The whole education deal happens to not be anything that Marley expected. He thought he would have a teacher or someone to give him an actual lesson on whatever he was learning. 1-A curriculum or something. He thought he would be taught the material of whatever they thought suitable for him to be a high school graduate.

He happened to be dead wrong, though, seeing as when he'd walked through the door of the classroom he was supposed to go to, he was told to sit at a desk and take out his work. After they realised he did not in fact actually have work to do, they gave him the stuff his parents sent in.

It's slow and boring, there's only about ten people in there. There's a teacher, but she sits at the back of the class and doesn't really do anything. From what Marley understands, he's supposed to go to her if he's having trouble. She doesn't seem too friendly, though. Not with her impatience when Lola—who was in there with him, but would only talk to him if he spoke first—had asked a question.

He doesn't eat lunch, something he'll probably regret later considering he didn't have breakfast either. However, he felt disgusting because he hadn't had a shower in two days so he just did that during lunch.

Overall the day is pretty dull, that is, until he's walking to the office to clear up this uniform business and he hears a voice over the intercom.

"Marley Nocona, please report to Doctor Rellik's office."

Yeah, Marley freezes in his tracks. What in the hell? That... that was directed at him. Like, personally. Now that he thinks about it, actually, he's heard certain names being called places all day.

Marley frowns and reaches into his back pocket, where he'd folded and tucked the map into. He pulls it out and begins examining it until he finds W. Rellik printed over a room on a remote part of the–

The torture room. Lola's murmured voice echoes in his head, and he gulps. That's the room she showed him when she was giving him a tour.

The sinking feeling settling in his gut only increases tenfold when he remembers Supervisor Hookler and her smiled warning before he'd left the research room this morning.

Holy–this is it. This is what they talk about. This is the part that makes these places famous. The poking and prodding at you, the overwhelming pain until you lose your sanity.

Marley makes his shaky way over to the building it's in, the only thing on his mind is the fact he is probably about to be put through immense pain. He doesn't even know what the torture room looks like, Lola hadn't taken him inside. He'd just seen the outside, which has a metal door. If that doesn't scream torture dungeon then Marley doesn't know what does.

As he walks through the courtyard he gets quite a few looks. He ignores them for the sake of focus, as he follows the path to a normal looking building.

It says that Doctor Rellik is on the first floor, so Marley follows it until he's walking down a long, stretching hallway. It seems never ending, until he stops in front of–

Wow, okay. Marley was expecting a shut door that he'd have to knock on. However, that is not what is waiting for him. Instead, there is a person there to greet him. Sitting behind a little window in the wall. Marley walks over to it.

The guy looks pretty young, actually. He's as sharply dressed as the rest of the employees here and, like Supervisor Hookler, he's smiling.

Marley has decided that he prefers these people when they're emotionless and impatient. Smiling, for once, doesn't seem like a good sign.

"Mr. Nocona," The 20ish looking guy greets him, not using his title. It makes Marley frown. He can't remember the last time he was called Mr. Nocona by anyone.

Marley should probably talk more. He's hardly said anything since arriving, unless completely necessary. Well, he has talked to Lola. He hasn't seen her since the whole education thing, but she'd smiled at him and spent most of the time with the sour faced teacher. So she probably doesn't hate him.

Probably. He thinks.

He doesn't respond, just gives the guy a polite but obviously fake smile.

"Doctor Rellik will see you, whenever you're ready."

Doctor? Wait–ready? Why in the world would Marley be here if he wasn't ready? Actually, no, scratch that, he is certainly not ready. It's not like he actually has a choice in the matter, though.

The guy doesn't follow up. Like, at all. So Marley is forced to reply;

"Uh, yeah, I'm... ready." That sounds fucking weird. He feels like he's being forced into giving them permission. He wonders what would have happened if he just didn't respond. Walked away or something. He pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind, though, because it would probably end in disciplinary action and that's the last thing he needs.

The guy nods, continues smiling, and Marley turns and starts walking over to the metal door. He needs to hurry up, do it fast before the nerves that he's been able to avoid this far catch up to him.

He can feel the guy's eyes on him the whole time. This door, he doesn't knock on. There is a strange handle that he has to pull down, then it allows him to push open the door so he can finally step in. He doesn't care how unnatural and jerky and rushed his movements are.

He's expecting some kind of dark torture dungeon, but instead it's just a white room that looks a lot like the kind of place he gets yearly check ups from his doctor.

Of course, the fluorescent lighting is a bit much and his eyes take a moment to adjust, but when they do he realizes that, never mind, this actually is not like the doctors office.

It's bigger for one, and where there would usually be a bed there is instead a chair. It's metal and looks highly uncomfortable. There's a sink and a lot of drawers. There's also a door that leads somewhere Marley doesn't know.

It doesn't look particularly threatening—well, except for the execution chair—yet it still makes Marley's skin crawl.

"Please take a seat." A voice says. The thing is, there is absolutely nobody in the room except for Marley.

God?

Wait, no, Marley spots a speaker in the wall. Okay, so, whoever said that is not in the room but can clearly see him. It makes Marley uncomfortable and it takes a few moments before he can get his legs to move.

He slowly walks over to the chair and sits down, half expecting to be electrocuted because it seriously looks like an execution chair.

Before he can shift around too much, cuffs come out of nowhere and wrap around his ankles. In surprise, he grabs the armrests. That happens to be a very bad idea, because—and he probably should have seen this coming—the same metal cuffs on his ankles appear around his wrists.

