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i. "D"

"Lucas Hemmings, until your sentence is determined, you will be held in McLennan Facility for superhuman criminals for the bombing of Thurgood Marshall Senior High School. You will be allowed one visit from direct family members every two weeks under the supervision of an armed security guard. You will not be allowed anywhere on the grounds without your power-restricting collar and an armed security guard specifically trained to combat your powers." The denim blue jumpsuit was surprisingly soft on his skin in comparison ot the harsh, cold, metal collar wrapped around his neck. The well-decorated military man read Luke's sentence with sharp words, as though he were personally offended by the black ink.

Luke focused on the man's well polished black shoes. The rubber was lightly scuffed on the inside of his left foot. Maybe he had daughters. Maybe he helped them practice for a soccer game without taking his shoes off.

The thought made Luke sad. He would never be able to have his own daughters and help them with their soccer tournaments. He would probably never be able to have daughters. Maybe he could get off early for good behavior. Even then, it would be at least 25 years until he saw his sister again or even thought about having a real family.

A security guard prodded Luke's back with a baton, urging him towards the menacing steel door, nestled between two concrete walls. Luke shuffled forwards in a blur. Maybe he was sedated from the drugs forced into his blood stream to ensure he wouldn't be a danger to the guards inside the armoured vehicle that escorted him here. They wouldn't have known his powers were gone unless the government had done a blood test, but even his one remaining power, telepathy, was radio silenced.

He was led down a labyrinth of concrete hallways. It would have been impossible to navigate the maze without the guard, guiding Luke towards his cell. They turned another succession of corners before they started to hit cells. One door was frozen over. Luke peeked through the bars, a sheet of ice acting as glass. Inside he saw a skinny boy with flame red hair. His roots were orange, adding to his fiery appearance. Luke watched through glazed eyes as the boy spit out a tiny flame from his mouth and rubbed his hands together. He looked up at Luke with eyes as infernous as his hair. The guard shattered Luke's concentration by pulling him past another door.

The next room had foamy cushions, the kind used in soundproof music booths, on every inch of the room, including the bed. Luke briefly wondered what kind of power would require a room like a recording studio. Then he saw an entrancing brunette perched on her bed, humming quietly under her breath. She took in a large breath and went to sing again. This time, a note so high Luke could hardly hear it escaped her cell; a shock wave blew Luke's floppy, unwashed hair into his eyes. After a mere second of the supersonic screech, the girl let out a scream. Luke couldn't look as she convulsed on the floor, her screams filling the hallway until her voice came out in airy, shredded breaths.

Luke turned his eyes to the floor, focusing only on where the guard was guiding him, not on the tortured prisoners he passed. He lost count of how many more turns they took until the guard pulled him to a halt in front of a cell at the end of a 'T' shaped hallway. The guard told him to stay put, stepping in front of Luke to open the cell door. Adjacent to Luke's cell, on the other side of the 'T', was another room where a high, clear, voice called out to him.

"New kid? What are you in for?" The voice was feminine, teasing, yet worn. The girl talking to him had a fighting spirit, but she'd obviously been in the prison for far longer than any person should have been. "No, don't tell me. I'm really good at guessing games. You're in for-"

"Be quiet, 27." The guard called, stepping back from the wall as it flipped up towards the ceiling. The guard nudged Luke into the cell, closing the door behind him. He didn't notice any special modifications to accommodate his powers, but maybe the collar was holding him back enough that he couldn't do any damage.