Author's note: Hey, guys! So, I've just recently gotten into this show and I have to say that it is amazing. I know this sort of story has been done before, but this is my take on it. Hopefully some of you will enjoy it. Also, I've never written in 1st person or in present tense before, so this is a bit of practice for me. And I'm not British. So, if the dialogue doesn't make sense or I use a slang term wrong or one that is American, I'm sorry! Feel free to correct me!

This is going to sound really strange, but I actually wrote this before the Christmas episode, so I independently came up with the character of Marnie. She's not the same Marnie. I thought about changing her name to avoid confusion, but I decided that it was too much of a coincidence so I just left it. It has to be a sign or something, right?

I hope you all like this! Sorry for such a massive a/n! :-)

Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits.

Shit. This whole thing was going to be absolute shit. I shouldn't even be here. I shouldn't be in trouble. I did nothing wrong.

And yet here I am, stuck doing 200 hours of community service with six other delinquents, and they all look about as dull as dishwater. Fantastic.

We're lined up, like the criminals we are, preparing for some mindless lecture about how we need to improve. I'm near the center of the group, and there are six others. The kid on my left's pretty tall, made significantly taller by a thick mop of curly dark hair. He's not bad looking until he opens his mouth; when he starts talking I scold myself for even looking twice at the little prick. On my right there's a chav girl with large earrings and dirty blonde hair scraped back so tightly that her face is stretched. Next to her is a girl with mocha skin and short, frizzy hair. They're both shorter and fleshier than I am. This other one is very pretty, but the way she's texting away on her mobile tells me that she's the most vacuous out of all of us. Next to her there's a creepy looking kid with his dingy orange jumpsuit buttoned all the way to the top and his hands shoved in his pockets. Next to the twat beside me there's a short, brutish boy who's taken great pains to look tough despite his unassuming stature. To his right is a tall, dark, and athletic guy wearing his jumpsuit only to the waist. For some odd reason, he looks strangely familiar and I wonder if perhaps he is a famous sports player of some sort. I was never good at recognizing those sorts of people.

Our probation worker comes out and spews some bullshit about giving back to the community. I'm not paying attention. The curly-haired kid and the one with the cap get into a spat, but it ends pretty quickly. The probation worker gets frustrated and eventually leaves us to paint some benches.

As we're working, several obnoxious things happen. First, the poser boy has a bloody conniption because he's got paint on his cap. He storms off angrily, leaving everyone thankful that he's gone. Then, the annoying Irish wanker starts asking everyone what they're in for, to which the chav girl replies, "A girl called me a slag; I got in a fight," in what was arguably the most ridiculous accent I've ever heard. I resist the urge to laugh – I know that if she and I were to get into a fight, I would definitely lose.

He addresses the creepy kid – who's working across from me – and says, "What about you, weird kid? Don't take this the wrong way, but you look like a panty sniffer." He then proceeds to mimic the action of what I assume is sniffing panties. Again, I resist the urge to laugh. Not because his absurd charades are funny, but because he, too, finds this kid disconcerting.

"I'm not a panty sniffer," replies the creepy kid a bit pathetically, "I'm not a pervert." I eye him skeptically, not quite convinced. I was getting all sorts of weird vibes from this clown.

As the twat begins making some obscene motions with his paintbrush (use your imagination), Creepy finally exclaims, "I tried to burn someone's house down!" His voice cuts through the silence and hangs in the air. I can't say I'm surprised by this discovery. He does look like a bit of a pyro…

"What'd you do?" the chav gruffly asks the Irish kid after a moment.

"Me? I was done for, uh… eating pick 'n' mix."

"Bollocks," says Chav.

"You're not serious," I pipe in dryly, speaking for the first time.

Curly looks at me and raises his thick eyebrows dramatically. "You speak, do you? I thought you might be one of those mute, homicidal types."

"Funny," I say sarcastically, flicking a bit of paint at him. Before I can say any more, there's a flash of lightning and a loud boom of thunder overhead. We all tilt our heads up towards the sky.

Just then, the probation worker reappears and reprimands us for not getting any work done. I can tell that Curly's about to blow off another smartass comment, but, before it leaves his mouth, a boulder-sized piece of hail plummets down and pummels the roof of a nearby car.

"That's my car!" laments the probation worker.

"Classic!" Curly laughs.

