Chapter 24

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My head feels thick and foggy with drowsiness the first few times I try to wake, but eventually I am able to open my eyes without feeling exhaustion.

I take in the concrete ceiling above me, the hard, lumpy bed beneath me, and the sound of water dripping. Confused, I turn my head to inspect the rest of the room.

More like cell.

Other than the cot I am laying on, there is only a bare toilet and naked faucet, which drips on the floor near the back corner of the cell. A quarter of the cell is wet with the dripping water and something like oil drifting in the puddles of it. The whole thing is probably ten by ten feet, but feels like way less due to the bars lined with small spikes across the only open wall.

There isn't even a window.

I've been changed into some type of grey jumpsuit with the numbers '098' scrawled in white across the chest and back.

"Hello?" My voice is scratchy and gravelly with sleep, so I clear my throat and try again.

"Shut up," a male voice snaps quietly in the next cell over. "Or you'll call the guards over. They never have anything to do other than beat us."

I grab the bars, ignoring the spikes that jab into my palms, and pull with all of my strength. I knew working my mental abilities would lessen my enhanced senses, but it shouldn't make me unable to break the bars yet.

"The cell is lined with the minimizer chemical," the guy says in response to hearing my failed attempts. "None of us have any powers."

"Great," I grumble. "How did I get here?"

The guy scoffs. "Superior brought you in. How strong are your powers if they have to send the big guns to take you down?"

"Not strong enough," I huff, remembering how the black-suited super had knocked me out cold so easily.

He barks out a laugh. "Apparently not. I'm Plasma — Plaz for short."

I almost face palm, but manage to restrain myself. "Fate is a cruel mistress," I joke sourly.

"How do you mean?"

"You almost burned my arm off the other day."

"No shit?" Plaz laughs a little too loud. "You put up a good fight, no doubt. So, you got some, what, telepathic screaming thing?"

I sigh, again looking around the concrete cell for anything I could use as a way out, but give up and slide down the wall instead. Defeat drips from my voice. "I don't know, Plaz. Right now, I feel like my main power is failure."

Turns out, I woke up just a little before breakfast time. The guards come by and force us out of our cells with hard shoves. We're herd like cattle down multiple flights of stairs, passing story after story of cells. Considering there are no windows anywhere, I realize we must be underground.

We're deposited into a larger concrete room that loosely resembles a cafeteria. There is a line of people wearing the same jumpsuits as us and I follow Plaz in that direction.

Guards line the walls, armed with long rifles and protected with body armor. Gas masks rest partially clasped to their face, as if they might need to put them on at any moments notice.

My powers still aren't working.

I look down at my un-cuffed hands, wondering how exactly the minimizers work. I should have listened to Matthews when he explained them to me.

It's hard to believe Plaz is the same age as me. Without his plasma rings, he looks like a regular high school kid. His brown hair flops across his forehead — greasy, but I can tell it would be soft and flowing if washed. He has honey colored eyes and soft features, like he hasn't seen the hardships of the real world. He seems content here and unfazed by the fact that he is being held prisoner.

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