grow much more facial hair. Doctor Friedmont privately wondered why they cared about what he was going to do with a razor. What could he do? Cause some of his thin, sickly looking blood to drain out? He'd mend. He always did. Caleb was shaking, Doctor Friedmont noticed. His shoulders were bobbing up and down, and his blue eyes were wide and staring. Caleb Norwill seemed to be focused on nothing, save for, perhaps, his file, which was laid out on her desk.

The pair sat in a small, white cubicle of a room. There were no windows and only one door, the door that led to a hallway of cells and sanitarium. The room was immaculately clean, the whit linoleum floor showed no stains of previous incidents that Doctor Friedmont had with patients. Caleb was different. He was cooperative, and he had been here a very long time - longer than most of the patients. For three years, he had been her patient, and she had not made much progress with him. Doctor Friedmont had come to an understanding about Caleb Norwill though. Like most schizophrenics, his ability to determine the difference between real and unreal was shaky, and these days, it was falling apart entirely. Doctor Friedmont glanced down at the file, tracing a hand across the photo. The man in the photo was more filled out, more healthy looking than the Caleb that sat across from her, but he had the same sort of fearful, shaken expression on his face. She had directly contributed to his current state, and it made her feel a twinge of guilt.She tucked a piece of black hair behind her ear, into her tight bun, brows furrowing over her brown eyes. No. She had done what was to be expected of her, and in the end, perhaps Caleb would benefit. She leaned back in her chrome and black leather chair, identical to the one that Caleb stooped in. She smiled to him, red-lips twitching in a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. Caleb lifted his head, staring at her mouth. He would know the smile was not real. He was perceptive, if not very personable. He had asked her once, not to smile with him, but that had been years ago.

Doctor Friedmont spoke first, as she always had in their sessions. "How do you feel today, Caleb?" It was a pointless question. There were hundreds of other questions she could have asked - better questions - but she was only a trained psychologist pretending to be an actor, playing the role of a trained psychologist. She read the script that they had handed her, and never questioned it. She knew the answer to her question. She had been with Caleb for three years, enough to know his vocal tics, his emotional twitches, the way that his mood ebb'd and flowed like a wave on an ocean. When he had first come to them, he was nineteen and scared. She had seen the changes course through him, guided along by her gentle hand.

He did not reply to her, at first. Caleb was chatty - that was something she had found strange, initially. Doctor Friedmont had previously only dealt with the brand of schizophrenics who had so far withdrawn into themselves that there were no words left in them, nothing to say to the real world - social withdrawal was amongst the most common symptoms of his disorder ; the main one, at least. Doctor Friedmont knew that he had more, all subtle nuances of the main problem. She knew, for instance, that he was agoraphobic, a side-effect of being locked so tightly in such a small cell with nothing but memories of wide open places and the troubles they had caused. She knew that he was prone to depressive episodes - not uncommon amongst schizoid syndrome patients. But he was chatty, which gave Doctor Friedmont the idea that he was not a schizophrenic, but merely social isolated. But after a week or two of therapy ; his delusions had truly hit their stride. Some internalized event from his childhood had sparked them - a pretty girl comparing him to something that went against his ideas. Now that he looked exactly like the thing in question - Arthur Prince - it was only natural that he would develop into the nutcase that he was today. It was unkind of her to think of him like that - but he was one of the hardest people she had ever dealt with. Nobody had ever wanted to be as cured as much as he - and nobody ever was as unlucky.

Doctor Friedmont pitied him. He would outlive them all, this Caleb Norwill. But his life would bring him no joy, his life would be one long agoraphobic nightmare sprinkled with bouts of self-delusion and madness. She had a gun in her pocket, in case he turned violent. It wouldn't do much against him, save for perhaps incapacitate him for a time. Perhaps that would be kinder than asking him questions she knew the answers too. But the Facility was not about kindness. Not in three years. Not ever.

———​
​
Caleb hated being diagnosed. It threw all of his problems into neat little boxes, where the oil from his disorder's severed head seeped through the bottom. It got everywhere, and stucks to all surfaces.Your lost in the past, she would say, its not your past, its somebody else's. You are unbearable. You wear your hurts like your honourless name, and you cannot grow out of it. You are not trusted. You are not anything important. But you could be. You could be somebody great. You could be so much more. But he wasn't. His name was Arthur Fish, and his name was Caleb Norwill. He had been in here for three years if the date on the calendar opposite of him was right. It had been exactly three years. He had come here in February. It had been a week after his birthday. They'd stripped him of his clothes and thrown him into a hospital gown. They'd given him CAT scans and tested his bones with a hammer. They'd placed him in therapy. This was like a birthday that wasn't really a birthday. It was an anniversary. Yes. An anniversary for a short and tragic thing that had happened - the fact that he had been in therapy for three years and they still couldn't come up with a diagnosis.

