Takeshi had been off in his own little world, looking at everything, contemplating, he barely even heard as they told him his turn had come. He hadn't been paying attention to the whole proceedure, but he frowned a little as he knew this wasn't going to be pleasant.<br/><br/><em>Okay, you can deal with this,</em>he told himself, taking a deep breath as he pulled off his clothes, exposing the rest of the tattoo on his spine, not paying attention to what happened to them.<em>Think of how you're getting out of here, think of being back home, think of anything other than this...</em><br/><br/>It was the best way for him to cope with everything right now, to just ignore it, not just the impending violation at the hands of the guard who currently had him bent over a table. His grip on the edge of it was white nuckled as he repeated to himself over and over, to just imagine something else. Some<em>one</em>else, maybe. He tried to tell himself to imagine the guard was really hot.<br/><br/>A slight grunt escaped him as his brow knitted in concentration, his eyes screwed shut as he tried to block out the lubed fingers feeling around inside his body. Imagining the guard was hot helped a little, but not much, and he found the next best thing to distract him was to focus on the pain in his hands that came from gripping the table as hard as he was. The guard said something, but it was lost in the haze.<br/><br/>He felt like he was about to snap part of the table off with his bare hands, when thankfully, the fingers withdrew from him, and he was suddenly ordered to get back up. His back ached slightly as he straigtened himself, his whole body had been so tense. He ignored the soreness, his eyes staring past the guard as he opened his mouth, submitting that to being forcibly examined as well. He was actually able to suppress his gag reflex, so strong was his power of denying what was happening, though once the fingers were removed he coughed a couple of times to clear his throat, spitting on the ground as he was ushered over to the area to be cleaned.<br/><br/>He flinched a little away from the powder as it was suddenly thrown onto him, and again from the sudden rush of freezing water from the hose. In the end, when it was finished and he was suddenly handed his prison-issue clothes and toiletries, he looked rather furious. Still dripping wet, he walked over to the bench where the other prisoners were, the look in his eyes positively smouldering with anger, directed at no one in particular.<br/><br/>He was<em>going</em>to get out of here.<br/><br/><div align="center">_____________________________________________________________________________________________________</div><br/>"Come on, Young." Slade knocked on the bars of Terrence's cell with his baton, gesturing for him to follow him, his order rather curt. He was in no mood to talk to either of them very much, and the fact that Donovan was on his last nerve was obvious on his face. He strode purposefully, not actually bothering to make sure the two inmates were following him, just taking for granted that they were.<br/><br/>"You're both getting newbies," Slade said plainly, and as they approached the other end of the cell block, the gestured the both of them to empty cells. "Young, you're on the left, Donovan, you're on the right."