((Sorry for the delay!!!))<br/><br/>Its funny what happens when one is faced with the unknown, or rather, to one faced with the impossible. It was not so much the odd, twisted form of the other, the other lost one, the only one he was fairly sure was not going to kill him. It was, rather, as he watched wide eyed and frightened as the show played out before him, the things that the beautiful if otherwise dangerous woman Staicey... he could feel death from her. Not like a wave or in any kind of psychic way, such things were not only childish to believe but downright blasphemy. No, but rather in the way she talked, the way she moved, like she would kill if he proved to be any threat to her way of life. He shivered, people like here did not exist in the domes. She spoke impossibilities. Lies, no one had reason to lie in the domes, only criminals were exiled and they died! They all did, without fail. The mutants and the viral agents in the very air killed them within seconds of their arrival to this hellish place. Yes, that was true, it had to be.<br/><br/>Realization only dawned a moment later as Alten came to the sudden conclusion that he was alive. He had not been killed by mutants, it had been hours and no viral agent had begun to rot the flesh from his bones. Why was he not dead? if everyone who left the dome died, then how could he possibly still breath? it didn't make sense, none of this made sense. Rejected from the domes? No no no... He hung his head, memories of his own rushed trial, his own exile rushing through his head. He did not remember any crime, did not remember any... oh dear what if they did the same to his fiancee, poor Elizabeth the mutants would surely... he paused reminding himself once again that so far, there were no mutants.<br/><br/>When Miko came and broke him from his train of thought he almost jumped ten feet out of his skin. "Sorry... little jittery I guess," he whispered, the confliction playing across his voice, between civility and rampant, panicked screaming. A human mind faced with what it can only call impossible does one of three things, adapt, resist, or implode. He felt just on the edge of implosion.