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First Meetings; Reverie/Feather
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Topic Started: Apr 4 2009, 06:10 PM (45 Views)
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Post #1
Apr 4 2009, 06:10 PM
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David
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Featuring: Reverie: Feather:
Date: Febuary 14, 2009
Time of Day: 1530
Place: Detention Center.
"Lunch time." The guard announced, and Sonora had probably been in the prison long enough to recognize the slight grin on the guards face that meant his selection of a banana as part of her meal hadn’t been an accident, and he was well aware of her allergy. The rest of the meal seemed to be deliberately chosen for her as well…a bowl of plain oatmeal and a glass of water, not a spark of real color to be had. His friend Sullivan had asked him to ensure the young girl’s stay in the infirmary wasn’t a reprieve from the monotony Sullivan went out of his way to subject her to, and the guard was happy to comply.
The only deviation was that there was steam rising from the bowl of oatmeal, which meant the guard had actually gone to the trouble of heating it up…but it soon became clear it wasn’t with her best interests in mind, since after he had placed the tray on the bedside table, he picked up the bowl containing the semi-solid substance and proceeded to try and plant it firmly upside down on the side of her head…the side which was facing the ceiling, of course, so unless she tried to avoid it, the substance would spill over her face and head. The same also held true for the larger then normal glass of ice cold water…it was larger not for her to have more to drink, but so he had more of the substance to toss at her, which he did, the fact she was curled up in a small ball making it that much easier for him to try and get her legs wet, along with her body.
She knew from the sight of the banana that this “meeting” would only be a pretense for further torment. If they made her eat it, her throat would swell. If her throat swelled, she would need medication or she would suffocate to death. As much as she had entertained the idea of death in the past weeks, asphyxiation was too inglorious a way to go. The guard would have to beat her to death before she’d take a bite. At least that would prove a death of rebellion rather than one of acquiescence.
The oatmeal landed wetly atop her head and though she winced at the heat she made no sound. She knew her flesh would be reddened by the mild burns she had received and smiled inwardly at the thought of color returned to her skin. The water splashed and pasted the thin gown to her body. She didn’t move. Didn’t squeak. She just watched the guard with expressionless eyes, lying in physical indignity. She made certain the silence held just long enough for the man to question his next action, and then she moved her lips. The breath barely carried the sound past her teeth.
“Mm gnn mhkyu eeda na nerbkard.” It was soft. Unintelligible. He would have to stoop closer to hear.
What the hell? The guard thought, his disappointment obvious, when the only response he received to his torment was a slight wince when the hot oatmeal met her skin, and the glass of cold water he had dumped on her elicited no reaction at all except to make her gown wet. That wasn’t how it usually went, and wasn’t how it was supposed to go, and the guard frowned sharply at this disruption to his routine. Ignore me, will you. he thought as he withdrew his baton to bring it down on the prone girl’s midsection. Try to ignore that. he thought with satisfaction.
Is that…English? He thought as the girl mumbled…something. The bitch sure didn’t look American, so it was probably some foreign gibberish. “Speak English.” The guard ordered her as he brought the baton up again, but instead of attempting to strike her again, simply tried to poke her…hard…in what was no doubt her tender stomach. But at the same time…he couldn’t help his curiosity, and the natural response to when someone whispered was to lean closer to hear what they had to say, and that is precisely what the guard did.
“I said…” Sonora said, unfurling from her tight ball of comfort in one precise motion, “I’m gonna make you eat that banana backwards!” She shot upwards, trying to seize a mouthful of the guard’s face in her maniac teeth. Ear. Cheek. Nose. It wouldn’t matter, as long as he bled. Her legs jackknifed from the other end, wrapping around the man’s neck. Her moves were purely liquid, the application of gymnastics, capoeira, and desperation. She would kill him and make it look like ballet. Deep inside she hoped there was a security camera taping this moment for posterity. That would be a satisfying prisoner evaluation meeting.
