I'm not okay! Save me MCR!

The group was lead into a very narrow, very long and ridiculously clean room. The ground was unpaved concrete and the walls gleaming white. Although the dull yellow ceiling lights didn’t do much for the image. There were five doors.. all made of cast iron with a small window of bars.
“I thought we opted not to go to jail!” Bob cried
“How dare you! Jail cells are nowhere as clean as this!” the black clad man said, wounded as he was obviously also the underpaid cleaner for the laboratory.
“Oh. So you took us to a psychiatric ward instead then.” Gerard said,
“A what?” Frankie asked rubbing his temples,
“An insane asylum.”
“Don’t get it.”
“Looney bin, nuthouse, crazy home... does any of this make sense to you!?” Gerard sighed
“No need to get all condescending on me.” Frankie whimpered.
“Ahem,” the black clad man coughed, everyone looked at him.
“During you three week stay here we will undergo three processes; the detox stage, the experimentation stage and the recovery, each a week long.”
“What’s detox?” Bob asked rubbing his hands together eagerly.
“A period where we provide you certain food...”
“YES!” Frankie cried, a glare from the man shut him up
“Ensure all alcohol is removed from you system and any narcotics as well... and have you undergo a small fitness regime.”
“Wait, wait, wait... how do you remove the alcohol out of our system if we are still drinking?” Ray asked.
“You will be drinking nothing but water. All alcoholic beverages are strictly prohibited during your stay.”
“No!” a unanimous shout from the band... before watching Mikey bolt for the endless flight of stairs... and his freedom.
“... I have never actually seen him run before!” Gerard whispered to Bob.
“Me neither.”

The man in black spoke into his watch and told security to return Mikey to the holding room; such a pleasant name.
“This one’s crazy too!” Ray cheered, pointing at the man...
“God... we are not only the subject of crazy experiments, but crazy freaking scientists as well!” Gerard moaned.
“I swear if anyone tries to gang probe me I’ll kill ‘em!” Frankie hissed...
“... and when do we eat?!” his immediate follow through.
“Later. You will now be allocated rooms and clothing according to your body size... which means you will need to be stripped down and measured.”
“Fuck that.” Bob stated curtly... “I call first room!” he called heading over to it. A thickly built security officer stood in front of him blocking his way.
“Hey..” Bob said, stepping back.
“We understand for privacy concerns you will all be measured inside your allocated rooms...”
‘I call 2nd!” Frankie shouted
“I said allocated rooms!”
“3rd!” Ray shouted...
“Fuck no! I don’t want a room next to Mikey... or you... I call 5th!”
Frankie shook his head at Gerard.
“Don’t you people listen you don’t get to pick your rooms!” He protested. Kinda desperate.

Another security guard appeared, holding a barely conscious Mikey in his big hairy arms.
“Got him sir... only made it up the first flight of stairs... he collapsed after that.”
The others burst into laughter...
“*panting*... shuddup.”, Mikey wheezed

Out of each of the five rooms came a person dressed in complete orange... an ugly colour that didn’t seem to go with anything and holding measuring devices and a security guard.

Bob twitched uncomfortably as he eyed off the balding man with strange blood clotting issues in his face...
“Does he have to be the one who does it?” he whined
“Yes. But if you had of accepted your allocated rooms you would be in room 5. This now belongs to Gerard.” They all looked over to Gerard, who had the only female attendant. Gerard smiled mischievously...
“You know, this isn’t so bad.” He continued and skipped off toward the room. The rest of the group heard some kind of argument between the security guard and Gerard... which ended with the security guard picking him up and tossing him over his shoulder. Apparently, he didn’t want the security officer in there.

Security wasn’t for him.

“Damn.” Bob cursed, turning back to his attendant. “Let’s get this over and done with then.”

----------------------------------------*_______*_______*-----------------------------------------------
Day One.
Room One.
Bob Bryar.

I groaned. I was bored. This room had nothing in it other than a clean bed with sterile white sheets, a chair and a small toilet just behind a wall, giving only the barest amount of privacy.

Oh and there was a plastic clock on the wall behind bars, like somehow I was supposed to be clever enough to break out using a fucking clock!

8:30, it was early, very early, but I was woken up at 7, fed some disgusting vegetable[i/] gruel thingy and left in here to go fucking insane from boredom. Ah well, at least we got out a 9. So my security guy said, only trouble was it was part of the exercise program.

Day One.
Room Two.
Frank Iero.

I sat cross-legged on the cold concrete floor of my cell, the insisted on calling them rooms but what else is a small four walled place to stick people? My head was feeling better, my hangover from yesterday had subsided somewhat.

I picked up the little tin cup the gave me for my water this morning, and stared at it. This was the only object in the cell not bolted to either the floor or the walls.

I began to whistle the tune to cancer while dragging the tin cup back and forth along the metal bars I gazed out of.

Day One.
Room Three.
Ray Toro.

I stared down at the plate in front of me. It had been how long since they handed me this crap? I wasn’t going to eat it, besides I swear there must be something living in it.

I gazed at the clock, wishing these three bloody weeks would end. And it was only day one!

Day One.
Room Four.
Mikey Way.

I sat on the edge of my bed like a scolded child. Stupid cops having to catch us breaking the law. I mean really. My feet hurt from running yesterday... and I had a feeling that when I got back from this stupid workout I was going to feel a hell of a lot worse.

Day One.
Room Five.
Gerard Way.

*Still Asleep*