Belle Reve Penitentiary


"Chow time, inmate. Come grab it."

I looked up from the corner of my cell and over to the cell door that was blocking me from my freedom. It was another day at the prison, another day for me to grab food and just go about my merry way. I have forgotten how long I was there for, and if I was getting older since the days would go on forever. But this was my home, whether I liked it or not.

What a great home I guess.

I got up from the ground I was sitting at, walking over with my bare feet on the floor and reached for the plate of uneatable food that they were giving us. I looked through the window and I saw the guard that was giving me the food: Griggs.

"Because of your good behavior for the past week or so, they're letting you have outside privileges hear the east yard," He explained to me as I took the tray in both of my hands and I didn't say a single word about. He didn't sound at all pleased about the fact that I was given some kind of freedom, "It's not my fist choice, Shiny. But let's be honest, you're the nice one I guess."

"Thanks?" I asked, seeing him roll his eyes.

"Shut up," He replied, closing the small opening on me and having me stand there with my tray in silence. This was normal: eating food, going to the bathroom and then sleeping. I've been doing this for quite some time and I didn't know why I deserved to be here. Wait, I did know why,

Because I'm a Metahuman.

I was dumped here by my family because they didn't know what else to do with me. I'm sure they had good intentions of keeping me there in one piece and keeping me away from the rest of the word, but it sure didn't feel that way from my standpoint. It felt worse, like a betrayal or a stab in the heart. I've always wondered since they dumped me here if that were ever to sleep at night with the thought I was gone and out of their hair. Were they able to sleep? Who knew, I didn't, but I haven't spoken to them since and I doubt I ever will.

Good for them.

Luckily for me, I was on good terms with the prison here. Mteahumans were sent here, since no other prisons wanted them or could take them. That's where I would fit it naturally. There are others here who aren't so lucky, the villains really. They were sent here because they are pure evil, according to the guards and other metahuman prisoners here. They're the ones who we should be afraid of, causing trouble in the world and in cities. Of course, we have people like Batman or the Flash to take care of them, they were the good guys.

But what about the rest of us? The ones in the middle.

I never did anything bad, not really. I was accused of plenty of things because of my ability and what I could do, but I knew I wasn't bad or a villain. It was just up to society and what they thought of me. Some of us were seen as Gods, take Superman for instance, but others were seen like monsters.

I didn't know where I was fitting in with those categories just yet.

Here I was in my later 20's, locked away in a prison that wanted us away from the world, and I only thought this was how my life was going to go from now on and nothing else was going to change. All I had left from my previous life, was the fact that I two distinct scars on my face.

Representing the past that I never wanted to open again.

I blinked a few times when I went outside in the REC yard, hearing a few birds here and there that were flying by overhead and I looked behind me to see them close the gates behind me and I could feel the heat of the thick Louisiana sun and air soak under my skin. I breathed it in, the musk of the bayou nearby and the clouds overhead overcame though the smell of the stench of other prisoners, amongst other things. I had one hour out here by myself to just breathe in and out, to feel the sun on my skin

It was nice, at least for a small while.

I closed my eyes, feeling the sense of my powers coming over me one again like it was a blanket shielding me from the world. Rolling up my sleesv to show some of the tattoos that I had were along my skin and the tops of my fingers made thme look lgiht comapred to when I was back in my cell. I could feel my skin crystallizing a bit now from what I was about to do with my own hands and some of my face. When I had time, my powers would take over and show more of a side for me than ever before.

In short: I would turn into a diamond.

Since I was little my own hand would resemble a diamond, from the tips of my fingers down to my elbow and even close to my shoulders. There was no real explanation to this and as to why this happened to me, but I always found it fascinating when I was younger. I was finally able to look beautiful since my own self-esteem was a bit shot with my curvy body, freckles skin, and wide green eyes.

But this made me look so different, and whenever it would be in effect, my eyes would be the first to change. They went from the green that I had to a crystal white almost blue look, intensifying and my skin would change, along with everything else within my body. I was a walking and talking diamond, which turned plenty of heads once or twice before I knew I had to conceal it.

It was both a blessing and a curse.

I held out my hand to the sun, seeing my hand crystalize there and the sun beaming through the edges and the cut of my hand there, almost showing the whole area a brand new light and bring a sense of brightness within my own time there. I saw how clear my hand looked, a tint of blue along with the light of rainbows that were shown across my face from the diamond hand there in the reflection of the sun. I would look at it for hours, thinking of how beautiful it looked and yet how cursed it was as well. I could feel some of my own face turning as well, the hardness of the surface along my neck and ascending to my cheeks and face too as I just breathed, trying to one again think of nothing but the positives that were there in my life in that prison. I was alive, I was away from my family.

