Finn started waking up, a dull ache sitting in the back of his head. He grunted, slowly opening his eyes.

He didn't know what he expected, but it certainly wasn't this. Instead of the teal green walls and bright window at the far wall, he was in a different room. The cement walls had been painted over a few times to make the room cozier, but the paint was peeling with age, revealing all the other multicolored layers that tried to hide underneath. This room, surprisingly, was bigger than the last. There was a door that stood ajar, leading into a bathroom, a small kitchenette, and even a 'sitting area' - it was at the corner of the room - a sofa and an armchair with a fuzzy green rug. Why it was bright green was beyond him.

The bed he was in was smaller - it was like his bed shrank and his room grew - placed at the opposite corner of the sitting area, and the exit. That's strange. Why would they change my room? He wasn't complaining, exactly, just suspicious. The most unsettling thing about it wasn't the peeling walls or the green rug. A thought nagged at him that he couldn't shake. This place looked like an apartment, one that someone would be spending most of their time in. He couldn't help but worry that the room had been chosen for that exact reason.

He tugged at his shirt sleeves, trying to push the thought away. That's silly. Why would they want to put me here? I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation.

He got up, walking past the bathroom door and the sitting area to the exit. He was so lost in thought he didn't think about the door handle, which stayed firm even after his attempt to open the door. His palms were immediately sweaty.

"Stupid door, come on," he didn't really mean to say it out loud, but panic was starting to be the only sound in his head. For some reason, he suddenly realized there were no windows either. He took deep breaths, trying to slow his racing heart and calm himself. Was he claustrophobic? No. Was this a place and situation that could make anyone claustrophobic? Yes.

The door's just jammed. I just have to get it open carefully, they wouldn't lock me here. I'm no criminal, but the thoughts didn't make him feel any better. He tried the door again, knowing deep down that it really was locked, but he wouldn't except it. He stepped back, shaking his arms and shoulders to loosen them.

"Okay Finn, you can do this," he gripped the handle as tight as he could, his heart pounding in his chest so hard it seemed like it was right under his skin. Forcing all the strength and energy he could, ignoring the painful metal handle that dug into his hands, he pushed the handle down and towards him. Based on the placement of the hinges, he'd assumed the door opened inward.

The handle was slowly giving way and then broke before he knew it. Yes! I knew I just had to . . . outside the door was a circular grey room, the walls lined with doors just like his, with a booth in the middle. A trio of people sat in the round booth, pressing buttons and pulling levers and things. They all looked pretty bored until they noticed Finn, who stood behind the door, his head poking out most of the way and his mouth in a little 'O', the only thought in his mind for the moment was oops.

For a second, no one moved - apparently, this kind of thing didn't happen a lot in this place - then Finn regained himself first, throwing the door open and bolting to the door that looked most out of place. He quickly realized, cursing the designer of the room, that each door looked exactly the same, grey and blank with no window. The exit was one of them, without a doubt, but when they all looked identical, it meant he'd have to guess lucky or search every one of them.

He went with option A, running to a different door. Then, he realized something else, again, cursing the designer. The exit was most definitely locked and the people in the middle of the room had the key.

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He was realizing it all too slow though, and the trio was right in front of him. There were two guys and a girl, all wearing some kind of expensive-looking armor that someone had way too much fun making. The guy on the left aimed his gun - Finn only noticed it when he did so - and fired. By some miracle, Finn realized what was happening and dodged. Throwing caution out the door, he tackled the same guy, yanked his weapon off him, then rolled into a standing position, doing it all without ever being aware he could.

His moment of pride was his downfall. The girl took the opportunity as he stood there, shocked at himself, and fired her gun. For a split second, he panicked, worried that he'd just been shot with a bullet or laser or something, but to his surprise, the only thing that flew out was a furry pink dart that got him in the arm. He immediately pulled it out, but he was too late. A tingly, warm feeling spread through his arm, determined to knock him out completely.

Thankfully, he'd pulled it out soon enough to buy himself some time. He went with his instinct firing his own weapon - which was hard for two reasons. One, he'd only ever used a gun about once or twice in his entire life, and two, only one arm worked. He was right-handed, of course, he'd gotten shot in the right arm.

The dart missed two of the light-people, but their friend wasn't so fortunate. He was still picking himself off the ground, so Finn's misfire turned out working in his favor - Finn's, not the other dude - anyway.

The guy moaned in complaint before going limp on the ground. The stuff in Finn's arm was spreading, slowly, but surely. He needed to hurry up and get out of there while he still had time. He pulled the bulky gun closer to his face, closing one eye for better aim, then shot at the other two light-people, who were just recovering from the shock of Finn's weird ability to do the unexpected more than once in the same five minutes.

After five stray bullets (fringy pink things, whatever) he hit the girl once and the other guy twice. They both crumpled to the ground faster than he thought, probably tired from working in that place for so long.

Finn threw the bulky gun to the ground before marching over to the circle-booth-thingy in the center of the room. He couldn't read the keyboards very well, at all, but after a few minutes, he dug up the key to the door, hidden in a box with the door's location on it. He bounced the key in the air before gripping it tightly in his hand and racing to the right door, which happened (naturally) to be right next to his.

He was two feet away from freedom, patting himself on the back, right as the door flung open, knocking him away as the key flew out of his hands, clattering across the ground.

He grunted as he slid to a stop, slowly pulling himself to his knees - which was harder to do thanks to whatever he'd been shot with earlier. Bursting through the door with a swarm of tough-looking fighter-people, Grean came, his eyebrows knit together in confusion and anger. The moment his eyes fell onto Finn, his tight expression melted into something like, "Seriously dude? You had one job, stay in the room."

Some of the fighter-people around him rushed over to the fallen trio, who were scattered around one part of the room. Grean said nothing, sighing as if his puppy had just chewed all his furniture. Strange analogy in Finn's head, but the dart-stuff was seeping into his head now, starting to mess with his thoughts.

Two buff dudes hurried over to Finn, pulling him to his feet before he could. He fought the serum inside him, forcing himself to stay wide - or at least fairly - awake. Grean's chest moved up and down in deep strides - he was pretty darn aggravated.

Finn managed a cocky smile, growing just a little more tired by the minute. The people around dragged the trio out of the room, probably to get them fixed up, and the rest just waited for Grean's command, whatever it may be. Finn spoke first, determined to make Grean see his reasoning, and be on his side.

"Why did you throw me in here? I didn't do anything wrong, okay? Just let me have my old room back and we'll sort things out."

"Finntainian, I'm a very forgiving person, I am. And I always try to understand-"

"Good, so you'll help me then."

Grean narrowed his eyes, earning himself another saucy grin.

"I am helping. Are you aware that Miss Smith is gone?"

Finn's grin faded.

"Where-"

"We don't know. During that whole fiasco last night, she ran away and we've lost her."

"Then let me help you find her - I know her better than anyone here."

"I'm not telling you to send you to find her. I'm telling you so that you'll realize what you've done."

"Me!? How in the world is this possibly-"

He didn't finish, a wet thunk pierced his back, sending a wave of sleepiness over him, one much more powerful than whatever had hit him before. His vision tunneled, then the world was gone again.