What the hell???!!!! The guard recoiled in surprise when the formally almost comatose patient suddenly came alive in a blur of motion…and it was exactly that recoil that prevented the prisoner from making contact with his face with her teeth, her jaws snapping shut just inches from his nose, and in his surprise he dropped his baton as he reached to restrain her, trying to gain a grip on either her hospital gown or her neck…anything to prevent her teeth from biting down on him.
As a result, when she reached up to wrap her legs around his neck, in a move a contortionist would have been proud of, she managed to snare his right arm between her legs as well, and they were locked together as he tried to force her back onto the bed, while his free hand reached for his tazer and withdrew it from its holster on his belt and he brought it forward, attempting to make contact with her backside and force her to release him.
“You fucking sad pathetic short-sighted titicaca shitbird grasschewers!” she screamed, hammering his head and face with her surprisingly hard fists. “You built a fucking prison for mutants within spitting distance of the biggest mutant stronghold in history?! How long do you think it’s going to take before Magneto decides to turn this place inside out? Face it, Ken Doll, you’re living in a paper fucking house and it’s a only a matter of time before some mutant bigger than me decides to piss all over it and turn it to mush! Hell, give me two rubber bands and some Windex and I’ll fucking MacGuyver this place to…AAARGH!”
She jolted as fangs of electricity took solid hold of her backside. Legs wrapped around the guard’s body, she held tight as long as she could, letting him complete and ground the circuit. When she couldn’t hold on any longer, she fell backwards with all the force she could muster, pulling two handfuls of hair with her.
“Bitch! You dickburger!” Her hand shot for the discarded baton and she scrambled, trying to find her feet. “You just made my hot buns cross! That’s my cue to make your berries blue!” She rushed in, swinging low.
No wonder Sullivan hates this bitch so much. The guard thought as she pummeled his face with her hands, far to distracted from trying to restrain the prisoner to even completely follow what she had said, much less try and form a response. But fortunately, his tazer worked as advertised, eventually forcing the girl away from him…but it didn’t even come close to taking the fight out of her, and she scrambled for his discarded baton, picking it up and coming at him like a madwomen., and he scrambled to get away from her, cursing the rule that had prevented him from bringing a firearm into the medical ward, because he would have liked nothing more then to shoot the psycho bitch right now.
But he had checked his firearm in before descending to the medical level, and with her now in possession of a baton, he didn’t dare let her get close enough to try to use the stun gun again. But that didn’t mean he was out of options, even ignoring the fact the entire scene probably WAS on videotape, and reinforcements would likely start charging in…as soon as they stopped laughing at the trouncing the little girl was putting on him. He reached for the last remaining weapon on his belt…the pepper spray, and even as he was backing away from her, trying to keep the bed between himself and the insane prisoner, he aimed short, controlled bursts in her direction, trying to catch her in the face with the irritant, but he knew her flimsy water soaked gown wouldn’t provide much protection, even if he didn’t manage to hit bare skin.
“Hah! Pepper spray? Really?!” The girl’s face lit in manic amusement. “Did you even bother reading my file before you came in here, Inspector Clouseau? Pepper spray is Oleoresin Capsicum. Oleoresin Capsicum comes from capsaicin. Capsaicin comes from chilis! And bitch, I eat motherfucking chilis for motherfucking breakfast!” Her eyes watered and her skin burned. There was no denying that. But it was the same kind of blissful hum of heat she got while snacking on tezpur peppers. Even as her eyes began to redden and swell, she had to laugh. The man had brought a water pistol to a gun fight.
She dove for his knees. She had to take him down, disarm him. She would clamor astride his chest, knock the tazer and spray away him, and then knock his teeth out with his own baton. The thought of making this asshole’s blood spray warmed her dying insides. Red was rapidly replacing purple as her favorite color. If only she could bring him to the ground.
Yes…he had actually read her file before coming in. That was how he had known she was allergic to bananas. But the guard wasn’t exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer, and even if he had known of her tolerance for chilis, he wouldn’t have associated it with the pepper spray he used, and when the girl didn’t go blind and fall to the floor in agony, he froze in indecision…he was faced with a berserk lunatic bitch who had managed to get a hold of his baton and had proven immune to the last weapon at his disposal. His training hadn’t covered this.
