BEEP. BEEP.
Jubilee groaned, prying open her heavy eyelids. Her hand brushed against the cold metal band locked around her neck.
"...Well, yesterday was a bust," she muttered, pushing herself up. "But hey, today's a brand new day. Yaaaay." she said halfheartedily.
BEEP. BEEP.
"I am up! Now shut up already!" she snapped, glaring at the little black camera eye in the corner of the ceiling.
The beeping stopped.
"Thank you sooo much," she said, dripping sarcasm.
Jubilee let out a long sigh, scanning the cramped cell she now called home. "I miss my old room. It was bigger. And pinker." The last word came with a sad little smile.
The room was sterile, everything painted a blinding white. A water dispenser stood against the wall, a bathroom connected at the side. Her bed and table were bolted to the floor. The cupboard wasn't much better—just rows of the same white scrub outfit she had on now. At least they had stocked it with basics: toothbrush, paste, a comb, towels, even sanitary packs.
Her chest tightened. The day she would actually need to open one of those packs… yeah, it wasn't far off.
"Tomorrow makes it a week," she whispered. Her mind wandered back—her big house, cute clothes, video games, school, friends… even her parents' constant bickering felt like something she would give anything to hear again.
"Are they even looking for me? Do they even… miss me?" she asked the empty room, voice cracking a little. She remembered how often they had argued about adopting her in the first place.
"Okay, nope. Not going there." She slapped her cheeks, shaking her head. "You don't have time to sulk, Jubes. Even if this place is basically a jail, you're not gonna sit here and mope all day."
She got up, dragging herself toward the bathroom.
As far as she could tell, the bathroom was the only place in her "room" without a camera. Maybe there was still a mic hidden somewhere, she couldn't be sure, but at least she didn't have a glowing red eye watching her every move. It was the one time of day she could feel even a little unburdened.
Not that she got much out of it—the morning routine was strictly timed, just an hour to wash up and get dressed.
She remembered her first night vividly. Sleep had been impossible, not just because of the endless spiral of what now? thoughts, but because of that camera. Did someone sit behind it, watching her toss and turn? Or worse, watching her sleep? The idea made her skin crawl. She forced herself never to forget it was there—probably the most useful tip she had gotten here.
Fresh out of the bathroom in another pair of spotless white scrubs, Jubilee found the day's breakfast waiting on the table.
"Oh, joy." She shot a glare up at the camera. "You know, a burger or even some cereal would be nice for a change."
The red light just blinked back at her.
She eyed the tray: more of the infamous brown paste, the stuff they swore had all the nutrients she would ever need. It looked like mud, tasted worse, but she was hungry. And she knew she would need the energy. She scraped the plate clean anyway.
Everything here ran on a strict schedule. A masked guard dropped off her meals like clockwork, and she had exactly fifteen minutes to eat. Right on time, the door hissed open after she finished.
A figure stepped inside—head to toe in a black combat suit, face hidden behind a visor, pistol and shock rod hanging from his belt.
"Morning, Mr. Guard," Jubilee chirped, her tone playful. "What's on the menu today? Let me guess—more tests?"
The guard didn't react. His faceless gaze stayed fixed, his hulking frame silent as he moved toward her.
"Right, right. No sense of humor. Got it." she said with a wry chuckle, slipping past him and out of the room. She knew better than to linger; if she stalled, the guard would just drag her out.
And resisting? Pointless. These guards were strong enough to lift her by the scruff of her neck like she weighed nothing. At least this one looked human—unlike that hulking, corpse-faced monster she had seen on her first day. Just remembering him made her shiver; two nights of nightmares weren't nearly enough to shake that image.
The corridor outside was brightly lit, polished white from floor to ceiling, too clean, too sterile—like a lab pretending to be a hospital. Another guard was already waiting by her door. Without a word, he turned and started walking, while the one from before fell in behind her.
"You two make me feel like a VIP," Jubilee muttered with a chuckle. They didn't so much as twitch. No reaction. No banter. Just stone-faced silence. She sighed and followed.
