“How is she? I woke up with a sharp pain,” Shya explained with a shrug, “then just knew to find her.” Gwen nodded, knowing about the girl's empathetic mutation. It made sense. She listened to Grit's side of the story, which seemed to match up with Shya's.

“Will she be alright?” he finally asked, repeating Shya's first question. Gwen's expression softened a bit.

"She's bruised up pretty badly, but she'll survive. But I'm keeping her here for a few days, just to be on the safe side." Physically, Amp would be fine. Mentally and emotionally were different matters, and they wouldn't know that for, possibly, a long time.

“I will have a word with Grunt about this, the goes too far, I hate the brutality that I see, but this… if this goes unchecked… No, I will not let that happen on my life.”

Gwen narrowed her eyes. "Grunt, huh? You sure it was him?" She kept her voice professionally bland.

"If you don’t mind I’ll check back on her later. I need to go on shift then I think Mr Grunt and I need to have a LITTLE chat. Take good care of her.””

"I intend to," she replied coolly. As he prepared to leave she gave a parting shot. "Don't do anything stupid Grit. Bullies and cowards have a knack for revenge."

Then she turned to Shya, and her voice softened again. "You can stay with her if you want. I can probably get you out of morning chores, but no more than that."

"She's bruised up pretty badly, but she'll survive. But I'm keeping her here for a few days, just to be on the safe side."

Shya nodded. She let her attention wander to the sound of Amp on the other side of Gwen for a few seconds. It was probably good Gwen was keeping the other girl here. A chance to give her a rest. If she would let herself rest. Shya hadn’t run into her much during her stay at the camps. Witch probably meant the girl spent her time other places.

"You can stay with her if you want. I can probably get you out of morning chores, but no more than that."

“Thank you miss.” Shya said, pushing her small, trade mark, smile across her lips. Even if Gwen wasn’t successful in getting her out of her morning cores, Shya intended on spending the next few hours watching over this other girl. How could she not?

“Is there a chair?” Shya asked as she made her way around Gwendolyn. Finding a place to stand just to Amp’s right.

“Thank you miss. Is there a chair?”

Gwen nodded, then added verbally, "Here." She pushed the curtain aside, just enough to set a chair by the bedside, then closed it again once Shya had sat down.

Then she stomped off to her office to cool off a bit, before she confronted Supervisor Kelly with this latest event. She wasn't even sure he listened to her, but she was going to make sure he heard her, even if she had to wrap those earbuds around his throat while doing so.

(OOC: This about an hour later, IC time. Feel free to rp the time in between.)

Amp felt as if she were locked inside a silent horror flick, in full color and animated. Nearly silent; a steady buzz undulated in pitch and volume all around, in imitation of a warped hive of bees. The darkness around her seemed to be moving, as if she were running. But her feet were planted to the ground. Actually, inside the ground. Looking down, her feet seemed to meld into the darkness, leaving her unable to move, except in circles.

Psychadellic lights exploded around her, paining her eyes. She tried to shade them, but her arms were heavy, and seemingly melted to her sides.

A face suddenly appeared in front of hers; a cartoonish man's face, with pointed teeth in a wicked grin and beady eyes. He leered at her in in a way that made her stomach lurch. She tried to turn away. Another face appeared in front of her again, laughing and leering at her. Everywhere she turned, that hideous mask followed her, laughing silently, and ogling. She shrunk in on herself, trying to hide in her arms.

But her arms were bare, and still stuck to her sides. All of her body was bare of any clothing. She continued to shrink away, a the faces grew larger and larger around her, and the grins grew wider and uglier. There was nowhere to hide.

Then came the feel. Something crawling on her skin. She looked down, and saw hundreds of tiny, tiny versions of that beady-eyed, grinning leer, bouncing up and down on her skin. She tried frantically to claw them away, but her hands refused to move. They swarmed over her, crawling all along her body; up her arms, around her neck and face, inching down her chest and stomach to her legs. She could even feel them creeping into her mouth. She gagged, trying to get them out. They all laughed at her noiselessly, and continued their exploration of her exposure, while that agonizing buzzing undulated overhead, in time to the headache-inducing fireworks.

