Every morning afterwards for nearly two months, Brian was taken from his cell; along with the others whom were 'not dangerous', and joined up with his block. They had begun a project; apparently a high threat level mutant was coming and they needed a specialized cell. With two of the other quickly growing blocks, they had managed to dig a large, square pit that was probably nearing a few hundred feet deep. Their rapid work was outstanding, but logical. You don't work- you don't eat. And when you only got one meal a day, this meal became increasingly important.

The daily routine became cemented in over the weeks leading up to this point. Every day since the tattooing, he was awoken by a screech-like sound that was blasted into the cells. Shortly after, a guard would escort him outside where he would take an old, rusted shovel from a pile directly outside.

The next twelve hours were spent digging with the others. Of course, periodically they were given a short break, but it never seemed to last long enough. Then as the late winter sun would begin to set, they were sent back to the cells.

Ice's eager electric eyes always greeted him as he arrived back in his cell. A volley of questions always greeted him, but he usually replied in mere single syllable answers.

A tray of food was then brought, which he would devour hungrily. The meal consisted usually of something his school wouldn't even deem fit to serve in the cafeteria, but he welcomed it with open arms.

After the tray was collected, Brian liked to look at the stars through the crack in his ceiling. He would occasionally ask Ice about his school or his life, but recently the conversations had begun to dwindle. Tough he was reluctant to admit this of his friend, but Brian was beginning to worry about Ice getting depressed. His thoughts seemed to constantly drift back to his girlfriend, Rogue, whom with every passing day he was able to convince himself of her death. Upon occasion, deep into the night, Ice could be heard mumbling about Rogue, and two fellows named John and Logan. Sometimes the names of others joined in the lonely soliloquy

And then everything would begin all over again after a few hours of sleep. Day after day, which turned slowly into week after week.

Every so often an execution would take place, but for the time they were far and few between. Whenever they did occur, all of the prisoners would be forced to witness the death; which was sometimes slow, other times instantaneous. Since he had been in the camp, Brian had witnessed four deaths, including the first and quite remember-able guillotine death. The guillotine still stood in its place, far from the bunkers, but close enough that the silhouette was clearly visible. It was a viable threat, but primarily a tool used for fear not necessarily death. Sure it was effective, but one of the guns each of the soldiers carried was just as effective.

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By the time they entered the middle of the second month in camp, the large structure was completed. It was still just a really large geometric hole in the ground, but when it had been examined by a group of inspectors clad in dusty lab coats, they had pronounced it satisfactory.

The group had then moved over several hundred yards and began work on a bunker quite similar to their own, except it was underground. Other blocks were doing the same thing, in various places scattered around the camp. Whatever they were expecting to capture, it was going to be a lot of it.

As the buildings progressed, Brian noticed a lot of the cells were being specially fitted. One had thick, soundproof walls; while another was fitted with a system to fill with water once it reached a certain temperature. Others were specified to instantly release a poisonous gas if the walls were ever cut more than a quarter inch. One was simply incased in mirrors.

The cell that really caught Brian's eye was the original they had began work on. Suspended from the large pit was a tiny room made of what appeared to be plastic. Perhaps it was glass, he couldn't really tell from far away. He wondered who was going in that cell, and why were they so important to cause such an enormous effort over the building a 'proper' cell.

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But then today was different. For the first time in nearly three months, no one came to remove him from his cell. Brian could still hear a few people outside and the occasional sound of a guard walking down the bunker's halls, but no one came for him. Once he began to realize this, he sat up to talk to Ice, whom normally tried to sleep in.

Ice was gone.

Brian was shocked. Ice never went anywhere; in fact, he hadn't left his cell once in three months. Getting worried, things began to dawn on Brian. Ice had been growing more and more depressed recently maybe he had…. No… No, Ice wouldn't do that, would he? No, that was silly. Ice was in an empty cell, just like his own. There wasn't anything in there besides the walls and floor, certainly nothing one could use for suicide... But, had he ever actually asked Ice what his mutation was? Brian didn't recall ever doing so. He had always assumed it was just something to do with ice, but he wasn't completely sure…

He sat there propped up against the smudged steel walls of his cell for hours. Brian was bored and had long since pushed the mystery of Ice's fate into a far corner of his mind. Now, he simply thought of home. Though he realized this was selfish, he knew there was nothing he could do for Ice anyway.

Brian's thoughts swirled back to Kelly. Right about now they would be waling home, maybe to his house o study, maybe hers. Then of course they didn't really seem to get that much studying in when they met anymore.

Or maybe it wasn't after school yet. The day seemed to crawling past at a snail's pace, but maybe perhaps it was still morning. He could be in English, with Miss Safstrom, the hippie. Oh, how many times they had made cracks about her and her Zen-like ideas. Or maybe he was suppose to be in math, another class he shared with Kelly. Unfortunately he shared it with a few of his friends to so he didn't spend much time with her.

He closed his eyes and began to envision himself in class, sitting next to her. He gently reached his hand over and clasped hers in it. Her long pale fingers were a sharp contrast to her vivid purple nails. At his touch she turned, looking surprised. She gave a crooked half smile and flipped her red locks over her shoulder. The teacher, Mr. Perkins, paused from his droning lecture to give them a look.

"Kelly!" He scolded. Her attention snapped back toward the thirty-some teacher and where he stood by the whiteboard. She gave his hand another little squeeze before releasing it.

Brian smiled and paid no attention to the rest of the lesson, he just studied Kelly as she dutifully continued to take notes on whatever it was Mr. Perkins found so fascinating in his monotonous voice. Then the bell rang for sixth period and….

He snapped open his eyes. Blinking rapidly, the first thing Brian noticed was that it was night. He bit his lip, it had seemed so real, and he had found himself believing it.

But the ringing of the bell had been real, he realized. In the cell next to him – not Ice's former cell, but the one on the opposite side—there was now an occupant.

Curious, Brian called out a questioning hello to them. When he received no reply, Brian sat up. His entire body hurt, and he le out a mild groan. Once fully up on his knees, he peered through the little window.

A pre-teen girl sat in a dirty pile against the opposite wall. Brian called out a quiet, questioning greeting to her again. This time as small face encircled with matted brown hair looked up to meet his. Brian introduced himself then asked her name. She told him that it was Megan, after what seemed to be much consideration.

Brian quietly talked to her for a little bit longer, until she fell asleep.

Shortly after, Brian did as well.