....being "disappeared" can take several forms: for some, it can mean vanishing into the government's anti-mutant black hole...for others, it can mean being dropped into a zoo of the violent and the generalized miscreant, where its' not what you know that can help you survive, its' fighting to survive, day after day after day... ...outside photograph of close-security USP Blue Ridge (GADEM), located in Washington County, Tennessee (photograph smuggled to reporters at The Divide in 2010)
A typical cellblock inside Blue Ridge; each general population cellblock contains 72 2-person cells while the administrative segregation area (a/k/a "the Hole") has 40 1-person concrete-poured cells"Count time!" came the call from the guards walking up and down the length of the cellblock, their footfalls clanking loudly and echoing throughout the cellblock, threatening to drive you insane if you let it. Groaning quietly lest she wake up her cellie, Sarah Lyell stirred quietly in her bed and sat up, taking care not to bang her head on the metal bedwork above her. Like her sister Tamara - Sarah could only imagine where she was at - and like Samantha Archer, who Sarah knew was somewhere inside the walls of USP Blue Ridge - Sarah had gone, in the space of several weeks, from a slowly rebuilding life to something approximating one of the lower circles of Dante's Inferno, the only difference being that, unlike Dante's Inferno, you didn't get to put it down and rejoin the rest of the world; you were a part of that world.
And a crazy world they were in: the prison they were in was a GADEM-designated facility housing mutants of all powers, said powers having been disabled through the use of both mutant power-jamming equipment and by the use of mutant guards whose sole job was to use their mute powers to disable the powers of their fellow mutants. Kapos and rats, the inmates called them (like other close-security GADEM facilities, the prisons were gender-segregated; however, Blue Ridge was GADEM's sole co-gender prison) and the glares they would give the mute guards could cut through several feet of plate steel had their powers worked.
Having spent time inside such places in the past - Arkham North Asylum, in particular - Sarah Lyell was used to and well-versed in living life behind bars, quickly becoming acclimated to the rhythms and patterns of living inside the Black Iron Prison, as she once said to her cellie. It was Samantha that Sarah was worried about; although she'd only met her on that fateful days several weeks before, she knew from knowing her that little bit that Samantha wouldn't make it without a lot of help, so after getting used to everything - as if one can ever get used to being inside, Sarah thought as she started getting ready for the day ahead - Sarah had run into an old acquaintance from the outside and asked her to watch over Samantha, keep her as safe as one could in prison.
"Alright, count time!" came the call from the guards outside in the hallway; in every cell inside the cellblock, Sarah and every other inmate stood just outside the now-open cell doors at loose attention as their Mutant Numbers were read out - Sarah's was Mutant Number #001756 - indicating that each inmate was present. Sarah had already seen at least one or two cell counts take forever for nothing more than slowness on the part of other inmates...and Sarah had heard through the prison grapevine what had happened to them, inmate-delivered justice that chilled Sarah to her bones. Standing in her prison uniform - denim blue overshirt with white undershirt beneath it, tucked into jeans whose legs were tucked inside of her work boots - Sarah kept her eyes forward and waited for the count to finish.
"Count complete; all inmates may depart their living areas for morning chow," came the intercom message; within maybe a millisecond of it, every inmate inside relaxed and began walking towards the exit. Blowing out a long breath, Sarah Lyell joined them, wondering what lay ahead and wondering whether Samantha would make it inside....
Last Edit: Jun 14, 2018 18:59:47 GMT by Sarah Lyell
“Redemption is something you have to fight for in a very personal, down-dirty way. Some of us lose that, some stray from that, and some regain it.” ― Joss Whedon
Dr. Joe MacMillan's office, USP Blue Ridge (GADEM) Infirmary
(Dr. MacMillan's words to the Infirmary staff, early 2017) "Our job, ladies and gentlemen, isn't to torture these poor mutant souls...our job is to make sure they're alive both before and after that occurs, okay?""Okay, who're my patients today?" Dr. MacMillan said as he walked through the doors leading into the Infirmary at USP Blue Ridge; along with the dozen or so nurses and orderlies (there were another couple of mutant orderlies as well), it was the job of Dr. Joseph MacMillan to make sure that the health and well-being of the mutant inmate population was as excellent as it could be. Yes, it was government work and he wasn't too fond of it but when the federal government - in this case, the Bureau of Prisons - offers you a job with higher pay and benefits than most higher-end hospitals on the outside can offer, you'd take it. Right?
