"No great mind has ever existed without a touch of madness." –Aristotle


"I believe in what we're doing here, Mr. Stanton. Just a few more months; just a little more funding."

The man in the trim gray suit smiled in what appeared to be a benevolent manner, but the eyes did not match. "I appreciate everything you've done, Dr. Jensen, but do you honestly believe we're going to find what we're looking for in a pack of crazy people?"

Grimacing internally at his tone, one of which calmed and cajoled the best of them when it, in fact, held thinly veiled threats, Doctor Eliza Jensen stretched her own mouth into a politician's smile. "Sir," she said sweetly, "I do believe that, and I am disappointed you feel that way, considering your own history."

Stanton's piercing dark eyes flashed and narrowed. "Careful, Doctor."

"I assure you, I am."

The darkness receded from the man's expression, and he leaned back with his smile in place. There was something distinctly lupine about his grin. "Alright, Eliza, I'll see what you can do. But remember: time is the only thing I do not have an abundance of."

"Of course, Mr. Stanton."


It was on time. The flicker of the lights, Doctor Volkov was sure of it. Every forty-two seconds, they would quiver. It was such an annoyance Volkov found himself closing his eyes.

"Valentin? Are you in here?"

He took a moment to breath, lids shut, before calling out to Eliza. "Yes, I am."

She entered the dimly lit room, white coat standing out like it was florescent much like his own. Honestly, if Valentin Volkov was more of a violent man, he would probably kill the Institute's electrician.

Face creased with worry, Eliza immediately began pacing. "Stanton dropped by."

Great. Just what Volkov needed today. "Oh really? Business or pleasure?"

She made a face. "All business as usual. He wants us to speed up on our work, or else."
"Yes," Volkov scoffed, "The old 'I'll pull the funding' threat. The man's unoriginal; aged intimidations lose their effectiveness."

"We can't continue research without money, Valentin—even you must admit that."
In response, he simply shrugged. "Let's go over the files, shall we? See if we can find any promising candidates."

Eliza nodded, pulling up her tablet, screen blooming to electronic life with a few swipes. A picture of a boy took over the screen, skin pale and messy hair dark. His boyish, lopsided grin looked uncharacteristically innocent.

"Collin Tindolle, 19, Antisocial Personality Disorder." Jensen read aloud.

"Dangerous?" Volkov questioned, examining the boy's dead looking eyes, color like cool steel.

"Yes, very. I believe he can also be diagnosed as psychotic."

"He'll be a fun one, I think."

"Hmm," she mused, swiping to the side. A girl with long white blonde hair and a paper-like delicate face flashed onto the screen. She was very petite with a smile like the Mona Lisa. Dr. Volkov had to glance away before his mind could plummet into memories. Nostalgia, like any drug, was better in small doses.

"Evelyn Sawyer, 16. We don't really know what disorder she has—extreme PTSD maybe. Dissociative Amnesia, repression of memories; whatever it is, she's been thoroughly traumatized."

"How horrible." Volkov deadpanned.

The next image was of another girl, the opposite of Evelyn with dark, nearly black, hair and eyes. She looked, unlike the others, very solemn. Volkov got the feeling she would be timid in person.

"Her name is Avery Caulfield, 18. She suffers from Paranoia, Social Anxiety, and ADD."

Frowning, he tried to imagine the girl hurting someone, but couldn't quite manage it. "She doesn't seem dangerous in the least."

Eliza smiled. "Avery doesn't like doctors, and the last one who spoke to her nearly died."

He lifted a dark eyebrow, mildly surprised.

"Although," Eliza said, "In contrast to the previous two, she's never killed anyone."

Changing the picture, a girl with a broad and normal smile popped up. Her skin was dark, but not as dark as her hair, which was in a curly afro. Her eyes twinkled brightly, almost daringly. "This is Kenya Anderson, 19. While high-functioning, she's been diagnosed with Paranoia, Depersonalization Disorder, and Antisocial Personality Disorder. There is a possibility of other mental illnesses as well, but Miss Kenya is not an easy one to diagnose."