I was just in another version of hell.

I looked over to one of the hallways that had wide open windows to look into, having me see that they were escorting someone over to his cell. I knew that he was going over to the section where they were keeping the highly dangerous metahumans and villains, where we would rarely go ourselves. That was not a place to be, they weren't treated as well as the rest of us really and they were looked at lower than scum. I knew all about that, I really did know about that, but the person that they were escorting.

His hands were handcuffed in front of him, almost in a fashion that there was a chest piece and his hands were placed there in cuffs as if they were a added need of protection. Otherwise, he was wearing his orange jumpsuit with the sleeves rolled up a bit, but that was not the one thing that I saw and made me with him on intrigue.

His tattoos. All over his body.

They were interesting tattoos, all on his face and along his arms, almost having him look like some kind of canvas really that someone could interpret for themselves. I instantly thought that he was a gang member for how they looked on him, with his muscular arms and there was no hair on his head that had tattoos of a skeleton. For some reason, I couldn't look away from him and in how he was walking, almost in a shallow way of stepping like he was not hard at all. Sure he looked hard from the inside out in how he was stone-faced and looking dead on, but in how he was walking seemed more innocent and uncertain.

He looked out of place.

But he looked over in my direction, seeing through the window over at me while I was standing there in the REC squared off area and standing alone with one hand in the air and the other at my side. Did he see my crystalized hand and face? How could he not, since I was pretty much twinkling in the sunlight that was beaming down at me. I must have looked lost since he looked more intrigued with me than anything as he walked by. I finally saw something that seemed soft about him as he walked with the two guard behind him: HIs eyes. They were so bright and clear compared to his face tattoos, a bright brown that would remind me of the bark of trees or even chocolate.

They were beautiful eyes.

"Come on, Inmate. REC time's over."

Three knocks were on the door were heard as I opened one eye from sitting there on the cot and having some more alone tie with just my thoughts in my head. These knocks on the door sounded a bit more urgent than anything, having me wonder if I did something wrong, yet again it's been running trident that I would be blamed for something in my life because of my ability.

I heard the small door opening abruptly, having me peer out with my eyes and stay away a bit now in case it was some kind of trick or I was about to be tazed. It wouldn't be the first time, and I felt like it was going to happen again. But instead of seeing a regular guard, I saw someone else whom I never saw before. It was a young man, almost my age with a thinning face that had some damage to it from any kind of past and some facial hair. He was wearing some kind of army uniform, that much I could see, and a regular hat with e American Flag on the top.

"You Inmate Talbert?" He asked me in an almost thick accent from somewhere in the south, in which I slowly nodded my head and he eyed me up and down.

"My boss would like to have a word with you."

I was sitting in an interrogation room there, both of my hands were handcuffed to the table in front of me as I was sitting in a metal chair, wondering what was going on and who was wanting to talk to me. It felt a bit cold there in that solid room with the single light above me and the big mirror on my left.

Finally, the door opened, having me look over to see the young man from earlier and another woman come into the room before the door was closed behind it. The woman was older than me, a bit short too. She was a black woman with short hair and was wearing business type of attire including a skirt and heels, in her hand was my file. I knew it was my file, it was pulled up plenty of times in the past when they were watching me. I wondered what she wanted with it.

She sat down across from me, the young man behind her with a gun on his hip and was watching my every move as the woman placed my file there in front of me softly, having me only hear my breathing in the room and her shuffling the papers a bit so that she could see. I was watching her face, seeing that she was a bit cold and almost all about business and work ethic. it was a bit frightening.

"Your name is Rose Talbert, 29 years old, born and raised in New Orleans in an upper-class white family and was dropped off here by said family 5 years ago, is that correct?" she was reading it like she was reading off the laundry list and it looked like it was nothing. I slowly nodded my head, seeing her watch me and fold her hands there on top of my file.

"I'm Amanda Waller, the man behind me is named Rick Flagg," She introduced the both of them, having me look from her to the young man briefly before she went on, "I came here to have a talk with you and your ability."

"What about it?" I asked her curiously since that was something I didn't think she would be talking about.

"I've seen my fair share of metahumans in my line of work, but none of them are quite as unique and rare as you," She said, looking down at my file there for a brief second, "It says here that 'subject's body changes into the form of a diamond'. I'm assuming that it is true for the in that case, or I must have been seeing things when I was observing you out on the yard earlier today," It made me panic a bit that she saw me out there with my abilities, so I knew then I couldn't lie to her at all about it. So I just sat there, seeing my file once again on the table and seeing her lean over a bit towards me as if she was intrigued with me.

"I have a proposition for you, Rose Talbert."