"Three routine physicals, a 30-day checkup from that fight in the northwest rec yard," one of the nurses said, clipboard in hand and looking like Nurse Ratched, "and two A&O physicals, both female." Joe groaned at the last bit; although the routine physicals didn't take but a few minutes to conduct, Admission and Orientation physicals took forever to do, since you had to document - in triplicate, he muttered - everything you found on them. On top of that, both involved mutant females new to Blue Ridge, which meant the prison's on-site PA - a woman Joe didn't trust to do a physical on a corpse, much less someone with a pulse - would lead, with Joe supervising and a nurse to serve as an extra set of eyes.
Hanging up his jacket, he slipped on his white doctor's longcoat and placed his stethoscope around his neck, making sure his identification was securely fastened to the outside of the longcoat. "Okay, let's get the fight one taken care of first, then the routines and then the two A&O's...," pausing as he read the numbers out for the nurse to confirm, "....and Mutant Number #001756," he finished. Motioning for the guard to go ahead and round up the inmates who had either physicals or checkup to go through, Joe said, "Let's get this show on the road, folks.."
Ms. Chase, my job is not to torture these poor benighted souls...my job is to make sure they're alive before AND after their visits to your torture chambers; who do you take me for, Adolf Eichmann? -- Dr. Joe MacMillan, GADEM
"Inmate 001756...." Samantha didn't realize at first that she was being spoken too. She stood there staring at the floor. "Hey are you deaf? Go!" She jumped a bit startled and slowly; and nervously shuffled into the doctor's office. She didn't really know what to expect. Certainly not the friendly smile of a doctor who cared for his patients.
She had been here less than a few days and already she felt as if the standard of care for mutants was far below humane standards. She wanted to get out of here. She felt like a piece of human meat set aside for display and humiliation on a daily basis. Most of the guards here were human, though there were a few mutant gurards with special abilities. They were kept in line with a special serum that helped control their mind.
Samantha had heard whispers that the Detroit facility got blown up. Somehow word had gotten into the prison and now the rumor spread like wild fire. Some mutant from the future had came back in time and destroyed the Detroit G.A.D.E.M. Facility. Not only that but he uploaded viruses into the computers and destoryed all the research. More specifically the research pertaining to mind control. Samantha didn't like this place.
It was hard for her to focus here. It was hard for her to control her powers here. There was so much noise and so many strong emotions here. Fear. Anger. Guilt. Shame. Repression and Violence all swimming to the surface of her mind. She couldn't sleep. She could barely eat. Her eyes were baggy and ragged. She hadn't slept since she got here. Moving into the little office she sat down as far away from the doctor as she could. Her eyes were glued to him with a look of distrust. She didn't trust any doctor, not in this place. For all she knew he was going to drug her with something nasty and do weird experiments.
Post by Carrie Schwab on Jun 16, 2018 20:27:31 GMT
...Off through the new day's mist I run Out from new day's mist I have come I hunt Therefore I am Harvest the land Taking of the fallen lamb
Off through the new day's mist I run Out from new day's mist I have come We shift Pulsing with the earth Company we keep Roaming the land while you sleep... - Of Wolf And Man, Metallica
"Come on, come on, lift it, lift it.....alright, alright!" Came the excited voices of a couple people as Carrie lifted the weight bar up from its' bench stand and began lifting it, feeling the weight with every rep she did...up and down, up and down, until her arms burned and her muscles felt like they had battery acid going through them, doing as many repetitions as she could before setting the bar back down and getting off the bench so that her lifting partner could get her reps in. "Come on, Susana, when I stop, you go!" Carrie said, shaking her arms out as much as possible as first Susana, then Candace - another couple of mutant inmates who Carrie ran with at Blue Ridge - got their reps in.