Summary: Reverie has an encounter with a less than pleasant guard.
Tag: None
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Post #2
Apr 4 2009, 06:11 PM
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David
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Featuring: Reverie: Feather:
Date: Febuary 14, 2009
Time of Day: 1530
Place: Detention Center.
What is taking so long? Will wondered as he finished up his inspection of the prisoner’s quarters and waited somewhat patiently for the guard to bring in the girl he had requested to speak with…and waited…and waited…before leaving the interrogation room and walking down the hall to the monitoring center.
“Ah…hell!” He cursed as he took in the image on the monitors (which the guards found quite amusing) before he ran out of the room as he saw the young girl he had been waiting to question with her legs wrapped around the guards throat just as the man brought his tazer to bear, and Will didn’t want to think about what would happen if the large guard managed to render the young girl helpless with the device, especially after she must have gotten the drop on him, thus enraging and humiliating him.
“Get back to your posts. I’ll handle this. That’s an order!” Will shouted at the guards he saw approaching the infirmary, batons, tazers, and bean bag guns at the ready. Will didn’t wait around to see if they complied or not, but dashed into the room…and part of him would have laughed, if the circumstances hadn’t been so dire, as he saw the ninety pound girl with oatmeal on her head about to take down a two hundred pound gorilla…but if she did, he knew it wouldn’t be long before she met with a fatal ‘accident’, even in the warden didn’t decide to make an example out of her.
Will wasn’t as fast as he would have been if the dampening field hadn‘t been restraining his powers, but he was still fast enough to dive across the room, twist and land on his back and slide along the floor, positioning himself so that even as the girl flung herself at the guard, she would have to go over him, and he had no intention of allowing that to happen. As her head came level with his, he reached out and snatched both her wrists, twisting the one that had the baton, not painfully or cruelly, but clearly sending her body the message that if she didn’t drop the baton, the pain would increase until she did. At the same time, he used his longer legs to reach up and attempt to snare both her legs between his, thus immobilizing them. He didn’t intend to let her momentum go to waste, either, but instead used it to roll to the side, hopefully forcing her to move to the side as well, and rotate their position one hundred and eighty degrees, so she would be pinned with his body weight, which was twice that of hers.
“Stand down, Miss Ishii.” Will ordered, his training coming to the fore, as he told the prisoner what was expected of her to prevent the infliction of further pain.
No grunt escaped from Sonora as two hundred pounds of guard pulled her to the ground. She simply screamed. A banshee’s shriek – furious, mindless, and deprived. She flailed her limbs, clawing at the man’s face and spraying spit and bile until she was held fast to the floor. Her brown eyes, reddened by the pepper spray, warrened deep and unblinking into his cautionary stare. Her chest rose and fell at a frenzied pace, drawing in selfish portions of the stale, fetid prison air. Inside Will’s clasped fists, the girl’s pulse hammered at an incensed tempo.
She stopped, just long enough to reevaluate her situation, her features softening in consideration. For a brief moment the demon fled her veins and she was again a frail, pale slip of a girl, sloppy with gruel, drenched, and bruised. Flecks of oats clung in her hair and to her face, glued in place by starchy paste. Dark circles weighed her eyes deeper into her skull. Blue veins stood silhouette behind her rice paper skin. The flame that had brought the husk to life had burned down.
Then the ember touched the gunpowder. The rage returned and she fought in her captor’s grasp, her tendons straining to the edge of snapping, her skin burning and abrading in his grip. Her head twisted and pitched, making hard contact with the ground, leaving behind starbursts of blood and tingeing the oatmeal with pink. Her back arched and coiled, a serpent seeking escape.
“Gedda fuck offa me, bluebottle! There’ll be enough left for you if I live! Lemme finish this! Let me kill him! Let him kill me! I don’t give a flamingo either way! Just…just don’t stop me from doing anything! Gerroff! Gerroffame!”
