"Welcome, to the Black Order Maximum Security Prison. You are the teens here for our Scared Straight Program, right?" The warden, Inspector Leverrier, stood in front of the embarrassingly large group of teens and pre-teens.

He was a tall, cruel looking man either in his late forties or early fifties. He had a frightening smile on his face that seemed welcoming enough, but seemed to hide a sadistic happiness.

It was unnerving; at least, it was to Allen Walker. He was probably enjoying his first look at the "fresh meat" that he would one day probably welcome back as prisoners at the prison instead of nasty schoolchildren.

"This is the assistant warden, Howard Link," Leverrier said, gesturing to the man standing next to him.

Beside him was a much younger man maybe in his early twenties. He had two dots tattooed on his forehead, one above the other similar to something you might see on an Indian woman. These tattoos were almost covered by his long bangs. He had long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. He had a serious look on his face as he furiously scribbled something down in his notebook.

He barely looked up from his writing as he broke his silence saying, "This conversation is going in the report."

Leverrier gave a wry smile. "As this is a serious government program, there needs to be a report documenting what happens while you're here. That's what he will be doing for the duration of your visit. Now follow me to our first stop on the tour."

Leverrier turned and, with Link and the group following after him, began walking off.

Yes, Allen was in a high-security prison taking part in its famous Scared Straight Program. Why, you ask? He was wondering the same thing. At his school a boy had broken into the janitor's closet, stole the cleaning supplies and made a rudimentary bomb out of it.

He had asked Allen to come along because Allen knew how to pick locks. He had told Allen that the janitor had confiscated something really important to him and asked Allen to help. It wasn't until later that Allen realized what the boy had really been up to and by then it was too late.

The boy, as the perpetrator, got sent to juvie and since Allen didn't do much, he would only be forced to take part in this program. Allen knew he was lucky, but he still didn't like it.

I didn't do anything wrong. I hadn't known what that guy was planning! Allen thought venomously, but he just sighed. I just have to get through this and then I can get home and put all this behind me.

Even though he would never admit it, being in a place with all these convicted felons was scaring him to no end. Who knew what they were in for? They spent the next few hours going around to different facilities and then they talked to a few convicts about what they had done and what they wish they could do over again. Finally, it was time for lunch which they ate in the cafeteria.

"Usually," Leverrier started, "The prisoners would eat in here now, but as there are innocents here today, they won't be leaving their cells until tomorrow." Half of the people in the group scoffed when Leverrier said innocents, including the man himself.

Allen wished he was eating with his best friend from school, Lenalee, but a good girl like her would never have any reason to be brought to a place like this. Even if she did, her overprotective brother who, by the way, had a serious sister complex would never have allowed it.

Allen walked around the small area of the very large cafeteria that was designated for the group to eat in. Though they said that they didn't need much eating space since the group was small in numbers, he decided that the adults just wanted to keep them all in a small area so they could watch every move anyone in the group made.

He was carrying a large amount of food looking for a place to sit. Not that there wasn't anywhere to sit, there were actually quite a few spaces, but Allen was worried about who he sat near. Its probably to be expected since all of the people here are in danger of becoming real criminals, but a lot of the people in the group scared the hell out of him.

From the seventeen-something boy mutilating the chicken on his plate in classic overkill fashion to the kid near his age who looked normal enough, but had these soulless, empty eyes that makes you back away slowly. Even the nerdy looking kid at the corner of one of the tables was a budding psychopath.

He looked pathetic enough, but as Allen passed behind him, he caught sight of the nerd drawing a picture of the person sitting next to him. It wasn't just any picture either. It looked, to Allen's horror, like the boy in the picture had been bloodied and bruised with the words "I WAS WEAK" carved in his back. Allen had barely thought about the psycho nerd's impressive drawing skills as he sped away from him.

Suddenly, he caught sight of a much older teen sitting by himself at a back table...eating soba noodles? "Hey, can I sit here?" Allen asked placing his tray on the table across from the man, giving his best smile.

The man looked up giving him a death glare. "No." That's all he said, but the harshness in just that one syllable was astounding. Allen was thrown by this, but decided to ignore it and sit down anyway. "Hey, didn't you hear what I said?" The man barked finally looking from his soba.

Allen was surprised by how good-looking he was. He was obviously Japanese and had long black hair tied back into a ponytail perched high atop his head. His features were beautiful and delicate almost like a girl's would be except for that glare of his.

"You don't own the table. I can sit where I like." Allen said simply, closing his eyes and beginning to eat. Grumbling, the man closed his eyes and continued to eat. "So...what's your name?" Allen asked, the silence making him uncomfortable.

"Kanda…" The man grunted almost inaudibly.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Allen."

"Shut up, Moyashi!" Kanda nearly yelled, the boy was getting on his nerves.

"It's not Moyashi, it's Allen!" Allen yelled back.

"Shut it!" Kanda repeated. He pulled out a long, sharp knife almost like a sword and held it toward him. "If you don't shut up, I'll cut you with Mugen!"

He named his pocketknife? Allen thought mockingly, but he was very quiet after that.

No worries, I'll introduce Lavi in the next chapter, okay?