Caleb clutched to his knees. He had gone three years without sight, and had not eaten or drank. He had journeyed with men and stood motionless as they all moved past him, hearing the voice of some somnambulist god but he had never seen it, never felt in tremble like a scared bird in his hands. When he rose up from the depths of the ocean, and his eyes were open, he aw nothing. And as he journeyed, blind and broken, he came to the shores of his salvation, and suddenly there shone around him a light from heaven. He heard a voice coursing through his mind; 'Why do you fight against me?' He had replied, of course; "Why do you want me?" And the voice had answered him with all of the grace of some sleeping, long buried thing. "Because I am that which you hate; but I have seen that you will rise and enter the city, and you will know what you must do." I have yet to walk into my city, but i have risen, and I will walk with my eyes unclouded, and I will neither eat, nor drink." That was from the Bible. Caleb knew that. He knew the Bible cover-to-cover, back-to-back, book-to-book. He had liked to read. Once upon a time. But that time was over, now. He could not read anymore. His eyes didn't work right any longer.

The psychiatrist was asking him questions. What was her name again? Doctor Friedmont. He had known her for three years and in those three years had suffered from damages and wounds. She was asking him if he was well. No. He was not well. What sort of stupid question was that? He clutched to his legs. There had been a nightmare in the waking hours again, a nightmare that would last forever. It was a waking one - Caleb no longer slept. It was because he was dead. The dead did not dream any longer, they only could linger. He drifted along without knowledge or purpose lost in his mind and dreams. It always started in the same place, a military hospice with white-washed walls and sickbeds. He watched nurses with no faces wheel them away, wheel them to the ends of the earth. And Arthur Prince was there - the Other - with his golden hair and his wide smile, blue eyes like his. His smile. The smile of Caleb Norwill, the smile of the Prince - they were one and the same, which meant they were the same. And he spoke the words to him; words that Caleb knew had been his last words, Prince's last words or his own ; "No king rules forever." He had turned those words over and over, like the autopsy report for his own body. But that was when he could read, and he could not read anymore. It was all gone, now.

Caleb stared back at his therapist with blue-green eyes, faded and flickering. He spoke quietly, but his voice was flat and toneless. The voice of a proper dead-man, somebody who had been dead for a long time. And he had been. He'd been dead or dying slowly for three-years, and not even his words had escaped; "It was a bad day, ma'am." His words were strangely precise, cutting. Disorgranized as his thought patterns were, he could collect himself into rational words for Doctor Friedmont. It was only through a strength that was not quite his, a strength that had belonged to another man, an Arthur Prince ; a man that he knew that he now was. There must always be somebody like him, down to eyes and face and hair and bones and blood and teeth and gums and guts. Once you come to terms with the fact that you do not exist; life suddenly becomes far less essential. The dream of being alive, the memories that living stirs up no longer matter ; the idea that you continue on is the strangeness, and the thing that he struggled with. He tugged his knees up further, adjusting his hands on his knees. They were dirty, bruised knees beneath the scrubs. This, he knew.

She was asking him another question - why today had been bad; but there was a sound, a clatter outside. She swore, the Doctor Friedmont, and stood up from behind her desk. The sound had been more like a scream than a clatter. Caleb had gotten used to screaming. He'd seen a hundred and one men and women still alive and still able to scream go up in smoke ; he knew that sort of scream, the scream of hopeless and no more life. No life - all snuffed out. Caleb would gladly give his life to whoever screamed now. There was no reason to keep on living. There was only a gnawing - the sensation of rats in his stomach. He rubbed at his wrists, feeling the fresh bandages there from where they had bled him. They had cut up his wrists, and let him bleed out. There was nothing in those veins except for dust and fish-guts. He did not know how he was alive, but he did not care. Caleb knew that he was alive for some reason ; an important one. His death was not here - though he longed for it, though he wished it was. Doctor Friedmont was fumbling in her pant-pocket for the gun that Caleb knew she would draw. He'd been shot with it, once before, when the Other had showed his face, and he had been hiding, afraid and unknowing of what would come. But the Other had scooped him up like aways, and carried him to safety.