Then.... then they were..... inside of her.... moving around.... hundreds of them..... inside[/b].....

"Stop it! Stop!! Stay away!!!" She couldn't even hear herself sobbing. She wept until she hurt, all over.....

One of the giants heads moved forward, until it was less than an inch from her tear-streaked face. She could feel the heat, and smell the stench of his breath. She gagged again.

Next time.

The threat echoed over and over and over. All of the faces swarmed her, outside and inside, taking over her bare body, making her a part of them.

A part of Him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"NOOOOOO!!!!" Amp screamed and woke, flailing her arms in a panic. She sat up, wild-eyed, and began clawing at her skin, trying desperately to relieve the crawling sensation left over from her nightmare. Within seconds her arms were near bleeding from the gouges.[/color]

(That’s fine. I have to apologies for the lack of posting in the other threads I think I’m in with you. Been working on moving into the house for the last week, and most of my energy has gone into packing and lifting heavy objects.)

(Also if I go too far with what Shya can do here tell me. I’m trying hard to hold her back but a psychic is a hard one to hold back.)

Shya had found a chair, and had pushed it to the side of the bed with her foot. The leg of her chair bumped against the rail of the bed, and Shya pulled it away a bit. Then slumped, with her cane held straight between her knees, and her elbows leaned heavily on the upper area of her thighs.

The minutes passed slowly and Shya just sat there. Patiently waiting just like she always did. Like what she’d been known for doing at home. Gradually her nerves calmed and she slowly stopped fidgeting with the hem of her grey dress. Her head hung and Shya concentrated on listening to her own breathing. Her heart beat.

Amp stired in her sleep, and Shya’s head lifted. Eyes blinking, not because of light, or lack of light, what ever was there, but because she realized they were dry and keeping them open felt more natural then holding them closed all of the time. Even though her brother, when they were little, once told her she had a creepy stare. Shya wouldn’t know.

Shya’s cuff gave a buzz, as an image flickered in front of her face, Making her jump back as if there was something, some one really there, hardly an inch away. Just jumping out from no where in her world of darkness.

In her sudden movement back, Shya worked to close her mind again. Making the face disappear from her vision just as fast as he had jumped out. As if to check, her right hand shot up to pad the air just in front of her face, then reaching farther out as if to grab the dodging buggy man in her dark. Coast was clear.

The chair had some how been knocked over behind Shya’s knees and the table just behind the girl somehow found her lower back and arm. How far had she moved? Her hands fumbled for the edge of the counter where she collected her cane, when had that dropped, and she used the table edge to work her way back when,…

"NOOOOOO!!!!"

The other girl was up? Again Shya wondered when that had happened and why. There was the sound like a scuffle in the room at the bed. Shya let her sixth sense sneak out again. Just enough to do a head count in the room. Causing her cuff to give her a warning buzz and light shock. The bed only had the other girl, so she was fighting with herself?

Taking two steps forward, shya’s cane found the bed first. Then her hand found the railing, then Amp’s shoulder and the young girl gently pushed on the other. “Please, stop.” She tried to help. Giving the most soothing voice she could even though the sudden events had her wound up tight. “Nothing is there. No one else is here.” Her hands slid down to try and grasp Amp’s. To stop her from clawing herself further. Oh that could hurt. “You’re in the infirmary. No one else is here.” Well Gwendolyn might be in the other room. Shya hadn’t had a chance to let her sixth sense travel that far. But she was sure the rest of the room was empty.