As Carrie waited to go again, she looked around and thought about her life and everything that had happened in it; unlike most of the mutant inmates who were inside Blue Ridge for various sundry offenses (political or criminal), she didn't have to worry about her reasons for being there - murder was a plenty good enough reason. Indeed, as the two teardrops tattooed underneath her right ear attested to, Carrie Schwab wasn't afraid to throw down...and given all the anti-mutant systems present, it meant you had to use whatever you had on hand - your fists, a shank - whatever was on hand.
To look at her, though, was a study in contrasts. Even with the all the tattoos she had inked on her skin - most all of them prison tats - she was still a beautiful woman who could, even in a hostile environment as they were in, turn heads and while on the outside she was as straight as the day was long, on the inside she was still a woman with the same needs and desires as any other; to hear her put it, "There aren't any men here; what am I supposed to do, twiddle my thumbs?"
Before she could get another set in, the outdoor buzzers went off, indicating that the late morning count would commence in fifteen minutes; muttering a few words under her breath, Carrie - dressed in a tight white sleeveless tee, gray shorts and track shoes - started heading back to the cellblocks for count. Waving to the rest of her crew, Carrie headed inside and walked towards her cell; as she passed by an inmate she knew worked over in Housing, she slipped the woman a surreptitious note which read in prison slang, "Find out new blondie's perch and get me next." Translation: find out which 2-person cell Samantha Archer was being housed in and get me assigned to it. As she got to her cell and stepped inside for the moment and laid out her clothing for her evening shift assignment, Carrie thought to herself, I hope Sarah Lyell knows what the hell she's doing asking this kind of favor from me...
Post by Abigail Black on Jun 17, 2018 18:25:43 GMT
They really had no idea. "Inmate 001587 Step forward!" Abigail did as she was told. Her bright red hair looked brighter than usual. Then again she was getting closer to the arena. It was a small closed off area with high walls made of thick reinforced glass and vents to smoke the place out if things got dicey. In this one area of the prison the jammers were off. Mostly because the guards liked to hand pick a few mutants to go at it whenever they got bored. They would let the powers fly and allow the inmates to take out a little aggression.
It kept tempers from getting too bad and it kept the strongest mutants in the yard evident, so they could keep a closer watch on them. Abigail hadn't stepped into the cage before. She stood there walking into it's entrance with a vacant expression. All around her inmates screamed and cheered. Some yelled at her and called her bitch. She let it roll off her slim shoulders. Much like her shoulders rolled and popped with the echo of the familiar. It had been a while since she had been in a good fight. She had been cheeking her pills here lately and lately she found her mind alot freer.
She wasn't under the invisible handcuffs of the medication that was designed to keep you docile and cooperative. Then again barely anything in this place functioned the way it was SUPPOSED to be run. "You're going to die red! One rather large woman yelled at her. Abigail shrunk a little under the shadow of intimidation. She stepped through the little doorway that led to the cage. As it was almost lovingly refered too. Somewhere along the lines these mutants forgot that they were mutants.
Somewhere along the lines they just bled into the crack and found themselves lost in the system. In this spithole in the middle of nowhere. The public eye had no idea what mutants went through. This was worse than any human prison. The door slammed behind Abigail. She turned to face it in time to see it locked from the outside. "Play nice. I have $300 riding on you red, you better not disappoint me or you'll be sleeping in solitary for a month." Abigail swallowed hard. She was no stranger to a good fight, but she had heard of some of the powers in this place. She didn't know what the woman across from her was capable off though she guessed it was bad.
The only two effected by the freedom of the shut down jammers were those inside the cell. Everyone watching around the cells were still under the influence of mutant jammers. If you were really bad you got the collar. A steel collar that went around your neck to shut down mutant powers. It doubled as an explosive device for those who wanted to keep pushing their luck. Abigail stared at the angry woman across from here. She looked nervous, for a moment. They had no idea it was all an act. "I'm going to rip that pretty hair out bitch!"
