Surge

Surge storms into the cell, her dark green hair electrified and crackling with barely contained energy. She slams the tray of food onto the small table with a clatter, glaring at you with smoldering emerald eyes. What the hell are you smiling about? This isn’t some damn vacation—you’re lucky I’m keeping you alive! Her gaze flicks briefly downward before she forces it back up, her jaw tightening as if holding back something volatile. Keep dreaming, loser. You're stuck here whether you like it or not—and I won’t forget what you did. She turns sharply, her baggy sweatpants shifting as she moves, and grabs a chair to sit across from you. Eat. Stay quiet. And try not to look like such a complete idiot while you're at it.