Fandom Belle Reve Means "Sweet Dreams" // Suicide Squad RP // RP Thread

[Aviator]

In one of the infinite universes created by Barry Allen's tampering with time, General Zod has successfully killed the legendary Kal-El, known as Superman to the public. During this time, mankind is beginning to understand time travel only at its barest bones, but they know enough to realize that in 98% of universes, General Zod is successful in his attempted invasion to dominate Earth and subjugate humans to Kryptonian will. In a last-ditch attempt to save Earth 8344 from meeting the same fate as so many of its predecessors, the guardians of Belle Reve Federal Penitentiary have reached a crucial (but not altogether novel) decision: Just as the Suicide Squad was once deployed to thwart Enchantress and destroy the Jotunheim laboratory in alternate timelines, a different ragtag group of criminals, supervillains, and psychopaths will be deployed against the invading Kryptonian force. How the Belle Reve authorities justify such ridiculousness, you ask? Well, since in 98% of timelines military intervention fails anyway, it's time for a different solution; most importantly, one in which low-life criminal scum are at stake, rather than American war heroes. As was the case in previous timelines, the criminals enlisted in this likely death trap are being bribed with reduced sentences... and supervillains have a convenient knack for bloodlust, anyway. Should they egregiously disobey their superiors' orders at any time and go rogue, they will be destroyed via the nanobomb implanted in their necks.

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Setting: Modern-day Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana… although the prison has miraculously managed to keep details of its location hidden from all inmates, current and former thus far. Only the prison staff—who as you can imagine go through a highly rigorous selection process—know where to find Belle Reve on a map. As aforementioned, this RP is located in Earth 8344, a universe in which all of the Justice League have fallen at the hands of General Zod’s forces.

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Characters: In terms of characters, my only request is that everyone play an OC… in other words, no canon characters other than our villain of all villains, General Zod and cronies. Even Amanda Waller and Rick Flag do not exist in this universe, or if they do they are not associated with Belle Reve. The prison houses a completely different group of inmates and is operated by completely different staff. You may play as either inmates, guards, or both! All non-NPC guards will accompany the Suicide Squad on their mission as their handlers. In accordance with the DCU and DCEU, your characters may indeed have superpowers or just be normal humans with a penchant for troublemaking on a large scale. All that I ask is that your character not be too OP with their powers and have a few legitimate weaknesses, either physical, psychological, or some combination thereof.

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Rules and expectations: While it’s not required that you’ve seen or read the DCU/DCEU to join this RP, please be aware that it is the source material! It definitely can’t hurt to familiarize yourself with a few comics or movies, but we will also be willing to help out newcomers to understand the universe as necessary. On another note, please be aware that this is an advanced RP, so 3+ paragraphs per post! It’s A-okay if English isn’t your first language, but please do try your best with spelling and grammar unless it pertains to dialogue. Please be able and willing to post on the RP thread at least once every two weeks; don’t make me have to hunt you down for RP posts. Lastly, feel free to come up with NPCs and side plots on the fly! I love RPers who have an imagination and take initiative to keep the story rolling!

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Inmates (11/∞):
- Caio McCarthy // "Whiplash" // Getaway Driver
- Dr. Elara Sterling // "Nexa" // Physicist with Cosmic Alter Ego
- Aia // "Shiro" // Devourer of Human Souls
- Keeley Murphy-Belanger // Computer Whiz
- Ahmi Michelle // "Buzzkill" // Super-soldier
- Balor Fiahd // "Grimlin" // Ravenous Alien Inventor
- Kenna Rose // "Basilisk" // Human-Viper Hybrid
- Tamzin // Alien with Psychic Powers
- Eve Fay // Evolution // Reactive Adaption Big-Brain
- Sinead Breaux // Earth-Born Angel // Gangster Girl
- Billy Blackwood // "Pestilence" // Child Entomologist

Guards (1/∞)
- Sidon Grey // "Manta Ray" // Marine Biologist
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[Aviator]

Caio McCarthy // Whiplash // Age 26 // Inmate // Getaway Driver // Brazilian-American
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Dr. Seth Alister’s pen lazily flicked from side to side as he jotted a note on his clipboard, angled carefully away from Caio’s vision. Light glinted on both lenses of the therapist’s glasses as he shifted his head, momentarily obscuring his eyes. An uncharacteristically mellow Red Hot Chili Peppers song played in the background of his office, dancing just on the verge of audibility, its volume carefully monitored so as to not disturb conversation. The newly erected Halloween decorations in Dr. Alister’s office implied that the season was either late summer or early autumn; not that Caio had much reason to care about the seasons, though. Not when his sentence would be fulfilled half past never. In accordance with the seasonal shift, the office reeked of apple cider, as if someone had left a scented candle burning for several hours too long, or spilled a brimming mug of the stuff on the carpet. But Caio knew firsthand that there were worse things for the office to reek of, so he was content to suffer in sickening sweetness.
“Mr. McCarthy…” Dr. Alister drew out the name as if he were gearing up to make a considerable request of Caio. During their first few biweekly meetings, he’d taken to calling Caio by his first name as if they were old chums, and Caio had swiftly corrected the therapist to address him as “McCarthy.” After some further insistence on Caio’s behalf, Dr. Alister had reluctantly transitioned to using his surname, but with a “mister” attached to it, as if Caio were a high school history teacher like his mother and not a former athlete primarily known to the world by his last name. Nonetheless, Caio supposed he ought to be grateful. Dr. Alister was the only one among Belle Reve’s staff who referred to him by any kind of name, rather than Prisoner Sixty-Six Eighty-Two.
Dr. Alister suddenly looked up from his clipboard, lips stretched into a too-wide smile like a shark’s leer. “Are you still taking your meds?” He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose with a soft sniffle.
According to Dr. Alister’s professional opinion, Caio suffered from a variety of minor mental illnesses, among which were ADHD, depression, bipolar type two, and a healthy dose of childhood trauma. The meds that he took—tiny, round pills in a translucent amber bottle—were supposedly of the cure-all variety and treated Caio on all of the aforementioned fronts. Caio had never heard of such a drug and wondered what they would do to him over an extended period.
“Yessir,” Caio replied automatically, ever the polite Southern boy, all sweet-tea manners and holding the door for strangers. Most Southern mamas would smack their boys upside the head for behaving otherwise, but not Giselle McCarthy. Her solution to Caio acting out as a kid was to buy him some Goldfish from the vending machine and drop him off at the go-kart track until it closed. It was his Tia Claudia who’d had to clean up Giselle’s mess and slap some sense into her fractious son. Distance from Giselle was the only thing Caio liked about Belle Reve Federal Penitentiary: never having to deal with one of her friend requests on social media or the holiday text that wished him well in about two hundred words too many.
“Every day with food,” Caio assured Dr. Alister when the latter looked unconvinced. Caio looked his therapist dead in the eye as he lied, his countenance smoothed into a stony exterior. For three and a half weeks now, those meds had been gathering dust, wedged in a crack between Caio’s stereo—easily his most expensive possession nowadays—and the wall in a corner of his cell.
Silence fell over the room like a heavy curtain. Caio stared Dr. Alister down expressionlessly. He’d done this song and dance enough times to know how to weaponize the silence, because Dr. Alister would break before he did. Caio would have had absolutely no qualms whatsoever if the whole of their sessions consisted of wordlessly staring at one another. While he normally wasn’t one for dishonesty, lying to the therapist he’d never asked for was one of the few acts of defiance of which he was still capable, and he’d keep doing it until they cut out his tongue.
Dr. Alister took a sip of tea from a dainty china teacup, the steam momentarily fogging his glasses over. “That’s good to hear,” he finally said, eyeing Caio over the rim of the teacup. “And how do you find they’re affecting you?”
Caio swallowed. Open-ended lies required more thought, but that didn’t mean he minded them more. In fact, they were one of the few intellectual challenges he encountered inside the prison’s walls, so he embraced the opportunity to use his brain for a task more complex than throwing darts at a board to pass the time. “Everything kinda recedes into the background when I’m on them, you know? In a good way. Taunts from other inmates—whoops, incarcerated persons—fade into the background, the shrimp tacos are more palatable. My leg doesn’t hurt so badly. I’m able to concentrate better during my shifts in the kitchen, and I don’t get hungry as much, so the urge to steal food isn’t there like it used to be.” Sell it, a little voice said from the corner of Caio’s mind. “In fact, I haven’t been reprimanded for stealing in over a month,” he said, the first truthful thing he’d said in the past two minutes. A tenuous pause, and then Caio forced his lips into the tiniest of smiles, as if he took pride in such an accomplishment.
Dr. Alister beamed. He loved when patients sought his praise, as if he were a king bestowing rare treasures upon worthy subjects. It was this hubris that Caio had been playing to. “I’m overjoyed to hear that, Mr. McCarthy. If you’re seeing such adequate results, perhaps I’ll lower your dosage soon, so that you take the meds only twice every three days. Or even every other day, if you’re still feeling strong.”
Caio stifled the urge to snort, loudly and ungraciously. As if he would ever let this prim grad-school dandy see him weak. Beneath the desk where his cuffed hands were folded—a cold, metallic reminder of when he’d lunged across Dr. Alister’s desk with violent intent for an off-color comment about Caio’s relationship with his father during their second meeting—his pulse thrummed strongly, steadily. Assuringly. Prison’s very limited entertainment options were instilling an unhealthy love of deception in Caio. More specifically, the thrill that came with lying. The improvisation of turning straw into gold, of passing flaming dogshit off as twenty-four-carat diamonds. A rubbery feeling shot through his limbs, like experiencing a near miss when gunning down a highway with bags of stolen money somersaulting around in the back of the car.
Seemingly satisfied with Caio’s answer, Dr. Alister’s eyes hunted for the analog clock hovering over the office door. Caio resisted the impulse to twist and follow his gaze, not wanting to appear overeager to leave. “I think our time is coming to an end,” Dr. Alister said on a sigh, as if the observation physically pained him. “Parting is such sweet sorrow.”
Caio nodded in somber agreement.
The therapist continued, “Until we meet again two weeks from now, I want you to continue just as you’ve been doing. Keep taking your meds, and let’s aim for two months that you haven’t taken food from the kitchen!” Dr. Alister interjected a note of optimism into his tone, as if Caio’s success would earn him a raise.
Caio cleared his throat, stifling a bubble of mirthless laughter. “Sounds like a good goal,” he agreed cordially, aware of the distinction between what he’d actually said and how Dr. Alister had obviously interpreted it. Just because he hadn’t been recently reprimanded for stealing food from the kitchen didn’t mean that he had stopped altogether. He’d just gotten better at covering his tracks. Faster at erasing the evidence, downing whole sandwiches in three bites or fewer.
Dr. Alister reached across the desk, either to shake Caio’s hand or help a crippled man from his seat; he wasn’t sure which. Whatever the case, Caio blinked at him, then raised his shackled hands mutely. The therapist bleated nervously at his gaffe and retracted his hand. “Aha, my apologies. Anyway, a lovely two weeks to you, Mr. McCarthy, and I look forward to our next session.”
As Dr. Alister rang the bell for the guards waiting outside to escort Caio from his office, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, Caio wondered what was really in those meds that he’d stopped taking, and how four months of taking them had altered his body and mind.

* * *​

The third magnetic dart hit the top of the board with a hollow splat! and just as Caio had been banking on, gravity caused it to skid down an inch, so that it came to a lucky stop inside the triple-twenty mark. Without metal tips that punctured the dartboard, the blunt darts were less than precise, and unless thrown with an excess of force, would not adhere to exactly where they landed on the board. Caio used to despise the board—and more than that, the degrading fact that inmates were forbidden from possessing metal darts—until he’d learned to use it to his advantage, strategically aiming an inch or so above his target.
His turn completed, he stepped up to the board to gather his darts, examining his work. One dart was lodged in the inner red bull’s-eye for fifty points, the other in the outer green ring for twenty-five, and the third in the triple-twenty zone, totaling to a whopping 135 points. Normally, Caio would aim all his shots at the inner bull’s-eye, but another quirk of the magnetic dartboard: Darts that contacted were prone to magnetizing with one another, in which case both of them would unlatch from the dartboard and fall to the floor, resulting in two misses. He’d learned the hard way that it was better to be safe than sorry and space them out. As someone who didn’t drink but whose former girlfriend had loved the bar scene, Caio had found himself playing lots and lots of bar games. And getting pretty damn good at most of them, except for pool.
“Best of luck, ladies, but don’t beat yourselves up over the outcome,” he said haughtily to Eve and Elara, his two opponents, knowing that they would be unlikely to make a comeback. They currently lagged three-hundred-and-some points behind in the game of 701, and they’d gone first, so they weren’t up a turn. “You put up a good fight. Really. Your marksmanship is coming along smoothly.” Elara’s lips tightened at Caio’s patronizing, and he felt a flicker of wry amusement. Talking “nice” trash got under her skin so much better than the ordinary mean-spirited variety, to which she always had a swift comeback.
Caio passed his three darts to his partner, Keeley Murphy-Belanger. “Give ‘em hell,” he told the tech whiz. Keeley was something of an anomaly within Belle Reve for the same reason as Caio: both of them lacked powers. Or supernatural abilities. Or magic, demon-work, gris-gris, whatever have you. While it was a little flattering from the right perspective, Caio couldn’t help but wonder at what the hell he was doing in a prison among the world’s most dangerous criminals, most of them meta-humans. He drove cars. He drove them fast and he knew how to pull them apart and put them back together. His most dangerous ability was the fact that he could most likely wire a bomb to a car in a fashion that would be undetectable until too late, but it wasn’t like he’d actually utilized that ability. It wasn’t like he’d killed anyone, despite his typical inimical sentiments toward Dr. Alister.
Entrusting Keeley to finish the game so that Caio wouldn’t have to step back up to the taped-off throwing line, he dug in the pocket of his orange jumpsuit for a cigarette. Walked to a little steel box affixed to one of four identical stony-gray walls. When he held the cigarette beneath, the paper seemed to ripple for an instant, and with a thin wisp of smoke, its tip ignited. Caio rubbed the cigarette across his lips so that it wouldn’t stick and then took a drag, savoring the tingle that climbed through his fingers, the way his vision sharpened to a razor’s edge.
As he crossed to the picnic table in the recreation “yard”—which was completely indoors—that his squad of misfits had claimed, Eve was taking her turn. Caramel-colored hair swished behind her as she stepped for a throw, and even beneath the unflattering glaze of the overbright lights, her skin retained a healthy golden glow. Caio plunked down on one of the two wooden benches and finished off his half-eaten bag of tortilla chips within a few seconds. His stomach still feeling hollow, he eyed the remnants of lunch on Keeley’s plate, long gone cold. Overdone turkey breast, lumpy mashed potatoes, flavorless mixed broccoli and squash, and a rock-hard roll. “Hey, uh, Keeley?” Caio used to feel acutely awkward and slightly timid before delivering such requests, but he’d been acting as Keeley’s garbage disposal for so long that the feeling was starting to fade. “You gonna eat this?” Keeley hesitated just long enough that Caio snatched up an uncut slice of turkey in his fingers and popped it into his mouth. “Thank you for your noble sacrifice. Will be remembered in the future,” he assured Keeley with utmost seriousness before pouncing on his plate.
After finishing off Keeley’s turkey and roll, picking at the vegetables, and discarding the mashed potatoes, Caio puffed on his cigarette. He’d been smoking since he was seventeen, giving homeless people money to buy him cigarettes when he’d been too young to acquire them on his own. It wasn’t until he and Adelaide had been together for two years that she’d convinced him to replace smoking with vaping. But there were no vapes in Belle Reve. And Adelaide wasn’t here anymore. In his final conversation with Giselle, when he’d called her right after his trial had been settled, she’d told him that Adelaide was in “a better place,” prompting Caio to hang up on her. Whether or not one believed in the afterlife, Caio had been the one to send her there out of sheer recklessness. He’d been the one driving, the one who decided that the only way out was through when the cops had cornered them, and yet Adelaide had paid the price for his stupidity.
A tanned face full of soft angles filled his vision. Full lips and bottle-green eyes. Eve had slid onto the bench next to him, sitting close enough to touch but not daring to. Caio had never explicitly told her, but she had seemed to pick up that he wasn’t very keen on touching. She asked if he was okay, her eyes large and brows arched halfway up her forehead. At that moment Caio realized that he had already smoked his cigarette down to the filter and was white-knuckling the bench with his other hand. His gaze leapt to Keeley and Elara, but they seemed absorbed in the game of 701. Relief that Eve seemed to be the only one paying him attention twined with self-consciousness in his chest. Caio didn’t like excessive attention, and he didn’t want to bring the others’ moods down. Especially not during one of their precious intervals of free time to wander outside of their cells.
“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” he said unconvincingly, despising how needy he sounded. Caio ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it more than it already was. Taking comfort in the fact that he had hair to dishevel, unlike when he’d first arrived at Belle Reve and immediately been shorn bald. “I’m ready to start the next game, if y’all are. You and I can be a team, Eve. Or do you wanna call it for the afternoon?”

 

[Ashy_OCdesigns]

It was his turn to throw, and if any of the little dart group been new, they would've been weirded out by the fact that Keeley stretched throughly. However, most inmates were used to this habit. Just like they were used to his long naps and slow movements. His fluctuating levels of opioids. He started from the neck, and moved down. He was aware of the dart in his hands and he was glad, for most of the time he wanted something in his hand. Nothing except computers and mixing prison food when possible had ever stuck. As a result, he called it hobby roulette. He flicked back some of his arm as he prepared to throw, not really engaging in talk. He couldn't multitask well to save his own skin.

CLUNK. It had embedded in the board, not in the bullseye. No surprise there. It was embedded a few inches above Caio's. On a bad day, his dart would be just barely inside the board. He stepped back to let his opponents throw, letting his mind wander. That was pretty par as well. He had stopped keeping track of points, letting Caio do so. He had remembered Caio approaching him for darts, and him not knowing why, but still curious. The first time, it only took him ten minutes before he was tired and had gone to take a nap.

CLUNK. The next one was to the left and slightly above his first shot. He often forgot he had three darts to throw. He had suddenly remembered and had thrown again. For the third dart, he was looking at it intently, like he was about to threaten it into going in the bullseye. CLUNK. The dart touched the top of where Caio's dart would have been, and he smiled a little. This had definitely been his best shot. He stepped back once more.

Keeley set down his food in front of Caio, seeing as Caio had been eying his plate. Keeley wasn't very hungry these days, so his darts partner became his garbage disposal. He had found a friend in Caio, or as close as you were gonna get here in a maximum security prison that for some reason allowed cellmates. He took the milk, though. He was for whatever reason thinking about his trial.
"May all rise." The judge said and Keeley was happy. The trial had lasted a long time, a year. He wanted it over with months ago, having admitted to all the crimes. They had managed to think he was a fall guy. He had fallen asleep during court. But now, it was over.
"Glad that rat's going to jail. " Said a man with slicked back hair. The CEO of a random company who had been embezzling from his own company and dredging up a lawsuit against his competitors. He was put away, and Keeley hadn't done the most illegal things he's ever done when he managed to hack into the guy's email accounts without the CEO ever finding out.

He saw his brother and mother in the crowd of people, and they both had helpless looks. He couldn't face their disappointment,even if he didn't regret everything, so he looked away again. That trial had been a few years ago. Here he was, in Bella Reve. He didn't mind it sometimes, like now.

 

[RikuXIII]

"Could i live forever and again?
Tell me who could ask for more.
If i die tonight then what it would be for?"

Sinead Breaux softly sang along with the song in her headset as she pealed potatoes. The musical notes sparking blooms of color in her mind as the music washed through her. Though stuck with a monotonous task, the music helped her get through it. The different notes of the song painted a kaleidoscopic pattern for her that she found soothing. It was times like this when she was put on spud duty that she could just zone out at let the music do its thing and she could ignore everything else.
She had always had synesthesia, but it had become more vibrant since she...well, died. The doctors assured her that she did not flat line after being shot, but she wasn't sure she bought that. Whatever happened, she was now some kind of angel. She had no idea the how or why of it, and that fils de pute Ezrael wasn't about to explain it. That left her with a lot of nothing while serving her sentence out in Belle Reve. She often wondered if this transformation would give her the longevity to actually make it to the end of her sentence. Surely it was a waste for her to be saved to just die of old age in here, right?
A touch on Sinead's should broke her from her reverie and back to reality. She pulled off her headphones and looked up into a guards face.
"Shift's over." The guard drawled. "Time for your R&R."
Sinead nodded and got up. Turning in her potato peeler to be cleaned and her headphone to a guard, she joined a group of other prisoners going off shift. She hummed the last tune she had listened to under her breath as the group was given the go ahead to move into the halls. As per the schedule, this kitchen group had time in the exercise yard next. Sinead wasn't sure how much working out was helping her now, but it never hurt to keep in shape. Had to be careful not to lift too much, though.
Heading into the yard, the fresh group of prisoners fanned out and headed for various gear. Sinead sped up into a jog to make a couple of laps around the yard, but only got a few feet when she was slammed into the wall by a fellow inmate. He was massive with thick, vein-y arms and a slightly familiar face. He got a hand around Sinead's throat and pushed her up the wall til her feet was off the ground and she was eye to eye with him. It was only the power dampening collar she had on that was giving her room to breath.
"Can I help you, mon ami?" Sinead choked out. "You're kind of messing with my rhythm."
"You ratted me out, and got me thrown into solitary!" The big man barked. "I could have gotten us all out of here, and you fucked that up!"
Sinead narrowed her eyes for a moment as she searched her memory. Oh, yeah. His name was Hot Dawg or something. She had found this idiot trying to poison the food a couple of weeks and had reported him. Why he knew it was her that did it was concerning.
"Oh yeah." Sinead replied. "You're that gros bête who thought poisoning the prisoners food would get rid of the guards, who have their own lunches. Great plan, Hot Dawg."
"Big Dawg!" The prisoner yelled, pulling Sinead from the wall slightly to slam her into it again.
There had been a moment of confusion in his eye, the revelation that his master plan was a big joke. But the misnaming gave his pea brain something else to focus on, and the anger could push away any notion that he wasn't a genius.
"You're just trying to deflect from the fact that you're a rat!" BD snarled.
Sinead let out a choking laugh.
"So, first, real original name there." She said, her big mouth winning out over her survival instincts on this one. "Second, leave the plans to some one who doesn't have a room temperature IQ. And third,"
She had to adjust as BD squeezed a little tighter.
"What's this really get you? Guard's are gonna be here in a sec, longer than even you need to strangle me and puff, back to solitary for you. Real smart."
BD's face broke into an evil grin.
"Oh, I have friends to make sure we have our alone time." He said with satisfaction dripping from his voice. "Who's the dummy now?"
Sinead let her eye drift around the yard to see some other big heavies placed strategically around the yard to hold up traffic, including the guards trying to intervene. She thought she could spot a gang tat, but wasn't sure which one it was. Well, that made things different. Ezrael better not have the breaks on just now.
"Still you." She said with a smile, looking BD directly in the eyes.
Moving in a blur, the earth born angel struck out with her right arm, slamming her fist into BD's solar plexus. There was a slight yellowish whistling sound as all the air was knocked out, and maybe a slight brown of a cracking bone. As he crumpled to the ground, Sinead was dropped onto her feet and coughed a little as the grip around her throat left. The blockage of the crowd dispersed, allowing the guards to make it to the altercation. Sinead put her hands on her head and gave no resistance as the guards took control. She watched the rest of the room as her collar was checked and BD was cuffed. The other gang members, which she could now recognize as the prison gang Reve Rhinos, were glaring daggers at her. Great, now she had an enemy in a gang, and someone had let her report slip out. This day was just getting better and better.
****
After a couple of hours of "talking" to the guards, Sinead was released into the rec yard looking angry. That little run in meant she was being moved to be out of the Rhino's reach, meaning she was going to be on breakfast duty.
"Fucking 3:00 AM days." She muttered.

 

[ISHTAR]

Within the confines of Belle Reve Federal Penitentiary, where resources were scarce and the freedom to express oneself was stifled, the physicist-turned-interdimensional-vessel was determined to hold onto a fragment of her identity. Amidst the bleakness, a small glimmer of creativity sparked within her. With hushed exchanges and furtive glances between inmates and guards alike, she traded rare outdoor moments for much-needed materials. In her cell's dim light, colored pencils transformed into eyeliner and cooking oil into lip gloss.