Will winced slightly as the prisoner’s scream assaulted his sensitive hearing, though he didn’t loosen his grip on her, and his expression didn’t alter in the slightest when her spittle hit him in the face, and his gray eyes locked onto her brown ones as he wondered if this was the sort of thing that had gotten her locked up in the first place, or if this was an instance of prison producing one of the very animals it was supposed to ‘cure’. He heard her breath rapidly in and out, and their chests were so close together his own body rose slightly in rhythm with her breathing, the pulse he felt with his grip on her wrists provided a slight counterpoint to the heartbeat he could hear.
For an instant, he saw her expression soften, and he wondered if he had gotten through to her,…but it appeared she had just been gathering her strength in an attempt to break out of his grip, as her wrists twisted in his unyielding grip, and he was forced to raise his head slightly to prevent her from head-butting him….though he was unable to prevent her from impacting with the ground, and he winced once again as the blood became apparent both on the concrete floor and in the oatmeal that coated her hair.
For an instant, Will’s gaze shifted from the prisoner to the guard, and he uttered two words. “Get. Out.” At which the guard frowned before picking up his discarded weaponry, the hatred he felt toward the mutant for embarrassing him evident in his eyes. “You’re mine…later.” He hissed at her. “And you just cost everyone in your cell block dinner for the rest of the weak.” More then just the guards could give the prisoners a hard time, of course, and he now intended to do everything in his power to make Sonora’s stay an unpleasant one.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Will said calmly in response to Sonora’s ‘request’ that he release her….though he did untangle his legs from her, but only so that he could shift his body up on hers slightly, so that he as sitting on her stomach, for the purpose of pinning her arms beneath his knees, so he could release his grip on her wrists, and attempt to hold her head in place, being very careful not to let her teeth come in contact with his hands, but also not wanting her to hit her head anymore. “And perhaps you don’t care what happens to you now, but I’m certain your friends and family still do. And if you kill a guard, the other prisoners here will suffer for it with even harsher conditions. And if your dead, you won’t be able to gain your freedom someday.” He wasn’t sure exactly how rational the girl was at the moment, but he hoped at least one of his arguments would manage to get through to the girl.
Sonora blocked out Will’s entreaties, instead focused solely on the guard’s reluctant retreat. “Yeah. Run, screw! Get your ass out of here! I didn’t need my powers to beat the shit out of you, and neither will any of the bitches in my cellblock. You might make them hate me, but they’ll hate your Penelope ass twice as much. And someday…someday I’m going to finish this! You’re going to bleed! You’re going to…”
She stopped as the man was gone. No more wasted tears. No more wasted breath. Instead, she turned her attention to the weight on her chest. Her eyes shimmered and growled.
“And you…what the fuck, man? What are you going to do to me? Stick my hand in the fryer? Needles under my nails? Make me eat White Castle? Huh? What? Don’t expect me to buy your good cop routine – I’ve been here too long. Whatever you’re going to do to me, Just. Fucking. Do. It.”
She rolled her head back and forth along the ground, smearing swaths into the blood. She didn’t want things to end. She felt alive. She was changing things. Even if she was making it worse, at least it wasn’t stagnation. The physical pain was a welcome change from the emotional death, and if this man was going to feed that desire, she would love him for it as much as she’d loathe him.
“I’m not going to do anything to you except talk, and now possibly bandage the wound in the back of your head.” Will stated flatly. “And I don’t expect you to believe me, but you really have nothing to lose if you do, and possibly your freedom to gain. I’m not going to ask you anything about your fellow prisoners and ask you to turn stoolie, I am just going to ask your version of the events that brought you here. If I find them to be a violation of the constitution I swore to defend, I’m going to add your name to the list of unjustly imprisoned mutants I’m trying to get new, fair, trials for.” A lost cause? Possibly...in his pessimism, Will was even starting to believe probably, but he still had to much faith in the system he had served his entire adult life to abandon it.