She still had no real sense of how big this place was—an endless maze of corridors, cameras, and rooms that all looked the same. Most doors weren't even labeled. Hers was marked Patient 9. But she was certain that the other patient rooms weren't anywhere near her wing.
Finally, the guard in front stopped at a door marked Laboratory 4.
Jubilee took a slow breath, then pushed it open.
Inside, the room was staged like a hospital ward. Three doctors—two men, one woman—stood waiting. They wore surgical masks, tablets in hand, murmuring quietly among themselves. Even with half their faces covered, Jubilee could tell they were all middle-aged.
"So, umm… am I going to get fully treated of this mutant disease today?" Jubilee asked, stepping inside with a wry smile. The guard behind her entered as well, closing the door with a heavy thud.
"Lie down," the male doctor said, his voice flat, detached, utterly uninterested.
Jubilee obeyed, lying down silently. Strangely, she feared these so-called doctors more than the guards. It wasn't their scalpels or syringes—it was their eyes. Cold, clinical, staring at her as though she wasn't even human. A lab rat. Nothing more.
They never spoke to her, never showed a hint of emotion, never even revealed their names. Their faces blurred together behind sterile masks, and every day new ones replaced the old. She had no idea how many of them there really were. The only exception—the only one who stood out at all—was Dr. Cecilia.
A female doctor approached without a word and slid a needle into her arm. Jubilee barely flinched before her eyelids grew unbearably heavy. The world around her slipped away.
BEEP. BEEP.
Her eyes snapped open again. Same hospital-like room. Same glaring lights. But now she felt drained, hollow, as though her very life had been siphoned out of her veins. Even her thoughts crawled sluggishly, dulled and thick.
A guard stepped forward, gripping her arm roughly and pulling her upright. Jubilee stumbled, struggling to keep her legs from dragging as he led her out into the corridor. The lights stung her eyes, a burning white glare she had grown used to.
She didn't complain. Didn't resist. Not just because she lacked the strength, but because this routine had already beaten her into submission.
The needle marks dotting her arms told her enough. They were draining her blood, injecting her with God-knows-what, running experiments on her body. She could never be sure what they had done.
She had fought back, once. On the first day, she demanded answers, demanded to know what they planned to do. But each time she resisted, one of them pressed a button, and agony ripped through her body. Her limbs locked, her muscles seized—total paralysis in a single click.
Now, she knew better.
Jubilee couldn't help but smile as the guard stopped in front of a door marked Common Room.
She took a steadying breath and pushed it open.
"'Bout time, slowpoke!"
The voice was energetic, playful, and more than a little mocking.
Inside, kids around her age lounged on cafeteria-style benches, all wearing the same white hospital scrubs she had on, each with the same metal collar glinting at their throats.
The one who had just called out was Tabitha. Blonde hair short just like hers, cocky, and never able to resist poking at her. Even though she was younger, Tabby had been butting heads with her since day one. Honestly, it reminded Jubilee of her old friends back at school—annoying, but familiar.
"Ha, the main character always arrives last," Jubilee quipped with a weak smile as she stepped into the room. But after only two steps, her legs buckled and she nearly stumbled, the exhaustion catching up with her.
"Whoa—careful."
A hand grabbed her arm, steadying her.
"Thanks, Dinah… I'm just—ugh—wiped today," Jubilee muttered, leaning into the support.
"These bastards are pushin' it too far," Dinah snapped, shooting a glare toward the door. She was older, long blonde hair framing a beautiful face—but her short fuse burned hotter than anyone's.
"Holy crap, you okay, Jubes?" Tabitha had also arrived at her other side, slipping under her arm to help.
"Maybe it's the work of that mystery brown paste they serve for breakfast," Jubilee chuckled weakly.
"Pfft—nah, that's just your weak stomach. I had the same sludge and look at me, still fabulous." Tabitha smirked, though there was relief behind it.
"C'mon, sit down before you face-plant," Dinah said firmly, guiding her toward the seats.