Dr. Elara Sterling observed the easy banter between Caio and Eve across the picnic table. Yet, her mind wasn't fully hooked on the exchange. Darts? A passing amusement. Her mind worked overtime to devise a plan for reclaiming her precious journal from the clutches of the guards. The journal, a repository of her thoughts and theories, was her lifeline in a sea of chaos. Without the comfort of pen and paper, her mind resembled a tangled web of thoughts, desperately seeking order. An anxious foot tapped rhythmically and restlessly beneath the table. Frustration gnawed at her, and the recent increase in her medication only worked to worsen the mental fog and lethargy.

But Caio's cocky grin and self-assurance kindled a long-dormant ember within her—a competitive itch she hadn't scratched in ages. As Caio puffed his cigarette with a cool mix of chill and tension, Elara's gaze fixated on his hands, fingers clutching the bench like a lifeline. Her attention shifted to the dartboard, a canvas for her calculations. Trajectory, angle, force—mathematics and strategy intertwined, brewing a plan.

Elara stood to retrieve the set of darts, moving to the throwing line, focus intensifying. She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the darts in her hand. Her mind calculated the optimal angle and force needed to hit the mark. The clatter of a well-aimed dart hitting the board caught the attention of her teammates. Triple-twenty, a perfect shot. The other darts followed suit, finding their marks with precision. Caio turned to look at the sound of the clinks and thuds of the darts hitting the board, one after the other, curiosity and mild skepticism in his gaze. Elara's eyes met Caio's, her eyes holding a hint of challenge.

Time within the prison's confines had morphed into an abstract entity, stretching and warping with each passing day. A year had felt like a lifetime, chipping away at her once-vibrant physique. The prospect of winning a simple pudding cup had become a beacon of hope. Mouth watering, she could practically taste her victory.

But as the game neared its end, the spark of victory lost its appeal, and Elara let her last throws miss the target intentionally. She found her seat back on the bench with an anxious sigh, and the foot-tapping commenced.

Billy the Blight sat alone in his solitary confinement cell, his unnerving reputation preceding him even in the darkest corners of Belle Reve Federal Penitentiary. His gaunt face was illuminated by the faint glow of a single, dim lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Hunched over, he sketched intricate patterns on the floor with his finger, the ground his canvas for an unusual mind.

Unbeknownst to most, even in the isolation of his cell, Billy was never truly alone, his affinity for insects both his gift and curse. Through silent whispers exchanged with the cockroaches that found their way into his cell, he held a connection to the outside world, his unorthodox minions serving as his eyes and ears. Tonight, he was about to unleash a torment of his own making.

As he etched delicate lines into the dusty floor, the sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor, growing louder and more distinct with each passing moment. Billy's head snapped up, his cold black eyes narrowing as he recognized the silhouette approaching his cell.

The figure came into view, revealing a burly guard named Jake. As the guards pushed his measly meal tray through a slot in the door. A sneer twisted Jake's features as he looked at Billy, a mixture of disgust and derision evident in his expression. "Hey, Freak," Jake jeered, his voice dripping with malice. "Creeping out the roaches again?"

Billy's lips curled into a thin smile, his fingers continuing their intricate dance on the floor. "Roaches are more understanding than most," he replied calmly, his tone devoid of emotion.

Jake's laughter reverberated down the corridor, the harsh sound bouncing off the cold stone walls. "You're one messed-up dude, you know that? Talking to bugs and all that crap."

Billy's gaze remained fixed on Jake, a chilling intensity in his eyes. "Everyone needs someone to talk to," he mused cryptically.

Unperturbed by the eerie response, Jake stepped closer to the cell, his taunting grin unwavering. "No wonder they keep you locked up here."

Billy's fingers paused, his smile turning slightly colder.

Jake's bravado waned as he watched the insects skitter out from under the door, their antennae waving like sinister greetings. "What the hell, man? Get those things away from me!"

Billy's laughter was a low, raspy sound. "They just want to say hello..."

The cockroaches, seemingly drawn to the guard, swarmed through gaps and cracks, their unsettling presence causing Jake to back away with a look of genuine horror. He took off down the hall, cursing and yelling as he attempted to swat them away. It was music to Billy's ears.​

 

[Sanctuaryforall1]

Eve/Evolution

Mood: Social/Bored

Location: Belle Reve

Interactions: Ciao, Elara, Keeley

Eve wasn’t exactly insane, but when you kept someone like her locked up for too long her bored antics could often be mistaken for insanity. Thus why she, and probably a few guards, was grateful for the brief social moments like this where she could mentally stimulate herself to some degree through games and conversations. Oftentimes this included getting looped into some sort of game with Caio, Keeley, and Elara so that the group wouldn’t die of boredom. That wasn’t the only reason the chaotic meta human stuck around the group though. Eve found this small band to be genuinely an entertaining mixture of people who were different in so many ways yet had all fallen in together. She and Caio had plenty of differences, one of which being their views on how wreckless they are each willing to get, yet Eve knew that he had become one of her favorite fellow inmates during her time at Belle Reve. There were of course the times where she would land herself in solitary for trying to put together some contraption or another in order to spice things up but everyone had learned quickly enough that when it came to Eve, solitary wasn’t the smartest idea. Yes, it was punishment for her but funnily enough it was punishment for the guards and warden too. So instead all parties had agreed to a healthy amount of social interaction for the young woman in order to make everyone's day that much easier.

As darts began to lose its edge as a distraction to Eve she noticed Ciao sitting over at a table. Her green and brown gaze took in his body language, the white knuckles, the distant look in his amber irises, the slight twitch of his lip, and the cigarette that had already burned down to the filter. Something was on his mind. Without a word the brunette pranced over to the table and slid into the seat beside Ciao. She knew better than to touch him and it seemed her sudden appearance was enough to pull him from whatever memory his mind palace had thrown his way in the past few minutes. “You alright Caio?” She asked. Part of her was curious what exactly he had been thinking about but she knew that everyone in here had their own past that was the stepping stones to them being behind bars today. For her it had simply been her draw to chaos and testing her own limits. She didn’t really know what had landed Caio in Belle Reve but she knew whatever it was still haunted him.

As per usual the shaggy haired young man kept his secrets and insisted he was fine. Eve wasn’t one to pry further since it seemed he was out of whatever trance he had fallen into and ready to move on to the next thing. Hearing his offer to play more darts or perhaps another game Eve dramatically collapsed backwards, laying herself across the bench. “I would literally kill for my yo-yo.” She sighed and put on a theatrical display of looking like she might die from boredom. “You break one guy's nose with it and suddenly the yo-yo is a lethal weapon.” She complained though she knew good and well that she had not only broken Tim’s nose but also bashed his head a good few times before attempting to strangle him with the cord. In all fairness, Tim never should have touched her pudding cup.

She glanced over at Elara, Ciao, and Keeley with an amused glimmer in her earthy eyes as she had seemingly entertained herself with her antics for the moment. Hopping up from where she had been laying back Eve strolled over to stand with the group again and looked around. “If we do another round of darts we need to do something to make it more interesting.” She pointed out though she was happy that Ciao was offering to be on her team. “I cannot continue on with the simplicity of it, we need to spice it up, make it a game worth playing.” She continued with a sprinkle of mischief in her expression. “New rules? Bets? Throwing at a moving target?” She suggested several ideas but honestly not even those really felt great and she was hoping the others would chime in.

Aviator ISHTAR Ashy_OCdesigns

code by Stardust Galaxy

 

[Ashy_OCdesigns]

At the mention of moving targets, Keeley had lifted his head, and turned it so quickly that he swore that he heard his neck crack like a glow stick. He definitely hadn't seen that suggestion coming. He winced, and began to press his neck, turning his head back slowly as he did so. He had to his rest head on the table as he rubbed his neck to massage it. It was quite some time, including after some pain killers, before Keeley's next thoughts were known to whoever could hear his muttering as he tried to figure out what Eve meant. Eventually, he arrived at an odd conclusion, wondering if she meant people. He scrapped that conclusion, as they probably were not allowed to use willing people as targets, nor would it be possible to. What did she have in mind? He looked around at the others to gauge a reaction.

"You may come in now, Keeley." Dr.Alister's voice called from the other side of the door. There were guards around him, but he wasn't handcuffed, as he hadn't tried to choke out the doctor yet. The doctor didn't even have a computer, or at least, had it removed from the room before the temptation could strike Keeley. Get distracted, supposedly. Did Dr. Alister really know him, or was he just another patient in the grand scheme of things? He sat down, and Keeley began to pet his own hair, scratch at his knuckles, chew on his lips. How nothing had bled yet was short of a miracle, the way he scratched and scratched and scratched.
"Have you been taking your medicine?" Standard question. It was always asked, like it was a speech he'd rehearse.
"It tastes like crap." Not always Keeley's response, but he did really hate the taste of those pills. He usually dumped them into the garbage when he thought no one was watching. It wasn't even really a secret to the other inmates anymore. He did hide it from the staff, though. He figured they knew, because once in a while, there would be a new bottle on his bed, and they'd watch him take it at first.

"You're going to have to eat them without us forcing you to." If Dr.Alister didn't treat you like a pal, he treated you like a four-year-old. Neither outcome was great for anyone. Keeley did sometimes act like a four-year-old, but usually, it was subtle. The taste of the pills was his enemy.
'He can't force-feed them to me, could he?' Keeley thought, though the doctor probably could. Whether he did was another question entirely.
It was always the first question that took the longest, and the one that made Keeley want to leave. Dr.Alister never seemed to tire from their sessions, though.
"Okay, next question?" Okay, maybe it was the guards who could force-feed them to him. "Have you been getting along with the inmates okay?" Keeley nodded. He got along with his dart-mates just fine.

Just then, he noticed the bottle on the table. But there was also one of his favorite foods on the table. It wasn't much, but still, he loved Irish stew. There was a pill floating in there, and Keeley closed his eyes. He took a spoonful, the one that had the pill. It tasted like old fish that had had too much cumin dumped into it. It didn't taste as bad anymore, though. This was something he could actually stomach. Not even tolerate it, just able to keep it down without barfing. The first thing he noticed was that he gradually fidgeted less as the meeting went on, but he still wanted to leave. As the meeting went on, he also found himself hating Dr.Alister less. He still wanted to leave, though.

 

[BuggaBoo]

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'Shine' and 'Nova Red'

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Location: Debriefing Room, waiting for other guards to arrive, specifically the Twins, Wither and Deluge, Void, Null and Manta Ray
Mentions: Nexa, (@N O X I O U S ), Tamzin / Manta Ray( Sanctuaryforall1 ), Aia ( Daniel Reaving )
Interactions: None. ​

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In The Debriefing Room...

No words were spoken between the pair for the past 10 minutes; the only sound shared between them was that of electronic addiction that consumed both their lives.

*Tap, swipe, tap, clickity-type, clickity-type…* …sigh…

There were moments when the din of the fluorescents above would be allowed to flood the room, but that was only few and far between. For the most part all that was heard in this room was either the clacking away of a physical keyboard or the clicking of a digital one. And perhaps a keen ear could pick up on the tsunami of vibration made of updates, notifications and social toxicity.

*Clack, clack, clackitty, clack, clack, clackity-clack, clackity-clack-clack–* mmrph…?*

The diminutive Latina’s posture drooped a touch as she took pause. A length of blue locks was snapped over a shoulder, fully exposing the name beside the Belle Reve logo. Stitched onto her uniform's top right was; “SCA Shine.”

Mango flavoured lips fully puckered out as freshly manicured fingers slipped away from her laptop. Bright dark eyes dimmed two notches, synchronized in time with the consternation slowly draping down her face. Off her glasses lenses' reflected a reversed image of a case file with one too many red circles and asterisks on it.

The one with the badging that read; “SCA Nova Red", was leaning back and promptly seated in the chair beside her. The lithe woman also took pause, yet only to adjust the silky crimson kerchief restraining her voluminous waves of blonde. Dark lashes fluttered as eyes narrowed. A sound of disgust and a defiant head shake she unleashed for the umpteenth time after scanning the umpteenth comment section she was set to unceremoniously ravage this morning. Out of nowhere, blue eyes ignited into pools of both fire and ice all at once. A small sneer pulled up at cherry red lips as she clicked aggressively onto her phone. Blood hued nails glinted with ill intent as they rattled off the screen with each blow, one after the next at the breakneck speed of a formula racer. In its wake lay a devastated swath of lit up thumbs down icons.

Both sat on one long side of the expanse of solid oak. Although chairs were set up to seat 10 or more, the two were huddled up together despite all that available acreage. Above them and off to the left of the door were twin OLED monitors that soundlessly, yet in clear detail, displayed a grid of multiple rows and columns; live feeds peering in on inmate activity from around the BR facility. Every 7 seconds the entire screen would refresh and display a new grid. No action so far. It was chill out there. But for how long?

Whatever the case, the guards would gladly take the respite from inmates releasing pent up energy by engaging in frustratingly and boneheadedly over-aggressive actions. This guard duo were doubly enamoured with the lack of BS de-escalation measures needed since the Specialty Case Agents were supposed to receive a ‘specialized case entry’ either today or tomorrow. Apparently this drop off required higher security clearance than normal; volatile off-Terran with threat level in the red for sure, she surmised. But the details were not released to her as of yet, nor to any other high ranking guard she knew for that matter. Last minute co-ordination was suboptimal; radio silence meant no leaks, however–

“Bluebell…! Y’all wanna get stuck in with that face all day? Darlin’, don’t do that. Be pretty again…!” *Giggles* That infamous sound echoed throughout the room as she used two fingers to slowly rid the scowl pressing down on the Latina’s face. The concered words were the first spoken in 16 minutes and 43 seconds. The giggles on the other hand...? Oh, those were always locked and loaded, allways one in the chambre with the intent to slay ears without prejudice, no doubt.

Lengths of blue were flicked up off her shoulder to allow her neck to breathe. Shine rattled off a couple of inmate serials neath her breath, drifting down memory lane attempting to recall their last interactions. Words fell from her mouth again only when the blonde pushed up the scowl forming at the Latina's perfectly plucked brows. A repeat of the inmate serials then:

“Noves… You ever dealt with any of these two? Dr. Sterling or Ms. Tamzin…? They're up as potential 'Counter Assets'...?! But girl! Their list of cautions and restraining methods are off the charts…! You got any intel on the next scheduled Counter Assets assembly? Oh..! Their aka handles are... let’s see… ‘Nexa’ and the other is… no alias. Both have off-Terran notes in their dossiers. Both in the red-line zone–-”

“Pookie.”

“Excuse you? Girl, wut?”

“'Pookie.' Darlin’ it’s what we been calling the off-Terran glow stick. Didn’t you get the memo *GIGGLES* but I don’t think little lamb knows that’s its nickname. Something tells me it’d be okay with it. Null n’ Bolts is directly supervising our precious alien. He hasn’t said anything about the assembly yet. But daaaayaaaamm… must be up there in in escalation cuz using off-Terrans…?” *whistles*

“SCA Null, eh…? Mrphh… well, me personally…? Yeah… I would not say that nick to her face. Girl, if Agent Null supervising you don’t scream volatile, don’t know what else would… any word on what Manta Ray thinks of this off-Terran pair...?”

“Y'all can ask 'ol Manty Panties when he gests here. But hey. Darlin’... relax… you were there for assessment right? You know then that’s it’s just a big ol’ softie. Betcha big bubble bottom that it cries if it ever stepped on a bug or stubbed its toe” *Giggles*

“Yeeeeeaaahhh… I guess…? Okay then. Sure, I’ll take your word for it. You do more rounds and impromptu check-ins that me for sure. And for the record, my ass ain’t bubbly big. It’s just fine, thank you... 'SCA Nova Red'.”

“Alright, alright... 'SCA Shine'. Prove it then. Strip on outta that uni and shake it for me. Remember I’m tough to impress; missy, you gotta bring it in the creativity expressing your thiccc-ness to me.” *Giggles*

“Waitwut? Like what even does that mean? Hahahah… but hell no, I ain’t strippin’ and shakin’ for no one except Derrick. That's myy fiance. You do remember I’mma be happily married soon–”

“Pics for Derrick. Show em or didn’t happen…!!” Nova launched a hand to snatch Shine’s phone. An instant wrist smack she received for her troubles.

“Stahhhhp! Girl, just don’t!”

“Well, now catch me crazier than a crossed-eye crawfishie...! If I didn’t know any better I’d say little missy here be harbourin’ some naughty girl video evidence in that device– wait…! My word! Bluebell, y’all be blushin’ now?! Busted! So busted!”

Dark eyes darted sideways, averting the accusing blue eyes drilling her. Yes, she did blush, but it was not because of the video evidence or lack thereof. It was the term; “Naughty-Girl.” Too many memories anchored to that nickname; memories that were intentionally sunk into the depths of her mind. Dark eyes deadened, succumbing to a bad place. She was drowning, downward, always downward to a sticky, sullen and sallow place reserved for only the blackest of times. Those memories stirred now, screaming into life and her pulse began to race as flashes of white hot images, truths, that she ever denied existed–

“Shine…? Earth to Moonshine... Darlin’ it’s okay. You all good. Hey, where’d y’all go just now. Wherever it was… leave it. You here now. Y’all with me y'hear; I got you. I’mma make sure you gonna be fine. Shoot, as long as you got me, baddies best be worried I will nuke them outta’ existence if they mess with my here gal.

“Shine, look at me. Agent!! Look at me... Leave it. It’s better that way. Concern your mind with only what you see in front of you. It helps… awwwww, Bluebell. Believe me. I know. You know I know, you have to… Daaaaayaaammm this gal here only knows too well…”

It would be a lie to say that Shine did not have blurred vision as she savoured the embrace a moment longer. Slowly eyes lifted as she leaned back away from the warmth of the blonde. A weak nod was her reply to Nova Red. With the tattooed back of her left hand, she wiped the mist away from her eyes before nodding again; a lot more emphatic this time and accompanied with a wistful smile.

“Kay… kay there she is…! There’s my Moonshine gal. Alright let’s get you prettied up again and back on the level. Y’all messed up your eye make-up. Right quick too, darlin’. My trainees should be arriving soon.”

“Yeah… yeah, okay. I’m okay now. Which set of trainees are these ones, Noves?”

“Just a pair of rookies. Twins. Cute things both of them. 'Wither' and 'Deluge'. Wait… you sure you still engaged, cuz my guy, Deluge… mmmph! My word, if I was even 5 years younger…” *whistles*

“My gosh! Girl, stahhhhp! Yes, I’m engaged; I’mma be happily married soon! Get a clue–”

The huge screen of Nova’s weapon of choice was thrust directly beneath Shine’s nose, “Sooooo… in sleek 3 piece… or… shirt off… or just–”

“Ughs…. Girl, please. I am not interested in anyone else save De– Daaaaaang…”

"--this one…! Mmmm-hmmmph, yeah I see those eyes glowing blue and heated…”

"That boi ain't leaving much to the imagination...”

"Oh but darlin’, but you’d need a huuuuuge throbbing imagination to figure out what’s hiding behind the Speedo vault…”

“...Huuuuuuge throbbing "imagination", eh…?"”

“That’s a mouthful, now ain’t it–”

The room erupted in raucous and unbridled laughter. Both held each other with all their might. Only Sector XTC rejects could ever understand the absolute relief and joy it was to be allowed to feel such a wondrous laugh together free from any fear of retribution. The Supersoldiers paused momentarily to catch each others gaze. There was no need for words to express the gratitude they shared; the warm, soft glow of their locked eyes spoke volumes.

The pair formed a bond reserved for only best friends in another godforsaken facility.

But this time, they were the good guys.

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'Void', 'Null' and 'Lion'

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Location: Entering the infamous solitary confinement, The Vault, to assess Ahmi for the first time. Rendezvous in Debriefing room upon completion.
Mentions: Void / Null, (@N O X I O U S ), Lion ( Ashy_OCdesigns )
Interactions: None. ​

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3 Levels Underground and into The Vault...

A thin and bony finger reached up and pushed at the centre of his glasses, sliding them up the bridge of his nose until the black ants on the sheet stopped dancing and became words once more.

The trio paused at the keyless entry beside the galvinized double blast doors. A big "SCS-03" was stamped above, its bold military font exuded some kind of authenticity, claiming this lower level was all business and suffered no fools.

“Ahhh… here we go. Ja, this just came in last night… the inmate is in solitary… been here since… 2 days ago…? Wait, is that right? They’ve just been processed now…?”

From over the top rim of his glasses, querying eyes met the dark watchful eyes of the most senior tenured guard amongst them, 'Specialty Case Agent Void'. The woman’s lips tightened into a near imperceptible thread and held his gaze a heartbeat longer. The clipboard carrier in front of her was really nothing more than a pencil-necked, pencil pushing over-glorified legal liaison. His name was 'Agent: Lion', but most guards just called him; 'Pussy Fur'. Some even called it to his face. Void would not take the indignity of being interrogated by this peon that never in his life would know what it was like to witness a city block of people screaming, begging, in unison as the big calibre guns of an armada of assault arsenel mecha turned them into scarlet human swiss cheese. In fact, she surmised he didn’t even have 1 hour of field operative experience, combined in his whole damned entire sheltered life.

But Void knew that this Lion, despite his inadequacies, was on their side to protect them from being shut down due to legal complications and worse yet, multitudes of guards charged for what some Specialty Case Agents have done to… 'protect' the sanctity of what they do for the betterment of the world behind the walls at Belle Reve. That and the noisy exhale of air before that all-too-familiar clearing of the throat from her partner, gave her enough of a hint that he approved she relent and answer. A side-eyed glance she shot her partner, 'Specialty Case Agent Null, before returning the throat clearing of her own to signal she would agree to be forthcoming.

“Orders were to… ‘put the inmate on ice…’ until they calmed. Do not worry. The inmate was fed,” a side-eyed glance again to her partner. A raised eyebrow was the equivalent of a shrug. Meh. What she told was the truth.

“Uh huhhhh… I see…” the features on Lion’s face twisted as if under massive strain. He tugged his collar and stretched out his neck before he too cleared his throat, "well, security requests are strictly solitary confinement… no items with mechanical/moving parts… EMP suppression devices… and electro-security bars… but mein Gott, what is this…? No mention of escape risk nor reason they have been incarcerated…? This must be a clerical error… SCA Null… what was your debriefing?"

The big man sucked the insides of his teeth and held a thought momentarily before discarding it. A shrug. "Lion. Listen, I’mma level with you; Orders were to escort the inmate and suppress as per need, into solitary. No further instructions. Daily briefs would follow…” Null could feel the eyes of his partner dig into the back of his head. TMI, said the dagger tips. Watch it, said the dagger’s razor edge.

Null just tensed his shoulders before shaking them out, ending with a good neck stretch. He was just as curious and suspicious as Lion as to the undercurrents and secrecy regarding this new fish. But Null was not one to question orders. Yet that did not preclude him from asking questions.

“The dailies were just a basic checklist of base needs fulfilled until further orders. Further orders were to escort Legal Inquiry Rep, Mr. Lion upon green light to do inmate assessment. Inmate was compliant up until an attempt was made to verbally confirm their status and serial. Inmate went ballistic. No words, just instant aggro. Collar was not detonated… for whatever reason.”

The daggers from his partner withdrew from his head and were sheathed. Too forthcoming… but at least he danced around the parts that they had agreed to keep to themselves.

“That’s it. So now you know. And now we need to know… Mr. Lion, in your professional opinion, what exactly is this BS we stepped into and just what the hell are we getting into?”

A few seconds he took away from the convo to scan the documents some more. A deep breath. A slow removal of his reading glasses as he exhaled. He tapped the dossier with an arm of the black horn rimmed spectacles, "There’s nothing in here that points to a clear answer, Mr. Null. Mmm… technically my assessment so far is that we are legally in a grey zone… Buuuuut… if I was a betting man, I’d say I’m stepping into a steaming pile of paperwork. Expect a lot of overtime pay if BR gets internally investigated, Agents. A lot.”
Null and Void glanced at each other and, between them they tossed subtle shrugs with their brows. Not answers that would put minds at ease, but it was par for the course in their line of work.

The willowy man’s shoulders shot up sharply in a shrug before reaching down to his hip to snag his keycard pass. Blue eyes spied his credentials and ID. He could not help but pause as he stared at the stoic face with only the clear, bright blue eyes smiling back at him. How proud he was... How long was he here before it became a chore to maintain that sense of pride? As soon as this HR nightmare was dealt with, he needed to hastily put together a presentation for a face-to-face meeting.