The woman said. Abigail watched her bulk up her muscle. Literally pounds upon pounds of added muscle stack up on the already hefty frame of the angry inmate. "Well, that's new." Abigail said somewhat unimpressed. There was a scram and the woman started charging at her. Abigail turned up the heat. She could feel the familiar touch of flames licking at the skin of her wrists. She smirked and with her palms pointed downward soared through the air. Flames of bright red fire and black smoke trailing behind her as the propulsion sent her up and over the larger woman. She landed on the other side of her with her back turned too her.
Abigail looked back over her shoulder. She held out her hand. Her palm facing the woman who was now stopped dead in her tracks. Beads of sweat dripped from Abby's arm. The droplets of perspiration lighting and igniting and sending waves of fire spiraling around her arm in a beautiful ballet of pain. "Sorry butch, I plan on surviving this place." She said and sent a flame straight into her face. The woman caught fire and started to scream. It was only moment later, when the fight was absolutely over that guards rushed in and put her out.
A collar was slapped around Abby's neck. "Back to your cell 001587" A guard barked. Her opponent had to be rushed to the intensive care unit. At least that pencil necked dweed Dr. McMillian would have his hands full for a while. Abby moved quickly as she was instructed and headed up the stairs and around the corner to where her cell was at. The walls were ice cold. It was always cold in her cell. She sighed and pressed her hand against the glass. Frost licked the glass and icecycles hung from the ceiling of the cell.
"I need to bust the fuck out of here." She said sitting on the bed. The door closed behing her and she was incased in her winter wonder land. Some of the other inmates were still walking around freely. They wanted Abby on lockdown while they cleaned up her mess. Abby stared around the prison with mild interest. She stopped when she saw Carrie talking to the woman who could get her hands on anything. "What's she so intersting in?" Abby thought moving closer to her cell wall. She place a hand on the frozen blue glass and looked out with deep curiosity.
Last Edit: Jun 17, 2018 18:34:58 GMT by Abigail Black
Post by Joe MacMillan on Jun 17, 2018 19:06:25 GMT
It was hard for her to focus here. It was hard for her to control her powers here. There was so much noise and so many strong emotions here. Fear. Anger. Guilt. Shame. Repression and Violence all swimming to the surface of her mind. She couldn't sleep. She could barely eat. Her eyes were baggy and ragged. She hadn't slept since she got here. Moving into the little office she sat down as far away from the doctor as she could. Her eyes were glued to him with a look of distrust. She didn't trust any doctor, not in this place. For all she knew he was going to drug her with something nasty and do weird experiments.
For over an hour, Dr. MacMillan - aided by one of the prison PAs' and a nurse who looked like she'd been born back during the time of the Egyptian pharaohs - documented, weighed and examined Samantha Archer - Mutant Number #001756 - making sure there were no health problems and that she was disease-free in every imaginable way. Like everyone else on the staff at Blue Ridge, Dr. MacMillan knew the correctional staff loved to have their fun with the female inmates in ways that even he couldn't fathom...and he really didn't care what they did; as long as they were physically healthy he didn't concern himself with what the guards did.
"Okay," he said, finishing up the Admissions & Orientation Physical on Mutant Number #001756, "everything looks okay, you seem to be in top physical shape, you should have no trouble surviving here," pausing as a pair of guards came in to escort her out. Looking around, he called out to the orderly, okay, who's next?"
Ms. Chase, my job is not to torture these poor benighted souls...my job is to make sure they're alive before AND after their visits to your torture chambers; who do you take me for, Adolf Eichmann? -- Dr. Joe MacMillan, GADEM
Samantha was briskly seen and shooed away at a moments notice. The Dr. couldn't be bothered. She frowned a bit as she was ushered out of the room. Samantha always prided herself on being strong, but here she just wanted to break down. She wasn't hard as nails and she had trouble pretending so. This place was scary to her. So much so that she freaked out. When a guard touched her arm she saw a vision of his memories. He was quietly eyeing up Samantha's backside and wondering how much fun it'd be to ride the mower across her perfectly manicured backyard. When he recalled the last time he had his way with an inmate.
He forced himself on a mutant would couldn't do shit to defend herself when he slapped a power collar around her neck. "Come on sweetie. Let's go find some place quiet for you and I" He said. Samantha responded in fear and panic. She turend around with a forceful elbow right into his nose. It was only a few seconds before the stiff firm wood of a club came down over the back of her head and her limb body was drug off to solitare. At least she avoided the same treatment as that one girl.... For the moment.