Amp couldn't hear, and what she saw wasn't reality, so she didn't hear anything Shya said. However, the buzzing from her nightmare followed her out of the dreamworld, as her body reacted to the chaos in her mind; her bones had begun vibrating again. Any other time Amp would have reveled in the feeling, the only glimpse of life in her silent world. But now, as the vibrations coursed through her, they brought with them an echo of Grunt, and the abuse he'd subjected her to. Repulsed, she backed away, in a manner of speaking, shutting out the buzzing, and her link to the outside world.

She felt hands on her arms, and pulled away, again imagining that she was still being assaulted. But the touch was soft, and the hands merely held onto hers. Her heart beat fast and hard, but very slowly she returned to reality. She was still weak, so the fight didn't last long, and soon her breath came in short and only-partially-paniced gasps.

Finally she calmed enough to take in her surroundings. The Infirmary. She'd been here many times. That wasn't what was wrong. She blinked, and finally saw Shya clearly. The blind girl, the one that worked in the graveyard. She'd seen her around once or twice. Just recently, in fact. But where?

Amp frowned, her mind a sudden blank. She'd seen Shya, but never spoke to her. Amp didn't speak to anyone, unless she was fighting. She didn't spend time getting close to anyone, in any.... any way....

<"..... No.....">

Realization hit Amp like a ton of bricks. She had hoped it was all a nightmare, like so many others she'd had over the past two months. But this.... this hurt. She pulled one hand away from Shya, and placed it just below her stomach, bellow her belly button. She hurt, worse than any beating Shahiel had given. Even with the painkiller Gwen had administered, Amp could still feel the fire inside.

The nightmare was real. She hadn't been able to stop him. Grunt had broken through her wall, broken her spirit, and taken her dignity as a trophy.

Tears welled up in her eyes. She leaned forward and began to weep on Shya's shoulder. Not just this latest, and by far the harshest, indignity spilled forth, but everything from Day One gushed up and out, in the form of salty tears and choking sobs. She looked, more than ever now, like a scared little girl.

((post continued from Men's camp.))

The escorting guard left Haddix standing in the infirmary's waiting room, which was being watched. By now he had torn his shirt into makeshift bandages in an attempt to at least stem the bleeding from his palms and forearms. He wasn't sure how well they were doing, but he hadn't lost consciousness as of yet, so they were working at least somewhat in his mind. He stood in the atrium, waiting for an opening with one of the doctors. There was no reason the guard would have put him in here, aside from that they considered him too valuable a worker to lose to something like hepatitis.

Gwendolyn was storming back to the infirmary, carrying a bundle of ‘new’ clothes for Amp, when she walked past two things in quick succession: a group of giggling nurses twittering something about iPods, and the doors to the waiting room. The overcrowded waiting room. On the bright side, all of the doctors were out there doing their jobs for once. She shoved the gray clothing off on another nurse with a firm set of instructions, and took her storm into the waiting room.

Her personal thundercloud took her past one of the harebrained guards—James, wasn’t it?—who was consulting in very low tones with a doctor: “I’ve got this, ah, rash... do you think I could have caught it from...?” She stopped in front of a man who had gotten her floor bloody while he was making his own bandages out of his already ripped-up shirt. It was just as well: hitting the floor because you’d run out of blood was not a guaranteed way to get attention around here. Especially not when James had another interesting rash.

“Smart,” she complemented gruffly, her eyes on his improvised wrappings. “Now follow me, so we can get those off.” She led him over to an empty bed, and motioned for him to sit his bum down while she worked. “You want to tell me how you got these things?” Stop the blood flow, and get him cleaned up a bit: that was the first order of business. Then she could see if he was going to need stitches. What the hell had he been playing with, barbed wire? That would be a new one. Hopefully he liked needles. Between the stitching and the preemptive shots to ward off all those fun infections these cuts had laid out the welcoming mat for, they were going to have a grand time together.

Shya’s eyes widened slightly as Amp pulled away from her touch. Shya couldn’t blame her. She couldn’t see the other girls face, but she didn’t need sight, nor empathy, to sense the tension. She didn’t fight the other girl when she pulled back, Not even when one hand pulled away disappearing, for a moment, from Shya’s knowledge, but the other hand stayed.