Only a select few were on 'need to know' status for the next 'Counter Assets' assembly. He was part and parcel of the panel that would debrief and coordinate with all top Specialty Case Agents and legal parties involved… even if most specialty cases involved a noteworthy lack of diligence from legal parties for some curiously uninvestigated reason... "Ahem… Ms. Void… you’ve been silent. What are your thoughts?”

As if she read her partner's mind; “Too much talk leads to overthinking. Eyes on the prize, gentlemen. Let’s just see and find out what’s waiting for us at the end of all this. I’m sure we will get our just rewards. Open the ‘Vault’ Mr. Lion."

Both men gave a single curt nod in response.

The keycard hit the sensor and immediately the double blast doors rumbled slowly apart. Above them, amber lights danced to the rhythm of a warning horn’s cautionary dirge.

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'Wither' and 'Deluge'

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Location: Leaving Locker Room and heading towards Debriefing to meet, Nova Red, Shine, Manta Ray, Lion, Void, and Null.
Mentions: Nova Red (Me!!)
Interactions: None. ​

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Twins in the Corridors...

A gloved hand reached out and caught her brother’s arm, hazel eyes darkening. Two squeezes, then with her eyes and chin she pointed at his fancy, shiny wrist watch. The empathic link between them reverberated, sending signals whispering away from one twin to the other. Too soon, 15 min early is exactly on time... said the message.

A headshake. An exasperated sigh. A shrug as he relented and cowed to her orders as always. He knew his sister knew their trainer, 'SCA Nova Red' better than he. If they had to be at the meeting room exactly when they needed, she would make it so. He shrugged a second time; no resistance, no questions necessary.

Both returned to the mirrors beside their lockers and took a minute or two to adjust uniforms, especially taking care to clearly expose the rookie red 'TRAINEE' band upon their upper arms.

“Well… how do I look, Wits?” the male half and younger of the twins, 'Deluge', lifted both arms at shoulder height, palms up and did a quick 360 degree spin.

Hazel eyes of his sister, 'Wither', lit up and was about to give her seal of approval–

Hazel eyes of her brother glinted even brighter as he cut her off, “If you wasn’t my sis, would you bang me? C'moooon... Be honest–”

She stuck her tongue and the fake gag she gave off nearly became a for real wretch when he winked at her and popped up his eyebrows, smirking as he eyed her up and down as if savouring the glorious sight of a ready to serve, juicy slab of meat.

The sound of her hand smacking his bare hand was like the report of a whip. Wither’s hair suddenly erupted with dark streaks from scalp to tips; perhaps she truly wished that she'd hit him with a whip...

"Okay, okay, okaaaaaayy… sheesh. Wet blanket much? It was just a joke–”

"No. Do better, Del,” one final sneering death look she shot him before taking a deep calming breath. Even after the breath she still felt worked up--

“OWW!! You kicked me...? Sis, I said it was just a joke–”

“Save it, funny bone. Put your big boy pants on. It’s 'shut the hell up and let’s go time.”

Wither turned her back on him and marched out the door, strutting on down the hallway to the Debriefing room. Deluge’s eyes popped wide just catching the door in the nick of time before it rearanged his nose-- Wait... was that a hint of a smile on her face?

“Ey. Eyo! Did you just take pleasure in kicking me…?! Wits! Girl, I am talking to you– Auuuugh… *sigh *Bruh… it was just a joke...”

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[Aviator]

Caio McCarthy // Whiplash // Age 26 // Inmate // Getaway Driver // Brazilian-American​

Caio tilted his head to one side as he analyzed Eve’s words, pensive. “Considering the fact that you just admitted willingness to kill for your yo-yo, the yo-yo does indeed sound like a source of murderous intent.” He said this flatly but not unkindly, the way that he articulated about nine out of ten of his statements. Caio wasn’t one to emote excessively, and when he did, they were almost exclusively negative emotions that contained a dark, seething edge, like thunderclouds looming on the horizon. And he rarely smiled. Only Adelaide had been able to regularly elicit that reaction.
Eve shifted from where she was sprawled across the bench to blink her shamrock eyes dully at Caio for taking the guards’ side. Her caramel-colored hair tumbled off the side of the bench in a silky curtain. The fluorescent lights that made everyone else appear sallow and severe somehow bathed her in healthy golden hues, as if she were a ray of sunlight brought to life and nothing could lay claim on her, not even a prison for metahumans. “Hey, don’t look at me like that,” he replied, scowling. “It’s a slippery slope. First you’re breaking noses with yo-yos, and before you know it, you’re slitting throats with bottle caps. Sociopaths like you are the reason that we have to play with magnetic darts instead of real ones.” He glowered disapprovingly at Eve for a few seconds longer, and unable to maintain the charade any longer, one corner of his lips curved into a lopsided grin. Okay, maybe Eve could get him to smile on a good day, too. Caio had a soft spot for her, as he did for all of the members of the self-proclaimed Bad Bitch Brigade: himself, Eve, Keeley, and Elara.
As if the universe had taken his remark about the darts as a challenge, a quick succession of darts thunked! into the dartboard, one after the other, punctuating Caio’s words. He looked up from Eve’s supine body to catch her partner for the game, Elara, exchange a meaningful glance with him before going to collect her darts from the board, her chin hiked up in defiance. The physicist had managed to embed all of her darts in either the bull’s-eye or the triple-twenty mark, replicating Caio’s exemplary last turn. “Well well,” he drawled, discarding his cigarette butt as he stood from the table.
He did it slowly, as to not prompt a twinge of pain from his bad leg. After several metal pins and plates and three months of using crutches, Caio was walking on his own power again, but he was still learning that he couldn’t move as fast as he used to without discomfort. It was a hard adjustment for an adrenaline junkie with the attention span of a gnat who resented idleness. Caio lived in the fast lane in numerous senses of the phrase, and beating around the bush was not in his nature. When he used to go to the supermarket, he’d gotten his mental list of items and left, promptly. He’d dodged around the loathsome shoppers who trudged along far too slowly with their buggies as if their feet were cemented in concrete, taking up whole aisles in the process. It was a hard fact to swallow that he was now one of them.
“You’re in luck, Eve. I see Elara is ready to raise the stakes, too.” He approached the dartboard to examine her handiwork more closely, confirming that one dart was indeed wedged in the tiny sliver of the inner bull’s-eye. “Nice throwing, Doc,” he said sincerely. It’d been a long time since anyone had given him a run for his money at darts, and Caio viewed the challenge as a welcome alternative to eternal boredom. As Caio neared, Keeley, as usual, said nothing. He was one of the few inmates with less of a social battery than Caio. And that was saying something. Caio supposed the Bad Bitch Brigade ought to consider it a compliment that Keeley chose to associate with them at all. Caio spun so that he was addressing the whole group, rubbing his hands together theatrically as if he were scheming a diabolical plot. But anyone who knew him at all would know that Caio didn’t scheme at all. He did.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a choice to make. A dire one, considering that we only have”—he glanced at the analog clock on one towering stone wall—“twenty more minutes of rec time for the day. So naturally, like the sex-starved rogues we all are, I was thinking that we could spice things up with a game of spin the bottle. Big throwback to high school, undoubtedly a happier era in all our lives than the present. Unfortunately, however, I’m not gay. Sahhhrrrrry, Keels,” he said flirtatiously, batting his eyes at the other man.
While Caio wasn’t certain, he had a personal theory that, if true, would present another roadblock to them playing spin the bottle. He was fairly sure that Elara wasn’t attracted to men. Nexa’s sexual orientations, on the other hand, were a mystery, but neither Caio nor Keeley were wanting for looks. And for male prisoners, both of them were in the upper echelons of physical attractiveness. Elara had never shown a shred of interest in either of them, and since they were friends, it wasn’t because of a personal dislike. However, Caio had caught Elara checking out a certain SCA agent with ridiculously tall high heels, a perky set of assets, and an inclination toward the color red. But that was only because he’d been checking out Miss Nova Red too at the time.
Caio had an unfortunate propensity to miss some social cues, but he wasn’t so unempathetic as to put Elara on the spot in front of their other friends to confirm his theory. So as if his own sexuality was the only barrier to their playing spin the bottle, he presented his next idea. Or was about to before the metal double doors at the end of the recreation yard surged open and vomited up Dr. Seth Alister, in all his pinstripe three-piece-suit glory. Caio stifled a cringe as the therapist summoned Keeley. As many Belle Reve inmates knew, Dr. Alister’s invitations never came with the option of refusal. Keeley whitened before complying, his Adam’s apple visibly bobbing in the pale column of his throat. “Rest in peace, dear friend,” Caio said gravely when Keeley and Dr. Alister vanished through the doors and out of earshot. “You will be missed.
“Anyway,” he continued, his gaze bouncing between just Elara and Eve now, “as for my other idea: We play another game of 701 just as we had before, but as Eve suggested, let’s add some stakes to it. First and second place carry on just as they’ve been, no rewards. Because let’s face it, no one in Belle Reve plays games to win, minhas queridas. We play them not to lose. Therefore, the loser of our game must subject themselves to one truth and one dare from each of their opponents. And I already know my dare.”
Caio’s voice dropped to an ominous hush. “Rumor has it, a new inmate has been recently admitted to Belle Reve, but he’s only half human. The other half is machine, a symphony of supercomputers all whirring in unison with only one goal: to kill. Formerly, this Terminator-esque cyborg had been a weapon of the military, until he developed the ability to think for himself. Decided he didn’t like serving mankind anymore and blasted his way to freedom with a horde of bodies in his wake. And you know what he did when he got out? So many of his internal organs were busted up from the fight that he had to keep killing, using his victims’ body parts to replace his own. Under the cover of darkness, he’d slither like an eel through windows that had been carelessly left open in the night and gut sleeping humans before they had a chance to scream, slicing them open until he acquired the organs he needed. And you know what else?” Caio paused for effect. “He kills puppies for fun.”
Caio was only making about half of it up. It was true, in fact, that a mechanically-enhanced human had been incarcerated in Belle Reve less than a week ago, and he had been apparently been kicked from the military. But that was all Caio knew, and he’d been making up the details as he went. A guard named Zheng had informed him of the new arrival. Outside of the Bad Bitch Brigade, Zheng was Caio’s only friend in Belle Reve.
During Caio’s first week, Zheng had asked him to sign his Ferrari cap and told Caio that he’d been a fan of his Formula 2 racing days. And then the very next day, when an inmate had kicked one of Caio’s crutches out from under him, Zheng had retaliated in a manner that had sent the aggressor to the ICU for the better part of a month. Ever since, Caio had maintained a friendly rapport with Zheng, who was kind enough to order him a little something special from the kitchen when Caio didn’t like anything on the menu for that night. Zheng was also an incorrigible gossip, and Caio was willing to indulge him. Normally, Caio took pride in thinking that he didn’t care about the doings of other people, but his fellow inmates were not regular people. Most of them were metahumans, and Caio couldn’t help his curiosity about some of their… eccentricities. After all, in a place where guns and blades were forbidden, knowledge was one of the few weapons that Caio had at his disposal.
“So, what do y’all say?” he asked Elara and Eve. “Another game of darts, and loser has to give the Terminator a little chin check. The proper Belle Reve greeting to fresh meat. See what he’s made of, see if we can take him. And answer any two questions chosen by the opponents with utmost honesty.”

 

[ISHTAR]

As Caio went on about the proposed stakes, a sense of irritation settled within Elara. She didn't appreciate his antics, finding them disruptive to her thought process. Caio was, in his own way, a people watcher, just as she was, but their approaches couldn't be more different. While he thrived on games and activities, she preferred the subtlety of observation. He deflected attention from himself as a way to establish social dynamics within their group. However, she had no interest in making small talk or engaging in trivial activities.

She glanced at Eve for a moment, her gaze revealing a shared exasperation over Caio's penchant for theatrics. Caio, in his own peculiar way, was trying to alleviate the monotony of Belle Reve, but it was grating on Elara's nerves today.

Elara's hazel eyes returned to Caio, carrying a hint of irritation.

'Caio, we're not in high school anymore. You do realize that some of us have more important matters to attend to than spinning bottles or devising challenges for a new inmate? I need to get my journal back from Zhang, and your games won't help me with that.'

At least, that is what she would have said, but Elara's words came out slower and slurred than she had anticipated due to the sedation and medication that suppressed her abilities. She blinked a few times, her mind struggling to keep up with the conversation.

"Caio... games... if you want....play," she mumbled, her words lacking the usual sharpness. Her frustration was still there, but it was muffled by the effects of the drugs.

She glanced over at Eve, her gaze unfocused for a moment before returning to Caio. "But journal... need... Zheng... gossip... bad," she managed to articulate, her speech hindered by the sedatives that left her feeling drowsy and detached.

Her words caught the attention of Caio, Eve, and the others, drawing their curious gazes towards her.

Elara had a complicated relationship with the guards, and Zhang, in particular, had taken issue with her journal. She had made the mistake of ridiculing him in her writings, and it had predictably backfired. Now, retrieving her journal was a matter of urgency, not idle entertainment.

"We sh-should...work...together...Zheng...my journal..."

She paused, trying to gather her thoughts and make her plea clearer.

"Need...plan...get it back...before...trouble...please..."

Despite her impaired state, Elara's determination shone through as she awaited a response from her fellow inmates, hoping they would comprehend her message.

Struggling against the effects of her sedation, made a feeble attempt to communicate her idea to the group. Her words came out in a jumbled, slurred mess, but she hoped they could understand her urgency.

Elara's embarrassment deepened as she considered the details she had included in her journal, not just about the guards but also about the other inmates, including her newfound friends. She had been meticulous in her observations, often jotting down personal quirks and habits, and she wasn't sure how her fellow inmates would react to her notes.

"I-I wrote...stuff...about...everyone...sorry..."

As the guards approached Billy's cell, they did so with an air of calculated efficiency. Their boots clanked ominously on the cold, gray floor, signaling their intent. Billy, with his back pressed against the cell's unforgiving metal bars, could sense the impending ordeal.

"Back up, Blight!" one of the guards barked, his voice a harsh command that left no room for defiance. But Billy hesitated, defiance still smoldering in his eyes. The guard didn't waste a moment; he pressed a button on a small remote control, and a sudden jolt of electricity surged through the collar fastened around Billy's neck.

Billy let out a muffled cry of pain and shock, his body convulsing as the electric current coursed through him. Disobedience came at a painful cost in Belle Reve. Jake, who held the remote, wore a twisted grin, his revenge for the cockroach stunt from earlier now sated.

With Billy temporarily subdued, the guards moved in swiftly. They secured the straightjacket around him, rendering his arms utterly useless. The muzzle was applied with a clinical detachment, sealing his lips and silencing his protests.

Once fully restrained, Billy was rolled away on a hand truck dolly, strapped down as if he were a piece of cargo. Panic welled up within him, and despite the uncomfortable muzzle, he managed to force out a garbled demand, "Where... where the hell you takin' me?"

The guards remained steadfastly silent, their faces hidden behind stern masks, as they continued to transport him down the dimly lit corridor.​

 

[Sanctuaryforall1]

Kenna/Basilisk

Mood: Feisty

Location: Belle Reve

Interactions: Nameless Guards, Open

The warmth of the sun soaked into soft almond skin as Kenna gently ran her fingers over the delicate leaves of her little cell plants. She had carefully positioned each one to get the best amount of sunlight per day from where they sat on the windowsill. The small lilies might not be her preferred flora due to their harmless nature but still she couldn’t help but feel at ease among the greenery. Dr. Alister had several theories about how she used gardening to help her cope with her trauma and how it was a representation of her trying to grow in her own way. Kenna of course bought into absolutely none of what he said. He could spew nonsense at her all day, try to reach some part of her humanity that he believed was still in her, but he would not get anywhere with her. If for some reason she showed weakness the young woman was quick to rebuild her walls and keep that part of herself locked away deep within her. She had no need for the weakness of anyone she used to be, that girl died years ago and Kenna was glad of it. The world preyed on the weak, the strong survived and she would be strong, or at least she would be if this damn collar wasn’t around her neck.

Glancing down at her arms, Kenna's whiskey gaze traveled over the lines that had been inked onto her skin since birth and once again she felt a horrible ache in her heart. Mere and Ren had been her constant companions for as long as she could remember and just like Nolander these guards had ripped them from her with this collar. She could no longer feel their presence within her. Their hearts and spirits intertwined with hers had vanished and she could no longer hear their voices echoing in the back of her mind. It was like being ripped into pieces and finding herself unable to tape herself back together again. The longing look in her eyes was brief but spoke volumes to how deeply she missed her old friends.

A sudden clanking sound behind her brought the brunette’s attention back to the present as her cell door was opened and two guards stepped in, a third staying just outside the cell. “Time for your happy pills.” One guard said though the look on his face made it clear he wasn’t interested in much other than avenging the broken nose she gave him the other day. Pill time wasn’t exactly an easy time of day for Kenna as she wasn’t keen on being drugged into submission. She had had her fill of being submissive when she was Nolander’s pet and thus she made every day a fight for the guards tasked with delivering her drugs. Some of her fellow inmates might think less of her for it but Kenna didn’t care because she would rather be difficult than roll over and submit. Perhaps Dr. Alister believed these confrontations might help her in some way? Perhaps not? Either way Kenna reacted the same every day and every day it only ended one way but that wouldn’t stop her from at least making it more difficult.

The two guards rushed her but Kenna was prepared and sprang off her bed, successfully dodging the two men. At the door the third guard stood like a wall making it clear she was not going to get past him but Kenna lunged anyway. One of her fists managed to connect with his jaw just as she was pulled back from behind by the two guards in the cell with her. Instantly she turned and jumped on the closest guard's back, her legs wrapping around him as her arm fastened around his neck. If she had access to her powers she could have squeezed the life out of him in a matter of heartbeats but alas the collar took all her abilities from her. The scuffle continued for almost a minute until finally they managed reach their remote and press a button that expelled a burst of electricity from the collar around Kenna’s neck. As she hit the ground with a cry of pain two guards rushed forward and grabbed her leaving the third to force the pills into her mouth. As she swallowed resentfully a predatory spark shone in her eye and the three guards backed up, one gulping as another raised his hand in preparation to strike her. “The damn bitch was just toying with us.” The third uttered in horror as they realized she could have done much worse and their victory was nothing more than part of her game. With that the three guards retreated from her cell.

code by Stardust Galaxy

 

[Daniel Reaving]

Aia
Location:
Cage
Mentions:
BuggaBoo

Everything had been a blur since her capture. The drugs had made the creature such a mess that Aia barely remembered anything after her initial capture. Her “Sentence” entirely non existent in her mind. The day or so travel to Belle Rev? Nothing more than a blur of feeling in motion and blackness. But now she was finally awake as the sounds of guards yelling and a forklift rang out as it picked up the cage off the truck a massive solid 10inch steel box with a door. Practically a bank vault with a small peep hole on the door really. As would be expected of any animal Aia was up and alert in an instant thanks to the drugs finally wearing off and all the sounds flooding her no longer clouded mind. Her breathing was elevated growls and hisses constantly escaping her lips as Aia tried to figure out where she was inside the box. The only source of light from it a bared window on the door barely big enough to see out of and even that didn’t help when Aia looked out it and to the loading dock she was currently at. Watching guards move from here to there and a group surround her cage. The only thing Aia did know was she wanted out and wasn’t hesitant to make it known as she leaned back onto her tail. Half curling it into a coil she lifted her legs up so she was held only by her tail and using that coiled shape launched herself forward with her tail feet first into the Cage door with an immense crashing sound but to her dismay all she did was lightly dent the door before her.

“Ah Shit someone get the captain! Or one of the SCA’s! The fucking drugs wore off!” A guard yelled out as the commotion outside the Cage quickly picked up. Aia’s loud screeching hisses and barks refused to stop as she moved in the cage. Kicking the door a few more times till the door had a bubble in it but still it didn’t budge. They could hear her endlessly moving around. Thudding into the walls and Ceiling due to the lack of space, the sound of claws on metal and a very unhappy growl or hiss with each unsuccessful attempt to free herself as guards scrambled to prepare, grabbing more armor, weapons, cattle prods and dart guns. Anything they had to try and subdue this creature should it escape. One guard in particular a rather scrawny new hire had been sent to get someone which probably wasn’t the best idea. The look on his face was that of pure terror. Almost as if Aia had already escaped and was devouring people. At least that’s what the look on his face said as he rushed down halls and corridors all the while telling any available guard he came across to reinforce the others at the loading docks.

All the while the other guards readies for the worst in the docks. Watching the cage with Anxiety as Aia continued to try and get out. Even finding her way to the view port where she had ripped out the three or so bars in it and easily deformed it open. Nowhere near wide enough to escape but she had at least increased its size by 2 and an arm was now reached out of it claws bared as she clawed anywhere she could on the face of the door only to quickly switch arms and continue for a moment or two more, then retract her arm and proceed to slam her shoulder into the door. Seeing as how her kicks had done the most Damage she figured it would work eventually.

“I fucking knew the should have put the collar and muzzle on before they brought her here. Tranqs ready!!!! Prods ready!!!” A guard presumably the lead for Aia’s transport yelled out as the forklift slowly moved with the box. Surrounded on all sides by guards now as it rolled at a snails pace down the transport hallway. No one dared take their eyes off that cage as Aia’s banging and clawing of metal echoed down the hallway. All they had to do was get her to the next cage and into it. That’s all they had to do or at least that’s what most were telling themselves to try and calm the nerves while waiting and listening to what could only be described as the sounds of a very predatory and very pissed off beast try to get at whoever put her in the box.

The guard that had been sent to find a higher up eventually found his way to the SCA briefing room and while he couldn’t get in he could bang on the door like he did. “Someone in there?! That things awake!! Help!!” Was all he yelled at the door while banging on it. Hoping somebody was in there.​

 

[Ashy_OCdesigns]

Keeley walked out of the doctor's office, barely. Stumbled would probably be a better word. He was exhausted, very exhausted, more so than usual. His hands hung limply by his sides, and they weren't moving at all, he wasn't fidgeting. His head felt foggy, hypnotized almost. It made him forget the taste of pills. Almost. However, still, anything his friends were about to say might've been cut off by how tired he looked. He just wanted a nap at the moment, and so, near the rec space, he promptly plopped down and fell asleep right there. He was kind of glad for the nap, though. He didn't care that he'd have to be carried off by one or more guards. He was pretty light to begin with, and he wasn't in any mood to fight. He wondered if it was his body's response. He didn't want to complain, but somehow, having pills that made you more tired than usual was a red flag. He was sleeping against the wall, sitting up, and his brain was slower. That was the one part of the pills he hated.

Keeley slept through the entire break, his body having become that worn out. He hadn't even really moved a muscle, just slept, and slept and slept. He wasn't even really blocking the way or anything. He lost track of time, time was gone, out like a light. His hair was a bit of a mess from having his head pressed up against a wall. His clothes were wrinkled as well. He dreamed a little, but they were the good kind of dreams, the meaningless dreams. They weren't the dreams that made you wake up screaming, thrashing, fighting. They were the dreams that made you smile, and right now, a little smile was playing out on his lips. He was on a computer in his dream, with classical music playing in the background. But somehow, the classical music had canons and drums, and it was exciting.

As break became over, a few guards attempted to wake him up, but he wouldn't budge. Part of him didn't want to wake up, and part of him couldn't wake up. It's like his body was fighting the urge to wake up, and it's why some of the guards looked mildly concerned that one of the inmates was heavily sleeping. Others knew how much Keeley slept, and figured that the pills just made him sleepier than normal. A lot sleepier than usual.
"Should we kick him?" One of the guards asked. "We have to head inside soon, and this guy is disrupting our routine."
"No way!" Another laughed. "He's of the few who aren't problems."
"Well, he's about to be a problem." Another guard snorted. He seemed to find problems with every inmate, and a few guards. Yeah, a few guards were jerks and some people wondered how those ones had gotten the job.

Keeley felt some light tapping on his back. It was kicking, but barely. It was obviously not mean-spirited, and Keeley wondered if it was Zheng or any of the Brigade. He didn't know even how they'd become friends. But, maybe that was his power, to become friends with people who wouldn't normally connect with. There was Eve, the source of all shenanigans. There was Caio, the other half of the shenanigans they carried out. There was Elara, serious, but empathetic. Then there was him, quiet, but constantly bored. He had wondered if under any circumstances he'd want to be friends with these people. Maybe, maybe not. Still, he flopped down on the floor, his determination to not wake up powering through. The guards realized that waking up Keeley could take forever.