Post by Abigail Black on Jun 17, 2018 19:53:51 GMT
Abigail watched with curiosity as the blond she had come to admire from afar (Carrie) passed a note to another inmate. She stood by her prison window. Every breath was cold. Every sigh was painful knowing that she was trapped in these walls alone. She could deal with the cold. She didn't give a fuck about the cold. It was the lack of human contact that got to her. She was usually sitting in this cell 16 hours a day.
Now she stood there in a black tanktop... Her orange inmate jumpsuite pulled down and tied around her curvy waist. Abigail had a blue bandanna tied up into her hair and metal piercings lining the skin of her face. If anything she was fashionable. Though it was getting harder and harder to match her sheek outfits with prison orange. There was a tap on the frozen blue glass. Abigail was pulled from her daydream and looked over to see one of the guards. She walked up to see what he wanted. "Not bad out there.
You're going to be fighting again real soon. And as a little incentive..... I'll give you a present. What do you want 001587?" Abigail's eyes flicked to the guards. She was barely visible through the blue frosted glass. Ice rode up the side of the glass. It split off and traveled in new directions like cracks in the sidewalk. Abigail crouched down and looked through the little slot they brought the food through. "Her. I want her. Bring her to my cell. Make her my new cell mate." The guard turned and looked at Carrie. He a started to laugh. "You freak you. Any chance You'll be starting the show early? I'd sure love to watch."
I'm sure you would perv boy. She thought. "Bring her to me and I'll be happy to mop the floor with a few more of your scraps. She didn't care how many inmates she had to lay waste too. Abigial wasn't the type of girl to dwell on the past. She didn't have conscience. At least not one she listened too. She smiled as she watched the guard go and fetch her prize. She walked back over to the bed and sat down.
She looked around her cell and there were burn marks on the concrete sections of the wall. From the few times the power went out and her powers came back before the backup generators came back on..... She waited nervously for this beauty to be delievered to her. What would she say to here?!?!? She didn't know. She turned to the mirror and made sure that her hair looked nice. She sighed at her reflection and wished it didn't have to be like this. That she could casually go up to a woman and say... Hey, you'e beautiful.
But damn it if she wasn't lonley. This was as good a way as any to meet someone. Her cell door whooshed open and Carrie was shoved inside. She watched Carrie stumble forward into her cell.. "Hey!" Abby called out. She didn't like the rough treatment. She stood up and smiled. "Sorry about that. Looks like we're cellys. I'm Abigail. But people just call me Pepper. She smirked. She wasn't about to tell her new best friend she was the reason she was stuck in this icebox. She opted to let her think it was the guards doings.
Last Edit: Jun 17, 2018 19:57:43 GMT by Abigail Black
Post by Carrie Schwab on Jun 17, 2018 20:08:19 GMT
As Carrie was getting ready to strip down and wash up real quickly (like most inmates, Carrie didn't wear underwear underneath her prison garb), she heard someone banging on the bars of her cell. "Hey, you, roll it up; you're moving!" the guard said with a sneer. Shaking her head, Carrie started to when he added, "Uh-uh; we'll bring it to you...come with me now."
Shaking her head with disgust, Carrie exited her cell and was roughly grabbed by the guard, now joined by a second one who grabbed her other arm, and walked her out of the cellblock over to another one of Blue Ridge's cellblocks, this one containing larger cells. Carrie knew this one from her early days inside; it was known as the Thunderdome for all the noise and activity inside the cellblock and inside the cells....she also knew the guards didn't do much of anything inside, the rule basically being that as long as you didn't kill anyone inside the Thunderdome, the guards really didn't care.