Something had come through. Shya let her fingers pull around the other girl’s hand and hoped that it came through as a sign of reassurance. Though how Shya could bring comfort, she didn’t really know. She’d heard of much more powerful psychics being able to wipe another’s memory. Was that even right? Even in this situation? To take away the knowledge of what had been done, what ever had been done away? Shya had never thought of it in this way before.

Her thought was cut off as Amp had leaned forward. Taking the younger girl by surprise.
That made her decision. As She stood there doing the only thing she could, being a shoulder, a support, it made her decision. Everything happens for a reason, It is the person that has to decide why.

Shya shook slightly at that thought. again thinking that something like this could just as easily happen to her, to a child. Her own eyes slowly burned and soon released what was causing the pressure. Tears for the knowledge fo what was going on, what had gone on.

"I was lucky enough to be assigned to mending the fences,and the guards were evidently out of gloves. So I had to handle the razor wire barehanded," he said in thick Boston accent. He noted how the woman hadn't so much as stared at the bony growths protruding from his knuckles and forearms. On second thought, Haddix figured there were probably more abnormal mutations even within the walls of this Camp than what he showed. He rolled his head around, stretching his neck as the vertebrae cracked and popped. "So who'd you piss off to have to work here?"

“Lucky, lucky you,” Gwendolyn dryly intoned as she worked on the man’s arms. At least his spirits were relatively high. Either that, or he was good at putting up a front. Better than the mutants who’d stopped even trying.

"So who'd you piss off to have to work here?"

Gwendolyn laughed curtly, and signaled a nurse to bring her some clean water. The blood flow was as stopped as it was going to get without stitches and bandages: time to clean things up. “My college loan collectors.” She looked up from her work and met the kid’s gaze. “Everything about this place might be total crap, but the pay sure as Hell isn’t.” The water had come: she set about the wonderfully charming task of getting the excess blood off of him without breaking up the newly formed scabs too much. “So, are you new in here, or did you just miss that memo about the infirmary’s frequent visitor plan? Come in for three beatings a week, and we won’t even bat our eyes at the fourth,” she dead-panned. This place was doing wonders for Gwendolyn’s sense of humor. Really, it was like putting a dehumidifier into the Sahara.

Haddix watched the girl as she handled his hands confidently, yet with a sense of care. He'd never had cause to be to the infirmary before. "I've been here about a month so far, and the beatings these guys hand out are nothin' compared to some of the under card fighters' I've come across in Queens. 'Course those guys would throw everything they had at me when they found out I'm from Boston." He took a deep breath. "hope that won't affect your stitching job." He smiled a little, sensing a real difference in here than in the rest of the employees of the Camps. I might even have to fake some injuries to get back in here, he thought. He went back to watching her as she cleaned his bloody palms.

( Continued from The Men's Camp)

Mathew strutted over to the guard standing at the door of the infirmary. He smiled in an ingratiating way, his back straight and his bearing confident. It was easy to subtly intimidate people that way - they might not realize it but if someone has a better posture and gait than them they automatically mark that person as a superior.
The guard righted himself and suddenly became very professional.

"Halt! What's you business, inmate?"

Mathew raise dan eyebrow. Inmate? Before he reached the guard he adopted a slight limp, making it more pronounced as the distance between them closed.

"I-I was injured last night." He said pathetically, his eyes as wide as they would stretch.

The guard tilted his head back and stared at Mathew down his nose.

"State the nature and cause of injury."

Mathew cursed inside. Of all the dimwitted, barely human guards in this place he got lumped with the almost-intelligent one. He reminded himself - never underestimate one's opponent.
He plastered a fearful, pained look on his face and continued.