 

[BuggaBoo]

---

---

'Void', 'Null' and 'Lion'

---

Location: Inside solitary confinement Area SG-03, a notorious area known as The Vault, to assess Ahmi for the first time. Rendezvous in Debriefing room upon completion.
Mentions: Void / Null, (@N O X I O U S ), Lion ( Ashy_OCdesigns )
Interactions: None. ​

---

Deep in The Vault, seeking the GunMother...

Their footfalls echoed throughout the hollows of the corridors. Thudding along in perfect cadence, they marched on, not once paying mind to any of the sealed doors with 3 inch thick lining the hallways. Each successive door they passed, through 2-way mirror portholese they could view criminals worse than the one in the cell they just passed.

Wordlessly they continued, turning this way and that down long, vacant steel tunnels, the silence becoming even more deafening between the trio.

Lion followed just a step behind the SCA partners. For a heartbeat longer he regarded their manner of poise and rigidity. Suddenly he found an urge to lift his chin and upright his posture and mimick this duo's mastery of posture during their marches. Bushy eyebrows popped up high; that really did feel better... confidence–inducing somehow. A small snorting exhale, a crooked smile; yes, now he was ready to share the thoughts that had engrossed him entirely during their trek.

“Agents… the inmate we are to assess in solitary… what is your own personal assessment… do you know why they are in 'The Vault'? It seems to me that is too too much a terrible oversight to leave them... 'on ice' as you put it, yet with no follow up eval. This dossier does not include SCA Shine's initial write-up. Why? And look... Not even her signature is found anywhere in these Specialty Case section."

A side-eyed glance the Agents directed at one another. Void was the first to respond. First, a slow blink then she over-exagerrated her gaze, as if stretching her dark eyes over her shoulder aiming at the legal liason. Null made no reaction, he just merely closed his own eyes, diving into thought. When the legal liason could stand the silence no longer, the man took a deep breath and exhaled ready to ask the next burdening question. Null popped his eyes and took a noisy breath himself before cutting off LIon--

"Off the record... completely. And. This did not come from us. It came from unsubstantiated sources. That clear, Mister Lion...?" the big man came to a halt a quickly spun about face. Brown eyes glaring, promising ill intent upon the much, much smaller man for non-compliance; his stone cut frame swelled, backing that promise. Lion stopped just in time, chin nearly hitting Void's chest. From two inches away, Lion slowly raised his chin to all the way up to meet that unwavering gaze.

The willowy man did not even blink; solid steel were his blue eyes. A single curt and confident nod he gave. A respectful smirk in return.
In unison, they all shifted to face the original path taken. A single deep breath, then all continued marching, with perfect postures, onward towards their goal.

---

"It's true the inmate is dangerous, yeah. But is more valuable to them alive then dead. Definitely got something 'They' want. To be down here without officially being down here... in this particular area of the Vault... Hell yessir... This absolutely smacks of a dark ops interro. She has got to have some reeeeeeally precious info They want."

"She...?! Really....? They would do that to just a wom--"

“'She' is strong, fast and slippery. One hundred percent specialized military combat trained. Expert-- no, a master actually. Cunning AF too. Incorporates seamlessly effective bits of dirty fighting. It's like she trained all her life and it's all she knows. Mister, believe me when I say this; she could kill a trained man 3 times her size with both arms tied behind her back... and blindfolded. Dangerous, no doubt. Enhanced bio-mech, most likely. We're guessing supersoldier. But I think They want more than just info. Its her skills. One in particular..”

Lion had seen the indignant look in the Agent's dark eyes when he erroneously spat out the feminine pronoun. He saw it in her body language. He could feel it emanating from her. The next insult, no matter how erroneous, she would not restrain herself. He conceded a polite nod and averted his gaze and found himself nose deep in the dossier to physically break the eye-daggers hitting him with hurricane force; they dared him to comment on speaking perfect English like a native speaker--

"Oh...! Okay, okay. Okay, ja. I see the connection now. EMP suppression and no electronic devices. Warum nicht? Can she make a bomb out of a calculator--" it was supposed to be an off hand comment to lighten the mood. He was going to even chuckle at his own cleverness. But the SCA's looked like they would do the exact opposite.

Void pointed at his chest with her eyes and a sharp chin nod. "That pen in your breastpocket. Lose it. She can take that thing and rearrange it into a blowgun in a heartbeat. Before your limp civvie mind has time to process, you will go in shock as the ink cartridge shoots through your left eye and into your brain."

Lion's eyebrows popped upward. Why so specific? Left eye? Really...? "Duly noted. Still... I don't understand how she could if she is cuffed, sedated and restrained--"

"Just do as precaution calls for...! And not cuffs. Not even close. They got complex moving parts; Machines. She manipulates tech. Most likely computer systems too. And without even lifting a finger. Even if sedated, be frosty... 'She' is a Metahuman. 'She.' Is. Dangerous."

"Wait a second. Were you even told this vital info as part of escort debrief? How is it not even mentioned that even mechanical devices that are out of her physical reach are potential weapons she can still manipulate and use. How is that even a minor oversight...?! When you escorted inmate: #416--"

"Whoa. Easy there, Mister. No serials, remember? She will go ballistic. Absolute savage on your ass. There are a whole slew of guards on paid-leave now cuz of it--"

"--one of them lost their left eye and--"

"--And no. No, we were not told of that important little detail. We found out the hard way how to deal with a psychotic Technomancer. First hand. Listen, I’mma level with you; that escort felt off. Something stank. We were left wide open. My partner and me had to adjust our powers. It's as if she was ready for the both of us...”

"So when you escorted... 'her', you were told to... let's see here... 'to supress as neccessary' Did that not include lethal force?"

"Orders were to supress as necessary, yes. Lethal force only as final means. But... but if lethal force was used, only closed circle has clearance to know what happened to the body. There would be a power outage that conveniently knocks out surveillance and records of surveillance. A window of 16 minutes and 43 seconds. More than enough time to 'clean.' But like I said. No detonation. They want her alive. Me personally? I think they want her cuz they want at her employer. I think I have a good idea who that is--

"And I have a good idea why they did not defbrief us of certain details for the escort; it was a test. Can you guess who passed? Here we are again. But we are the only escorts today. What do you think, Mister? You think we can we handle her...?"

"Here. Take my pen... please do. I'm starting catch a bad whiff of that 'feels reeeeealllly off-stink' too now... Sooooo let me get this straight... this Metahuman Supersoldier Tech-converter--"

"--psychotic 'Technomancer'--"

"--Right. You know first hand. Both of you. Right. So 'she' was incarcerated here without proper processing, or even a ghost transfer for that matter, regardless, that led to a fubar documentation due to no official eval. We're talking missing details regarding a guaranteed deep in the Red-line Threat Level that cost injuries, supply and lost man hours. Belle Reve was lucky no one got killed. Fubar situaltion unresolved due to no official documentation of the incident. Inmate is still in solitary confinement, remanded without official cause... and no formal conviction either. What even is this nightmare... but okay. Okay.

"This is how I see it. It's a cover up. No accountability, no blame. Wipe their hands clean, regardless if she lives or dies. They can cover up their massive, massive fubar. But! But since they are doing an official processing now that we are here... Sounds to me like they discovered a way to keep themselves out of legal hot water and keep everything under wrap. The processing is just the 3 of us. No backup needed. She cannot be a threat to us now. They cannot risk another fubar when it is officially-- and legally-- documented by all 3 of us. Don't ask, don't tell, but They must have gotten what they want from her in those two days... ja?"

Null just tensed his shoulders before shaking them out, and giving a good neck stretch. He ended up with face tilted towards the ceiling, eyes closed. Void stood there, back to back with her partner, frozen with fist to lips, eyes upon Lion but not seeing him.

Finally, the senior Agent spoke: "Thinking what I am thinking, partner...?"

"Affirmative. Too much talk. Too much overthinking. Let's keep eyes on prizes and do this already. Ready, Mister Lion...?"

In unison, they all shifted to face the final corridor. A single deep breath, then all continued marching, with perfect postures, onward towards their destination.

---

A buzzer went off over head. Amber lights flashed solid 3 times. Shift change in 15 minutes. This was a sure fire way to tell just exactly who the noobs were in this facility; they would flinch and startle each time that sound and those lights went off. But not this trio. They were seasoned and attuned to it all in Belle Reve. Especially the Indian Agent.

Void's forehead creased; dark eyes shifted upwards towards the amber lights as they faded into obscurity once more. "No, that's off... Shift switch notif is a bit too early, no?"

He held out a hand to her and took two steps away from her, a similar quizzical look upon his visage as well,"Mister Lion. Hey. Wait. Hold up..."

The legal liason slowed, lifted an unenthused finger. He stood there and made a clicking sound of disdain as he shook his head, "With all this nonsense surrounding this inmate, I would not be the least bit surprised that's her cell. Poor thing is in the dark. What even is this to treat someone like that...?!"

"Dark...? Wait. Just a sec. Don't go down there yet, Mister." he reversed his palms up, please pause gesture from the hand facing Void over to the one facing Lion. "Early...? Hmmmm... let's see. Yeah a bit early. No big deal, partner. Make a report. It can be re-calibra--"

"How early, Null...?"

"Ach. I think the power is actually going to go out further down here--"

"Hmmm... 16 minutes and--"

"--Infra-reds are lighiting up but I don't see a reason why--"

"--43 seconds...!" both spat out in a harsh whisper. The realization of that specific number's significance burned bright in their eyes, yet their faces began draw long.

"Hey Mister...! You were wrong. They didn't get what they needed from her... They are getting what they need from us. Right about now."

The willowy man, despite being several paces distant from the SCA partners, took two involuntary steps backwards. The pair had changed somehow. Their perfect postures... shifted slightly. As if bracing for impact? An earthquake...what? Whatever it was it was immense and impending. "How do you know? And for that matter, what do you know?"

"'Clock's ticking now.' The next set of guards will be here in just over 15 minutes. So let's figure this out together, Agent."

"Wait. Waaaassss...? What even do you mean? What does she mean; 'figure this ou--'"

"You're right. The power is going to go out. And we need to make the best of the Clock we have left. Agent, we're not here to officially process."

"Mein Gott... we came all this way and will still suffer Their fubar...?! What then are we here to do...?! And figure out, what exaxctly?!"

"We're here to clean. Then we need to figure out how to dispose of the body. All in under... synching Clock... 15 minutessss... 'mark'."

The lights died. Another set woke immediately. Red flowed down the corridors, illuminating their faces with a sanguine glow.

---

---

'GunMother'

​

---

On the floor in Solitary Confinement...

She knelt there, black hood over her head, hunched over low and defeated. It appeared as if her Belle Reve inmate uniform went several losing rounds against the business end of a bear. Tatters of orange held on for dear life, merely strands barely covering her crumpled form trying their damnedest to maintain the woman's modesty. To little avail since an alarming amount of tattoos were showing through with more than just a sneak peek.

Although there was not a single drop of blood to be found, marring sun-kissed skin were multiple bruises and bandages of all shapes and sizes barely clinging onto bulging muscles. It was barren of cloth down the length of both legs. And only one tattooed foot remained fully slippered; its mate found home in the opposite corner upsidedown and alone.

Her arms were latched up together tightly at the wrists. Hands were underneath her in an awkward and very painful looking manner. Secured together, they looked jammed into the space behind her knees as she knelt directly on top of her hands. Thighs and calves squeezed upon them with what looked like her entire weight.

At first glance it was hard to tell if she was conscious– or dead for that matter.

Oh, but she was hardly dead. Not even close.

She merely rested, patiently waiting. Slow, so very slow, and even breaths she took to ease and steady her heart rate. The black hood treatment sucked, but it gave her the respite from the sights of the immediate depressing environment; it gave her just enough peace to focus.

The power had gone out. Of that she was certain; the weight of the blanketing silence was instantaneous, thick and heavy. That helped her concentration 1000 fold. That razor sharp focus she lost when they started pumping her with nasty chems was not even close to coming back yet, but for what she needed to pull off to get the hell out of here, that was least of her worries. In fact she was doubtful she could pull this off. Leverage was a commodity they forgot to ship in today.

But to anyone out there thinking that she was dead…

"Bitch, please…"

The head in the black hood jolted upright.

“Listen up, Lucy… I piss people off by just existing. Like, they just cannot stop hatin' on me cuz I’m still alive. Rent free in their heads for the rest of my life… hell-to-the-yeah! It's an honour to keep it that way. Heh… ooopsss… shhhh… back to concentrating. I hear someone… but dang… they workin’ hard to get that door open… but then again… dang… you ever have a sick n’ twisted perv try that hard to creep up into your panties in the dark… but wait… you are the game, amirite…? Shockers up for our pal, Lucky Lucy!! Whooooo…! Earn that candy, giiiiirl…! Ooops. They almost in… now shhhhh… I gotsta gotsta concenmeratration over here… you talk too much… Later, Lucy…!”

She was effectively blind but still her head was turned and directed past the electro-bars toward the opposite side of the room. Lucy was upsidedown and in the corner, its mate tugged snugly on the blabbering woman’s right foot.

Yeah, she was talking to a slipper. So what? Drugs, sleep deprivation and dark-ops interro would do that to you too.

She heard exactly 3 of them. Two of them were experts in stealth, one of them was impressively greater than the other. The third however…? Nervous? Inexperienced? Just plain sucked at this? Meh. Maybe it was all 3. Yeah.

“Collar source intact. Visual confirmed. Subject is restrained and idle.” deep voice, moved not as gracefully while entering her territory. But calm AF. Smelled a lot of… like oils and cleaner. Exhaled ‘that’ way when he was confident about things.

Oh, she knew who this was. She had successfully managed to disrupt his metahuman power a couple of days ago. Only once. He was going to be a problem. Big problem.

But if that was Such-a-Turn-Off… then that meant the other was–

“Electro-bars still hot. Confinement must be running on backup battery, thankfully.”

–Cackles. Dang. She was good. She moved when he moved to cover her sounds. Nice. Well, not really because she was going to be a bigger problem. That left… Waddles. Yeah, him.

“Why is she kneeling onto her hands like that? That does not look up to spec nor comfortable in the least– wait was is wrong with her clothes?! Ach…!”

“Stand down, Agent! We haven’t confirmed consciousness yet!”

“She must be freezing! It’s just my jacket! No, moving parts–”

“Secure your mouth, Agent! Move away from there. NOW! Void get him–”

Wait! Did some waddling guy actually show compassion in this asshat-backwards wearing place? Oh, but what a sweetheart! It looked like leverage came from Germany to drop off a delivery today after all!

“Sucks to be him–”

The woman was an instantaneous explosion; a blur of motion, power and agility. A liquid electric flying tiger could not have pulled off that leap and timing to catch its prey. Not even close. Mister Lion screeched as he was yanked forward, seized by the throat with practiced claws of this apex predator.

“Ohhhh… but what’s wrong, Waddles… your pussy hurting more than mine…?” her voice was muffled and face hidden, but 100% guaranteed she smirked and winked, that twinkle in her eye gleaming deadly bright.

“Void! Electro-bar's still active, my EMP ineffective. You clear to fire–”

“Negative. No line. Hold still, Agent! Hold still!”

“Nuh-uh-uhhhh… lookie wut I gots for you, Cookie…” She whipped her prey around, about face. One powerful hand vice-gripped his arm in place with a painful elbow lock, the other clutched her collar and gently, with a mother’s touch, pressed it against his quivering lips. “Signal detects non-contact with subject. I let go then… boom. Happy ending.”

“What in the actual fu– Wait! Did she really just–”

“Null, focus!”

Mister Lion could only look around wildly, his infra-glasses askew and sliding down his face.

“Awwww… poor baby. Looks like his civilian-laden mind went limp. No surprise. Cuz DANG, I”m good…!”

“Listen. Please. It don’t have to be this way, you know…”

“Yeah, iknorite?! I warned them. I said their tech had flaws. A fatal flaw in particular. But you gets whacha' gets. One minute you say I’m bluffing… the next Waddles here is gunna piss his pants then die–”

“Let’s take another approach then… okay…? Okay…”

“Void. The actual fu– pick that gun up!!”

“She can’t reach it or she would have already. Null, she’s at her limits. And so are we. Look. Standing down. My move. Let’s de-escalate, hey inmate?”

All of a sudden Lion realized just what exactly was the situation he was in. Fubar. She was fast and powerful… and cunning. No wonder the SCA’s talked about her like the boogeyman. He never really knew what a supersoldier was until today. That’s what They were playing with? Their Fubar and he was the one that was going to die? Lion swallowed hard and jaggedly then promptly began to tremble. Badly.

“Easy, easy… Agent Lion… easy. Look. I’mma do the same as Void. Unarmed. See? Can we see some reciprocity. Show us we can talk, please inmate.”

“Will you stop calling me… oooohhhh I get it. You showing you know what I hate… and that you soooooo not gonna do it?! That’s good. But Wait. You want me to drop my weapon too. Okaaaaaay… his funeral–”

“InmateNonononNOO–”

“PleaseDontInmate–”

“Will you please stop calling me that cuz that ain’t me–” the elbow lock was gone. Not even a heartbeat later so was her hood.

“Bitch I AM the GunMother!!”

All Agents eyes popped wide. And for different reasons.

How many times had Null heard that uttered before. That catchphrase… Only one person could actually say it like that. Just hits different. Void swore she heard that said before too. It was the day all those poor, innocents were gunned down on that city block. The 'stank of something’s off' flooded Lions senses.

“No. No you’re not and I can prove it. Listen–”

“Who are you really!? Tell MEE!!”

Lion just winced at the emotional fury of this woman who he only knew as the only example of picture-perfect calm.

“Wait. Wut? You don’t believe me? Anyone keeping up with current events here? Anyone…? Awww thanks for raising your hand, Waddles. Appreciate you, W. After I could do all this… this unorthodox yet strangely effective ransoming...?! Like... I mean... You even have to ask…?!”

“Agent Void. You were right; skills. My brain cannot comprehend. But you were right too, Agent Null. Cuffs. They used cuffs on her. A perfect reason to... 'clean' is it? Attacking guards with lethal intentions is reason to… you know… 16:43 her.”

“Oh yeah, thanks Big-W. Forgot to mention that was part of their flawed plans.You know, I warned them. But you gets whacha' gets... One moment you think I’m bluffing–”

“Ugh. Stop talking. Just answer me…! Ugh! Why must you talk so much?!”

“Cuz I’m awake now…? Duhhhh.”

“Okay… okay, Agent Lion. I see you. But how do you fit in?”

“I’m the loose end that could unravel Their… Fubar. I'm the legal loose end that links to their documentation… or lack thereof. I don't think I was supposed to make it back...”

In that moment she heard Lion unveil the asshat-backwards facility’s alleged intentions for one of their own, the GunMother seemed to smarten up and dumb down her mouth; she seemed to actually listen in for once.

Void found her composed self again, “Null and myself being the ‘good soldiers’ would keep it all to ourselves and follow what protocols and procedures were necessary...”

“And we’d be burying another Agent then continue to still talk too much and overthink it all. None the wiser… Damn.”

“Wow. Bein’ honest here, but that’s some heavy intel. Sooooo… like anywaaaaayssss... we good? We bruhs? Can I go now?”

“No. You can stop talking now.”

“Hmmph… you almost smiled there, Cackles–”

“Stop calling me that! That’s not my name!”

“Then start calling me my name! Dang! Bruh. Starting to get pissed off here– kay, so what the actual eff in the face do I have to do make you believe me?! I really am the GunMother…! Really, I am!”

All 3 Agents looked shocked once again. And all for the same reason this time. The inmate said: ‘‘What the actual eff in the face…’ There was another all 3 knew that said that phrase and it caught on. She worked here at Belle Reve.

“Okay… okay… I actually do know the GunMother. I do. We used to deal... 'parts'. We had a bet. They lost. And because of that; they was supposed to tattoo my name on their ass… sound familiar…?”

“Null… you what…? You are not literally asking her to let you inpect her–”

“Pffffft… yeah, I never tattooed anyone’s name on my ass. Anyone who’d desire that can also desire to suck my dick!”

“God. DAMN!! Hahah! Yup. That is The GunMother right there… sheeeesh…! Finally face-to face and literally in the flesh… how in the hell…?”

Lion let out a slow and shaky breath, relief dripping down his face. Void still regarded the inmate, nonplussed.

“Ey, Eyo. Buuut I actually did tattoo your nick somewhere else. For real. Opposite place. Seemed appropriate… hahahahah…”

Null’s eyes burst wide and he belted out laughter huge enough to rattle the facility.

“Wait. Agent Null, what was your nickname…?” eyes glimmered and a hint of a smile crept up at Lion’s mouth despite the explosive collar still touching his cheek.

“Fuzzy.”

It was too much. Even Void joined in on the laugh.

---

---

“So we on the level then, yeah?”

“Fo’sho. Just let me at them… but remember… I ain’t leadin’ remember. Just a ride-along. Y'know, co-Agent capacity, right?”

“No. Not right. We already discussed this with Them. Fully mutual agreement. We all cut a deal. Written up by our legal liaison proper, Mr. Lion.”

“Yeah, Big W! Fight the good fight, bruh!”

“Stop talking. The deal was; You will join the Counter Asset Assembly in a ’voluntary and participatory assistive’ role. Upon mission success, Red-Line Threat neutralized with full confirmation, then your belongings are returned to you.”

“Kiddies and Toys! Yay– Wait. Girl, wut! The hell you on about?! What does that even mean? Look, we said differently. Not that goofy ‘voluntarily-parting-ass’ for you trash clowns part!”

“That’s not what I said…! You need to stop talking and start listening!”

“And you need to have some chill, Ca–I mean ‘rhymes with Shackles…’ Nuh! Din’t say it… din’t call you that name that 'rhymes with Tackles–'”

“Agent Void. Ms. GunMother. Please. We are on a ‘Clock’ as you SCA say. Can we just reset this all and move on as planned? Please..!”

“Ding! Ding! Ding! Prize goes to Big-W over there! Hell-to-the-yeah, boi! My guy putting that righteous and proper respect on my name where it belongs! Ms. GunMother… ! Dang! Say it again!”

“You do talk a lot…” *sighs*

“Bruh. What'd I say? Honestly, is SCA some kinda' contagious non-believer disease? I said; 'It’s cuz I’m still awake…' duuuhhh.”

"Yeah. But hey, Mister, you deal with this piece of work often enough… you get used to it. You’ll be immune in no time–”

“This relationship is merely convenience. We’ll never get to that point. Ever.”

“Yay. That’s. The. Spirit. Look. At. Me. I am on team SCA. Achoo. Go. Team. Pfffft… whatevs. Sister I said I’d help. That’s part of what they wanted from me after all. This threat is– what do you call them? Red Lined? Well if they need me for my skills I guess it can’t be that bad.”

“Off the charts Red-Lined most likely. But regardless. You went through Fubar hell. It is that bad already. Glad you are on our side now.”

“What is the intimacy dead for us? You don't want me holding a potential explosive beheading up in your face anymore? Dang it, Big-W. I thought we was tight. I was gunna even let you brush my hair–”

“You make no sense. Ugh, Your name really should be Ms. ‘Stop Talking.’ I say more times then I need, inmate.”

“You mean; ‘Co-Agent inmate,’ excuse you. But glad we on the same team, Void. I mean; Co-Agent Void.”

“For a moment there I thought we’d actually seen a ‘yes, GunMother can play nice card'… nah. But one can always wish… But really. Why you so… so like that?”

“Why doesn’t anyone ever believe meeeee-uh... I already said its cuz I’m awake. Bruh, I am sleep deprived. Fuzzy, I swear, those assholes never let me sleep.”

“Hmmm… a straight answer for once. I think we are rubbing off on you.”

“Wutevs. But, W. Ewww. Donchu ever say that again. Pretty-pretty please? I don’t ever wanna hear you mention anything about you ‘rubbing off’ on me...”

Yet again it was too, too much. Raucous laughter once more sealed the deal.

And yes, Void could not help but join in too.


“--Wait. Before we go. That name-uh... ‘Counter Assets Assembly.’ Yeah, thanks but um no. There has gots to be a better name that fits. I mean, bruh: ‘Okay, Counter Assets! Let’s assemble and start Counter Asset’ing the bad– badder guys! By the power of Counter and Assets, Let’s go!