Doctor Friedmont was shouting orders into a walkie-talkie. Caleb rose from his seat, and glanced her over with his pale eyes, the ones that glowed and burned, the eyes that could not be extinguished no matter what method was used. She raised a hand to him - the one without a gun - and Caleb sat back down. They had reached an understanding, the good doctor and himself. She shouted into the walkie talkie and static responded. Gun in a hand - a little revolver - she turned to the door behind Caleb and whirled it open. In the hall, there was a girl, a girl running down the hall. Behind her, there were scientists in lab-coats, and there was a horrible screaming - the sort of thing that would make a living man's blood curl. The doctor was shocked - shocked enough she dropped gun and walkie-talkie. She was not a soldier. It was only reasonable that she would panic. Caleb slipped out of the chair, and picked up the gun before she even noticed. He glanced at her, with pale green-blue eyes. And he spoke to her, voice cracked and soft ; entirely toneless; "I am sorry. I am so, so sorry." He did not want to shoot her, but the trigger was pulled.

They had an understanding, Doctor Friedmont and himself. The understanding was simple. The understanding was elegant. She was going to die, and he was not ; and it was time that he learn to live with this fact. He should not grieve for the fact that he was dead when they first found him, killed in the the fire. She had told him to get over it. And maybe she was right. But Caleb could not help but feeling a sense of obligation for her - she had tried to help him, and she had so desperately failed. So instead of his original dark (the intimate space between ear and cranium, a hard shot for the fortunate, a worse shot for the unlucky) he shot her in the leg. And then he ran. He ran after the girl, dreaming all the while of another girl - a girl he had known once, who was gone now; married with spawn. He ran after her, all the while knowing that this action had been rash, this action had been foolish. But it had been three years, and the suffocation was becoming too much to bear. There would never be freedom - but there had to be escape. Perhaps there would be another scientist. Perhaps he could strangle Crombeck. Which one? It did not matter, girl or man. But he ran - he ran after Fayte, and had he known her name, he would have thought her named well.
 
They slowly removed the mask that covered his face, allowing him to breathe much better than when he was contained in the whole head blind fold. He looked at his supposed doctor and smiled saying " Hello doc " his head then shaking and he blurted out " FUCKING DOCTOR! " then he returned to normal again. the doctor smirked and handed him his usual pills and he placed them in his mouth taking them down without water, they stood him up and brought him out and let him go. He shook his head adjusting his hair, he walked down the long hallway chuckling.
 
Fay ran for a long time, her mind racing faster then her legs. She was thinking of everything to inspire her and will her to go on farther. She was thinking of her family, the family who had once been so perfect and loved her so much, but now thought she was a horrible monster. She was remember how thing had been before this horrible place, how she had been. She hadn't been addicted to any drugs before she came, but these ones held a certain power over her, she had seem or believed in things that weren't there, things that never had and never would be there. No, she had been a happy girl, she hadn't had depression or anxiety or all her other labels until she came here, she had friends and a loving family, but that was already gone now, nothing would ever be the same for Fay. Tears began to form in Fay's eyes as she thought about how things used to be, but it made her stronger and more willing to run away from the monsters who had done this to her, it made her angry.

Fay slowed down, not because she was tired but because she had heard something she had never heard in the facility...A gun shot? No that couldn't be right she didn't know of any workers or doctors that had ever used a gun on a patient... She continued running again, she was now a little ways ahead of the workers that were chasing her so she decided to slow down to give her body a break. It was then that she noticed she was being followed by someone else, but it wasn't a doctors or a worker. She stopped in her tracks and turned around to meet whoever it was, it was a man, a patient like herself.

She simply looked at him for a while, trying to figure out whether or not she knew him. That was when she saw something within him, something strange that made her wonder whether it was real or not. It was....It had to be. She thought trying to figure out exactly what she saw in him, it was something dark, something that didn't belong but had worked its way into his mind and even into his personality. But no, it wasn't a demon like she normally saw in people, it was an idea. "I can see something..." She started but stopped when she heard more footsteps behind them. "We have to get out of here." Fay whispered as the footsteps became louder and more clear.
 
