Light.
A small sliver of light, yes, but light nonetheless.
Where it comes from, no one knows. Perhaps it's all in his imagination, perhaps it's from one of the mutants, perhaps it's real.
No one knows anything anymore.
The young sand mutant assumes it's morning, his sense of time forgotten, lost into the curtain of darkness. It's colder, now, perhaps since Winter is galloping towards them steadily, the promise of snow and chill on its mind? Regardless, he hears the mutants around him shift, yawn, sneeze.
So yes, morning indeed.
In the morning, the cell doors open for those who are considered 'stable', or those who are too terrified to try anything suspicious. The sand teen hears ten doors open, and the sound of shuffling feet as they're escorted into the cafeteria located…somewhere.
Again, no one knows anything, since they're told nothing.
Next, the cell doors open for those who are less inclined to fight but may do so if not supervised. Twenty doors open. Twenty pairs of feet shuffle under the watchful gaze of Government agents.
Now, the cell doors open for those who have fought and tried to escape, to no avail. Five doors open, including the sand teen's. He gets up from his slouched position on the floor and walks through the darkness, a red dot firmly placed on his head. His hands are raised, his gaze straight, the only evidence of nervousness his nibbling of his bottom lip. He reaches the far wall and feels around for the door he's supposed to go through.
By the time he finds it, the last set of cells open, and he rushes in as the most dangerous mutants attempt to kill their way through.
Thirty cell doors he hears open, before the door he just went through shuts firmly closed.
He blinks as bright lights suddenly flick on, stumbles as he isn't used to walking quite yet. The cafeteria he's put into this time has a ceiling made out of lights, windows lining the left wall and agents lining the right. There are ten, twenty foot long tables with chairs spaced three feet from each other, for safety.
The mutants and him stand still for a few moments, before the agents disperse and a bell rings, confirmation for the mutants to move and converse to their delight for ten minutes.
Almost instantly, talking ensues, as friends new and old take seats beside each other, waiting as the food gets its final touches.
The young sand mutant heads for the table nearest the window, takes a seat and waits for his oldest and only friend in the whole warehouse. As he waits, he looks out the windows, towards the tall, confident apartment buildings which used to hold many people, towards the now abandoned cars lining the streets, some striking other cars, others trees and buildings. He looks towards the sky and takes in the clouds, the sun, the birds.
He loves this cafeteria. If the mutant's are especially good, they get put into this one.
The only reminder of who they once were.
He closes his eyes and enjoys the suns rays until—
'Boing, boing, boing'
"Yo, Fork man, what's up?" A dry, sarcastic voice asked. Fork smiled and whipped around.
"Blair! My man! Nice to see ya!" He grinned toward his small mutant sheep friend, whose large, black round eyes peered up at him with mirth.
The young sand teen, Fork, picked up his sheep friend, Blair, and placed him on the seat to the left of himself. They head butted carefully, as this was their secret handshake, and laughed.
Fork patted his sheep friend's head fondly, earning him an angry grumble. Blair, being a three foot tall sheep, was the smallest mutant in the whole building. His small, perfectly circle head was a stark contrast to his huge, white fluffy body, like a cloud. He stood on four legs, which were as thin as tiny sticks, so skinny he couldn't actually walk on them, and instead jumped. Jumping, however, caused a little 'boing' noise to emit as soon as he left the ground, and it causes many teasings from many mutants.
Who instantly shut up as soon as they see Blair's death glare.
Blair also has a tiny button tail and two tiny ears. His eyes are perfectly circle, with the eye itself almost taking up the whole circle, and his pupil doing the same.
But, whenever Fork teased Blair on it, the sheep would attempt to bite the young sand mutant, who would snap his hand back and nearly miss the sheep's surprisingly sharp teeth.
A sudden slam was heard, as secret doors open on the wall where the agents once stood, and agents came out carrying plates of food, each one assigned to a different mutant. Blair got a plate full of fresh cut grass, and Fork got a plate full of rocks.
Yum.
"So," Blair starts, as he chews his grass rather loudly. "Did you hear that mutant kid going crazy again last night?" He inquires, tilting his head towards Fork.
Fork nodded. "He's right next to me, so I hear him the most. I wonder what they'll put on him this time." He says, taking a handful of rocks and shoving them into his sandy mouth.
"Yeah," Blair laughs. "We'll know soon, since the kid screams about each and every item every night."
Fork hums in agreement, his sandpapery mouth quickly wearing down the sharp, hard rocks into little crumbs, which fall down his throat and into his stomach.
"Do you know what his name is, or who his brothers are?" Fork asks, staring out towards the other mutants.
"Dunno. Heard from our fellow mind mutants that his name is 'Raphael', but you know those guys. Who the hell knows if they're lying or not. Regardless, no one knows who his bros are, or if they're even alive, which I doubt. But you never know, maybe they're sitting among us."
"Maybe." Fork mutters in agreement, watching as Blair takes another mouthful of his…delicious grass.
But who's he to judge, he eats rocks. Delicious rocks.
As they talk amongst themselves, the bell to finish eating rings, and all the mutants stand up as the agents approach and check them for weapons (rocks!). After that, the agents put blindfolds over their eyes and escorts them to the medical room, which is somewhere in this building.
Still blindfolded, the agents take blood samples, temperatures, and whatever else they do before leading them back to their cells. When the blindfolds are removed, they all go back to the curtain of darkness, where they lie.
In two hours or so, they'll be taken outside for a bit at different intervals. Monitored, of course.
As he slouches against the back of his cell (which is who the hell knows where in this darkness), a voice speaks out from said darkness.
"Hey you, weirdo, get me outta here." The voice angrily hisses, demanding.
The young sand mutant glanced briefly over to the right of his cell and sighed.
It's gonna be a long two hours.