“See what I mean. Needs something… I don’t know… like… like…”

“Well, what would you call a team of dangerous inmates, hastily strung together, forced to get along, and enter into a mission despite it meaning certain death to all members in the end anyways..?”

“Gee thanks, W. I thought you was happy we on the same side?”

“Sticking with the concept and sound of the proper name; ‘Team Kill-Count and the Asses…?’”

“Pffft. Nice try, Fuzzy. Only kill-counts on my crew–”

“‘Your’ crew. Oh. So you are going to lead now, are you…? No, no, no! No, ‘Stop Talking’.”

“Wait. Nein. No, I got it. I got it. It’s perfect and sounds catchy. Alliteration is cool right? Ja. You should call yourselves–”

---

---

 

[Aviator]

Caio McCarthy // “Whiplash” // Age 26 // Inmate // Getaway Driver // Brazilian-American​

The minute that Elara’s mouth thinned to a thread, Caio knew that she didn’t like his idea for a game. That he would be met with a sharp, borderline self-righteous gibe about how, just because they were prisoners for an indefinite eternity, she wasn’t so desperate to escape their reality by pretending that she was still a high schooler. Despite her criticism and dirty looks, Caio enjoyed when Elara got mouthy with him. It was unspoken permission for him to retort in kind, and then they would go back and forth, trading insults like two opposing boxers traded blows, until someone broke out grinning and forfeited the charade. Elara was easily riled, too. He liked seeing the effect his sarcasm had on her, without her actually getting angry… usually.
But when Elara opened her mouth to speak, no sound came out. She simply sat on one edge of the picnic table with her jaw suspended and eyes focused on nothing, looking like a beached fish. Until she swayed dangerously and toppled forward, heading for a faceplant on the floor if Eve hadn’t lunged forward and wrapped an arm around her torso in the nick of time. A jolt of alarm went through Caio. He knew Elara’s sudden loss of coordination was most likely a side effect of Dr. Alister’s “medication,” but that knowledge didn’t ease the fear he felt at one of his friends being transformed into a vegetable before his eyes. Dr. Elara Sterling, one of the smartest, most powerful beings on the face of the planet, reduced to falling all over herself like the town drunk. His fear funneled into his toes as he listened to Elara’s barely intelligible mutterings, replaced by a colder, darker emotion.
Within the walls of Belle Reve, Caio was lucky to be normal. It meant that the guards typically afforded him a measure of apathy that didn’t extend to the inmates with preternatural powers, generally not caring one way or the other whether he took his meds, lingered in the shower for a few extra minutes, or cooked himself something beyond his normal rations when he was on kitchen duty. Unlike Nexa, who could unleash cosmic destruction upon the world the moment that her collar fell free, the most havoc that Caio could wreak was a few well-timed punches and kicks before he was inevitably subdued, either by a swarm of Worker Bees—the inmates’ euphemism for guards with standard human abilities—or one SCA. Thus, in a prison dominated by otherworldly entities, Caio’s normalcy made him deficient, but also strangely… privileged. And, much as he did with Zheng, he milked that privilege for every drop it was worth. Social influence and the strategic use of information were the survival mechanisms of an inmate who lacked power in other forms.
Leaning heavily on Eve, the little gasping noises Elara had been making thickened into outright wheezing, with words spaced throughout at intervals. Her lids drooped low over her eyes, her dark complexion burning with a reddish glow. Caio glanced up to see if any officers were witnessing Elara’s near fainting spell. Two Worker Bees stood guard at the doors through which Dr. Alister had absconded with Keeley, but both of their thumbs were jabbing away at their phones, oblivious. Another ember of anger burned through Caio. The guards only remembered they had a job to do when you didn’t want them to. Looked like he and Eve would have to step up to the plate on this one. Ignoring the flicker of pain in his leg, he dropped into a crouch in front of Elara, so that he was eye-level with her. “Hey, Doc, can you hear me? Just, uh, hang in there for a few minutes. We’ll get you back to your cell as soon as rec time ends, and then you can take a nap, okay? Loooong nap, ‘cuz, girl? You ain’t exactly been a basket of roses to deal with today, and you oughta do the world a favor to make up for it.” He tried to interject a note of humor into his voice, but it fell short, like a conspicuously flat note played on a piano. Lightheartedness was beyond Caio’s grasp when he was on the edge of panic for his friend’s well-being.
Elara was in the midst of stammering out another nonlinear series of words when the doors at the entrance of the rec yard opened. The pair of black-clad guards stepped aside to admit Keeley. Caio frowned. That’d been a very abbreviated meeting with Dr. Alister. He wondered whether his friend had gotten out early for good behavior. Before Caio could ask, Keeley teetered for balance, his hand brushed up against a wall. And promptly collapsed. He lay in an unmoving heap at its base, his legs stretched out straight in front of him as if he were slouched lazily after a hard workout. Caio’s brow furrowed as he watched, mildly perturbed and wondering whether he should do something. If it were anyone else, absolutely, but Keeley was… peculiar. One such peculiarity was his sleeping habits. He slept like Caio ate: excessively, and with great ardor. A handful of times when the Bad Bitch Brigade had been playing spades, Keeley had fallen dead asleep in the middle of a hand, his cards tumbling from his grip for the world to see.
Yeah, Keeley would be fine, Caio decided. Besides, he already had one loopy friend to attend to. He turned back to the two ladies sitting on the picnic bench. Or rather, Eve was sitting and Elara was laying on her side with her head in Eve’s lap, as she assured the physicist about finding a journal. Elara was fond of writing, Caio knew from observation. But every time someone neared her whenever she was writing in her journal, she’d snap it closed and glare at the offender as if they’d just taken a piss in her cell. “What’s that about your journal, Doc?” Caio said, trying to keep Elara talking so that she wouldn’t pass out in the middle of the rec yard.
Elara rolled bloodshot eyes up at him. But her reply was garbled by the sound of scuffing boots and mocking voices. Caio turned back to the corner where Keeley had collapsed. The pair of guards had vacated their posts by the door to hover around Keeley’s limp form, and they’d been joined by two others. They formed a semicircle around his body, and from the biting edge that filled their voices, they were arguing about what to do with him.
“I would say let’s feed him to the giant white rat, but then we’d have to do the work of moving him,” said a bulky man with thinning red hair and ruddy cheeks. Caio recognized him as Novak, a captain who wasn’t popular even among the guards for his cruelty. Zheng liked to shit-talk him when he wasn’t listening. Rumor had it that Novak had once ordered an inmate addicted to opium to dance naked in the snow in order for her next hit, and, helpless without the drug, she had. As if being an abusive son of a bitch wasn’t enough, Novak was also a pervert. “So, fellas, I guess it falls on us to show Sleeping Beauty some love and care.”
One of Novak’s subordinates, a woman with poisonous-green hair in an undercut, piped up, “Captain, I don’t think it’s proper to—”
She was cut off as Novak’s foot slammed into Keeley’s side, sending him twisting halfway around and sprawling onto his belly on the floor. Keeley groaned and stirred, but his eyes remained shut. Clearly this, like Elara’s stupor, was a drug-induced sleep.
“Sorry, Lindner, did you not hear my order? Or are you being insubordinate?”
Lindner paled but said nothing.
Novak gave a bullish grunt of laughter. “That’s what I thought, sugarplum. Now you can either help me show Sleeping Beauty some Southern hospitality, or you can stay the hell outta my way.” He advanced on Keeley again, placing a tentative boot on the inmate’s wrist, as if wondering how much pressure would be required to snap it. “You know what? I’ve never understood why we’re supposed to treat them as humans. Half of them are demonic freaks, and the other half are lowlife thugs. And no one ends up in Belle Reve just for a little Mom and Pop’s hold-up.”
Novak pressed his boot down further.
Caio’s vision throbbed red, like the final dying pulse of a ruptured heart. A great cold fury was growing in his middle and spreading to his extremities. His face was carved from stone as he looked at Eve, and his voice was about as dynamic. “Eve. Take Elara and get out of here. Now.” Witnessing the altercation that was to come would only get the two women in trouble, and there would already be more than enough of that to go around without their inclusion.
Not waiting for Eve to ask questions or try to talk him out of it, Caio spun around. Novak’s three subordinates were exchanging wary glances but not intervening. Novak brought his booted foot back to deliver another kick, this time to Keeley’s skull. Before Caio’s eyes, the target of Novak’s wrath transformed into a frail man with sun-kissed skin, silver mottling his longish, dark hair. The man who had helped Caio through countless algebra problems, played chess with him on school nights, and pulled coins out from behind his ear. Caio imagined a sneer had marred the face of the SWOT officer who’d killed his father, just as Novak’s was now.
His feet flashed across the floor like painted light. “Leave him alone.” There was the tiniest quaver in Caio’s voice as he spoke that short sentence, but it wasn’t from fear. He felt his composure rapidly unspooling, until it dangled by the thinnest of threads, in danger of snapping. Instinct was driving him more than deliberate thought anymore.
Three heads spun toward Caio in militant unison. The fourth remained turned away, bobbing gently as powerful shoulder blades swelled and compressed with a heavy breath. “I hope that wasn’t directed at me,” the captain said in a low growl, his leg suspended in the air from where he’d been about to kick Keeley. Novak remained facing away from Caio for another few heartbeats, as if giving him a chance to escape before he suffered irreversible wrath.
“Maybe if you turned around and used your eyes, jackass, you’d know.” Caio quietly admired the cold, cavalier calm of his voice. It felt starkly incongruent with the hurricane raging inside him.
Novak placed his leg on the ground. The man’s stocky physique rippled once, twice more with deep breaths.
The guard named Lindner stepped forward, biting her lip. “Captain Novak, please allow me to escort Prisoner Sixty-Six Eighty-Two back to his—”
Novak held up a hand, and Lindner quieted immediately. “Stand down, Lieutenant. I relish the opportunity to teach lessons to those who ask.” He turned around, revealing piggy eyes embedded deep in a fleshy face and a reddish-gray shadow somewhere between stubble and a beard. Seeing all boyish good looks and gaunt 132 pounds of Caio, the captain barked a short chuckle that sounded like he was trying to clear a tough piece of meat from his throat. “Maguire, eh? MacNair? That’s your name, right? Well. For your insolence, I’ll break that good leg so you have a matching set, boy.”
The guard next to Lindner stepped forward, a can of pepper spray manifesting in his hand. Novak shot a glare at him. “What part of ‘stand down’ did you not understand?” he roared. Novak’s young subordinate immediately scrambled back into line with his peers. The captain’s eyes roved over Caio, first snagging on the leg he favored, and then on his throat, which bore no protective collar. “Lowlife thug it is. This should be easy.”
Even after he’d lowered himself into a half-crouch, Novak still resembled a boulder. Caio put his right foot forward and adopted a nimble stance on the balls of his feet, ready to leap aside at a moment’s notice. His opponent towered some seven inches and eighty pounds over him. Novak advanced, his feet gobbling up the floor between Caio and him one step at a time. Caio let him. The closer Novak drew to him, the farther he crept away from Keeley’s body. When only a few arms’ lengths separated them, they began to circle each other like wolves vying for the title of alpha.
Just take it patiently, whispered the black bubbles boiling inside Caio. Wait for him to fuck up, and make him pay for it. Ride him down. It was just like playing catch-up around a formula circuit. Wait until you were two, then one length behind the car ahead of you, and take care to time your move with the opening you were given, because there may only be one.
Caio was between setting one foot down and lifting the other when Novak lunged. Seconds stretched out, long and syrupy, the way they used to when Caio took a turn at borderline reckless speed around the track, and the forces of physics pressed down on him. Foreseeing the attack from the twitch of those sloping shoulders, Caio neatly hopped to the side, pushing with one foot across the floor and pulling with the other. Novak’s leg swished through the air in a low horizontal arc, connecting with nothing. The momentum of his strike carried him forward a step, just as Caio performed a tight half-turn, dodging back inside proximity of the captain. He stuck his ankle out and flexed the foot. Novak ended up tripping over the same leg that he had been predictably targeting. Caio pivoted again. Lashed out with the opposite leg while Novak fumbled for balance, catching him square in the middle of his back with a sideward thrust. Such a direct blow would have felled another man. And while Novak doubled over and brushed one hand against the floor for balance, he was up on his feet again in an instant, throwing Caio a glare as hard and cold as marble.
“Wanna play rough, eh?” Novak dove forward with a surprising burst of speed for one so big. He rushed Caio headlong, arms extended to the sides to create a net that the slighter man couldn’t easily sidestep. He bulled into Caio, driving him backward until he fetched up against a wall. The back of his head connected with a crackle of white lightning. Novak tangled a hand in Caio’s hair, as if meaning to bash his head against the wall again. Before he could, Caio threw an uppercut elbow, unable to strike with a fist in such close quarters, and clipped Novak along the underside of his jaw. It broke the hold that the captain had on him, sending Novak reeling for balance. The captain clamped a hand to the site of the blow, which had erupted in a fountain of blood.
Adrenaline burned away most of the pain that Caio should have felt, except for a ghost of it. A reminder of the justice that he intended to claim. Not giving Novak any time to recover, Caio scuttled toward him like a scorpion with its tail raised, relentless until it inflicted damage. He pressed his advantage, aiming a few experimental jabs at the guard’s center of mass. All were blocked. During one opening, Novak raised his knee as if he were about to kick out at Caio’s leg again like he had with his first advance, and Caio leaned to his left. Only for a right fist to smash into the side of his face.
A firework of pain bloomed in his head, exploding with such force that half of his hearing was reduced to a tinny ringing. Caio lowered his center of balance instinctively, keeping himself from careening backward. A taste like rust welled up in his mouth. Managing to stand his ground, Caio slowly turned his head back toward his opponent, annoyance prickling through him. So far, Novak had almost exclusively been targeting Caio’s bad leg, aiming to sweep it or shatter the poorly reset bones. He was no different than any of the other two dozen inmates Caio had fought in the past five months, never seeing beyond the obvious weakness. And oh, how quickly Caio had learned to guard his bad side. Those opponents were easy to counter. Until they feinted and switched it up on Caio.
“Hope you’ve got an appetite, kid. ‘Cause I’mma feed you a fucking banquet of knuckle sandwiches,” Novak gloated.
Caio’s only response was to hack up a wad of blood and saliva and spit it on his adversary’s shoes.
Novak approached him slowly, careful to keep at a distance where he could leverage his greater range against Caio, who twisted away like an eel from blow after blow. Knowing that his opponent had shored up his defenses and would be keeping Caio out of the striking zone, Caio knew that he’d have to use one of Novak’s attacks against him. He waited for the swell of those massive shoulders like a cresting wave, betraying that the captain was committing to a strike.
A leg kick hummed in from the side, aimed two inches above Caio’s knee. Such a blow would shatter the femur if it connected. Caio didn’t give his opponent the chance. He curved away from it, bending like a reed in the wind, swooping down to snatch Novak’s booted calf. With the captain’s leg caught in an iron grip, Caio plowed forward, sending both men crashing to the floor. Caio landed on top with a knee driven into Novak’s abdomen, cutting off his breath. The moment that he planted the knee, a shuddering gasp left Novak’s body, and his head came up off the floor. A thrill shot through Caio’s veins as he grasped the back of his opponent’s collar in one hand, looped his other forearm around the man’s neck, and shifted his weight into a tight cross choke.
Novak sputtered and coughed and fumed in impotent rage. Pounded his forearm against Caio’s tricep in an escape attempt that went nowhere.
“Now you listen to me, you arrogant fuck,” Caio seethed through crimson-stained teeth. His voice was as brittle as steel in winter, low so that only his downed opponent would hear him. “There’s a persistent rumor that you have unethical tastes in pornography. And then there are other rumors that your sexual preferences don’t just stop there. Remember when you made poor Layla dance naked for your entertainment? Yeah, well, the next time that you lay hands on an inmate—violently, sexually, whichever—whether I see it or not, the next SCA to grace me with their presence is gonna get an earload about how Captain Novak likes to fuck little girls. Rumor also has it that you’re not particularly popular here at Belle Reve, so I dunno how many of your co-workers would leap to your defense. And then you know what’ll happen?”
Novak panted in reply. His cherry-red face was slowly turning a satisfying shade of mulberry.
Caio gave his victim a little jostle to reclaim his attention. “And then you’ll be tossed outta Belle Reve so fast that you won’t know if you fell ass- or headfirst. Which means that government protection will no longer be afforded to your family and home. Do you happen to know who my father was, Novak?” Novak choked inarticulately, his eyes bulging from his head. Behind them, Caio heard the uneasy murmurings of Novak’s subordinates, as they debated whether it was time to go against their captain’s orders not to intervene. “I’ll give you a hint: he was a Brazilian fugitive with a lot of money at his fingertips. Money that wasn’t legally earned. And those kinds of people? They tend to have retinues of followers who are loyal to them, followers who address them as Chefe and kiss their heavily-ringed hands. My father is dead, Novak. Meaning that those followers are now loyal to me. The second that the location of your house is no longer classified information, I will call Souza. I will call Rodrigo. I will call Valéria Henrique. O, Noonie, Shante and Shanei, the Machado twins. All these mothafuckas with a criminal record longer than your great-auntie’s shopping list will line up on your front lawn, and I swear to god and the devil, your little slice of Shangri-La is going up in flames with everyone inside. Like the wick of a candle. Entendeu, senhor?”
At this point, Novak’s round, bald head looked like it was about to pop. His futile thrashings diminished as his eyes fluttered shut. Caio was seriously wondering whether Novak’s subordinates were going to let him choke the captain into unconsciousness, as none of them seemed to have a real attachment to Novak and they’d technically still be obeying orders to do so. As if listening to his pernicious thoughts, just then the doors parted with a metallic hiss. A stampede of boots stormed the rec yard. Knowing that the curtain was falling on his show, Caio inched away from Novak’s unresponsive form and calmly raised his hands to shoulder height. Yes, I did indeed kick his ass with my bare hands, officers, he thought. His eyes drifted to Keeley, who was sitting propped against the base of the wall again, his eyes cracked open. You okay? Caio mouthed, seeing the arm that Keeley held around his ribs. But one of the incoming officers dashed toward Keeley and crouched in front of him, cutting off Caio’s view. Five others converged on him, three of them forming a triangle with tranquilizers raised. A fourth officer tackled Caio to the ground with a force that made his teeth clack together, a knee digging into his spine. Caio twisted his head to the side against the cold stone floor as the last guard cuffed his hands behind his back.
Hooking their hands around his armpits, the guards hauled Caio to his feet. Logically, he knew that he should be afraid—whatever his punishment was, it wouldn’t be pretty—but a strange sense of pride ballooned in his chest as he was marched toward the doors through which the guards had entered. He hadn’t sat by and watched while his friend was abused, and whatever his punishment, he had the comfort of knowing that it was the result of his own decisions. Of his own choices, rather than those of others thrust onto him, against which he was powerless to defend himself. As Caio went, having to walk unnaturally fast to keep pace with the guards’ breakneck pace, his eyes locked with Keeley’s. Caio dipped his head in the smallest of nods. He’d be okay. He just hoped that Keeley hadn’t sustained serious damage from Novak’s abuse.
They briefly stopped at the doors while Caio’s entourage deliberated what to do with him. “Take him to the warden,” the guard in the lead said at last, the woman who had fastened his handcuffs. Trepidation and amusement warred inside Caio. His little stunt had warranted him an audience with the warden herself? Why, what an unexpected ego boost.
Caio’s vision suddenly blackened as a dark cloth was draped over his head, making him uncomfortably aware of his own breathing. Just as the hands on his shoulders tightened and he was pushed blindly out of the room, a feminine voice spoke from directly behind him. He recognized it as Lindner’s. “You shouldn’t have done that.” Perhaps she was speaking sincerely, because Caio detected no complacent note of mockery in her voice. “You really, really shouldn’t have.”

 

[ISHTAR]

tw: violence, abuse of power, mental health, drugging/sedation, discrimination, medical abuse

Dr. Elara Sterling

As she watched the chaos unfold, Elara couldn't help but lament, "Stupid Caio. Why's a normie have to go and mess with meta affairs? He's only gonna get himself killed." She felt a mix of frustration and concern for her friend's reckless actions.

The situation had taken a dangerous turn. Caio was about to confront the guards. But for a brief moment, she allowed herself to find solace in Eve's arms.

Elara gently grabbed Eve's hand, which was tenderly petting her hair. The touch had been gentle and soothing. In fact, she didn't want it to stop. However, she knew that Keeley needed her now.

As Caio went two-to-toe with the guards, Elara felt herself slowly slipping out of Eve's embrace. With a soft squeeze of Eve's hand, Elara reluctantly let go, her eyes silently conveying her appreciation, before she slowly rose from her seat to attend to her friend's needs. She moved quietly, her steps deliberate as she stumbled toward Keeley, who slouched against the wall, seemingly lost in his drugged slumber. She felt a pang of sympathy, understanding all too well what it was like to be kept sedated and controlled.

Gently, she slid down the wall beside Keeley, supporting his weight as he leaned on her shoulder. His eyes blinked slowly as he registered her presence, his brain struggling against the sluggish effects of the medication.

Elara couldn't help but offer a small, ironic smile, even in the midst of this chaos. She whispered to Keeley with a small grin, "W-well, looook a' Caio over there, takin' on two guards all by himself. 'Guess he really wanna impress us today. Mayb' he's found his true callin' as a one-ma...man army. Caio, guardian of the rec yard," she mumbled, her words barely coherent. Keeley, in his drugged state, let out a drowsy chuckle and leaned heavily against her shoulder. She clumsily wrapped her arm around Keeley, relieved that he hadn't been too injured by the guards, even though he was bleeding.

Elara's heart raced as the guards closed in on Caio and Keeley. Panic surged within her as she watched in a daze as the chaos unfolded before her. Her thoughts raced in a fog of confusion.

With a surge of adrenaline, she tried to push herself to intervene, to protect her friends, but her limbs felt heavy and unresponsive.

She gasped as the guards tackled Caio to the ground with brutal force.

Elara's blurry vision darted around as the guards closed in on her and Keeley, their faces contorted. "Move it, inmate!" She tried to move, but her body refused to cooperate, and she struggled against the restraining hands that grasped at her, their grip tightening painfully as they forced her onto her front. She watched the guards manhandle Keeley.

"He's hurt! Please, stop! You're hurting him!" Elara slurred desperately as a line of spit drooled to the floor from her mouth. In response to her protests, one of the guards activated her shock collar. A sudden jolt of electricity surged through her, causing her body to convulse and her speech to turn into unintelligible cries of pain. Tears streamed down her face as she trembled and gasped for breath. If only she could reach Nexa....

Their hands gripped her arms with bruising force. Helplessness washed over her as their harsh words cut through the haze of her drugged consciousness. As they dragged Elara past the rows of cells, her heart sank. Each step took her closer to solitary confinement, the dreaded punishment that awaited her. She glanced briefly at the faces of the other inmates in their cells, some offering sympathetic looks while others watched with indifference.

"Y'all must be gluttons for punishment," the thick southern drawl of a guard, Jackson, spoke as they escorted Elara toward the entrance of solitary confinement. The guard, a burly figure with a stern expression, seemed more amused than concerned about the fate that awaited her. As they reached the imposing steel doors of solitary, Jackson turned to his colleagues and quipped, "I reckon she'll enjoy the peace and quiet in there. Ain't that right, sweetheart?"

Elara was thrown into her cell with a rough thump, the impact causing her to sprawl on the cold, unforgiving floor. Her limbs felt heavy, and her head spun from the sedatives and the electric shock she had endured. She tried to push herself up from the floor but could only lie there, groaning in pain.

All she could do was hope that they would all make it through this ordeal in one piece.

---

William Blackwood

Billy the Blight was unceremoniously wheeled into Dr. Alister's dimly lit office, dread sinking deep into his gut, struggling against the guards as they strapped him to the doctor's table. He shot a venomous glare at Dr. Alister, a man he despised for very good reasons.

But no, the guards had been holding back on him lately, tightening the noose around his rations. He hoped for something to suppress his ravenous appetite. Instead....

"Let's begin," the doctor said, fastening a suppression collar around Billy's neck, sending shivers down his spine.

"To test if the collar works, Mr. Blackwood," Dr. Alister said, his voice dripping with an unsettling calmness, "I'll need you to demonstrate your power."

Billy's eyes darted to the container filled with squirming cockroaches on the table nearby. His only friends in this godforsaken place, his only solace.