“Don’t do me any favors,” she said under her breath. To his credit, however, she at least stopped struggling, instead rolling her head to the side to stare into the corner rather than his eyes. “Let me bleed. I want the color. I mean, this place…would it kill you guys to slap on a coat of paint or something?” She seemed to begin speaking more to herself than to the man astride her. “Seven shades of gray: Payne’s, Feldgrau, Arsenic, French, Slate, Charcoal, Davy’s. Four dead greens: Camouflage, Fern, Kelly, Olive. Twelve whites: Old Lace, Ivory, Eggshell, Cosmic Latte, Seashell, Cream, Downy, Ricotta, Meringue, Malt, Marshmallow, Malt. Only two bright colors: Cerise and Gamboge. And the guard uniforms. So dull. No music. Tried to make drum circle. They almost broke my wrist. I could hear my wrist move for a week. That was nice. Percussion just for me. Nothing just for me here. Nothing of me in here. Never let me leave alive. You guys suck.”
When the prisoner stopped struggling. Will released his grip on her, though it wasn’t exactly a token of trust…he had enough faith in his skills to know that he could take her down again if this proved to be a ruse. “Do you want to get an infection?” he asked with surprise when the girl claimed to want to bleed. There wasn’t much he could do in response to the girls request for color…all he had on him that would qualify was a ball point pen, and he wasn’t about to let a prisoner gain access to that. “And I am sorry about the décor…I thought it more important to try and make sure you were treated humanely and not locked up unjustly then on a new coat of paint.” Will frowned slightly as the girl seemed to go off on some sort of tangent, and he began to fear she might have given herself a concussion.
He shook his head slightly at her next comment. “As I said, if you don’t belong here, I will try my best to get you out alive, but before I can convince a lawyer to look into your case, I need to know more about it. Do you even know what you are in here for?” he asked curiously. He’d asked the question before, and been sickened by the number of people who had honestly told him ‘no’.
“Infections are spectacular. The flesh changes color. Blue bruises, yellow jaundice, pink swelling, red rashes, and purple horseshoes. If I get an infection, I’ll change. Maybe I’ll die from it. Maybe I’ll just spend more time in the infirmary, meeting nice and interesting persons like your friend back there.” She looked back at him for a moment, and then looked wistfully towards the bed she had leapt from moments ago.
“Because I’m not safe here, you know? They’ve had it out for me since day one and now…they’ll kill me, you know. Because you didn’t let me kill him. I’ve seen Oz. I’ve seen probably every prison movie ever made. And every one of those life behind bars series. You name it, I’ve seen it. So now, I’m dead. Even if you could get me out of here, you’d never do it in time.”
She sighed and the man rose and fell with her chest. “What am I here for? The same thing as everyone else. I got my chocolate genetics in my peanut butter genetics and a bunch of people are too afraid to realize that it’s a great combination. I never did anything wrong. Well, I mean, I have, but not the things they say I did.” She shifted. “You’re heavy. I’m pooped. Can you let me up? I’ll answer whatever you want if you let me up. Maybe help wash my face. I want to see the burns. I bet they’re brilliant!”
“True, but if the infection is in the back of your head, you won’t be able to see the change.” Will pointed out. “So you’ll get all of the pain, but none of the benefits.” He wasn’t sure what the deal was with the girl’s obsession with color, but he was willing to play along. “And don’t think they will let you die from it…they’ll pump you so full of drugs to combat it that you’ll lose your capacity for clear thinking.” Given some of her rants, he wasn’t so sure she hadn’t already lost that, but fear of losing your mind to drugs was a common one in his experience, and he hoped the same would prove true here.
“And yes…you did piss him off, and I can’t get you out any time soon, even if your innocent. But I can get you put in solitary for a while, out of his reach, long enough for him to find…to lose interest.” He had almost said ’find another victim’ but he hadn’t wanted to put that spin on it…though he had a feeling she would know exactly what he was talking about.