"Ai..." She whispered again. She suddenly started to scream very loudly again, her scream getting louder and higher-pitched by the moment. The workers covered their ears again, but like always, that wasn't going to work. "Got dammit, what's wrong with her!?" One of the workers yelled in frustration, barging into the room Ai and Alice were in. The worker's ears instantly started to bleed out, as he covered his ears even tighter. Even more windows in the facility started to shatter, the longer she screamed.


Ai stopped screaming for a moment, and started to struggle once more. Then she screeched like a banshee again, as the worker ran out of the room and soon out of the facility, not able to take or stand it any longer. Ai suddenly went silent after about 5 minutes of screaming. Her body went limp, and her heart rate slowed by the second. She didn't say or move after that. No, she wasn't dead, she just did not have the strength anymore to use her powers, because now that drug had effected her whole body-- including her powers. It basically made her powers go haywire, and it even made them dangerously stronger.
 
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Alice continued to hold onto Ai as she screamed; partly grabbing her a little harder trying to bare through the screams. Once Ai stopped Alice let go. "Let's get out of this room, at least for a little while." Alice said, she motioned the fact that she would help Ai walk around; knowing that she didn't have much strength left. She just thought it would be easier for Ai if she got out of that terrible room. That's usually why Alice wonders around all the time. She may be unable to leave the place but that doesn't mean she should be stuck in a small agonizing room all the time.
 
Ai trembled a bit, staring at Alice with those huge, innocent eyes of hers. "I want to go back home..I miss mommy and daddy..." Ai whispered shakingly, as tears formed in her eyes again. She held her head down low, not wanting anyone to see her face. She sniffled, and tears ran down her cheeks. The light made it glimmer, since it was so bright in this room.
 
Alice raised her hand out, touching Ai check raising her head up to her. "You don't have to hide. Cry all you want in front of me. I'm your friend now." Alice whispered softly to her. "I don't know what it's like to miss parents but I'm sure it hurts." She paused, "But I want you to just think of me as....as a older sister. Alright?" Alice said, hoping this would help Ai; maybe if she had someone that seem like family it would help her feel better.
 
Spitting some pills on the floor he lifted up his wrists and looked at the metal cuffs allowing them to break off of them he looked at the female and chuckled " and we're we going " his head shook " yeah were we fucking going " his head shaking again " im sorry " he said sliding his hands into his pockets walking towards her as a scream echoed around.
 
She started to sob, reaching her tiny arms out to Alice. "I wanna go home..!" Ai cried. A worker came in, his face red. "Can you shut up!? You're never going home! You'll never get to see your mommy and daddy ever again!" The worker yelled, Ai quickly got silent just by hearing that, and looked down. She'd completely lost her fate about getting out of this hell hole.
 
Alice's blood suddenly began to boil. She was angry; very angry. "Shut up!" She yelled at the worker. "How could you say that. She's just a little girl." Alice clenched her fingers, wanting to punch the guy. She began to run at him, swinging her hand to punch him; there go her anger issues. She always got into fights with people.
 
"Alice...?" Ai whispered softly, calling her name for the first time. "How would you feel.." She whispered again, looking up at the guard. "..If I threw him out of the window for saying that..?" Ai asked, tilting her head to the side. The guard got frightened, attempting to dodge Alice's punches.
 
Alice quickly stopped throwing punches, turning to Ai for a second. "That would be great." Alice said with a smile, "But I have a better idea." Alice turned back to the worker; grabbing his face with her hands, holding him there. She looked into his eyes. "Go throw yourself out that window." She demanded. This is what was so dangerous about Alice. The workers had no choice but to do what she said when she put thoughts into their minds. Of course she had to be able to look in their eyes to do it. That's why when she's in her other personality they usually covered her eyes.
 
Caleb glanced over a the girl, still clutching at his psychiatrist's gun. It had five bullets left in it, and it wasn't likely to do him much good - he would be a worthless shot after three-years of no practice. He could have strangled the psychiatrist. He didn't, but he could've. He managed passiveness, or a facade of it at the very least. The idea of shooting somebody with a gun seemed to reflect a much more pertinent lack of involvement - but he could have strangled her. He could have, easily. He'd strngled people before, hadn't he? He could recall closing the wind-pipes of men, before. Strangling generally require disparate differences in strength between victim and victimizer, and he was strong despite how he looked. Or perhaps because of how he looked. If they had stripped every trace of Arthur Prince away from him, he would have been nothing more than thin and sickly - with faded blue eyes gone blind. But something had happened, something had possessed him and made him unable to die ; but he already had. He could recount the moment of his death perfectly, and had many times before. But strangulation had not been the cause. He had not been strangled, he had been stabbed. There was a scar on his chest from where the knife's tip had been ; that wasn't genetic material, there was no way to replicate that. Caleb had died and he wasn't crazy for believing that he was. He -wasn't-.