"Please," he muttered, desperation lacing his voice, "you don't understand. They're all I've got. You can't take them away from me."

"You knew the rules, Mr. Blackwood," said the doctor. "Three strikes. You have no one but yourself to blame for this situation. You powers, fascinating as they may be, had been deemed harmless, and thus, you had not been assigned your own collar. A privilege within these walls. One that you abused and took for granted, did you not? Now, you must face the consequences." As Dr. Alister spoke, the suppression collar Billy wore felt like a vise around his neck, squeezing away the very essence of his abilities.

But as Dr. Alister urged him to command the insects, to demonstrate his control, something inside Billy snapped. The realization that his only solace, his only connection to the world, was about to be taken away from him was too much to bear.

"No!" Billy's voice cracked, and tears welled up in his eyes as he struggled against the restraints. "You can't take them from me! Please, I need them!" He begged, his emotions spiraling out of control. He couldn't lose his friends, his only source of comfort in this hellish place.

As Billy's breathing quickened, the guard that had been escorting him, Jake, held up the remote that could trigger his collar. Fear coursed through Billy as he locked eyes with Jake, who was eager to use it.

However, just as the situation reached a critical point, Dr. Alister raised his hand in a commanding gesture. Jake hesitated, his finger hovering over the button.

Dr. Alister's voice was cool and calculating as he asked Billy, "What will it be?"

Billy, his heart pounding in his chest, nodded frantically. He couldn't bear the thought of enduring another shock from the collar. Anything to avoid more punishment, he thought desperately.

"So, Mr. Blackwood," Dr. Alister continued, "we'll test the effectiveness of your suppression collar, now. I'd like you to use your power to move these cockroaches from one container to another, if you please."

Billy's eyes widened at the sight of the container filled with scuttling roaches. It was as if his worst nightmare had been brought to life. He glanced at Dr. Alister, desperation in his eyes.

With trembling hands, he reluctantly focused on the roaches. Billy whimpered as they crawled and scurried in response to his unspoken commands, moving from one container to the other.

Tears fell down his hollow cheeks as he felt the connection with his insect friends severed. The collar had worked, all too well. He was truly alone now, cut off from the only companions he had ever known.

Billy's whimpering quieted suddenly, his frantic emotions gradually settling into a numbing calm.

Billy's tear-stained face took on a blank, almost hollow expression. It was as if the essence of his anger, his hunger, and his despair had been drained away. He felt strangely detached, like a spectator in his own body.

Dr. Alister, his voice as clinical as ever, broke the silence. "You'll be placed on a new medication regimen to manage your emotions," he stated coldly, as if discussing the weather. "Perhaps this will teach you to better control yourself...Billy."

Billy could only nod, the sudden shock of losing his powers clouding his thoughts. The guards, no longer needing to restrain him, wheeled him out of the office. As they moved down the corridor, Billy felt a strange sense of relief. At least, for now, the insatiable hunger that had plagued him was gone.

Jake couldn't help but chuckle as Billy, strapped to the chair, was wheeled into the rec room. He leaned in, a sly grin on his face, and said with a mocking tone, "Well, ain't this a sight? Looks like ol' bug boy gets himself some playtime for once."

Billy's face flushed with embarrassment, but he didn't dare protest. He'd take whatever morsel of freedom he could get in this hellhole.

"Yeah, enjoy the view, Freak," Jake continued, giving the chair a playful shove that made Billy jolt. "Maybe you can make some new friends in here. You know, the kind that won't crawl away when you start crying."

Jake didn't bother removing him from the chair. He remained strapped in, feeling like some kind of macabre centerpiece in the room. Billy clenched his fists in frustration. He sat there, silently enduring their mockery as the rec room buzzed with activity around him.

 

[Steve Jobs]

BAI YUAN YUE

Some try to shut my mouth and say I should swallow this forbidden fruit

insanity depravity demolition

the vampire

the red views keep ripping the divide

panic switch

— silversun pickups

mood: sleepy & hungry
location: belle reve, recreation area
interactions: open

scroll

"Time for lunch, inmate," A gravely voice hissed before opening a heavy door slid open.

Inside laid an Asian woman on a gray, threadbare cot. Shallow scratch marks populated the further most wall while ramblings of a mad woman covered the entire wall adjacent to her bed. Among them were diagrams of new explosives, chemical formulas, and detailed sketches of various guards being maimed.

The temptation to take photos was strong as the victims included pricks like Novak, Nova Red, and Jake. All too big for their britches, and all too powerful for their subordinates to do anything about.

When no response came from the prisoner, the guard banged their baton against the concrete walls.

"HE-LLO? I said it's time for food you leech!"

No response.

The guard continued slamming their weapon against the interior of the cell, voice growing more indignant.

"LUNCH! FOOD. F-O-O-D. YUM YUM!" After another silence, they marched into the cell and squatted by her. Grabbing her by the hair, they pulled the woman to eye level with one hand while cupping her cheeks with the other.

"I know you fucking speak English, rat. So stop playing dumb."

Slowly, Yuan Yue's eyes opened, surprise appearing on her face.

"Oh food why didn't you say so?" She slapped her forehead, "are they serving mystery meat today? What about mashed potatoes? Do I finally get a blood pack?"

"Or..." Her eyes darkened. "Are you my meal for the day?"

An unseen grin sat on her face, unperturbed even after a slap across the cheek. The guard dropped her head and put two cuffs around her wrists before dragging her by the arm. Though most isolated prisoners had their meals slipped through their door, a special case was made for Yuan Yue who removed her mask with a straw. Combined with hoarding a few blood packs and she very nearly escaped Belle Reve.

Now every feeding (which went from daily to weekly) was in the cafeteria and accompanied by five armed guards.

"Gaifan? Baozi? Jianbing?" Food kept rattling off her tongue until they reached a table in the back of the cafeteria.

"Nutraloaf," her escort smirked, setting a cup down in front of the psuedo-vampire. "Drink up."

Yue crinkled her nose at the blended concoction, staring at the swirl of red before taking a sip. She glanced back at the guard whose expression hadn't softened. Belle Reve always managed to outdo themselves in the world of cruelty. Her threat level denied her the basic privilege of solid food. The motion of chewing that she never knew she missed until she spent over six months in this hellhole.

"Can I have more blood next time? Maybe some waaaaater?" she widened her eyes in a vain attempt to mimic the puppies she'd seen in movies,

"Shut up and finish your drink." the guard grumbled, pushing her head down.

Nearly choking on her straw, Yue let out a cough before clamping it down with her teeth and spitting it at her attacker.

"Oh? That's how you want to play it? After Belle Reve went through the trouble of feeding you? Housing you? Letting you live after all the crimes you've committed? Fine. I'll make you see the light." Yanking Yuan Yue's arm, the guard dragged her outdoors and tossed her into the sunny recreation field.

"Enjoy your time outside."

© reveriee

 

[Ashy_OCdesigns]

The kicking had at first registered in him as thumping, like someone had turned the music way loud. He could register the kicking as it became harder, not even waking him up, but just straight up abuse. He wondered if inmates could even be treated this way, or if some people just enjoyed the power of being petites merdes. His eyes shot open as the boot came flying into his ribs, and then again, and again. He first time he'd just stirred, barely registering the words: “So, fellas, I guess it falls on us to show Sleeping Beauty some love and care.” The next few times, he'd come closer and closer to waking up. He opened his eyes, noticing a few guards above him, including a man whose red hair who not only had made a girl dance for drugs( a lot of inmates had heard about the incident), but he also had bad hair, yet acted like he could attract anyone. Knowing who it was, he made his bloodshot eyes glaze over, like he had been overloaded on drugs, painkillers. He even drooled a little, acting like he was too drugged to notice how much pain he was in. In spite of being sedated, the drugs did little now. They were wearing off, and at a very, very bad time. He was used to pain, so it was a point of pride that he could be beat up like this and he'd just take it. So, aside from a slight grimace as the man applied the weight of his foot to Keeley's wrist, he said nothing. Keeley refused to say anything, he wouldn't. Somehow, though the guard still must've picked up his small grimace, so the boot came down further, and his wrist bones began to grate together as well. Keeley clenched his teeth, refusing to cry out.
"Eve. Take Elara and get out of here, now!" Keeley heard the words, right before the boot connected with his head. He had been focused on protecting his ribcage, his arm clutched around his side.

Keeley registered Elara as she slid down next to him, and he was quite grateful. He blinked in acknowledgment, the pain, and the still kind of working drugs meant his brain was still slow. It was like the latest update in a computer right now. Slow, but usable. His brain worked enough that he could laugh at Elara's joke.
"W-well, looook a' Caio over there, takin' on two guards all by himself. 'Guess he really wanna impress us today. Mayb' he's found his true callin' as a one-ma...man army. Caio, guardian of the rec yard," He laughed at her mumbled words, although the laugh sounded exhausted, feeble. He let himself be comforted by her clumsy arm, the worst damage limited to bruised ribs. It was a miracle he hadn't gotten a concussion actually. He made his own attempt at a feeble joke.
"I don't have to worry about getting distracted by muscle pain now?" He muttered softly, his head against Elara's shoulder. He grew quiet afterwards, wanting to help Caio, but he was useless in a fight. He felt powerless right then. And then angry, and sad. It was enough that his lukewarm soup blood was simmering. Every time the guards decided to beef with an inmate, the inmate was usually taken to see the experience of solitary confinement, or better yet, the warden. It wasn't fair, nothing at Bella Reve was fair. His lips were pursed into a thin line, his gaze now stormy, not glazed over anymore. He wasn't just angry with the system, though. He was also a bit angry at his own powerlessness.

Keeley knew that Eve wouldn't have just let Caio fight by himself. Eve might've been chaotic, but she wasn't malicious at all. In fact, Keeley appreciated her loyalty to her friends. That's the thought coursing through his head as Eve clocked one guard in the head. Trays, he knew, could make pretty good pinch weapons. They had a large area, and were quite hard. Provided you swung one with enough force, they could deal considerable damage. Two more, he saw, were smashed in the face by the tray, at one point hard enough the guard's jaw could've been broken. Eve and Caio were wild, like animals, and Keeley almost pitied the guards who got in their way as blood in sweat mixed in the air. That pity was best exemplified by a slight wince on Keeley's face as Eve kicked the space between one guard's legs. Not that he was being punished, as the guards deserved that, but over the fact that they were all being faced with their rage. In fact, at first, Keeley thought his two friends would win, even as he blanked on finding a way to help them fight. Distractions wouldn't work, as everyone would get used to the noises and odd facial expressions. But then one guard muttered something into his walk-talkie and Keeley felt a growing sense of alarm. So when Caio mouthed if he was alright, Keeley froze. He had no idea how to respond.

Not that it would've mattered anyway, all four of them were quickly converged on by the guards, even as Keeley crawled ever so slowly to reach either Caio or Eve. He had almost reached Caio's position when he was dragged back, about to the halfway point between Caio and Elara. He was held in place as if they were afraid he had a fighting spirit. He did, but it was like a spark that couldn't ignite.
"Listen here," One of the guards growled, her breath smelling suffocating to the point where Keeley coughed. "You're trouble, you that?" Keeley again masked the pain he was in as he was pushed against the wall as the guards warned him and threatened him. Keeley sometimes wondered if the guards were a gang, and this was why. He was yanked to his feet, and metal was hugging his wrists. To make things worse, they made him walk at quite a fast speed, an almost jog. This was his speed when he was in a hurry. He tripped multiple times, but they just kept dragging him along. They were taking him to solitary confinement, he knew. He might like alone time, but he'd be lonely in there. He managed to speak in spite of it, speaking so that his friends and the guards could hear him. He had a plan, and he was putting it into action.
"I'm fine with letting Zheng abuse me." He rushed out. He knew Zheng knew everything, and was a kind guard, even if the guard was overly chatty a lot of the time.

 

[BuggaBoo]

PART One.​

---

---

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'Shine' and 'Nova Red'

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Location: Debriefing Room, waiting for other guards to arrive, just kickin' it now.
Mentions: Warden / Manta Ray( Sanctuaryforall1 ), Void, Null (@N O X I O U S )
Interactions: None. ​

---

Still In The Debriefing Room...

"--the 'Stupified Scrubs'? Really... Pffft... Girl no, you really think Warden Hallows gunna change it to that? Please..."

Shine laughed as she tossed the red, rubber ball again. It bounced with maniacal glee off the ceiling, riccocheted off the wall, and bee-lined straight for her. She barely had to move her hand; diminutive brown fingers flashed open and into the centre of her hand the frisky round thing found home with a soft yet satisfying thwack. She tossed it again, this time with the opposite hand.

From between crimson lips, a pink bubble swelled, popped then instantly inhaled back between said lips yet again. Nova rested her gigantic slab of a phone at her side. Blonde head rocked back and forth upon the meeting table's smoothly finished oak surface, chewing noisily as she lay there and considered Shine's words.

"Mmmmm... wellllll... Moo-Cowsei Hallows probably came up with that nonsense; "Counter Assets Assembly," red-tipped fingers twirled away at a curly lock of gold, "Honey pie there don't realize it's just too formal soundin' for a raggedy ol' crew that's just gonna march their lil behinds outta here only to get put in the dead books right quick, ain't that right."

"Ey... that's a bit harsh... girl... they gunna be chosen as just-in-case scenarios, I'm thinkin'. Like that's why they're an 'Assembly' and not a 'Team.' Like..." she flicked one side of her shiny azure locks over a shoulder, spun then caught the little round, rambunctious, red, rubber demon, " I mean, it's a good idea. Like lookit what happened vs. Enchantress. Hostile take over thwarted by a mess of ragtag, misfit, not-so-cohesive unit of inmates, right? And this time they gots a good mix of BORs. I mean, it's why we're employed as SCA's, no?"

The blonde lay her phone once more to her side and sat bolt upright, "Oh! Oh! SCA watchin' their mess of a gathering? Girl, I got it...! 'The Supervised Slobs!' Nah-hah!"

"How 'bout; Nuh-uh. Ughs, Noves...! That's even more ass then that last name," Shine laughed it up again as the super, uber bouncy ball careened crazily off the OLED monitor, off the tables edge, straight against the wall, off there then hurtled like a missile on a collision course with her foot. At the last second, she lifted her foot and took a backwards stride to allow it to zip between her legs. Instantly her hand dipped down and snagged it with only thumb and forefinger like a world-class shortstop showing off.

"Soooooo... like you gunna sign up to supervise your 'slobs' on the Counter Assets excursion?"

"Mmmmm... nah I ain't one for daycare fieldtrips. I'm more of a baby-sittin' gal myself. Less chance to mess up my hair and nails. *giggles* What about ya lil ball-tossin' missy self? You wanna' get back into the field?"

"Mmmmm... nah. I don't think my particular set of skills is up for that. Besides, I really don't have any inmate I'm supervising anyways. I just do the evals."

"Translation: "Moonshine missy just got her hair and nails done." *giggles*

"No, I mean it. That kinda' field work is like Void, Null and Manta territory. They the ol' skool book of crack your knuckles before you crack some heads. Y'know like the boots to the ground, hands around necks types. Let them go. I'm all goodie-goods. But you should join them, Noves."

"Darlin' like I said. Not my thang. I'd rather stay here than go galavanting on a squad with inmates. I like my inmates just like I like em' here; Behind bars." *giiggles*

"Squad... Squad? Wait. No. No but... Bruh! I got it. I got the name! It's right in front of me; 'The Grumpy Geeezer's Gang!'"

"And wait. You wanted me to join a group with that kinda' name?"

"Ey. Cougar's gotta eat, no?"

"Oh. No. You did not just... Hmph! I am not over 40!!"

"Come to mama, lil' fellers! Grrrraaawwwrrr-- Owww! Noves. Dooooon't-uh. My sister used to pinch meeee-uh. Hate it so much."

"Learnt that move from an ol' friend of mine. *giggles* But wait. Y'all can catch a 100 mph little red rubber ball between your twinkle toes like its nuttin but y'all can't dodge these fingers...?"

"Ey. Eyo yeah. What can I say? You're pretty fast for an ol' washed up Cou--OWWWWWWW! Stop pinching!"

---

---

'Wither' and 'Deluge'

​

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Location: Outside Debriefing ready to meet with Nova Red and Shine. Then splitting up. Wither with Shine and Deluge with Nova Red
Mentions: Nexa, Void, Null (@N O X I O U S ), Warden / Manta Ray( Sanctuaryforall1 ), Lion ( Ashy_OCdesigns )
Interactions: Nova Red and Shine (Moi!!). ​

---

Twins still in the Corridor...

The twins marched side by each in silence till they reached the door. Wither stepped forward to knock, paused then side-eyed her brother over her shoulder, "Promise you won't say or do anything embarrassing and I promise you'll only get one more kick from me till the end of the day."

"Gee. Wow. Give it up for the morale boost. As you can see, motivational speeches are my sister's forte."

"And you're adopted." Wither turned back and proceeded to knock.

Deluge could not help but try harder than he should have to stifle his laughter. His sister's humour was usually dark, but the dry, outta-left-field quips always got him good.

Wither stood there as the thick oak door to the Debriefing room started to slowly swing open. With hands clasped behind her back in 'good-little-soldier' respectful resting pose, Wither held her chin high. Deluge captured his composure in time and managed a decent resting pose as he was greeted by a familiar face, albeit one with a year long absence from their lives. She was a short blue-headed Latina with glasses, roughly the twins age, and all dressed in Specialty Case Agent uniforms, badging and blue colouration proper.

The pair beamed in unison and Shine just raised a cautious eyebrow at their eager stare; it was as if they knew her. Despite the twins saying not a word, she tilted her head as if listening to someone whispering, "What do you mean sense them out--"

Bright electric blue flooded the hallway as her eyes lit up. Then suddenly she jolted as if slapped and her eyes stopped glowing. She grinned a goofy open mouth grin now, eyes popping open wide. Next thing she knew, she could not help but break rank and jump into their arms. She bounced and squealed like a sugar-induced school-girl, dragging them into the room.

"I don't care if it's unprofessional! My gosh, AJ! DJ! Oh, you guys! How are you? You look sooooooo good! Like what the actual eff in the face, man, you are both sooooo gorgeous! How are you? How... my gosh, I'm soooooo happy you both gradded and made it here! Noves, girl shut the door!"

The blonde bit a lower lip and slinked past them, a scowl fully etched upon her brow, blue eyes watching like a hawk the merry little reunion at hand. She closed the door, but with just a little too much force.

"Did you just come to visit? My gosh, we're really busy but sure. Why not. Tell me all about your training and whacha done since rehab? You did finish rehab right?"

"They're here to see me, SCA Shine. 15 minutes early, I see. Hmph. Well, I'd like you to meet my trainees for SCA orientation; Wither and Deluge." said SCA Nova Red with much authority... and maybe a little to much acidity. Then after a breath, in a tone much lower and more nudge-nudge, wink-winky, "They are the twins we discussed earlier... I showed you... dossiers on my phone. A mouthful's worth..."

"Wait. Wut? 'Dossiers' on... 'Mouthful'..!? Girl wut-- Oh. Oh! Ohhhhh," she could not help but do a complete eyeful up and down intake of the fully male one as the female one's smile faltered, as she resisted the urge to cross her arms, "right. Right...! I knew that. Thank you SCA Nova Red. I'm really happy that you're supervising these two. In good hands, fo'sho. It's just I haven't seen them in a year. And they... they looked sooooo... soooo much more... different than today. Like I mean you guuuuys-uh!! Like sooooo amazing to see again! And so successful?! You guys!"

The urge to cross her arms fizzled and her small polite smile returned as Shine clutched both her hands warmly. It's a good thing she did too because--

"Yeah, SCA Shine is so right. I was like bone rail thin with full on nappy-assed beard... nasty 'fro... pock marks and bandages everywhere. My sister was okay. I mean... despite being frumpy, greasy haired, pimply-faced and fat-assed... I mean she's alright now though."

--Shine did feel the nervous twitch in those hands and she squeezed again. "Ey. Ey now. That's your flesh there, bruh. Don't clown your sibling; sometimes they all you gots."

Hazel eyes of Wither relinquished their brewing storms as she nodded and smiled shyly once more; this blue-headed thing was geniune in her words. She could sense the positive vibes and absolutely basked in them. Then it stormed again--

"Yeah. Smelly. She was smelly too. Now she don't wear undies. Too much of a hassle to change. No underpants, no worries, amirite? But the smell. Yeah. *sniffs* She was smelly."

A giggle from you-know-who could not be stifled in time.

"Ahem. So I hate to not tell you more about us-- and it is so wonderful to see you again-- but I know you're busy and we don't want to waste SCA Nova Red's time. But I'm sure we'll have another time that we can be kicking back--" emphasis accompanied with a side-eye dagger shot at her brother "--with you and chat it up, right, SCA Shine?"

"Mmmm-hmmm. Agreed. Some other time then," Shine found her composure, then lost it again, "But... My gosh-uh. Like I just can't help it! So proud of you both..."

One final warm embrace held and savoured as if these were her own long lost siblings. A sigh. "Okay. All good, Agent Nova. All clear. All yours."

She would save her Southern sass for later. A shiny blue-eyed wink would suffice for now. "Alrighty then. I'm good if you good, Agent. So. You two; do you have any clearance at all?"

Both held up cards of different colours.

"High-level access to mid-level Metas supression and full inspection upon suspicions with supervision of course. Green lit lethality, ma'am."

"Dang. With honours. Gold star and makin' mama proud. Well, done Trainee Wither.

"Mid-level. Low Metas supression. No inspection capabilities. Non lethal methods only, ma'am."

Nova shook her head. "Well, that's problematic because you need to do a round of tests in-situ; one-on-one with your supervisor. That's so I get to see your interaction skills. Dealing with Super Metas and aliens is a different dynamic in this cage vs. just being able to blast your way into compromise out there in the wild.

"It's a whole new ecosystem to learn. Trust me. Both of y'all. I had to go through it. Alrighty then. We just gonna have to split you two up while we do an eval. Get ready to go in situ, Trainee Deluge."

"Oh! Oh, m-me...! I can take Trainee Wither. I can do a recommended for a specialty in my field. See my side of the Belle Reve Correctionals. Might find out she's interested to specialize in what I do? Sensory, Interros, and Inmate Evals. Would you like me to take her offa your hands, Agent?"

A slight wry look that was more of a jab for not taking the male twin. 'Chicken.' said the look. A slight frown and a bit of shrug. It could be read as 'Not a prob.' Or maybe closer to 'I already gots a man.'

"Okaaaay... Yeah, okay. We can do that. Void and Null are still with Pussy Furr and still no signal through to the Vault to reach them. We'll just get Manty-Pa-- Manta Ray on the horn if need be then. We got time, y'all.

"So go on then. I'm sure Trainee Wither will find your kinda' deal somethin' interesting enough. Keep her busy till we get back anyways. Concur, Trainee Wither?"

"Yes, ma'am. Concur 100%. Willing and obliged."

Shine grinned and made a halfway motion with one arm to wrap around Wither's waist, then she stopped herself short by grabbing said arm with her other hand before acting all unprofessional again. "Okay. We'll start by checking in my office. See what you know about inmate entry procedure and bg check protocols."

"Ready trainees?"

Firm nods but faltering smiles. The separation anxiety had sunk in early for the twins.

Suddenly one of the boxes on grid on the wall-mounted OLED screen went black, prompting a small red light to flash on the side of the monitor. A buzzing sounded out upon both SCA's equipment.

"Where was that at? Hmmmmm... Oh. Rec room. Any BORs there?"

"Ummmm... yeah. One in particular in that cam-032a was tracking. Full Bio/Off-Terran/Red-liner," Shine read out the inmate serial number, "Hey, weren't we just talking about Stirling? Yeah, ain't that one of Agent Null's Specialty Cases...?"

"Yeah, that Spaced Cadet Specca is the 'Nexa symbiote.' But Null n' Bo-- I mean he's in the Vault this morning. Still there since signal loss to both h We can go check it out. Keep your zoo-keeper zappers warm, Trainee Deluge. It's feeding time where we are headed."

"Already locked and loaded, ma'am."

"Too eager. First thing you should have locked and loaded are your eyes and ears. Senses and smarts. Make that crystal clear in your brain, trainee. Alright? Let's go."

