"Come on. Get up. You've had plenty of rest."

Jericho forced his eyes open. His throat burned as he coughed to clear it.

He was in a small, white room. The walls and bed were white, as were the table and the coupled chairs. Even the bars that caged him in were painted white. A man sat at the other side of the table.

"Eat," he said.

Jericho looked at the tray. It was a plate of scrambled eggs, a beef patty, and peanut butter and jelly toast. To the side was a glass of apple juice and a bottle of water. He looked at the man for confirmation to eat, but the man merely stared. Jericho did not have to be told twice. He sipped some water to alleviate his dry throat, then opened the utensils in a plastic set.

Using the plastic knife and fork he pierced through the scrambled eggs, and cut himself a small piece. Leftover heat funneled into the air for a brief moment.

Hot food. The meal was cooked recently. Despite how he was kidnapped, they were treating him rather well.

Jericho stabbed the piece he cut off with his fork and swallowed down the food. He winced as the bolus shredded itself on the way down his throat. He should have chewed it more.

He cut himself another piece and this time he spent more time chewing the food, making sure to coat it well with his saliva. His throat continued to squirm, and he set aside the utensils to regain himself.

He touched the side of his chest. It still ached slightly but was somewhat healed. He applied energy to the area in an attempt to finish the job. He frowned slightly, enough to show his dismay to himself, but not to the man. He should have had enough energy to completely heal it, but it continued to ache. Surely, if it were a broken bone or a skin tear he would be able to heal it, especially after he rested. He supposed nervousness shrouded his mind; he was fearful even. It was not uncommon for someone to succumb to anxiety and doubt and have their powers fail them, especially in a situation like his.

He did not fully understand the situation, but he forced himself into a positive mindset. The forced thought process only made him falter. His mind cluttered even more so when he realized he was not at all calm. It was a paradox that forced him away from being relaxed and confident. Instead, he filled himself with dread.

The man sat in silence as Jericho ate. At the moment, he did not care about the man. He would have to be acknowledged later, and it would do Jericho no good to focus his attention on him. Still, Jericho noted the rough edges on the man's face, the scars that scattered around his forehead and cheeks. Jericho caught himself looking for too long and he scarfed down another spoonful of food. For now, he ate to regain his strength, but he knew this man was a future problem.

Jericho supposed they prepared this meal for him so he could regain his energy, to prepare him for what they had in store. There was no point worrying about that either. It would be another threat he would have to deal with. It was best that he began to accustom himself to the potential danger.

"15 minutes," the man said.

Jericho looked down at the plate of food. He managed to get through half of it, but his throat continued to ache. He sipped water and juice in between bites, and that managed to ease the pain.

As a personal preference, Jericho did not like to waste food and, so, nothing would be leftover. He also needed to eat all the food he could, since this could very well be his final meal for a while, and the last good one at that.

“I can heal. Do you want me to heal someone?” Jericho said when he finished his food. “Whoever you want healed, I can do it. I can heal them. Just tell me what I need to do.”

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t make,” the man said. “Anyway, what are you trying to do? Bargain? You’re going to do what we want regardless of what you have to say. Stop being so enthusiastic. Shut up and eat.”

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Jericho pretended to finish chewing leftover food instead of replying.

“Up,” the man said after the fifteen minutes were done.

Jericho mapped the route in his head as he followed the man. They must have been in a basement since when they went up a set of stairs they entered an area that reminded him of an office building or a grand law firm. It was something he would see on T.V. since he never really set foot in a building like this before. He did not see many people, apart from those he would see through the sliver of door windows. Nothing he looked at hinted as to where he was.

They arrived at a waiting room.

“Wait until you’re called in,” he said. He left the room with one last piece of advice for Jericho. “Make sure you pick the easy route. Trust me.”

Jericho sat in the waiting room. It reminded him of a doctor’s office. Chairs scattered the room and paintings riddled the walls. Memories of Dr. Yohan’s office flooded in. He remembered how when he first attended appointments he would come in an hour early to make sure he was not late. Plus, it was not like he had anything better to do. He also liked the friendly setting that the receptionist Amy provided. The small talk did not amount to much, but he enjoyed having someone to talk to. The receptionist here was taking a phone call and did not pay attention to Jericho.

He found it odd for a prison cell to be in a building like this, especially because of how close it was to other civilians. Jericho kept in mind that looks were deceiving, and this waiting room was still a prison. This building was a front, and even though the man left, he was still confined inside these unknown walls.

He wondered how long he had been away and if anyone was searching for him. His mom must be worried. Questions continued to pop into Jericho’s head, but he forced himself to focus on the situation at hand, even if he was having difficulty doing so.

“She’s ready for you,” the receptionist said. “Through the door and toward the end of the hall on the left. Don’t get lost.”

Jericho stood up and made his way to a transparent, glass door, then proceeded to the office.

The door was open and a woman in a light-blue dress sat at a desk.

“Jericho, right?” She shook Jericho’s hand and he took a seat. “You can call me Moreno. Pleased to meet you.”

He noted the placard with the name Elsa Moreno on her desk. The room had a minimalist design to it. It was as monotone as his prison cell, but instead of white, the room consisted of a black aesthetic. Black walls and a black desk with a black bookshelf just behind her. Jericho did not recognize any of the books, but they were the only other colorful items in the room apart from her dress and a large-leafed plant.

“I’m a bit busy right now, so let me get straight to the point. You have a power, a strong one at that, and we want to help you cultivate it. How’s your progress?” She did not wait for Jericho to respond. “Not going that well, is it? We’re here to help.”

Who is “we”? Jericho thought.

She continued, “We have everything covered. Food, utilities, and a dormitory. This will be your new home. We can easily upgrade that room you currently have. We even have a gym for you to use!”

He knew asking where he was would be pointless, so he decided to ask a different pointless question instead. “Do I get to leave when I want?”

She clicked her tongue. “Not now. Not for at least six months, maybe eight, but rest assured. We provide everything that you need. We can provide you more than that too. What do you want? Money? If things go well, we can start paying you at month six. That includes backpay! Getting paid to cultivate your own ability? Sounds great, doesn’t it? Now, you’re probably wondering, ‘What do I have to do?’ Well, it’s quite easy! All you have to do is perform some tests and do some training with your powers. Nothing hard about that, right?”

“Sure. I suppose,” he said. He knew there was more to what she had to say, so he asked her another question to see how she would react. “Can I call my mom? I’ll be willing to sign a contract once we go over the fine details such as what you gain out of this, but as captivating as that opportunity sounds, I’d still like to get her opinion first.”

She sighed and took off her glasses, “Jericho, I know you’re not stupid, so let me be blunt. Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way? The easy way, that’s the way I love. It’s the route most people go. We provide for you, and we keep you safe. You want a new video game system? You got it. You want a nice car? You got it. You want a fancy meal every night? Wait. Scratch that. Every day? You got it. You want a woman that can satisfy you? Anything you want, we got it, so you got it. All we need is your cooperation, for you to do what we ask, so let me ask you again. Which way do you want to go?”

This was not an offer Jericho would be able to turn down. No amount of bribery would change the fact that he was being forced to do this, but he figured he might as well take the better route, while he still had the opportunity.

He wanted to be positive about the situation, to make the most of it, even though his mind screamed for him to refuse, to just leave. But, he could not do that. His mind did not want to think about the things he would have to go through if he refused. Not having contact with the outside world, not even with his mother, was bad enough as is.

“I’ll take the easy way,” he said, unsure of the severity of his words.

“I knew you’d come through. Let’s show you to your new room.”