Fergus Finlay was the boy who would be seen causing trouble around Midtown High, walking around with his pack of cards and wit to save him from trouble. However, he was in for a rude wake-up call; history was awakening, and it had set its eyes on Fe...
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He felt something semi-soft underneath his back, a thin mattress of some kind. Yet he could clearly feel the smooth cement floor underneath. He snapped his eyes open, hissing and squinting his green orbs when he had immediately looked into a cold lamp that had been somehow installed into the ceiling.
He growled, attempting to roll on his side to get up, only to realise he couldn't use his hands properly and instead of getting them underneath him, they were tied together, making him roll on his stomach and hit his chin against the floor, he bit his tongue as it had accidentally stayed between his teeth, making him flinch and then growl under his breath angrily. "Arsebadger." He wiggled up on a sitting position, brows furrowed as he studied the thin handcuffs, huffing in annoyance at how fragile they looked.
But his high ego was soon dragged down a notch.
As he tried to snap the handcuffs in half, he flinched when they sizzled and electricity ran down his wrists, making him jolt slightly and freeze, holding his hands up in the air as he moved them again they would vibrate with electricity once again.
He was tense, too weary to brush the dark hair out of his eyes, slightly making him take in the whole place he was locked in.
The thing he noticed first, were the grey walls that surrounded him on either side and the enormous glass wall that kept him from wandering down the mysterious corridors. What made him frown was the lightness of clothes that weren't his. The colour white was so off, it almost made him growl. He was wearing a white shirt that kept close to his skin, along with white, soft trousers. He had no socks nor shoes. He also noticed a folded clothing near his mattress, making him believe it was a jacket or a sweater of some kind. Again, the colour white. There were no brands as to give him a hint where he was, and Fergus felt a coldness in the pit of his stomach; fear.
As he slowly lowered his hands, wearily looking at the cuffs, almost waiting for them to give him another zap of electricity. They didn't.
He pushed himself up, ignoring the lightheadedness as he leaned against the wall, jumping as he felt something pressing against his back, as he curiously looked behind, he noticed a doorknob.
Looking around suspiciously, he inched away from it, hesitantly opening the door, his wrists still bound. He stepped into the plain room, eyes landing on the toilet and a sink that had been somehow installed into the wall. He wasn't surprised at how high tech everything was, if anything, he was impressed, but not surprised. He tried to reach deep down, to caress the boiling magic that flowed in him, only to hiss as he felt the cuffs digging into his skin, burning it just slightly.
Apparently, the tech also forbid him from using his abilities, not that he knew the full range of them anyway.
He slammed the door shut, going to sit back on the tiny mattress as he studied the cell with a glass wall. He didn't know hopelessness was a colour as he blinked at the light grey walls. It looked like a lunatic asylum but he was certain it was not one.