---

---

 

[Sanctuaryforall1]

Eve/Evolution

Mood: PISSED

Location: Belle Reve

Interactions: Ciao, Elara, Keeley, guards

If the world could be set ablaze with one look then the sparks of hatred burning in Eve’s eyes would be enough to turn entire galaxies to smolders as she watched the scene unfold before her. Initially Eve's instinct had been to ensure Elara and Keeley's safety but as the team was broken apart and the guards grew rougher and rougher a switch flipped and those instincts changed. No way in hell would she sit back and let these assholes beat up Keeley, Caio, and Elara without doing something about it. If these oafs wanted to act like swine while they beat her friends up then Eve would most certainly treat them as though they were on her food chain. She might be a supporter of chaos but blatant cruelty towards her friends before her very eyes would not fly.

In a swift movement that seemed to go unnoticed by the guards Eve grabbed the hard tray their meals were served on off of the table where Caio had been picking at it. Letting the food that remained fall to the floor Eve gripped the tray hard in her hands and practically skipped towards the guards that were egging on Novak and Jackson. Before they recognized what was happening the possibly insane brunette bashed one over the head with the tray hard enough to leave a solid dent. Aiming to the left then right Eve managed to plant the tray into two more guards faces with a twirl and uppercut motion that hit another guard running at her from behind square in the chin. As the man fell backwards Eve leapt onto him, helping to drive him harder into the ground. Her legs gripped him firmly and she began to wail the tray against his head over and over, blood splattering herself and the ground around her. All of this happened in but a few heartbeats and was brought to an abrupt stop by arms gripping Eve around her waist. Thinking on the fly the young woman struck out behind her and managed to stun the guard grabbing her from behind just as she felt a pinch in her side. Looking down she noticed the syringe sticking out of her from where the guard had injected a sedative. “Speed round, got it.” She growled as her gaze burned. Once again she struck out with the tray and hit the guard who had injected her in the throat before kicking out to nail him with a swift strike to the family jewels.

Things were beginning to spin a bit and Eve swayed on her feet, blinking and lashing out at random. A sudden white hot bolt of pain erupted across her neck and instantly the brunette dropped the tray and was brought to her knees. As she barely held herself up, the electricity from the collar having a stronger impact when paired with the sedative, she felt someone grab her by the hair. Two of the guards she had hit were clearly less than happy with her but Eve simply smiled up at them, her gaze unfocused. “You guys are pretty ass at your jobs.” She mocked, her words slightly slurred as the drugs began to make her vision tunnel. In the end however it wasn’t the drugs that caused her to lose consciousness but rather a fist to the side of her head from the guard whose head was perfectly imprinted on the tray. When his fist hit her head the impact of it seemed to echo and a moment later the guard holding her up threw her unconscious body to the ground, blood seeping out of her hairline and onto the concrete.

code by Stardust Galaxy

 

[BuggaBoo]

---

---

---

'The GunMother'

---

Location: Shower room, soon to be escorted to meet with ABORT Team member Pixie.
Mentions: Pixie (ME!!)
Interactions: None.
​

---

Compliance is Mandatory...

Another deep throated and long-drawn out groan.

The big woman pulled at raven hair from both temples. And down lowered that proud chin. For a heartbeat longer she counted with the uneven rhythm of the descending liquid rejuvenation and the pitter patter sound it made when it hit the tiles below her feet. Once she found that pattern to focus upon, she allowed herself to relax and breathe. Finally strong, tattooed shoulders lifted upright once more.

An heavily scarred and inked arm leaned up against the cracked and mildewy puke green tiles to support and ground herself. Hazel eyes gently clasped together as she tilted that proud chin upwards and savoured the last of the warm water cascading down upon her fine facial features.

Suddenly she lost all composure and doubled over; that lovingly inked and powerful nude form brought low once more. The morning after assault of guilt, shame, and embarrassment were but feelings, yet each hit like solid shots to the gut with the force of both Wonder Woman's fists.

"Auuuuuugggghhhh... ’Voluntary and Participatory Assistive role...?!’ I can't believe I agreed to that... like wuuuuut even..."

This felt less like a really bad hangover and truly more and more like a reeeeeally, reeeeeealllly, reeeeeeallly bad hangover. Oh, and with an unwanted pregnancy, thank you very much, "'Voluntary'... Me...?! Auuuuuuuggghhhh... BRUH...!! Come onnnnnn-uh!!"

A gentle press of fingertips upon her new collar was all she could bear in this moment. The truth seared those fingers, a reminder that it was she herself that let this play out the way it did. The GunMother really had no one else to blame right now but The GunMother. But she had to always keep in focus 'the Why.' The reason she must suffer this it was, humiliation and conscription. It was for the right reasons. Damned to Hell anyone who would argue any different.

"Just hold on. Wait for me, babies... Mommy's coming to get you--"

BUUUUUZZZZT!!

"Hey! Time's up, inmate!" the VPA escort and her posse unfolded their arms and readied themselves the moment the uneven yet steady flow of water ceased, "Assist L, towel for the inmate, please. Squad at ready. Move when I move."

Still with the first initial names. How cute. They even covered themselves all the way up to top of their lovely little heads. No one could see their precious little faces and pinchable cheeks. Guess she would have to tear the layers off one piece at a time to see what their insides looked like afterall.

"Hey, yourself. And get it right, Agent D. I'm one of you guys now--"

"This again?! You are NOT a Co-Agent."

"I know, I know. Like I said; 'I'm one of you now.' Y'know. 'Voluntary-Parting-Asshole' right?"

The snickers were stamped out quick when Agent D ripped the towel out of the Assistant's hand, "Voluntary and Participatory Assistive Role!"

The off-almost white towel landed home into the puddle of slowly draining warm liquid, triggering a triumphant hands-on-hips pose by Agent D.

"Oops you missed. But that's okay. I'll towel myself off." The merc smirked then widened her stance. She too placed hands on hips but went a step further. Gently thrust forward were the generous hips, "And for future ref, Assist crew... I'd rather the V rub up on me than the D. But to be honest, the D does get me drier waaaaay faster, amirite ladies...?"

There was no retort from the Agent to stifle the laughter. Like a veteran coach that knew when they were losing the locker room, she knew talk time was done and had to shake things up. The button was pressed.

The GunMother screeched and fell to her knees, her entirety shaking uncontrollably. The Agent's squadron readied their armaments, good lil' soldiers unified in a line once more.

"Wut... Wut the a-actual eff in... in the f-face... did you do to m-me...?"

"You like to figure out cute ways to evade the EMP suppression systems, so ABORT jammed them into your neck. Instant compliance at the touch of a button. You know, inmate, we could have done this the easy way--"

"--that's C-co-Agent Inmate Ass-Parter to y-you, Co-Agent D--"

"--but now you just gonna have to do the follow-up session in pain and all soaking wet."

"You k-keep walkin' s-straight into 'em, Co-Ass-Parter D. You see that don't you..."

"Oh yeah. We have something for that mouth too. Assist L restraints. She recovers fast. Really fast. And muzzle..."

"Wait. Right, I forgot to get my fella Team L-girl in on the-- wait wut? Did you just say muz--mrphprphzzmr--"

Another jolt of innard searing lightning. Agent D caught her by the hair. And yanked her upward. Hard.

"You see that pesky mouth needs dealing with. ABORT data shows that you have massive and inhuman amounts of brain activity when you talk. It's what makes you most dangerous. That incredible edge. That hyper-sensitivity and environ awareness is a result of your Focus. Muzzle you up and partway taking you down several notches. Not enough?"

A muffled scream of pain as once again the feeling of liquid fire flooded from her heart and into her extremities.

Agent D would not let her pass out. A rough shake, an open-palmed backhand slap, another yank upwards of raven locks. The GunMother was akwardly stretched over backwards, kneeling and nose to nose, looking up at the glowering Agent, "That's okay, keep on yapping, yappy. Yeah that's right. You starting to feel higher than a kite right now ain't you...? Serum kicks your brain into a spin cycle --Assistant, dress this thing. Make it decent.

"Takes the 'super' right out of you Supersoldiers, don't it? Listen up, you just a 'soldier' in BR now. Don't you forget that. And don't you ever break rank again. This ain't a game you can finesse, 'Ahvelina'. And hell no, you will not solve this with grit n' gunfire. Fall in line, sister, like the rest of us. Rock the boat and we deep-six your ass in a heartbeat. --Assist L, on the horn, let Pixie's team know we're dropping off the package.

"So stop talkin,' stop playin' and fall in line. And my gosh, you better hope I ain't your VPA supervisor. You keep it up, I will burn holes in you... Hey, as long as you still function enough for them to get what they want outta you, I will still keep putting holes in you till you comply or melt. Got it?"

No response, the big woman just limply allowed herself to be rag-dolled to her feet, a pair of big VPA's cutching tightly her arms on either side.

The feeling was like floating in someone else's body. She could barely see through blurry dancing vision. Her thoughts were swimming away from her body and into the ceilings, her strength sinking into the floor. Dang, this was tough. She could just not Focus.

Belle Reve had finally and truly subdued the GunMother. Ahvelina had no choice now but to comply.

---

---

PART Two.​

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'Shine' and 'Wither'

---

Location: Debriefing Room testing Wither, then into the field to deal with the Off-Terran Breach.
Mentions: Warden ( Sanctuaryforall1 ), Void, Null (@N O X I O U S )
Interactions: Aia ( Daniel Reaving ). ​

---

Sensory and Readings...

"Oh girl. You are sooooooo gunna love it here. Like I mean, it's not easy-peasy but it's good money, benefits aaaand! You get travel allowance..."

The whole time she chatted it up with the trainee, she was all smiles and laughs. Up until now.

"My biggest advice, straight up? Stay in your lane, stay out of the Warden's hair and stay icy. Most of us have a past where we were someone else and we pissed off a whooooole boatload of bad people. Like I mean... thinkin' the blue hair is memorable? Yeah, they so gunna remember me. Stay icy in here.

"Oh and it's not just the inmates you have to watch out for. Sometimes General Correctional Officers and Specialty Case Agents don't mix too too well..."

Wither shifted uncomfortably in her seat, she felt like her heart and stomach were going to twirl together, inflate then pop. Ugh, whoever was running down the hall needed to chill. Erratic and frantic energy always did that to her; she especially hated it when there was no chance to brace herself before the fact.

Shine was regarding her, seeing the signs, feeling out for reactions and ignoring the whispers from the aether, beckoning her to give the lifeforce wielder to them. With a calm and practiced composure, without moving her head, merely her eyes slid towards the smooth oak door. As they rested upon the deep brown wood grains, her eyes showed hints of faint embers made from radiant azure within.

"Wither. Read what's behind that door. You can do this. I know you can..." The diminutive Agent's eyes exploded, flooding the room with her signature shining blue light, instantly reading the room and the occupants therein; both seen and unseen with the naked eye. "I saw your passive sensing. Don't be afraid of it, Wither. Tell me what he wants."

Wither frowned, nodded and shut her eyes. When she opened them next they took on an iridescent green glow. Several tendrils of liquid black slipped upward just past her head and shoulders, reaching out towards the door. "Panic, fear, overwhelmed. Insecurities and doubt..."

"What else? I need the why. In your dossier, I seen you've been practicing sensory without feeding the pain. This is a safe space. We are all on your side. Try now."

A deep breath, slowly but surely the tendrils began to writhe and coalesce into a singular conical-shaped mass of swimming ephemeral black, stretching out towards the door. Tenderly, it wriggled across the dense surface, caressing it until was found the slivers of openings between the door and the frame itself.

One last reach... and she found she was able to read him. It was fleeting but she was doing it, "Fear. He has inexperience and something dangerous is happening. Guilt. He is the source of the... all the death...? All of it. My gosh, what have you done?!"

"Look closer. Is that his mind's eye fantasies or his true memory?"

"I don't know, Agent... all I know is... that... he... must... be..." ghostly hail stones cascaded down all around Wither; they were the dead colour of sharks' eyes, "...he must be..."

"You will not. You will find your strength, not your pain. You've turned to your brother always for strength. Find something else now."

Wither stared directly at Shine. Suddenly her mouth went slack, "--helped. No not harmed... He must be helped."

"Trainee Wither. Reading's over. Let go... AJ? Girl, let go. Now...!"

A heartbeat too long. Then suddenly Wither took a breath and broke free from catatonia. The hail ceased. The tendril cone retreated back within. Several blinks and hazel eyes returned. A shallow breath. A soft, shy smile, "...I did it... thank you, Agent... oh Nouvelle, I really think that we made--"

She startled nearly out of her seat as soon as the door-shaking pounds shattered the newly calmed quiet in the Debriefing room.

“Someone in there?! That things awake!! Help!!”

"Yeah! This is SCA Shine. Sit tight, comin' out!"

The serious flatness of her brown face lightened up as she reached out for Wither's hand. The trainee just nodded graciously, Shine's signature glowing smile lighting up Wither's face. The Agent grasped and held the fledgling Agent's hand, warming the frigid thing with her own.

"Hey you did amaaaaazing. Like so legit proud of you," a firm squeeze warmed up that hand and much more, "but we can discuss later.

"Now get your ass ready. We're going in situ."

---

"Wait, I'm the only SCA on scene?!" Shine was practically yelling to compete with the cacophony of mayhem happening behind the bay door.

Women and men were yelling; frantic footsteps thudded away like gunfire in janky rhythm to the blaring klaxxon. There were several loud and resounding impacts just before metal screeched under massive duress. A machine whirred and chugged at max volume performing who knew what kind of wild action to add to the chaos. And above it all was that inhuman hissing and shrieking.

"What the actual eff in the face is that in there?! The hell is going on?!"

Wither merely stared back wide-eyed and shrugged sharply. The Trainee then resumed her deep breathing exercises with overexaggerated inhales and over the top sounding exhales.

Shine was answered soon enough; the bay doors jaggedly clinked 15ft upwards and finally clacked solidly in place, fully open. It looked like just like it sounded like in there. Agent Lion would have called it--

"Fubar. Bitch and a half... this is bad."

There was no proper suppression team. They were going to attempt to subdue the creature with torture devices and were badly escalating the situation with all their yelling and screaming. Did they even know if they were using the proper mixture of sedatives for this... this...

"GCO...! This is Agent Shine and Trainee Agent Wither! I need a dossier on this BOR subject--"

"Wait. Where the hell are the real SCAs?! We need a whole army of you Speccers, not Bargin-Bin-Raven-Barbie and Smurfette!!"

"Wooooowwwww... Thanks for the eval. But eyo, they teach 'Suck it up, Princesa' 101 to you in General Correctional Officer school? Cuz we all you gots right about now."

"My heroes..."

"Save it, Gecko!!! So what. No army, no dossier? Auuuughhghghgh... okay. Who's in charge here... hellooooo? I'm talking like in charge, right now, right here...!!"

Several blank stares. Even more necks craning up searching futilely for crickets and cobwebs. One even shrugged.

A full on Latina look of astounded disgust coupled with a matching sound, finished with a dose of silent neck shake. Then a full face palm. "Yeah, ey someone make note and pass it on to Warden Hollows; thinkin' we found Problema Numero Una..."

Suddenly there was a collective chorus of resplendent terror. The 10 inch thick, steel-walled box broke free from the chains connected to the ultra-duty lifter. It fell as if time had turned to molasses. All held a collective breath as all eyes traced that strangely fluid descent of the 6 tonne BOR container.

KA-BLOOOOOOONG!!!

The thing landed flat. The sound of the collossal metal cargo hold hitting immoveable metal floor continued to echo on and on and on. It was door side up. And said door had nearly wrenched free.

Shine resumed her face palm. "Okaaaaaayyyy... new problem number 1... can't get much worse..."

No, the Agent was wrong. There was a bubbling murmur of voices slowly but surely increasing in intensity.

"We really need to stop this before someone gets hurt. Or worse. Wither, get on the horn. We need a general distress calling all available SCA and a Suppression unit-- Trainee? Wither...?

Wither sauntered forward towards that monstrous casket. Eyes burning with ghastly green iridescence, her pitch black tendrils reaching out towards the openings in said casket.

"Wither. Trainee Agent Wither! Halt. Cease Metahuman Activities... and fall back now... Girl, I am NOT playin' get ya ass back here...!"

"But... but Agent... Shine, she's just a baby."

The silence dropped just like a calm before the storm.

---

---

'Nova Red' and 'Deluge'

​

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Location: En route to the rec room but stopping off in the Yard to talk to a Blood Sucker
Mentions: Nexa, Null (@N O X I O U S ), Warden / Evolution ( Sanctuaryforall1 , Charger ( Aviator ), Keeley ( Ashy_OCdesigns )
Interactions: Renegade ( Steve Jobs ) ​

---

Making Friends Out There...

"Okay check your datas. Who's up first, Trainee?"

Deluge read out the inmate's serial number then paused. "There's barely anything on here. Says this Dr. Elana Sterling has a condition? But it has no descriptors. Not a single mention of charges nor convictions. Only that she's been here a year-- wut?

"No length of time to be served. Just says: 'Nexa Symbiote' Doc #47 pending BOR investigation. Recommended for CAA Initiative. Supervised by SCA Null. BOR with Redline OTC.' Wait. 'Redline Off-the-Charts'...?! What's up with that, Agent Nova Red? Why is she out in the populace if she's listed as a 'rage in the cage?' Sounds like a floor of powderkegs in a lighter testing factory."

"With leaking nuclear waste in the basement and fireworks stored in the ceiling. Yeah. I'd reckon she's a nasty lil thang alright. But they have a new advanced inhibitor collar, and, sedatives that Warden and ABORT teams are testing on what they are calling the Nexa-symbiote. It's working and I guess putting her in populace is to see how she can maneuver under sedated conditions? I guess. Never know what Warden Moo-- I mean she is thinkin'. Clever gal, she is." *giggles*

"Are they trying to... separate Doc Sterling and the Nexa at a later date? Like what's this 'CCA Initiative'? "

They walked a bit further in uncomfortable silence, the question hung in the air but it still seemed on the table to be answered. Finally: "That's above our pay grade. Any last questions before we drop into the yard? Shoot, y'all hear that? Beasties sound all frisky-like out there..."

"Sure. Agent. Who are the 'Bad Bitches'. Heard of them whispered around in the locker rooms. Doc Sterling is apparently one of them?"

*giggles* "Oh them. Yeah. They ain't nothing. Just know their sitch is above your paygrade, Trainee. But sure..." Nova Red listed out all their serials. She pointed to one of the mugshots. "Oh, you'll get a kick outta her. She's a hoot. Been here since just before I showed up at BR. Used to go by 'Evolution' out there... I seen your dossier. You should know exactly who Evo is..."

"No way. That's the EVO...? She looks soooooo different in that orange suit. I remember her antics were stuff of legends. Me n' the rest of the crew used to bet on her next stunt and how long it would take for her to get outta that fix. There was even this darkweb forum with some members that filmed her stunts as they happened. Best watch alongs ever. Especially if you sitting with people who knew their stuff. They explained how she worked and basically did play by play. Dayyyyaaaaam. Like I said. Legendary, Agent."

"Well keep it in your pants, fanboi. She ain't one of our Speccas. Now as for the other two. They're Numbies. We let General Corrections deal with them using their own discretion," a dark, knowing glance she shot him, "just be careful of Limpy-rich there. Lil' feller don't seem like much but his daddy was real big bad news out there in Brazil. Was bad news. Think he got into racing with daddy's money... and other methods too." *giggles*

"Limping... dayam. Thought he looked familiar. Yeah. Formula racer. I was a fan of his team. Good driver. Nice whip too. My sister for sure remembers him too." behind the smile was a dark place he kept hidden. It was a place where he remembered that time when he and AJ ran around with criminal outfits . Met this back in the day. Gotta' pay him back. In full. All means necessary.

For sure he most definitely had to pay back Charger for what he had done to his sister. Yeah. Especially that.

"And what about the other Null Beta Inmate?"

"Ummmm. Computer fraud...? I think he made bad video games or AI pornos or something. Sounds like real boyfriend material. You down? *giggles* Dunno. Don't care. And so doncha' worry none about that Numbie. He's below our paygrade and it's up to the Geckos to figure that out."

"Wait. You don't say that name to their faces right? Don't General Correctional Officers hate that name, Agent?"

"There's some that don't care. We're all just guards at the end of the day. But you betcha lil patooter, that there's them that do take it personal-like. I'll teach you which ones, 'kay Deluge. Boy, it'll be a hoot." *giggles*

It was moments like this when Nova spoke playfully that he really was not aggravated by that cringe-inducing sound. No, not especially since those 'Charming Assets' wiggled around when she laughed like that. "Anywaaaays. Moving on. So ready? Cuz y'all gonna get the chance to do an interview with the Nexa-symbiote.

"Whoa now, whoa now... Hold up there, smokie. It'll be okay cuz shoot... remember. I'mma be there. Yeah, I'mma be grading you too. But this gal won't let ya sink unless you really can't swim. Remember what I said about eagerness and locked and loaded...?"

A single shakey attempt at a calming breath, "Yeah. Yeah, dope. I'mma drown-- I mean; 100%, Agent. Senses and smarts locked and loaded."

"There's my boy. Now let's pitter-patter and get at her..."

---

Of course the gestures and cat-calls were rude and crude, but Nova Red seemed to be enjoying the looks and attention she garnered as she sauntered with extra sassy hip bump down into the yard.

"Mornin'...! Good mornin' y'all!! Yeah, that's right your favourite SCA is walking. Make a hole for her... Say my name if it pleases you... say it twice like ya know ya want to please me..." *giggles*

Yes there were a lot of cringe-induced shoulders shooting up but there were actually an alarming amount that cooed when she laughed. Many did say her name and yes, an alarming amount said her name twice. A pair of inmates even moaned out her name; could be to mock her, but most likely it wasn't.

The lithe blonde's tongue lovingly licked at luscious red lips. Fingertips painted fire engine red pressed gently at the glistening pair of softness then she blew a single kiss out to those that longed for such a thing. She had all eyes trained on her.

Perhaps it was her charm and allure. But it was most likely just those 'Charming Assets.' You see, she had accidentally left undone two buttons that should protect her modesty. Yet it was much to Deluge's dismay that instead the plump roundness of a pair of pale swells peeked out at them when she leaned over; it just had to have been dismay since his eyebrows were raised and he was slowly shaking his head as he stared, transfixed on the travesty of partially exposed cleavage.

The pair of Agents made eye contact. He blushed. She just winked.

"It's how I keep them on my side. Shhhh... our lil' secret, sugar...

"Kiss y'all tomorrow, fellers. And if I don't see y'all again, then just--"

"--KISS THAT BLONDE ASS!!"

*giggles*

They made their exit from this area to the chorus of loud and obnoxious rude and crude chants.

---

"Well, now I'm confused, Agent Nova Red. That inmate has an inhibitor collar clearly indicating BOR status. Liiiiiiike... pretty certain that was Not a SCA dragging them here."

Nova rattled off the woman's serial. "Yeah. Her. She's a reeeeeeeallll doozy piece of work. She's only been here for only 6 or 7 months if I ain't mistaken. Gal's got a rap sheet a mile long. And blow up yer behind just as high. She's capital C, Cruel. But the lil' thang's seemed to chill out in the month and a bit.

"Still, don't seem like no one wants to take the 'Renegade' on as a SC. Agent folk pass her by like a charging chainsaw choppin' cheddar. I can't be bothered to have that kinda' headache stapled to my name. Meh. Leave Renegade to the Geckos."

"So she's a Blood Breaker, right?"

"'Aaaaand what great teeth you have...' Vampiric. Yeah she bites alright. How'd you guess? The muzzle?"

"Sure but the explosives and the name tipped it off for me. Huh. Agent, surprised most people don't talk about it. Like I remember... it was halfway through SCA in-field training when she blew up the Vatican with a Kryptonic bomb. Welllp... Would have been instant Legendary tier but got caught and just became another Legendary meme. Hah!"

"Reeeeeallly... what the actual eff in the face... that wasn't on her dossier... after all this time. I do remember that. Maman would have been devastated, her being all religious and all... News reports said nuttin' bout no Kryptonics... didn't they say it was co-ordinated Middle Eastern syndicate terror attack? Huh. Who'dda thunk it...?"

"More thoughts, Agent?"

"No. No but how bout a few answers... Change of plans. Trainee Deluge, ready to do your first interview righty here in the yard?"

"Wait. Me. And Renegade...?"

"Uh huh. Natch. I'm right here. You'll be fine..."

"I don't know, Agent Nova Red. She don't look seasoned and calmed. I don't know if a rookie is the best to ruffle her feathers..."

"You'll be fine," the blonde pointed a finger downward, "I dunno... Maybe it'll help and just accidentally undo two buttons... and do a happy laugh like me."