Seeing her challenging expression, Volkov believed he would heed that advice. Images switched, and a girl's stare bore out at them. There was something about her dark gaze that was sharp and piercing, and she was unsmiling, face half shrouded by wavy black hair.

"Clarissa Lightwood, 18. She's currently diagnosed with Depression, Panic Disorder, Agoraphobia, and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Like Avery, she's never killed anyone, but her panic attacks cause her to become quite violent."

"That seems to be a theme," he remarked.

Swiping across the screen, Eliza brought up a picture of an elegant looking boy, sandy hair parted carefully and mouth pursed in what appeared to be vexation. "Anthony Belmonte, 18. While no official diagnosis has been made, we suspect some type of Dissociative disorder. He murdered his grandfather and now claims innocence."

"That sounds more like a criminal issue than a mental one."

Eliza shrugged. "His rich parents wanted him put here. If we can help him, we should try. The money doesn't exactly hurt either."

Another picture flared into view. A girl with smooth, caramelized skin and dark hair cut close to her head stood smiling into the camera. It was a small smile, seemingly conflicted.

"She's Phoebe Davenport, 17, though her other personalities go by Fiona and Ava. She suffers from Disassociation Identity Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, and, when she's Fiona, Sex Addiction."

Volkov didn't quite know what to make of that. "Sounds like quite the character."

"Indeed," Eliza agreed, switching the photo to the next patient, a young man whose untamed black hair was flipped into his vision. He was darkly tanned, and glared stoically at whoever took the picture with lightless hazel eyes.

"Here we have Morgan Reed, 19. Sleepwalking and Sleep Terror Disorder, Paranoia, and Anti-Social Personality Disorder. He seems to hold a genuine dislike of most people upon meeting them."

"You and Morgan have that in common then."

Choosing to ignore his snide comment, she moved on to the next photo, which showed a girl with long dark brown hair and bright blue eyes smoldered with a gray tint. They were rather lovely, in his opinion, and her grin revealed straight white teeth.

"Lilly Eden, 19. Her known disorders are Anorexia and Intermittent Explosive Disorder, and we have to assume she's a threat. Lilly attacked her own brother with a knife; luckily, he survived."

Valentin didn't say anything, but he decided Lilly would be worth looking into once extensive evaluations began.

Flipping to the last image, Valentin recognized the enigmatic yet completely self-assured grin of one Griffin Foster.

"You know Griffin," Eliza said, "but for consistency's sake, we'll run through the diagnosis. Antisocial Personality Disorder, though he lacks the impulsiveness generally present with this illness, and Narcissistic Personality Disorder. He exhibits a multitude of other symptoms that could go under a number of mental disorders, but diagnosis is a difficult process due to the fact he so often changes his behavior."

Volkov snorted. "Oh trust me, I know all about that."

Eliza rolled her eyes. "Don't be so bitter; he stabbed you one time."

"I remember it quite well, thank you. Are the others safe to interact with him?"

"No, but they're more than capable of holding their own." She laid down the tablet. "We have an exceptional group this time."

"Yes. Pray they don't murder us in our sleep."

"I'm more worried about them killing each other."

Volkov rolled his shoulders, ignoring the incessant flickering of the lights. "Saves us the trouble of weeding out the weak."

Her pale eyes glittered. "It could have been us, you know."

Barely biting back his irritation, he snapped, "It wasn't."

"Easy," she warned, "Evaluations begin tomorrow. I need you on your best behavior."

"Scout's honor." he said, smiling without any warmth, "Besides, I've always liked that part."


A/N: Hello everybody! So there's the introductory chapter; I apologize for the rapid fire way I introduced the characters, but any lengthier than that and it would have taken multiple chapters.

I have two important questions for you guys: in the upcoming chapters, how many POVs should I write from, and what characters would you like to hear from next? It's perfectly okay to say your own, but you also have to pick another that doesn't belong to you.