Our friend had grown rather tired of his repeated unconsciousness. He, luckily, awoke in a much better state than before, the blue boy pressing something cold to his forehead. "Don't move just yet," he said. Our friend obliged willingly, and lied still for a few minutes. A voice pierced through his thoughts. "So, what's your name?" He paused. "You can move now, by the way. The red-haired not-quite-human rubbed his head. "I... I don't exactly know..." He murmured. The boy standing above him sighed. "None of us really do." "I dunno, I've always really liked Magnum..." His voice trailed off. The boy in blue smiled. "Alright, Magnum then. I'm Prose. You'll figure out the other's names pretty easy. If you need me, just yell, ok?" The boy whose real name is Rhyme nodded. He would regret his decision later, but now he was pretty okay with it.

*~*~*

Magnum walked out of the room he was laying in and ventured the extensive array of hallways. His favorite room was, undoubtedly, the kitchen. Despite (quote unquote) music being the one thing he was semi-good at, he did have an appreciation for the culinary arts. Or, more accurately, the consumption of culinary arts. He didn't know how to do much more than strum a few chords on the guitar and consume copious amounts of food. It seemed our friend had quite the variety of talents. He eventually found the exit, and proceeded to be almost blinded by the sun beaming down on him. It seemed to be much brighter outside than in. Tinted windows, perhaps? Magnum found it worthless to dwell on and decided to go look for Prose and the others he had hardly caught a blurry glance of. He found them rather easily. They were standing outside, talking in hushed murmurs. The one seemingly leading the conversation was dressed in green with the single most stupid haircut Magnum had ever seen. He sighed, shook his head, and made his way over to the group. He stood there for about a minute before the person in green looked over at him. He cleared his throat. "Hello, I'm Intellect," he said, extending his hand towards Magnum. He tentatively shook it. Magnum's eyes lowered towards his vibrant green shirt, where "Intellect" was emblazoned on the front in bold, black lettering. Looking around, he noticed all of the others had their names on their shirt as well. Prose cleared his throat. "Everyone, this is Magnum," he announced. He turned to our red-haired friend and continued, "Magnum, this is Nonchalance," he gestured at the boy in yellow, "And Dominance," he finished, brandishing toward the boy in purple. They both waved.