Well, okay. He's about to be executed.

Good luck, guys.

Then the door that he'd seen before opens, and a guy emerges.

He looks to be in his late 50's, if Marley is guessing here. Which, he's probably right, considering the fact that he's spent the majority of his life around politicians and most of them are about as old as this guy looks.

"Sorry, don't know if you're gonna be an angry one or not. Repercussions need to be taken." He starts off. He has some scruff and he's wearing one of those white jackets that you'd only wear if you're a doctor or a scientist.

Marley doesn't respond, and watches as the guy stops and stands across the room, in front of the drawer place. He folds his hands in front of him and regards Marley with a tentative look.

Okay, this one isn't smiling. Let's find out if that's a bad thing or not. Considering the fact that he's likely about to stab Marley or something, that's probably a bad thing.

Marley notices that he's carrying a folder. One of the manilla ones that people use for official business. Marley wonders what it's for. Actually, no, it's probably on him. Or on how to torture him. That would make the most sense.

He's proven at least partially correct when the man opens it up and says, "Marley Nocona, wow. The one person I never thought I'd see here."

Yeah? Me too buddy.

Marley still says nothing, because he's feeling that familiar itch where he's about to say something sarcastic and rude and uncalled for and he really doesn't need that right now. It puts him through enough trouble on a daily basis, he doesn't need this guy to be all pissed off at him.

"So, according to this, you got shot in the head and the throat, then... you stood up. And healed almost immediately after." His eyebrows pinch together at that, but he hides his confusion well, "supposedly you can't die, right?"

Marley's hands twitch in their restrictions. He wants to free them, but that doesn't seem too likely. At least, not anytime soon.

"Supposedly," he responds, staring at the manilla folder and keeping as straight a face as ever. Talking to older people is his forte, it's the children and the teenagers and really anyone under ten years older or younger than him that are the problem.

Dr. Rellik nods, then continues scanning through the folder again. "Alrighty then. Shooting in the forehead center and the throat... which part of your throat did you get shot at? It doesn't tell me."

Marley can't help the way his eye twitches, but he keeps his sarcastic comments to himself. "Well, let me just point to it." Dammit. Shut up Marley, that was definitely sarcastic.

Dr. Rellik, however, catches him completely off guard by smiling, even chuckling a little. What in the hell? "Right, my bad." He nods and writes something.

Marley, because he is an obnoxious teenager, can't seem to stop himself from blurting out, "are you gonna torture me or what?"

Shit, what happened to being good with adults? For some reason, though, the guy seems to find it amusing as well. Marley is honestly expecting this dude to pull out ninja stars at some point and just use him as target practice or something.

Instead, Dr. Rellik responds, "I guess torture is one way to put it." Then, after a moment, "and right now I'm just trying to understand you on a basic, reported level. Next visit, maybe, I'll... torture you."

He seems to frown at that last part, which confuses Marley because what in the hell, is this guy not aware that what he does here is legal torture with a cause? Because that's what it is. Sorry to break it to you, pal.

Marley decides that if he's just gonna be questioned then he may as well get comfortable. So he leans back in the chair as much as his restraints will allow. It's still not ideal but it's better and it'll have to work.

"Did you notice any kind of enhanced healing and such before the event?" Dr. Rellik asks, not looking at him. He appears to be reading something.

"No." Marley responds. Because he didn't, this all came as a very unwanted surprise. Sure, it's great to be alive but if he has to be going through all this shit only to become a king nobody will take seriously because he's abnormal then what is the actual point?

Wow, okay, those are not good thoughts. No, Marley. Bad.

Dr. Rellik hums, glancing up at Marley like he's some kind of interesting science experiment.

"Okay, have you discovered anything yet that will do lasting damage?" He asks, "it'll help me immensely if you have."

"No." Marley replies again, trying to clean under his nails with his fingers even if it's uncomfortable as hell. Seriously, this is not necessary. Maybe for other people, but Marley isn't the most threatening dude out there. He's not really short, normal height for his age, and he doesn't have a lot of muscle on him. Some, yeah, from self defense classes he's been forced to take since he was 10, but that's about it.

Nero? Yeah, he would need restraints. Dude definitely has some issues, but Marley is not Nero.

"Okay," and if Marley isn't mistaken, Dr. Rellik sounds the slightest bit irritated, "when was the last time you actually used your ability?" These all seem like somewhat routine questions, and Marley's pretty relieved that he at least gets to be here for more than a day before some guy tortures him.

"When I was rudely interrupted in the middle of my education speech."

The guy even half smiles at that, too. Honestly, if Marley's being honest here, he seems to be the only one here that has been amused by anything Marley has done. Sucks that the one guy who treats Marley like a person has to be public enemy number one.

"Okay, and last but not least, when do you expect to be out of 1-A?"

Marley raises his eyebrows and gulps, because he's put a lot of thought into that question, and his response comes to him almost immediately;

"As soon as possible." He hopes his eyes are as genuine as his words are, because he's never meant a thing he's said in his entire life as much as he means this.

After that Dr. Rellik closes the manilla envelope and stands up. He nods and says something that Marley doesn't catch, before walking back through the door he'd come from. After that, the restraints on Marley's legs and wrists click open and he doesn't waste much time before he's rushing out of there, somehow unscathed and mind coming up with all kinds of scenarios for what's going to happen when he gets back to his room. What's going to happen the next time he has to go back to Dr. Rellik. What his future holds for the rest of the time he's going to be here.

He runs a hand through his hopelessly wrecked hair and continues walking.