"I-it must have been during the escape. I just saw all these people rushing! And I tried to get out of the way, oh God, I really tried..." he said, deliberately making himself sound a little dense, "but that guy... I don't know, he had silver eyes! He rushed at me and knocked me over, and I must have hurt my leg because now I can hardly walk." He said, adding a wince and weight shift for good measure.

"Oh yeah? Strange. Guards usually escort inmates to the infirmary." He said sceptically.

Mathew's mind raced, but his face didn't betray it. "H and T sent me. They said..." he carefully composed his words, "they said they had urgent business in the other camp."

The guard in front of him almost sighed, but he caught himself. He stepped forward and crouched, leaning his gun on his left shoulder.

"Okay, let's see the injury." His hand reached out and touched Mathew's leg - he cried out instantly and mock-fell on the guards shoulder for balance. The guard leapt back with a panicked expression on his face and gripped the gun with hands. Mathew tried his best not to laugh.
The guard seemed to consider something for a while, then he stepped aside with pursed lips.

"Okay, go on in."

With that he returned his gaze to the distance and said no more.

Mathew walked past him, maintaining the limp for as long as it took for the door to close behind him and he straightened up and reasserted his usual perfect posture.
Okay, he was in. That was simple enough. Now to find someone who could do something about the pretty necklace he was wearing. Choker never seemed so poignant a noun until now.
He looked around. The main office.
He turned right and made his way through the next door, keeping his eyes out for anyone who might challenge him.
There were plenty of poeple in the infirmary, of all shapes and sizes. He wondered just how much power was packed into this tiny room... Nuclear level? More? He made a point of remembering those who looked particularly powerful. He'd need to start enlisting aid soon - he'd need some patsies, that was certain.
Yet again he changed his physical features to that of a charming, handsome young man wanting help. He wore a crooked grin, making sure his eyes were wrinkled at the edges, as he approached a nurse who already looked busy. His made his voice slightly deeper, smoother, and he relaxed his shoulder muscles.

"Excuse me, miss?" He asked politelly.

The nurse didn't pay him any attention, but rather carried on with whatever she was doing and waved a hand at him.

"I'm sorry, I'm busy at the moment." She said vaguelly, and he wondered if she'd even heard what he'd said or if she'd just heard random noise and was reacting.
He touched her on the shoulder, lightly, almost like a caress.

"Miss, I could really use your help right now..." He said.

She finally turned and looked at him, rolling her eyes. When she saw his face her visage thawed a little, and he swore that he noticed a small, quick smile cross her face. She was pretty in a strict, austere kind of way. Her brown hair was held up in a tight bun.

"What's the problem? I can't speak long, I really am busy - but if I can help." She said, this time in a decidely warmer tone.
He wondered what she'd been expecting. A big pink tomato on legs? He wondered how many strange mutants she'd seen, here in the infirmary.
He ran a finger around his collar, catching her eye.

"I need to talk to someone about this collar - It's a little awkward." He said sheepishly. He didn't know if seducing her would make it any easier on him, but he was going to try. It was easier with his power, but he could do without it in a pinch.

She smiled and crossed her arms over her hips. "Yes?"

He leaned in closer, looking around self-consciously. He could smell her perfume, a sweet floral smell.

"The thing is, love, my power isn't really controllable - do you know what happens when the body is overloaded with a mix of dopamine and norepinephrine?"
He mentally kicked himself. Who flirted about chemicals? Stupid, stupid...
She seemd to catch his drift, however, as her eyes grew wide and a hand came up to cover her mouth.

"Oh! Dear..." she said, and he knew her eyes just drifted to his crotch, "and this... is a direct consequence of your power?" She asked. Was that hope in her voice?

He blushed and nodded inncoently. "You can understand why this is a little awkward for me. The collar... is a little impractical for a man with powers like mine."
He mentally hoped that he was going in the right direction. He prayed to God that someone wouldn't suggest castration.
The nurse looked back down to what she was doing, then back at Mathew. He was still wearing the sexily innocent expression, his eyes imploring.