The probation worker quickly orders us to get inside, and we don't need to be told twice. He's fumbling miserably with his keys and we're all screaming at him to hurry up as more hail falls from the sky and flashes of lightning illuminate the black clouds overhead. But, before we can get inside the community center, a huge bolt of lightning strikes us and we're all thrown back onto the pavement.

I feel as if I've been electrocuted, as if I'm dead. There's no way I could have survived this.

I slowly open my eyes to see us all in one piece. I'm surprised, and everyone else seems to share my sentiments.

"We should be dead," mutters Creepy in a voice that was, well… creepy.

Curly stands up and says, "A little reassurance would be nice, you know." He turns and looks at the probation worker. "You're fine! Looking good!"

"Wanker," the man mumbled.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise and try to hide smirk.

"Did he just call me a wanker?" Curly demands. He points his finger at me accusatorily. "You there, don't you laugh! It's not funny, we could have died!"

I break out into a full smile and deadpan, "Are you just going to stand there pointing your finger at me, or are you going to help a girl up?"

Curly looks puzzled by my response, but nevertheless holds his hand out and hoists me into a standing position. "Jesus, you weigh a ton," he complains, brushing off the front of his jumpsuit.

"Thanks a lot, you insensitive prick," I reply dramatically, "now I'm going to go home and starve myself. I'll have an eating disorder because of you. You're exactly what's wrong with today's society."

Surprisingly, Curly grins at me. "You're all right, you," he says, slowly stepping closer. "I like a girl who can give it as well as she can take it." His tone is just about as lewd as I've ever heard anyone's, and I make a face in disgust. Before I can slap him or otherwise respond, Chav interrupts.

"If you two're done dicking around, let's go inside, yeah?" she says impatiently. It's only when I hear her voice that I realize we're blocking the door.

"Right. Sorry," I reply apologetically. I pass through the door, giving Curly an evil glare over my shoulder.

In the locker room, I get my stuff as quickly as possible. As I'm shoving my belongings into my bag, the slutty girl is applying a thick layer of lip-gloss and Chav's combing her hair back into a ponytail. All of a sudden, she turns around and yells at Slut, "Wot did ya say?"

"Nothing," Slut replies, confused and defensive. I look between both of them, equally perplexed. Chav here's looking to start a fight on the first day, I think to myself in amusement.

"She didn't say anything," I back her up.

"Oi, you, my name's not 'Chav,' you little bitch. It's Kelly. I'm sick o' all yous judgin' me," she says to me angrily.

"I never called you a chav," I say in surprise. I feel a bit guilty for her last comment, though. It's clear that she's been judged constantly, and we've just been two people to add to the lot. But these more sentimental thoughts don't stop me from giving her one last confused glare before leaving. I'd had enough of this weirdness.

As I'm about to reach the hallway, Curly comes out of nowhere, and stops me with his arm.

"Get your hands off me!" I hiss, startled by the sudden contact.

"Now, now, no need to get your knickers in a twist," he says with a cocky smirk. It's clear from the look in his eyes that he loves pushing people's buttons, and, as it turns out, I appear to be his preferred target at the moment.

"What do you want?" I ask, trying to sound as disinterested as possible.

"I just wanted to ask your name, love. Or, y'know, I can just call you sugartits if you've got nothing else for me to call ya."

"Is that a joke?" I say viciously, looking at him in disbelief. I can feel anger bubbling in my stomach, but I try desperately to keep my temper in check.

He takes a couple of steps back and raises his hands in surrender. "Jus' wonderin'," he says with less attitude.

"Marnie," I state bluntly, trying to push past him.

"Marnie," he repeats, tasting it. "Name's Nathan," he says, throwing his hand out for me to shake. I ignore it and brush shoulders with him as I leave.

"See ya tomorrow, then!" he waves, tone cheerful as ever.

I walk through the doors, shaking my head. This was going to be a long 200 hours, to say the least.

When I get home to my dingy flat, I throw my stuff down and immediately take out a bottle of cheap wine. I live alone, so there's no need to look sophisticated; I drink it straight from the bottle. I flip on the T.V. but don't really watch it, a habit that I've recently developed. I think about phoning my mates and going out, but I decide against it. Doing this volunteering shit with a hangover tomorrow doesn't sound appealing.