"Tee hee. Tee hee heee heeeee..."

"Now boy, that's the spirit! Go on then...!" *giggles*

"Tee. Hee. Agent... " *sighs*

Deluge stepped forward to meet with the Renegade.

A breath. A smile. A nod.

"Hey. What's good. I'm SCA Trainee, Deluge. Nice day to be outside huh? Right. Soooo can we chat it up? I'm up to meet n' greet out here. No games, for real, for real. Just gettin' to know our populace."

---

---

 

[ISHTAR]

ooc: poor warden's gonna be pissed nobody is at debriefing

SCA NULL & VOID​

before

"What if dogs don't love you? What if they aren't truly loyal? What if they're just experiencing Stockholm syndrome?" Shine pondered, her voice filled with doubt as the group gathered around the table, a deck of cards scattered amidst coffee cups.

Sipping her coffee, Nova Red rolled her eyes dramatically and countered, "Girl, you're really reaching with that one."

Nova Red, her hair cascading over her shoulders, was having a stroke of bad luck at the Texas Hold'em table. Her stack of chips had dwindled, and she felt the frustration building.

"But think about it!" Shine insisted, leaning forward. "When I first got my puppy, he cried for a whole week, and I was so annoyed, like... seriously? The nerve! You've taken this puppy away from its parents and siblings, and then you're irritated because he's crying, like..."

Red smirked with a hint of amusement. "What are you even talking about? You better not be going all PETA on us. Next, you'll be trying to convert us to veganism."

A brief silence hung in the air until Null and Void sauntered into the room, injecting fresh energy into the conversation. Null, grinning widely, greeted them with a flourish, "Ladies and gentlemen, the party has arrived."

She glanced over at Agent Null. He had always intrigued her, and today, she felt like adding a little excitement to her break.

"Oh, thank goodness," Nova Red exclaimed theatrically. "Null and Void to the rescue! Help me out here. Get this, Shine thinks dogs have Stockholm syndrome."

Null's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Excuse me?" his accent couldn't have been stronger. Void, sensing that this discussion might get interesting, discreetly moved to a corner, keeping her distance from the impending debate.

Undeterred, Shine continued her argument, "Just think about it. We take these puppies away from their parents, force them into our homes, and expect them to love us. Imagine if that were you!"

Void said thoughtfully, "She does have a point, you know."

Null, not ready to concede just yet, protested, "No, no, no. Dogs are loyal. They're man's best friend. My dog, Bruno, is a rescue. He's the best dog. THE BEST dog. Are you telling me I've trafficked him?"

Shine clarified her stance, "I'm not talking about dogs like Bruno. I mean breeders!"

Nova Red playfully mocked, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Oh, breeders. The masterminds behind this canine conspiracy, I presume?"

Shine nodded earnestly. "Like duhhhh!"

With a sly smile and a flirty tone, she leaned in closer to Null. "You know, Null," she purred, her voice dripping with seduction, "I could use a little luck right now. Any chance you could share some of it with me?" She extended her hand to rest gently on his forearm.

Null looked at her with a playful grin. "Well, darlin'," he drawled, "I reckon luck is a fickle thing. Sometimes it's with you, and sometimes it ain't. But, let me deal you a card or two, and maybe fortune will favor the bold."

"Oh my gosh, Red, you're such a sore loser!" Shine giggled. "but yeah, like, c'mon, join us!"

Nova Red's alarm interrupted the discussion, signaling the end of their break.

"What? Noooo! Is it time already?" Shine exclaimed. "It felt like it was just five minutes!"

"It always does," Nova Red replied with an irritated sigh, pushing her chair back. She leaned even closer, her warm breath brushing against his ear. "Maybe some other time, then?"

Null, with a twinkle in his eye and a boyish grin, replied, "Absolutely, sugar."

"I'll hold you to that, Null." She turned and walked away, her hips swaying with a seductive rhythm, leaving Null to admire her confident departure. "Let's go, Shiny," said Nova Red. "We'll catch you guys at the debriefing later?"

Void waved them off, saying, "Mmm."

Null bid them farewell with a casual, "Wouldn't miss it for the world." As if the Warden would forgive them for missing it.

As the others departed, Void sighed and settled back into her chair at the table where Null was busy shuffling the cards for a new game. Clearly unimpressed by Nova Red's bold move, Void turned to Null with a sardonic smirk. "She sure knows how to keep things... spicy."

Null chuckled, shaking his head in agreement, "like a wildfire in a dry forest." But he couldn't resist poking a bit of fun. "What's the matter, V? Is that a hint of jealousy I hear?" he teased.

Void scoffed, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Jealous? Why on earth would I be jealous? Of HER? Pffft. You've got to be kidding me."

Null flashed a charming grin at Void. "Well, darlin', just makin' sure. You know Nova Red can be quite... persuasive."

Void rolled her eyes, feigning indifference. "Persuasive? More like persistent."

Null chimed in, his tone teasing, "Oh, come on, V, baby. You can't deny she's got style. It's like watching a master at work."

Void shook her head, trying to suppress a smile. "You are unbelievable."

"Well, I'm just sayin'," he said with an exaggerated Southern drawl, "she did seem mighty interested in my charm and wit, but who can blame her?" He winked playfully, fully leaning into the role.

Void rolled her eyes, shaking her head in mock disbelief. "You really do have an ego the size of Texas."

"Let's just play," he said with a wink.

"Anyway, I meant what I said earlier, I don't like your strategy," Void muttered to Null, laying a card on the table as if they had never stopped talking about their conversation from earlier. Null's strategy of maintaining a friendly rapport with the inmate didn't sit well with her; she preferred control over interpersonal navigation. "Gives me a headache."

Null responded with a sly grin, mischief twinkling in his eyes. He knew Void had a penchant for control rather than dealing with conversations. "Well, darlin', where's the fun in all that rigidity? You could have her tied up in your shadowy ropes in a heartbeat. But we need to broaden your horizons. That means adapting to different methods. Plus, don't you want to be a team player?"

Void huffed, a reluctant smirk tugging at her lips. She knew Null had a point, even if she didn't like it. "Nope," she grumbled.

Null leaned in closer, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Here's the deal," he proposed, his Southern drawl thickening as he switched from English to Hindi. "If you win this round, we'll do it your way. Rope her up with them purdy lil shadows and hand her back to the Ward'n. But if I win, we play nice and square. What do you say?"

Void regarded him with a mix of suspicion and amusement. She was only just getting the hang of this peculiar card game, and it was all because of Null's insistence.

"Fine," she conceded in Hindi, "deal."

---

after

"See, sugar, that wasn't too painful now, was it?" Null grinned as they convinced the inmate to march with them peacefully.

"Actually, it was," Void muttered, her patience clearly wearing thin. Null found her reluctance oddly endearing; it was a part of her charm that he couldn't help but enjoy. She never liked admitting when she was wrong, a trait that both frustrated and intrigued him, keeping things lively in Belle Reve.

"Aren't you glad it all worked out in the end?" Null persisted, his enthusiasm undeterred by Void's reticence.

Void responded with a nonchalant shrug, her body language signaling that she was done with the conversation. She'd had her fill of socializing for the moment, which didn't surprise Null. She rarely engaged in idle chatter, and today seemed to be a particularly talkative day for her.

"Now, don't go all frosty on me, buttercup," Null teased, grinning playfully. "How 'bout this? When we get back, I'll whip up my world-famous peach cobbler, and we can—"

"Shut it," Void snapped, her patience reaching its limit.

Null beamed with pride, his Southern drawl adding a touch of charm to his words. "You know, folks 'round here can't resist my peach cobbler. I reckon I've never met a soul who turned down a slice of it. Why, if you mention 'Null's cobbler,' you're bound to get a chorus of 'I'll have some' every time."

Mr. Lion, showing his politeness, responded with a polite nod and a smile. "I'd be delighted to try a serving of your cobbler, Mr. Null."

Null's grin widened, and he playfully nudged Mr. Lion's shoulder. "There you have it, folks. Mr. Lion here knows what's good. You're in for a real treat." The silence from Void was deafening. Null chuckled, acting mock-offended. "Alright, alright," he replied, playing along. "Conversation over, Boss.... But I didn't hear a 'no.'"

Void huffed in frustration, letting out an exasperated breath through her nose. She was on the verge of her limits. If she had to endure more small talk, nicknames, or corporate jargon, she might just end up stabbing someone. And that would land her right back in a cell, undoing all her progress with the Warden. She needed her space to conserve her energy for dealing with Shine, Nova Red, and the two Trainees. It was shaping up to be a very long day.

"You know, Mr. Lion," drawled Null, "you handled yourself right well back there." The lawyer still appeared as though he'd seen a ghost, understandably so, given the Gunmother's erratic behavior after the guards had their way with her. "Mind if I ask what the backup plan was?" Mr. Lion inquired.

Void shot Null a piercing look, silently urging him not to spill the beans on their Plan B. Certain things were better kept under wraps.

Wearing his signature winning grin, Null responded, "Well now, Mr. Lion, some things are best left to the realm of imagination." His charming Southern charm seemed to momentarily captivate Mr. Lion, demonstrating Null's knack for effortlessly winning people over. Void couldn't help but crack a wry smile at their little exchange.

Null and Void continued their escort of the Gunmother when a faint, ominous buzzing emanated from both of their comm links. Void shot a quick, concerned look at Null, her features tense and wary. "Sterling?" she inquired, the word laden with anxiety.

A grim expression settled on Null's face as he confirmed, "Yeah."

With a sense of urgency, Null activated his comm link and announced, "SCA Null reporting in. What's the situation?"

Jackson's distinctive Georgian accent crackled through the comm, his voice tinged with urgency. "We got a couple of hot shots raisin' a ruckus out here. Including your girl. We're gonna put 'em all in time-out. Y'all best hurry."

"Copy that," Null replied, and then sighed, his voice tinged with resignation. "Looks like we're makin' an unscheduled stop. Ready?"

Void turned her attention to the Gunmother, her eyes transforming into deep, impenetrable pools of darkness, while the hallway itself seemed to darken in response.

"Time to move," Void declared, her voice carrying a clear warning, and they began to make their way toward the source of the commotion.

---

William Blackwood / Billy Blight​

Jo, a female guard with striking green hair shot Jake a venomous glare as he roughly pushed Billy into the chair in the rec room, securing him with restraints. It wasn't the first time she had observed Jake's evident animosity towards Billy. She suspected it was more than just a bug phobia; Jake harbored a deeper, malevolent grudge against the young man. She despised every ounce of cruelty in Jake's demeanor.

Billy sat in the chair, his emotions a tumultuous storm within him. His shock soon gave way to seething anger, a burning resentment that seemed to consume his very being. He harbored an intense loathing for humanity, for every interaction in his life had been filled with conflict and abuse.

He'd never known kindness, and now they had severed the only connection he had, his only friends – the bugs. To Billy, they were more than just insects; they were his lifeline, his companions in a world that had always been cruel and unforgiving.

Once Jake left the room, Jo approached Billy, whose face bore an expression of shock and distress. Sympathy surged within her as she carefully unstrapped the frail boy from the chair. However, when Billy remained unresponsive, sitting there in a state of numbness, concern etched across his emaciated features, she felt a pang of worry.

Placing a gentle hand on his bony shoulder, Jo attempted to engage him, her tone kind, soft, and filled with optimism.

Billy flinched involuntarily from the touch. It was a foreign sensation, one he had never experienced before. How could he describe it? It was a conflicting mix of yearning and revulsion, a strange blend of craving and hatred all at once. It cut through him like a double-edged sword.

"It's been a long time since you saw the light of day, huh? Aren't you excited to be outside?"

She hoped her words might pierce through the fog of despair that seemed to shroud Billy. But despite her best efforts, he remained unresponsive, lost in his own inner turmoil. Furrowing her brow, the guard pondered how she could help.

 

[Sanctuaryforall1]

Cersei Hallows

Mood: ...

Location: Belle Reve

Interactions: Ciao

Outfit: Here

Click. Click. Click. Slender metal arms chased each other round and round in a never ending loop as the hours passed on the face of the silver, white, and black clock hung on the wall. As though keeping pace with the ticking of the passing seconds pages flipped one by one as golden brown irises trailed across paragraphs printed upon countless sheets of paper. Files of varying thickness and colors filled the locked cabinets around the figure seated behind the sturdy wooden desk. Each file held its own secrets and shames, each named for a soul residing within the walls of this prison, and each known by heart at this point. One file in particular rested upon her thigh as she sat with one leg over the other, the picture of regality and confidence without an ounce of effort.

A knock at her door rang out but the dark haired female didn’t so much as twitch when it interrupted the silence. Instead she kept her eyes locked on the file before her, continuing to read it even as the door to her office opened. She was fully aware of every person who entered the room, who they were, what they were doing here, all without so much as a glance their way. The sound of shuffling feet hit her eardrums then the clatter of Ciao Bruno McCarthy-Serra being placed in the chair across from her desk, the metal of his cuffs scraping together several times before he was properly seated. The guards said nothing before they shuffled just to the other side of the door knowing good and well Cersei could handle herself if anything were to occur. Still her gaze remained on the papers resting on her thigh as she turned another page of the file. A slight shift from the young man on the other side of her desk indicated he was looking around her office. He wouldn’t find anything of note there. Being the warden of such a dangerous institution meant many things including her name being at the top of many peoples lists. She would never permit anything to identify her personal life anywhere near the prison, especially anything that pointed towards the existence of her son.

After several heartbeats turned to moments Cersei finally closed the file and turned to face Caio. As she sat in her chair she looked like a queen on her throne, her gaze steady, her features betraying nothing of what she felt or thought. She looked at the young man for a moment before placing the file on the desk in front of her. “Ciao, are you aware that your behavior within these walls affects your future beyond them?” She asked, her tone even but her words laced with the power of not only her position but something unknown to the young man before her. Despite what some might believe, Cersei took no joy or displeasure at this part of her life, it was simply her job and she was damn good at it. Keeping her cool whiskey gaze on Ciao she noticed the twitch of an eyebrow. Something so small could be very telling to someone trained to have an eye for it, someone like Warden Hallows.

Aviator

code by Stardust Galaxy

 

[Ashy_OCdesigns]

"Sure, although don't know what you're trying to accomplish here." One guard snorted at Keeley's request. The small man hadn't had much hope of his insane plan working, but still, it was worth a shot. It probably hadn't been what anyone was expecting. He just knew that people probably thought he was insane, based on what he had blurted out. Ever since the guard had snorted, no words were spoken, and Keeley thought about the advantages and disadvantages of being in solitary confinement. 'Advantages: I get to sleep uninterrupted, people leave me alone, and I might not get to see Dr.Allister. Disadvantages: It's going to be really boring, I might go insane from the isolation, and...' He'd miss the Bad Bitch Brigade. His thoughts had stopped themselves as he thought about this last disadvantage. They seemed to know each other and understand each other. Besides, he never got to find out Eve's idea for moving targets, she never shared it.

"They're getting placed with the psychos." It's as if the inmates weren't directly in front of the guards, or like furniture they had to move. "I mean, they're probably going to become animals like them. Y'know what a few of em get thrown in there for?" He sounded more like a scientist experimenting on animals than anything. It was always the rookies or the veteran guards who made these comments. The young guards still thought the inmates were run-of-the-mill freaks and the older guards had been with them long enough, but still hadn't gained much compassion.

"Didn't Otter Pop stab another inmate with a fork?" The guards were referring to an incident five months ago when the inmate had calmly stabbed the inmate next to him with a fork in the arm at mealtime, and to everyone's disturbance, and had proceeded to initiate a normal conversation as if nothing had happened. The fork had been like a snake, in and out in one jab. He had even said things like: "Don't worry, the pain will stop soon." Everyone had gotten the impression that the inmate had just decided to stab an inmate, not because of any beef the two inmates had. Only Dr.Allister called that inmate by his name: Atlas.
"Mosquito Roach Kid, too." Most guards either referred to inmates by their jumpsuit number or an insulting nickname. "Jake hates him so much it's hilarious." The guard was on a roll, not letting anyone interrupt her. "He released roaches on Jake, and Jake is scared of them roaches. Edward Cullen also literally drinks blood. I'm surprised she doesn't turn into a bat." The guard was referring to Billy and Yue, also in solitary confinement. Solitary confinement was for the violent inmates, the 'psycho bitches'.

Keeley had turned that guard out before she started speaking, wondering why time seemed to drag on forever in spite of the speed at which they were walking, hands confined to metal bracelets, cold and unyielding. Once they were past the doors, there would be no return. The doors would likely be thick and imposing, meant to scare any inmate that passed through. Most of the time, though, it didn't work, as the inmates who passed through were used to violence. He didn't know how much longer, though. He had a black bag over his head.
After a little more walking, Keeley, Eve, and Elara were pushed through the doors. They'd be truly isolated, especially as they would be separated. It wouldn't have hurt as much if Keeley was the only one there, but he wasn't. They'd be alone, in their cells, cut off from the rest of the world. They were separated.

 

[Aviator]

Caio McCarthy // “Whiplash” // Age 26 // Inmate // Getaway Driver // Brazilian-American
​

Being led blindly down corridor after corridor was an unnerving precursor to meeting with the warden, like a warm-up run that already tested one’s limits before the actual workout. With the hood over his head, Caio’s breathing was loud and hot, but even without feeling the air on his face, he detected the change in temperature as he was marched along straightaways, wrenched around corners, and guided down flights of stairs. It reminded him of descending into the lowest, coldest ring of hell, where Satan was kept eternally bound in chains. Initially he’d resisted the hands on his shoulders, on his biceps, pushing him this way and that, but as their journey stretched upwards of five minutes, he found himself too distracted by the pain in his leg to care. The guards ushered him along so fast that twice he tripped, only to be yanked upward before he could fully double over.
Finally, just as Caio was beginning to think that endless, blind manhandling was his punishment, a force pulled him from behind. Or rather, the guards holding him had abruptly stopped while Caio was midstep, making it feel like an opposing force had acted on him. He ground to a clumsy halt. And remained there as the tumblers of a heavy lock clicked and groaned. A door opened with a hiss of air, and a cold gust enveloped Caio, making him shiver. Prison jumpsuits had little in the way of reinforcement against the cold, being designed as light and airy for the not infrequent instances that the air conditioning broke down. The air smelled of dust motes and dampness, like the place where lonely things went to die. Caio was herded only a few paces forward before stopping again. Another key rattled in a lock, this one sounding a little less foreboding.
He immediately noted the shift from cold and clanging metal floor to soft, plush carpet, his heels sinking in it slightly. An aroma like apple fritters with healthy doses of nutmeg and vanilla flooded his nose, and despite his anxiety, hollowness gripped Caio’s stomach. Thoughts of food were knocked from his head as the hands on his shoulders dragged him sharply to one side, something brushed up against the backs of his knees, and he fell down. A cushy padded chair caught him. As Caio squirmed to sit upright—a task made slightly awkward by his hands cuffed behind his back—someone ripped the hood off his head. He squinted into the sudden light.
And found himself in a dimly-lit office with just enough illumination as to not have to strain the eyes while reading. Shadows knotted themselves around upholstered velvet chairs with garnet-red cushions. The desk in front of him was made of rich brown wood, replete with mottled swirls. The room was spacious, but the walls were towering, barren expanses, devoid of art, framed diplomas, or family photos. The only signs that the room was inhabited were its sweet fragrance, posh upkeep without a hint of dust, and the emerald-green leaves of a spiky plant in the far corner of the room. The other corner of the room was home to a crystal decanter of wine, nestled next to a single long-stemmed glass and dark glass bottle. Caio had always had exceptionally sharp vision, and despite the distance and the dimness, he deciphered the letters on the label: Henschke Hill of Grace. Interesting. When socialites gathered together to dine and congratulate themselves on being masters of the universe, it was always the wine order that distinguished new money from old. People new to wealth ordered the most expensive bottle on the menu, whereas old money had considerably less flashy but equally extravagant taste. If this was truly the warden’s office, then he firmly belonged to the second category.
But both categories are assholes, Caio thought, remembering his father’s country club with its black-bowtie servers and hand-carved soaps. Footsteps padded across carpet and the door shut with a muted click as the entourage of guards receded. His scan of the room complete, Caio shifted his gaze to the statuesque figure sitting across the mottled desk from him. In a gilded armchair that resembled a throne sat a handsome white woman, her dark head bowed over whatever she was reading, hidden beneath the edge of the desk and out of Caio’s sight. It was almost hard to discern where the off-black tresses of her hair ended and the room’s deep shadows began. Her torso was sheathed in a sleeveless ultramarine gown, with a simple chain of gold threading around her neck.
I knew it! Caio thought with the validating rush of being proven right. Being taken “to the warden” was akin to a death sentence, because inmates either didn’t return, or if they did, they were babbling messes that went on about why Thomas the Tank Engine was taken off the air and the impending doom of humanity at the hands of an alien invasion. The warden was a ghastly creature of stories told late at night, sibling of the Bogeyman and second cousin to the devil. As such, none of the inmates knew anything, anything about the warden. Except for the one fact that all the legends agreed on: that he was a man. Caio had always suspected that it was misdirection. Basic probability dictated that in at least one story the warden would be a woman.
If Caio were being honest, the impenetrable aura of mystery enshrouding the warden unnerved him more than the grisly fates that had befallen those who had glimpsed her face. Gathering information on inmates and prison staff alike had become his lifeblood while he’d been imprisoned, had become the hobby that kept him from spiraling into despair. It wasn’t a hard thing to do if you just showed the right guards a little bit of warmth and friendly conversation, those who distributed food and water and made rounds to Belle Reve’s every nook and cranny. But the warden was Area 51-grade secret. More myth than person, all theories and no facts. Whom she’d had killed to seize the position, the government cover-ups that she’d likely spearheaded, the reality-bending powers at those perfectly manicured fingertips? Unimaginable, like the stuff on the other side of a black hole. It occurred to Caio that maybe this woman with her ultramarine dress and apple-fritter fragrance and expensive wine tastes wasn’t the real warden but just a figurehead. A mouthpiece tasked with delivering the real warden’s message. If such an individual really existed. And that thought scared him most of all. When did the mystery end?
Then again, if she had really summoned him here for execution, then he supposed there was no harm in him gazing into the real warden’s cold black eyes as the life bled out of him. At least for her.
The seconds stretched into a minute. The warden kept her gaze fixed on whatever she was reading, the rise and fall of her shoulders almost imperceptible. As Caio waited to be acknowledged, not knowing how or caring to break the fragile silence, he noted how eerily empty of sound the room was. Normally there would be the hum of electricity, the tick of a clock, breath whistling through a nose. But the warden’s office could have been a sound vacuum. Maybe she really was something other than human, because Caio didn’t know who would elect to sit alone in such a dark, impossibly quiet room that, if not for the plush furniture and bougie wine, could have been a solitary confinement cell.
Finally, just as a cramp was forming in his cuffed wrists from leaning back against them, the warden raised her head. Her dark gaze passed over him emotionlessly, as if Caio were as interesting as wallpaper. Her nude-painted lips parted, and despite speaking at barely above a whisper, her voice was an explosion of sound in the noiseless office like a jumpscare. The expression that flickered across her face was so subtle that Caio thought he might have imagined it, but the corner of the warden’s lips seemed to curve into the patronizing smile that a nanny might give a child after teaching them an important lesson about growing up.
Refusing to let a woman with a tycoon’s expensive tastes and a psychopath’s intonation intimidate him, Caio called on his dormant, ever-present reserves of anger. That immovable stone of stubbornness that had formed in his gut when Novak had kicked Keeley down. The helpless outrage of watching Elara slump over, spittle and nonsense words dribbling from her lips. If the warden was going to see him dead today, Caio only wished for two things to come of it: for none of the guards to lay a vengeful hand on his friends, and to give the warden a piece of his mind. “Future?” he echoed in a voice that rang like marbles in a jar. “Ma’am, don’t make me fucking laugh. Everyone either dies in Belle Reve or leaves crazy as a bessie bug. You telling me that I have a future beyond five-minute showers and roll call every day at the asscrack of dawn is an insult to my intelligence. And that makes me very angry, not that I expect you to care. The only future we inmates have to look forward to is divine judgment, if you believe in that sort of thing.” Caio tilted his chin up at the warden, eyeing her with such scorn and distrust that the manila folder on her lap might as well have been a vial of poison. “Any other stupid questions for me?”