"Hold on," she said, wiping her hands on her skirt, "I'll go see if we can't do something about this. I'm not promising anything, mind!" She said pointedly, before turning to leave. She gave him one last appraising look,"try to keep it down by the time I get back, alright?" She asked playfully.
He smiled and wondered if she knew he wouldn't touch her with a ten-feet bargepole. Of course, he didn't let that show on his face. Rather, he chuckled playfully and placed his hands behind his back.
He heard some of the other mutants grumble that he 'd been seen so quickly, but he ignored them. What did he care if they were seen or not? They had brains, they could do just what he'd done. If they weren't capable of helping themselves, they deserved to die anyway.
He sighed and tried to get comfortable as he waited. There were no chairs free... ah, well. Couldn't have it all.

(I’ll make my posts as Jeminai White to try not to confuse Fever and Amp.)

The moment this mutant had wonders up to the infirmary, Jeminai had been watching him through the security camera’s. It was entertaining to see the reaction from the guard at the gate. Even more entertaining to see how easily the mutant got past. Was he kidding?

Jeminai rolled her eyes, then were farther amazed as he continued to gain attention and help from the first nurse, whom probably only got through med school by bending over a lot in front of the professors. Well one things was for sure. No flirting was aloud. Some mutant stray would have to be neutered. Or at least broken and Mrs. Doctor certainly wasn’t going to be the one to do it. Never send a cutie to do a real woman’s job.

Seemed he was alone now. Should give Jeminai just enough time to take him away before the bimbo go back. Swiftly Jeminai exchanged her guard uniform for one of the nurses. Her badge and ID went in her pocket, then her remote and gun went in a holster that kept it close to the higher part of her leg.

A quick look in the mirror showed that the new, lighter out fit, went better with her short spiked white hair. She leaned closer to the looking glass, adding one last touch. Mascara to bring out her light blue eyes. Then she was off.

She pulled a sheepish smile on her face, as she walked down the hall. It wasn’t hard to spot this new mutant. He was the only one still standing tall. Something she was determined to change.

“Excuse me sir?” That’s right Sir! He wanted to look like he had authority. She’d let him think that. She set a clip bored down on the table, something she had grabbed as a prop, then leaned forward over it. “Were you the one who asked about your collar?”

Mathew flicked his head arrogantly, wondering if he'd strike it lucky and one of the other mutants would drop dead. At least then he'd get a chair. His eyes cast around the room, taking everything in. He was very good at looking useless when in fact he was multi-tasking.
The brunette nurse hadn't come back yet. As he was wondering where she'd gotten to, he heard another woman speak.

"Excuse me sir?"

He looked around, his chin parallel with the floor. He raised an eyebrow - whereas the other nurse had been pretty but ignorable, this one was attractive in another way - white spiked hair, peircing blue eyes... he knew those eyes. Those were his eyes, the same glittering intelligence which shone out like, the pattern like a pool of broken glass.
She placed a clipboard on the table and he tried to read it discreetly, but she'd already leant over it.
He spotted her eyes again. Eyes couldn't lie - this wasn't a stupid playboy bunny. He made a mental decision to treat her with a little more respect; he changed tack immediately, losing the arrogant smile as she spoke.

"Were you the one who asked about your collar?"

Ah, so she was here about that. He felt a moment of relief. It was too risky to let her know the devastating consequences, should he truly lose control of his powers. Mutants like him were doped up or terminated - of course, he had to tell her something.
He rearranged the tone of his voice so that it became more humble, more reverent of her. He carefully hid his motives behind the honest gaze of his eyes.

"Yes, that was me. I'm afraid - Well, it's just that... it makes it hard for me to control my powers, it makes me edgy. There-there's consequences, if I lose control... it won't be pretty." He just hoped that that would be enough, that she wouldn't probe for any more information. He just wanted this collar replaced with something which wasn't quite so rigid. He just hoped she could help. He knew there wasn't a mutant in this room who could stop him, if It took over.