At around one I change into my pink striped pajamas and head off to bed. I say bed, but really it's just a lumpy mattress laid down on the floor with a couple of blankets on it. In case you couldn't already tell, I'm broke as fuck. I've been looking for a job, but things aren't exactly going well. I've just recently been kicked out of my house. My mum gave me a bit of money before I left – just enough to pay the rent for this piece of shit flat. There are screams at night and strange noises outside, but things have been more or less all right. I'm alive, at least, and I suppose it's better than being homeless.

The next morning, I wake up to the horribly obnoxious beeping of my alarm clock. I roll out of bed and stumble into the bathroom with my eyes half closed. After hopping in the shower, I dry myself off and attempt to comb out my mane of nearly waist-length dark brown hair. My success is limited. I then proceed to start work on my makeup. Before I know it, it's time to head back to that horrid community center.

I arrive to see "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU" spray-painted onto the wall.

"Lovely," I mutter to myself darkly. However, something about it seems vaguely humorous. Nathan's rambling on about some "hidden meaning" or something, but I think it's pretty clear that some teenaged assholes are trying to have a laugh at us.

Before we enter the building to get changed, the probation worker lines us up and demands all of our mobiles thanks to the impertinence of Slut, who had been fiddling away incessantly with hers. Now, I keep referring to her as "Slut." You might find this a bit cruel, given the fact that I don't actually know her. And you would be correct – I don't actually know her. She could be perfectly nice, for all I know. But what is evident – at least in my mind – is that she'd love the nickname. Because she is a slut, and she knows it. And she owns it. And she loves it. So I don't feel guilty, not really. I don't feel guilty like I had when I referred to "Kelly" as "Chav."

The six of us go into the locker room and it suddenly hits me that there used to be someone else in the group: the kid with the cap worn to the side.

I'm torn from my thoughts abruptly when Nathan appears out of thin air and slaps my ass. Before I can adequately express how livid I am, he says, "Hiya there," he pauses, and I know he is searching for my name. His eyes scrunch shut in thought. "Ma-Marisa? No, that's not it… Mary?"

I look at him with a steely expression, clearly not amused. "Marnie," I grit out. I then deliver a sharp slap to his right cheek, and the sound rings loudly as it bounces off the tiled walls.

"Jesus Christ!" he exclaims, cradling his face. The others laugh at his misfortune and I have a feeling I've just won the approval of at least a few of them.

Later, as we're working on the wall, Kelly starts up an odd conversation. "Ya know," she started, "after the storm, did any of yous lot feel dead weird?"

"Yeah!" Nathan says boisterously, getting everyone to turn his or her head towards him. He lives for this stuff, to be the center of attention. "I had a strange tingling sensation in my anus!" And then it's gone; everyone turns away and I roll my eyes in irritation.

"Can you just shut up?" I say to him.

"No, haven't you noticed? I have diarrhea of the mouth. Or word vomit. Either or."

I let an exasperated sigh cross my lips before getting back to work.

"Did ya feel weird?" I hear Kelly ask Creep.

"What, you don't want to hear about my anus?" says Nathan. I smack him in the ribs and he falls back exaggeratedly. "What's with all the hitting?" he demands indignantly, flailing his arms.

There was a painful exchange between Nathan and Creep (who I was now starting to feel more sympathetic towards) in which Creep attempted to tell his story but was discouraged by Nathan's jackassery.

When it comes time for our break, Kelly wanders off and the rest of us go into the rec room. The boys play foosball and Slut goes into the locker room, presumably to do a makeup touch up.

I overhear Nathan talking about us: "So, which one do you want?"

"What are you on about now?" the athlete asks, completely lost.

"The girls, of course," says Nathan, "There are three and three – do the maths because it's your lucky day, gentlemen. We each get one."

"There used to be four guys…" says Creep. Thank God I wasn't the only one who'd noticed…

"I'm talking about getting laid!" Nathan bursts out. "So, how are we gonna do this? 'cause the one with the frizzy hair, I don't see me and her getting it on."

"Why, because she's beautiful?" laughs Athlete.

"No, because she looks like she'd be super high maintenance, like you'd have to treat her really well," he says, clearly repulsed by the idea.

I want to chime in, but I don't because I'd rather hear what he has to say about me first.

