They had taken his jacket.

Carter was ready to punch somebody, but really, he was just cursing himself that he hadn't found a way to hide it. He didn't care about the rest of the clothing he had been wearing, but that jacket was not something he was just going to let go of. That had been his father's jacket, and now it was his, and they had taken it.

That had only been part of the punishment Lieutenant Dafferny had doled out. The other half was being crammed into one of the small closet-like rooms they had been told to change in the day before. The air inside felt staler the longer he remained in there, but it wasn't like Carter had any true way to tell the passage of time, or what was going on outside his room.

Solitude had given him time to think. He didn't like that. He didn't like the weight of his actions pressing onto him, unrelenting, memories and mistakes replaying in head. He hadn't been able to grab the gun before. He had threatened that girl yesterday. All of those arguments he had had with his mom...

He hated the immensity of loneliness, yet it seemed his every action only pushing him further into his status of being a loner. Dropping out of sports, breaking it off with his girlfriend, ghosting everyone else he had known.

But the less people who knew him, who knew what was going on, the better. There would be less questions asked, and less lies he would have had to spread just to protect himself. His fingers started to twitch, all the energy inside him growing antsy from the lack of stimulation, the inability to let it loose.

His stomach was also disapproving of the situation, sharp pains cutting through his thoughts, but they were ignored. It wasn't the first time he had ever gone hungry, and even if he somehow managed to find a way out of here, it wouldn't be the last. All things considered, at least this place was a surety. It had food, even if he didn't have access to it, and a place too sleep and a roof that didn't leak.

The thought of sleep made Carter yawn, and he shook the thought away. Sleep made you disoriented, took away any advantages you might have in a situation. And there were no other advantages he had in this room. Not like the day before. Not when he could hold the girl, hold the power, and make everyone else listen to him. But he didn't have any power in this room. He had been strupped of all things that made him feel like himself, and shoved into this closet, like you would place a misbehaving dog into its kennel.

But dogs had teeth. They could fight if pushed hard enough, and Carter was ready to bite back.

Who was he kidding. It was all that posturing and fighting that had landed himself in this situation in the first place. If he wanted to make any progress towards getting out, it would have to be subtle actions. They couldn't catch onto him, or he would be getting in trouble again. And Carter had a feeling this place only let you have so many strikes before you were out. And not in a "freedom" way...

○○○

A loud thunk woke Carter from his sleep, sending him jumping up to his feet and facing the door, instinctively taking up a defensive position. He couldn't believe he had fallen asleep. Sleep put you in a position of weakness, it let other people have control over you. And that was the last thing he wanted.

The door opened outwards, and two guards stood there, one of them the older guard who had dragged him away from the dining hall to go see the Lieutenant. The other guard already had a gun trained on him. It seemed almost laughable, these two men, obviously trained personnel, yet set up with so many precautions against one weakling teen. Carter choked back a laugh. He didnt think an action like that would make him appear any better in their eyes.

"Hey fellas." He raised one hand to give a lazy salute, and the man with the gun tensed. "Oh. Ok, looks like I'm not doing that again."

"Step out of the room, slowly." The older guard seemed just as defensive, and Carter noticed the beginning of scruff on his face. Either this "government operation" was pretty lax with its military personnel, or he wasn't actually affiliated with the government. He was probably contracted out, but definitely prior-military. Just something about the way he carried himself.

Carter complied. It would be easy to snap back, to ignore the command, but right now je didn't need the easu path, but the one that could get him home. Not that it even mattered if managed to find a way back home. Everything he had fought for before had ended up proving worthless in the end.

"What's in my schedule today?" He asked, trying to keep his voice light, he tone easy. Playful, even. "I hope it doesn't take too much out of my brooding time. It is truly essential to how I work."

They didn't seem the like the joke. The older guard grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him out of the room, pushing him down the hallway before Carter could catch his balance. "Shut up."

Anger twitched in his fingers, but he curled his hands up into tight fists to still the impulses. He just had to keep it together for a while, right? Surely most of the day had passed, and they would be sending him off to their sleeping room and pitting him back into timeout with the other "children".

Except they didn't.

Instead, he was shoved into a doctor's office and poked and prodded and tested with all sorts of machines. The nurses creeped him out with all their hovering in the background, and it took the last vestiges of his self control not to snap at them. The doctor, who Carter hadn't bothered to remember the name of, fussed at the guards about "potential damage", which was probably referring to the scuffle they had gotten into that morning and the large bruise that had taken over most of his jaw.

Or maybe they were talking about Braun damage. Carter probably had plenty of that already, what with all the years spent in basketball and the many passes that had slipped through to crack against his face. That sport had given him plenty of other injuries too, ones they had noted and discussed in low, almost angry tones. Broken hands, sprained ankles, a concussion he had earned when he was thirteen.

He had given up on it all senior uear. None of it had mattered in the first place. His picture-perfect relationship had fallen to pieces and it was all too easy for him to step away from it. People he thought he could have depended on his entire life seemed to fade away until he was left all alone.

It was almost funny how it took being kidnapped for him to finally be seen by other people. To have someone care.

He got released from the medical room and sent to another room vaguely reminiscent of a classroom, with six small desks and a blackboard across the front of the room. Ash, Kennedy, and Darius were already situated in their own desks, and the trio looked up in surprise at Carter's entrance. Ash and Darius seemed grateful for the brief respite from whatever studies they were being forced into, though Kennedy's face showed the slightest tint of annoyance to it.

Carter has shoved into one of the desks, and before he could process what was happening, the older guard was handcuffing him to the desk, passing off the key to the teacher at the front of the room. "No funny business," he commanded, and then he was gone.

Carter lifted his arm, and the handcuffs clattered as they pulled taught, straining at his skin. "I'm right handed," he muttered to himself. "How am I supposed to take notes like this?"

The thought was so bizarre he almost wanted to laugh. He had just been shackled to a desk, he had spent the morning in a closet, and he had just been kidnapped, yet the only thing he could muster the energy to be concerned about at this point was being able to take notes.

This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. Everything that he had once been sure about, about himself and how he felt, had been tossed out the window when they kidnapped him. And he couldn't rven recall how that happened, only that he would have never gone along with these people voluntarily, so kidnapping had to be the only option left for them to get the outcome that they wanted.

And yet he was more concerned about taking notes! Carter didn't even know which subject they were supposed to be studying that day!

His attention shifted to the blackboard and the man in front of it who had started speaking again. He was using chalk and writing out some complex equation that ended up with more letters than it did numbers, and was yammering on about rockets and gravity and launch trajectories.

There was no way he was ever going to end up learning any of this. Absolutely no way. The man stopped finally and turned to look back at his measly class. "Does anyone have the answer?"

Kennedy's hand shot up, her face bright. "Fourty-two?"

Ash and Darius shot startled looks at her, seeming just as confused at Carter felt.

"Correct!" The teacher pointed his chalk stick at her, then turned to write the answer on the board.

Carter let out a groan, and his head droped to hit his desk with a resounding thunk. This was going to be a very, very long day.