After a few minutes walk - and a few hateful glares from Carrie at each guard - they arrived at what looked a large concrete cube, colored an interesting shade of frosted blue by the looks of it - and Carrie shivered as she stood there; another thing about the Thunderdome was that they kept the temps way the hell down inside. "Go in!" they told her, shoving her inside the frosted blue cell in which stood, to Carrie's mind, one of the meanest looking yet most beautiful women she'd ever laid eyes....her knees quivered a little as the woman spoke, "Hey!" Abby called out. She didn't like the rough treatment. She stood up and smiled. "Sorry about that. Looks like we're cellys. I'm Abigail. But people just call me Pepper. She smirked. She wasn't about to tell her new best friend she was the reason she was stuck in this icebox. She opted to let her think it was the guards doings.
"Hey," Carrie said, trying to keep from falling as her knees and legs continued to quiver in Abby's presence; there was something about her that was making Carrie just react in ways the hardened inmate didn't think were in her. "Nice to meet you, Abby; I'm...I'm Carrie," she said, continuing to shiver but not really caring about it at this point. "Guess they want us to be cellmates, huh?" Carrie said, looking at Abby and hoping the redhead wasn't picking up all the signals coming off from her, signals that would've shocked her under any other circumstances...
Post by Abigail Black on Jun 17, 2018 20:33:16 GMT
Abigail stood there. Her hand swept across the dusty concrete of her cell. Her cell was made of large concrete slabs interwoven with thick plates of heat resistant glass that was frozen by the extremely cold temperatures. The guards turned the heat up a little. Now that there was someone in the cell other than the fire princess they didn't want to cause the death of an inmate. GADEM didn't have much pull in this part of the country yet. Political assholes and state congressmen putting the breaks on any real progress to the cause.
They still believed mutants had rights. While that might be annoying to some of the guards here at Blue Ridge... Abigail knew quite a few inmates who would agree. The frost on the glass was literal ice. It would thaw, eventually. But for not that left them with the problem of Carrie being cold. Hm... She wondered if she could figure out a way to solve that particular dilemma. Her devilish thoughts aside she tossed Carrie a blanket. It was the most she could do without seeming to eager to share in her body heat...
Though she had to admit her eyes moved across the soft skin of her neck and she wandered how salty her skin tasted. She playfully flicked her tongue ring around sliding it against her teeth as she smiled. Moving along the side of the cell her hand danced in the blue light. Her whole cell looked like it fell beneath a blue spotlight. It was the cold and the ice reflecting light. It made her fiery red hair a curios shade of blue for the moment. Abigail wasn't cold. Not in the slightest. Her body ran hot. WAY hot.
It was because of her mutation that she could raise and lower her own body temperature at will. Not only that but she could ignite her bodily fluid. Her sweat was flamable. With a hearty scream she could ignite the gasses in her stomach and scream it out with a shrill fire breathing shriek. It wasn't the most attractive explanination of abilities, but it was hers none the less. Abigail looked up at the security camera in her cell. She flipped it off. "You mind popping my collar before this poor girl freezes to death?!?!?" She sqawked. The electronic lock on her power collar opened. Her cell was secure there was no need to jam her abilities when there was no possible way for her to cause damage or escape.
Abby's hands began to glow orange with intense heat as she pulled the collar and chucked it away. It clattered around somewhere in her cell. She didn't care. she turned back to Carrie with a modest smile. She could barely see out into the other cell block from her cell. She was sanctioned off in a private special assortment of cells. This was a super max of sorts. She was just a Beta mutant, but she had an ability that posed a threat to everyone else in the building. They didn't like mixing someone who could breath fire with the general population.
Even with power jammers it seemed like a terrible idea. "Well. Welcome to home sweet hell!" She exclaimed nervously. She raised her arms and allowed them to fall by her sides as she looked at Carrie in the eye. "You want top or bottom bunk?" She asked. Up until this point she wasn't even sure why her cell was equiped with a second bed. Right now she didn't care. Right now she wasn't in prison she was trapped in a room with a gorgeous bombshell. Her body temperature was rising slightly and for once it wasn't her that was doing it.
Last Edit: Jun 17, 2018 20:39:11 GMT by Abigail Black
Post by Carrie Schwab on Jun 17, 2018 20:55:11 GMT
Catching the blanket tossed to her, Carrie wrapped it around her and almost immediately felt warmer despite the cold and chill inside the cell; watching as Abby flipped off a spot towards the top of the cell, Carrie decided to throw whatever caution she had out the window and flipped the same spot as well, throwing in a 187 as well to whatever guard was watching. So they've got this cell wired, huh? Carrie thought, all sorts of devilish thoughts beginning to go through her mind a she watched Abby remove what looked like a collar of some sorts and tossing it to the sides.