Will shook his head as she claimed she was in the prison because she was a mutant, in her own roundabout fashion. “That explains the treason charge against you, but not the murder charge, or the host of other infractions on your record.” He pointed out, then a small grin appeared on his face as she accused him of being heavy, a fact which under the circumstances he couldn’t argue with. He easily rose to his feet then extended a hand to the girl to aid her in rising, if she chose to take it. “And yeah…I’ll help you get cleaned up.”
“So, you’ve read my file. You know why I’m here. Sonora Lynn Ishii. Twenty-three. Prisoner number 1011-NY722BGX. Incarcerated for: Murder Two, Unregistered Mutant Abilities, Evading Arrest.” She began picking oats out of her hair and soon became distracted, using her fingers to draw patterns on her face with the gray gruel.
“What my file doesn’t say is that the boy who died, Jonathan Reilly, had a history of epilepsy. That he had three previous attacks in the previous year alone. Nobody else in the audience had so much as a twitch. It was not premeditated. There’s not even any proof that it was the lights that caused him to spaz. Another thing my file doesn’t say is that I was kidnapped in order to stand trial. I am a resident of a secessionist territory. I am no longer a resident or citizen of these United States. If I lived in Mexico, this would have been an international incident. Instead, it’s just you lot of mutant haters stroking your dicks all over the Constitution so you can punish a bunch of innocent mutants for what a few scary mutants that you can’t touch did.”
Turning, she smiled. Her face was now covered with an intricate Celtic warpaint of breakfast cereal. She seemed to stand a little straighter and to regain more of her tether just from the act. “And I don’t know if I can do solitary. I’m dying from being here. And that’s while being stuck in a cell with eleven other girls. Solitary might kill me even quicker than ol’ Breakfast-In-Bed or all the pissed-off bitches in my block that are going to be sleeping without dinner.”
“No…that aspect was never mentioned at your trial. Which means your lawyer you were assigned sucks.” Will said with a frown. “And I don’t suppose anyone has ever mentioned the appeals process to you?” He suspected the answer he would get from her to that question would be the same as the answer he had gotten from all the other mutants he had interviewed.
“And no, your file claimed you were brought in by a bounty hunter rather then kidnapped. Semantics, really.” Will said with a shrug. That aspect of her imprisonment didn’t bother him…he himself had participated in more then a few ‘extractions’ of personnel wanted for crimes back in the states. “I’m not here to talk politics with you…but I am curious about what happened to cause you to wind up in sickbay in the first place.” At first, he had suspected an unprovoked attack from the guards, but after what he had just witnessed from her, he wasn’t so sure anymore. He frowned sharply at her inclusion of him in with the rest of the mutant haters. “You don’t know enough about me to make that claim.” he stated coldly.
He shrugged lightly at her claim that solitary would be harder on her then being locked up with a bunch of people who wanted her dead. When he’d been a prisoner, he’d often relished the times in solitary, but to each their own. “Up to you…though I would advise you to reconsider.” He stated as he walked across the room towards the alcove where the shower was located and gestured her inside. Now are you trying to make some sort of fashion statement? Or did you change your mind about washing your face and cleaning your cut?”
“Massachusetts Appeal Court. I’m Murder Two, so I don’t qualify for Supreme Judicial Appeal. The court hears cases from September through June at the John Adams courthouse. Hearings are served before a three-judge panel. Ordinarily in a civil case the notice of appeal must be filed within 30 days of the date of entry of judgment or within 60 days if Commonwealth is a party. The time runs from the date of entry on the docket even if notice is never mailed to counsel. As a general proposition, only final judgments and decisions are appealable. G.L. 231, section 113, authorizes appeals from final judgments of the superior court, land court and housing court.