The girl was talking now; the girl with red-hair like strawberries. Where had she gotten the dye from, he wondered? He'd tried to dye his hair, begged them to let him die it, but they wouldn't let him. Caleb understood why, now. Blonde hair was for Princes, and he was a prince. The psychiatrist, God bless her soul, simply wanted him to understand that there was no running from who you were. Caleb understood that, now. There no escaping your fate. He had lived a life where he dragged his feet to follow through with fate, so he believed now, wrapped in the comfort of his death, he was finally following through with exactly what was expected of him. Oh, no, he thought. The girl would see, the girl would see. With one hand, he covered his face, peeling his fingers apart only so that he could see through them. She musn't see his face, because he was not Caleb, he was Arthur, and Arthur had a face that had been plastered on every billboard in every airport, every office, every school in the world. If you see this man, report him. If you see this man, stop him. He hadn't wanted to bomb those people, he hadn't wanted to do anything like that. But that was what happened, and to deny his involvement would be to deny everything. There were footsteps behind them, footsteps chasing them. Funny men in white coats who weren't all that fun. They'd only ever hit him once, when he had first come here, and tried to fight.

But Caleb had reached an understanding with the Facility. He had been here a long time, longer than most anybody else. He knew the insides and outsides of the Facility, and thus, he knew that each of the retainers, the subduers, the people who beat people down to their cores; each had a key in a pocket sewn to the front of their labcoats. It wouldn't take much effort to shoot them, kill them, and and loot their bodies. But his hand was shaking on the gun, and he could not pull the trigger. So he waited. He stopped dead in his tracks and let the retainers run up to him - they with their shocks and tranquilizer darts - guns and clubs. It wouldn't matter. He could always get up again. They ran towards him, and he waited until the first one appeared. He caught him by the neck, thumbs pressing against the sides of his tendons and arteries. He felt around the mans neck, andfound what he was looking for. It was called a 'button'. It was the button that shut off everything, all life, all process. Death in the flesh, that was Arthur Prince, and thus, that was Caleb Norwill. He pushed down hard on the man's neck, hearing the veins burst. There were hundreds of other strangulations that flashed before his eyes. How many lives, how many memories, all ended with one vice-like grip. He threw the guard aside, and looked at the other two retainers. They looked at one another, and then, at him. They shot tasers out, but he ignored it, when they stuck him with the little motes of electricity.

There was pain, of course there was pain. A white, hot searing pain. But he merely struggled forward through it, as Princes had always done, since they stood in ivory coloured castles. He struggled forward, and aimed his gun. And they ran. They did not see the shaking of his hands, or the palsy in his shoulders. They saw a man with a gun who wished to murder them. And he did. He wanted to see them die, because when things died around him, it gave his life some meaning, or indicated a passage of time that had long since been forgotten. But they fled. His psychiatrist had limped back into her office, and shut the door. Good. He would have hated to kill her. He did not want to hurt her. They had an understanding. Caleb knelt down to the body that he had killed - the one that was no just meat and chemicals. He removed the other gun, and stuck it in the hemline of his pants. Who cared if it went off? He would get hurt, and perhaps he would die. But that would be that, and that would be over. He glanced over his shoulder, to see if the girl was still there. He hoped she was. He could not see though, because he could not read. He began rummaging through the man's pockets, looking for a key. ​
 
The worker nodded in fear, instantly running towards the window, and leaping out of it. Ai giggled, clapping her hands in an adorable way. Another worker entered the room, walking towards Ai. He removed the chains that were attached to her. "Listen, don't tell anyone that I did this..okay?" He whispered. Ai nodded, as the worker began to walk out of the room. Alice hopped out of the chair, barely able to stand on her feet.
 
Alice ran over to Ai; grabbing her to steady her. "Come on, let's get out of this room." Alice said, she motioned to walk forward; helping Ai along the way. She didn't even look back to she the window the worker ran out of. He deserved it she thought. Anyone who treated a person like how they treated Ai deserved death. What gave them the right to do these experiments on people. Just because they were better than them? Just because they had these abilities and they didn't? What was the real reason they began this facility anyway? Just to make Ai, Alice herself and others suffer.
 
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