Welcome to Gaia! ::

Being pushed ahead by a guard in a White Uniform made of synthetic Fibers Jim looked around his bleak surroundings, his feet and hands shackled together. He walked on a strict path towards the cells, passing through a large concrete courtyard, No soil to be found and that outside the courtyard devoid of any plant life. His uniform was made of a synthetic material, and he was being herded towards the ‘plant sigil’ cells. Through a chain-link fence to his right, he saw another group of prisoners being escorted towards their cells, the imprisoned were wearing heavy ‘fire proof’ suits, as were the guards. To his left he saw a similar site, though rather than the fire-proofing, these seemed to be standard hazmat suits, and only worn by the guards.
Jim heard a struggle to the right and stopped to look for a moment. He saw one of the prisoner’s right arm engulfed in fire, the suit he was wearing had been melted away, as he lunged at one of the guards grabbing his head, though his would be escape attempt would be cut short as he was shot in the head by another nearby guard. The guards quickly returned to their duties dragging the body away to some unknown place. Jim felt a sharp pain in his back as a guard hit him with the bud of a rifle instructing him to not stop again.
Jim walked on towards the cells. He had done nothing wrong, and yet he was here. Just as everyone else was, they had done nothing wrong. Yet, there was no escape for these people. They were here because they were ‘different’ and people feared them. Yet, they had done nothing wrong.
The only reason Jim was sent here, was the same for everyone else in the group of 5, including him, being escorted to his section’s holding cells. That being, the simple mark that had appeared on his left palm two and a half years ago. It was nothing special at first glance, it appeared to be nothing more than a tattoo of a seed, though Jim had never gotten a tattoo in his life. Similar marks had appeared on others during that same time, varying in form and use. This mark had granted him specific abilities, as the imprisoned to his right were able to manipulate fire, he was able to manipulate and accelerate plant growth since he had acquired this mark.
At first Jim found his mark and power to be useless worthwhile ignoring it, as he had never had a personal interest in gardening and he figured it would be best to simply ignore this odd power. Though, within a week it had become apparent that it was not an isolated incident, in fact markings had appeared on people around the world with similar, though different effects. Within a month the first nations of the world had begun to imprison those with these markings and a few were forcing them into military service.
Now every nation had the imprisonment of such people in specialized cells as a minimum punishment for no crime, but rather simply possessing these abilities. Jim wondered if he had not received a mark himself, if he would have been in support of imprisoning such dangerous people, he had heard that some marks allowed people to kill with nothing more than a touch and others could even cause earthquakes or suck the oxygen right out of a room.
Jim finally came to the end of the courtyard and entered his concrete prison, walking in and passing through endless halls of flat concrete walls and floors with large steal doors, guided by more guards. After trudging for what seemed like hours he came to his cell, the door to which was a large grey metal door. Bolts outlined the edges of the door and there was a sliding slot to view the interior and send food through. Jim was released of his shackles before he was forcefully thrown into his cell and the door slammed behind him.
Jim stood slowly wincing at his right forearm, as it seemed to have been scraped a bit when he fell. He looked around his bleak room. The walls were all made of solid concrete, as were the floor and ceiling, though there was a light with a metal chain hanging from the ceiling. The room itself was a small eight by eight foot room. It had a bed mounted on the wall, with plastic sheets and a plastic pillow, and a concrete base on the right wall. There was a industrial toilet and a sink in the back left corner, with a small mirror above the sink. Looking at the wall opposite the door he found a window. Outside he looked, only to see a long stretch of land covered in concrete so that nothing could survive.
Jim sighed and reflected on his situation for many days, hating his entrapped state and wishing for some way out. His meals were served to him on a regular basis, but most of what he was given was artificial. He had not had a single vegetable or piece of fruit since the third day he had been there. He heard from the other prisoners that he spoke too through the slot in his door, that someone had used their food to escape somehow and that was why they were no longer served any food that was technically a plant. As well, he found that everyone in the same cell block had the same mark on their body though some said it had changed over time, like the seed had opened and was actually growing.
Jim had spent three months imprisoned, tiring of his surroundings to an insurmountable degree in their monotony, which made his time seem like years rather than months. One day while brushing his teeth with little else to do he dropped his toothbrush to the ground by mistake cursing as it had fallen behind the toilet. Kneeling down to the side he reached to get it back when he noticed something different from the rest of his cell, there and there alone in that small space, there was a tiny crack in the ground. He grabbed his toothbrush and cleaned it off finishing brushing his teeth, his mind focused on the crack in the floor, but fearing that someone may come by and see. That night he went back to that small space to examine the crack further, finding that the tiny crack led down to soil and something was actually growing there.
Jim smiled at his fortune, having finally found his chance. With this he may be able to escape. With this, he stood a chance.