“Shall I go on? I did do all the reading I could on Massachusetts and Federal criminal and appellate law before I was brought in by Big Bad Dawg. Took me almost two hours to memorize. Problem being when you’re denied outgoing mail, access to visitors, or the right to secure and attorney that’s not a specist. The only kind of fair shake a mutie girl can get in this pit is the kind I just got courtesy of Barney Fife. Face it, this state has a hardon for x-carceration and I’m a fairly high profile case. I’d like to tell you that I didn’t think you’d be wasting your time trying to help the others here, even though I do, but I know you’re not going to help me. Uncle Sam likes me here. It makes him look right and makes his bastard children feel safe.
“As for the rest, forgive me if it takes more than a business card to convince me that you’re not just another turd clogging up the mutant-justice colon. You’re working in this shithole and you’re not wearing bo-bos and a jumpup, so that’s already a big strike for you not having my best interests in mind. Plus you made me stop giving Percy Wetmore what he had coming. Strike two. And you almost broke my wrist, so strike three. But you let me up when I asked, so we’ll call that last one a ball instead.
“So, to answer your question, I’m here because I had some contraband. Bleach and some of that gunk what makes the toilet water blue. I was going to dye my hair. One of the guards doesn’t much like me expressing myself and decided 2000 Flushes was worth 2000 punches. Messed me up good’n case you can’t tell by the bruises. So I got a golden ticket to the infirmary. Lucky me.”
She ran her fingers through her hair, her digits catching and tearing through the clotted blood and mottled cereal nested therein. “No, I haven’t changed my mind. I still need my hair washed. But, if you let me keep the face paint, I’ll count you at one strike, two balls instead. Or are you a Philistine like the rest?”
Will blinked with surprise as the prisoner began spouting enough legal mumbo-jumbo to remind him of a lawyer…which wasn’t really a good thing. “You know more about it then I do.” He admitted with a shrug. “And no, there really isn’t any need to go on. But it seems to me that the new evidence in the case that you just told me would be enough to get you an appeal regardless of the time frame, but I’m hardly a lawyer, though I will get you one, who isn’t a racist. And if they deny you access to a lawyer, well, maybe we can get some publicity shone this way, and change something that way.” But Will was enough of a pessimist by now to realize that the public wasn’t likely to care…at least not the public on this side of the war, but it might serve to break some out of their apathy. It was worth a try, at least.
“And like I said, I’m not really trying to convince you of anything, I just don’t see that you have anything to lose by talking to me. And what exactly did the guard do to you that started this?” Will asked curiously. “Not to say he didn’t have it coming…but if I hadn’t stopped you, and the guards outside, you’d probably be dead by now. So unless that’s what you wanted, I would think that would count as a ‘ball’ as well. And if it’s really what you want…I could offer you an easier death then they would have provided.” it wasn’t a threat…simply a statement of fact.
He raised an eyebrow a bit in surprise when she told him what she had gotten beaten and sent to sickbay for. He decided not to point out that the ingredients she had admitted to possessing could have possibly been used to create a poison gas as well, which would certainly explain the guards not wanting her to have them. But in the end, he knew that fact probably wouldn’t really make a difference…the situation she described was all to common, and while he tried to submit recommendations and transfer the overzealous guards, there was really only so much, as a consultant, that he could do.
“And yes, I noticed the bruises. I’m no doctor, but I have some medical training, and I could take a look and see if bruises are all they are.” True, a doctor had probably already done that…but the doctor didn’t have X-ray vision, and probably didn’t give a damn about the patient, so Will felt he could probably do a better job.
“No, I’m definitely not like the rest.” Will stated with a frown as he reached inside the shower stall to turn on the water…cold water, unfortunately, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. “And I’ll try and let you keep the…face paint, if you like, but water has a mind of its own sometimes. But there’s more where that came from.” he said as he gestured to the dirty bed, with the half full bowl of oatmeal still lying beside it. He shrugged and smiled slightly. “Hell, I’ll even paint your face with a permanent marker, if you want, though I really can’t give you one. The guards would give you hell when they caught it.” And they would catch it, he knew.
Summary: Feather and Reverie have a little talk.
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- #25
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6:42 PM Nov 27
![](http://i12.photobucket.com/albums/a236/logicaldisorder/f0519e25.jpg?")