They passed one of the benches where three boys were lounging—one brown-skinned with slick black hair, another fair with messy blond locks, and the last with light brown hair and a boyish grin.
"Girls usually feel that way after a night with me, y'know," the black-haired one smirked.
Dinah shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel. Tabitha didn't bother—she just flipped him off.
Jubilee rolled her eyes. Classic Roberto. He was about Dinah's age, all swagger and no brakes. Just like the boys back at school who thought they were hot stuff when they really weren't.
"There's a time an' a place for runnin' your mouth, man," the blonde said, his Kentucky drawl thick with disapproval.
That was Sam, and Jubilee liked him way better than Roberto. They were around the same age, but Sam looked way more grounded and responsible.
"And besides," the third boy chimed in, his grin easy and disarming, "if you're gonna lie, at least make it sound believable."
That was Bobby—definitely the most handsome of the three, in Jubilee's eyes atleast. He looked cool without even trying, which made him the total opposite of Roberto.
"Hah, what do you know?" Roberto shot back, puffing himself up. "I was top scorer on my school soccer team. Had girls lining up around the block for me."
"Sure," Bobby deadpanned. "Must've been a real short block."
Jubilee snorted but didn't bother jumping into the argument. Dinah and Tabitha guided her to an empty seat, where she slumped down gratefully. She rested her head on the desk, eyelids drooping, feeling like she might black out from how drained she was.
"Jubilee… would ye like tae pray with me?" a soft, lilting voice thick with a Scottish accent asked from across the table. "If ye pray tae Him, He'll heal all yer wounds."
Jubilee blinked and looked up at the small girl with cropped brown hair and kind eyes. "No thanks, Rahne. I'm good."
Rahne nodded, smiling gently. "Aye, well… if ye change yer mind, the Lord's always listenin'."
Short, quiet, devout—Rahne was exactly what she looked like: a girl who carried her faith everywhere she went. Jubilee often caught her whispering little prayers, lips moving silently—just like that other quiet girl who barely spoke at all.
"Here. You should eat, to regain strength," a deep voice rumbled, colored by a thick Russian accent. A plate slid onto the table in front of her.
"Thanks, Piotr," Jubilee said with a faint smile, glancing up at the tall, black-haired boy.
"This part is hardest at first," Piotr replied kindly, resting one massive hand on her shoulder. "But your body will adjust. Be strong, da?" He gave her a reassuring pat before moving on.
Jubilee watched him go, grateful. How's he even the same age as the others? Must be that Russian milk, she thought. For all his size, Piotr was easily one of the gentlest people she had met here.
She picked up her spoon, but her eyes drifted toward the farthest corner of the room. The shadows there seemed thicker than they should be—until she noticed a pair of glowing yellow eyes watching her.
When their gazes met, the eyes darted away.
"Why don't you come join us, Katrin?" Jubilee called, offering a smile and a small wave.
From the shadows came a hesitant reply, soft and wrapped in a German accent: "Nein… thank you."
Jubilee sighed. She still remembered her own reaction the first time she had seen her—startled, stumbling back. Even after she had apologized, it was hard to erase that first impression. The blue fur, the sharp features, those yellow glowing eyes—Katrin looked more like a storybook demon than a teenage girl.
"Katrin's just shy around new people," Dinah murmured, patting Jubilee's back. "She'll warm up in time."
"Yeah," Jubilee said, forcing a smile. "Guess I'll just keep trying."
Soon enough, the room filled with chatter. Laughter, whispers, even the occasional bickering—it was almost normal. These common room hours were the best part of Jubilee's day. Talking, laughing, even arguing with kids who were all stuck in the same boat, all carrying the same so-called "disease." It almost made her feel like herself again. Almost.
But her smile faltered when the doors creaked open. A familiar woman stepped inside, her middle-aged face framed by neatly tied hair, her eyes as sharp as they were gentle.
"Oh, you're all here already," Dr. Cecilia said warmly, hands clasped. "Good. Please, finish eating quickly—it's time for our daily sessions."