"I'm thinking I'll have the brunette there for myself," he says, pointing his thumb over his shoulder in my direction. "She might have a hell of a mouth on her and a bit of a hot streak, but I think I can handle it. Plus, hate sex is always the best… Loads of passion in a girl like her." He shoots one more glance in my direction, completely unaware that I can hear them, before continuing, "Yeah, I'll have that one. And you," he says to Creep, "you can have the other one…"

"Kelly?" he offers.

"Yeah, Kelly. She's all yours, mate. She's maybe not the prettiest one, but couple of Bacardi Breezers and she'll be good to go!"

"And what about the girls," says Athlete, "Do they have any say in this?"

"Obviously not," I finally interject, "Otherwise this conversation wouldn't even be happening."

"Again with the mouth!" I hear Nathan curse under his breath.

"Oh I'm sorry," I say with mock innocence, walking over to stand toe to toe with him, "I thought you said you liked a girl who could give it as well as she could take it." I tried to sound seductive and, from the looks of things, I succeeded. Nathan's jaw has dropped and he's staring at me lustfully, while the others look amused. They know I'm only toying with him, thank God.

"Oh baby, that's exactly what I said, isn't it?" he says, lowering his face so that our noses are almost touching. I back away abruptly.

"I'm telling you," he continues somewhat disappointedly, "A group of young people, doing mindless shit all day? It's gonna happen! It always does – it's biology. Or physics. One of those. Anyway, so do we have a deal?" He spits into his palm as if he were a nursery schooler and holds it out for Athlete to shake. He does nothing but look at him in disgust before walking away.

I glare at him with all the intensity I can muster, but he only shrugs it off and winks at me. I can't believe the audacity of him – I've never met such an unbelievable git.

"We'll talk about this later, love," he says, following the rest of the group to where Slut is sitting.

It's here in this little circle of conversation that I learn everyone's proper name. Slut is really Alisha, Athlete is Curtis, and Creep is Simon. Nathan violently beating the vending machine interrupts the conversation. There's a telltale dropping noise, and it becomes clear that his method is annoying albeit effective.

Curtis admits that he was done for possession of cocaine, and I can't say I'm too surprised. The athletes at his level – they're intense. Their sport takes over their entire life. They all crack (no pun intended) sooner or later. I can't help but feel bad for him as Nathan mocks his situation. Curtis grabs him by the lapels of his jumpsuit and screams angrily, "Shut the fuck up! You know nothing! All I ever did was train!"

After this outburst has died down, the attention turns to me.

"What about you, sweetheart," says Nathan once he's recovered from Curtis' brutal shake down, "what're you done for?"

"Kidnapping," I state bluntly, "And stealing a car."

They all look shocked. It's always the quiet ones... I muse.

"Bullshit, that'll get you jail time," Alisha says finally.

I shake my head. "It's complicated. I stole my stepdad's car and put my baby brother in the back after he started throwing bottles around the house. I disappeared for like three days and when the police found me they let me off with community service 'cause they'd gotten a bunch of domestic complaints about my dad."

"That's fucked up," she says.

"You're telling me…" I mutter. "I shouldn't fucking be here."

"Cry me a river, babe!" Nathan mocks. I glare at him, but the memory of what happened is still too bitter to recount without feeling shitty afterwards. He then turns to Alisha, "And you, sweetcheeks? What are you done for?"

Alisha then proceeds to tell the story of her arrest, giving her water bottle a blowjob as she'd apparently done with the breathalyzer test. At the end of it, I'm disgusted (to say the least), while simultaneously confident that my earlier assessment of her character is correct.

The males, on the other hand, have a completely different reaction. They all look as if they want to jump her bones on the spot. I ignore the vague feeling of jealousy. I don't want to give her the satisfaction of thinking she's more attractive than me. I've known girls like her before, girls from school. They revel in the fact that all the guys love them and all the girls hate them. Plus, says an annoying voice in my head, Nathan's already said that he wants me out of everyone… FUCK. What am I thinking. I'm mad. Absolutely mad.

Suddenly, the door bursts open and Kelly comes running in with a terrified look on her face. She trips and screams, " 'e's gonna kill os!"

Author's note! I hope you all liked it! I know that re-hashing the entire first episode is really cumbersome, so I tried to gloss over a lot of the dialogue to keep it kinda short. I know you guys have seen the episode, you don't really need me to replay it for you, do you? I just thought it might get boring. Anyway, I'd love to know what you think! Please review!