Here he was. Arthur was taken to a Foundation cell after completing the assignment (what a mess that had been) and had been stuck here ever since. The Foundation guy, Dr. Bright, had promised drugs and training as a 'reward' for his work, and he had delivered. The drugs had given Arthur a painful stretching feeling, like something was being wrenched open that was supposed to stay shut, at least for now, but he had yet to feel any side effects. He hoped there weren't any side effects.

As Arthur began a new day and a new round of training for his new duties, he could feel the well he drew from to blink. He'd seriously overstrained it last time, blinking multiple times in quick succession, and the drugs had worked it over, expanding it to three times its previous size. He had to admit, if not for the serious risk to his life and complete loss of freedom, he would probably enjoy working here. He was proven wrong within an hour, as a group of scientists whisked him away from a set of push-ups he was hating, in order to 'push his limits' for his blink ability. He was escorted to a white room, filled with a bunch of probes and recording devices which were taped to his body, and some kind of helmet attatched to a jumpsuit which he was forced into. Then he was told to blink. he did so, and reappeared across the room, wiring still firmly plastered on. Then he was told to blink again, and again, thoroughly exhausting his well. When he could go no longer, a light shock was appled from the jumpsuit, somehow calibrated to whatever neuron or nerve or whatever triggered his ability, and he was forced to blink again, and again, and again. Something was straining, his power stretched beyond reasonable limits, and his concious wa barely hanging on, he needed to get out of there, he needed to get out. Arthur felt the shocks stop, as he floated, barely concious, in some kind of endless void, countless realities dotting the horizon like stars, a collosal entity peering down at him from above. He felt weirdly safe, for a few seconds, before falling back to reality, unconcious.

Item #: UA-418

Special Containment Procedures: a 20x10 foot room, 10 feet in height, with no view outside. Simple furniture and amenities are to be provided, as to dissuade escape attempts, but requests to meet with outside entities are to be unilaterally denied. All communication with UA-418 is to be done through speakers mounted in the walls of their containment unit, and all observation is to be performed through similarly mounted cameras, any in person contact required is to be done with no less than 6 armed guards securing the exit at all times, and with obstructions to UA-418's line of sight placed around the exit

Description: UA-418 is a 17 year old caucasian male of approximately 5 feet 9 inches in height who constantly produces black mist from their body. The mist is completely harmless, dissipating shortly after being emanated, and is impossible to contain or observe using foundation instruments. The production of the black mist increases when UA-418 is under large amounts of stress, at times partially obscuring UA-418 from view. UA-418 is capable of temporarily exiting our reality and residing in a gap between all realities, then exiting somewhere within 50 feet of their entry point, which they refer to as a "Blink". UA-418 can maintain their exit for up to 9 seconds, but maintaining their exit renders them unable to Blink and leaves a distinctive black cloud outlining the silhouette of UA-418, making it possible to determine whether or not they remain present in the room. 

Arthur was barely out a few days when the foundation picked him up. It didn't really matter, those few days gave him time to get a few letters out, tell his family that he was ok, and he left out enough details that he hoped the foundation wouldn't get rid of them. he missed his parents, but he was an anomaly, and that meant the foundation would never let him go. His only chance was if he did enough jobs, got strong enough to teleport without line of sight, or to summon a tentacle to break down his cells walls, or anything that let him out of the foundations walls. He felt so alone, he barely saw anyone these days, opening his cell apparently constituted a 'security risk', so all his conversations for the past month before that job had been through a speaker hidden in the walls. He wondered how D was doing, the lizard man the closest thing he had to a friend in the Foundation, but he didn't really want anyone he actually liked to be stuck inside the foundation with them. Thinking of that, hopefully Viper wouldn't get caught by them. Arthur was pretty sure Mildred was another 'asset', and she was oddly keen on the foundation for some reeason. Maybe naivete, maybe she was just garden variety crazy, or maybe the foundation was nicer to girls, he couldn't say yet, but he doubted Viper would find his new career as positive as Mildred seemed convinced it was.

Arthur could hear a voice. It was intruding upon his thoughts, trying to change them, to make them into something not his own. He hated it, it was pervading his every dream, every waking moment, and he couldn't stop thinking about those damn bugs every time he heard it. The Foundation couldn't do anything, apparently, though he was unsure if it was that they couldn't or that they wouldn't, turning him into another of the freaks and nightmares they experimented on, down in the dark. What he could end up as if he proved less than useful, or became too unusual to send on missions. The voice was back, that constant chittering that accompanied it scraping at his mind, chitter chitter, chitter chitter. Arthur's only refuge was outside, in that vast empiness he could retreat to for a few short moments. It was calm there, at least for now, the immense something that existed there with him too much for the entity in his head to handle during the moments of peace he dwelled there. Then it would come crashing back when he fell back into his cell. He couldn't take anymore, and if the Foundation wouldn't help him, he'd have to figure out a way to do so himself. The infinite void he rested in when outside could open elsewhere, as his Blink power proved, so there was one thing to try. Arthur tried to push as far as he could towards the voice, feeling for it with the sixth sense that connected him to the gap, and projected an echo through its endless expanse. "F@#k off!"

I have a tentacle in my mouth. A tentacle. It just grew in overnight, replaced my tongue and now I have an actual, bench pressing, shelf reaching tentacle in my actual mouth. Maybe trading away my tongue wasn't as good a deal as it sounded like, after all. The thing works... fine, I guess. I can talk again, which is a big plus. I don't think I sound too different, either, I just have a tentacle instead of a tongue. Which extends up to thirty feet away from my body. At least I don't need a rope to climb anymore? I mean, I could just blink that distance, but with this I won't get as tired, I guess? I have absolutely no clue when, or even if I will use this thing, but on the bright side, and I cannot stress this enough, I have a tongue again. Talking in grunts and moans was both really hard and really stressful, and I couldn't even taste anything or eat solid food until it came in. Turns out getting your tongue ripped out can seriously inconvenience you in daily activities, as well as taking your ability to talk. Who knew? Anyway, the tongue isn't much stronger than I am, just really long, so I probably won't be trying to pull anything crazy like whipping bricks at people's heads with it or something, better to just stick to a gun. Speaking of, I should probably look into getting therapy from the foundation, I keep killing people and it freaks me out how unnaffected I've been. I mean, I know myself, I'm not that mentally resilient, am I?

I can feel the void, seeping through me. It's somehow both cold and... not. Both freezing and yet like a sort o fabsence of cold? Not heat but... something else. I can feel it spilling through my body, and I can tell, it was always there. It's what seeps from my vessel, no matter what I do. The endless flow of the empty gap into the real is what marks me as different, but it's also what empowers me, and now, I can let it out. As the emptiness fills my form, I can feel myself break apart, transforming into formless mist, endless fog. I know, in these brief moments between my mortal existence and my shattering, what I truly am, to a degree. I can feel it, with my very essence, spreading throughout my mind as I try to comprehend the simaultaneous infinity and nothingness of the gap. I wait, even as my vessel pulls back together, even as my mind rebuilds itself, just as fragile as before, unable to handle the vastness of the truth, closing itself off, forgetting. In these brief windows of Truth, I can only lament my inability to yet comprehend what I truly am, and must wait for the next time I assume this form. One day, however, I know, my vessel shall be great enough to withstand the truth, and then. Then the Foundation will know what, exactly, it is trying to contain. And it shall continue to exist, only to regret it.