"They must really think you're some kind of threat," Carrie said as she watched Abby's skin flush orange for a few moments then turn back into a normal, reddish-pale sort of color. "Then again, what must they be thinking with the two of us inside here," Carrie added as Abby spoke.."Well. Welcome to home sweet hell!" She exclaimed nervously. She raised her arms and allowed them to fall by her sides as she looked at Carrie in the eye. "You want top of bottom bunk?" She asked.
"Well," Carrie replied, walking right up to Abby and dropping the blanket down from her sides, revealing all the intricate tattoos she had on her, "top bunk or bottom bunk, it doesn't matter," pausing as she leaned in and added in a whisper, "do I get to share that bunk with you?" playfully snapping her teeth to emphasize the point, whatever traces of fear or emotion gone from her voice as she stared at Abby, locking her eyes right onto Abby's and not moving away....
Post by Abigail Black on Jun 18, 2018 16:41:53 GMT
Abigail allowed the touch of flames to spread to the palm of her hands. She reached up a hand and pointed it at the security camera. She was tempted to melt the fucker. God knows it would feel good. Only she knew if she did a bunch of guards were going to come and drag her away to solitare. She would have that powre collar back around her neck in two second flat and she didn't want that. Abigail felt number with that collar on.
It took away her powres and not only that it felt like it stripped away a piece of herself in the process. She sighed and looked at the camera briefly for a moment before turning back to Carrie with a soft smile. "Me? A threat? Only sometimes..." She smirked. She couldn't help but smile at the thought of impressing her. She wanted to be the big bad mutant of the cell block. This was how prison worked. The big and strong got what they wanted. The weaker ones lived for the protection of the stronger ones.
And usually it was the weaker ones that the stronger ones wanted. It was a vicious cycle but it was their cycle. Abigail stepped forward at the playful snapping jaws of this woman. She knew she was a mutant but she didn't have the slightest clue what she did. Did it matter very much. They were the same. Abigail placed a hand over Carrie's heart and warmed it slightly. She looked up from her glowing hand with soft innocent eyes that lied. They were not innocent at all. In fact they thinking things that innocent eyes never thought. She smiled and swam a hand up the back of Carrie's head.
Wrapping an arm around her neck she jerked her closer, with a rough, domineering intent. She belonged to her now. She was going to make damn sure that Carrie knew it. Carrie had to understand that she was Abigail's property now. She sunk her teeth into the side of Carrie's neck and sucked and bite hard. She was leaving a mark. To show that it was hers. "You're mine now." Abigail said simply. Her eyes moving over her figure as she pulled her shirt up and over her head. She tossed it casually on the security camera. ANd smiled. "Let's break you in...." She said roughly grabbing Carrie and tossing her on the bed.
Post by Carrie Schwab on Jun 18, 2018 17:11:51 GMT
"Me? A threat? Only sometimes..." She smirked. She couldn't help but smile at the thought of impressing her. She wanted to be the big bad mutant of the cell block. This was how prison worked. The big and strong got what they wanted. The weaker ones lived for the protection of the stronger ones.
Staring into Abigail's eyes as they stood there, all that quivering and nervousness that Carrie had felt earlier upon entering Abigail's cell returned with a vengeance, too much for her to ignore or to hide; as much as she wanted to play the tough one inside, Carrie also knew that there was no sense fighting what was in front..especially after Abigail placed her hand over Carrie's heart, warming her up a little. it also had the effect of eliminating any trace of resistance Carrie might've had, something that Abigail picked up on right away... Wrapping an arm around her neck she jerked her closer, with a rough, domineering intent. She belonged to her now. She was going to make damn sure that Carrie knew it. Carrie had to understand that she was Abigail's property now. She sunk her teeth into the side of Carrie's neck and sucked and bite hard. She was leaving a mark. To show that it was hers. "You're mine now." Abigail said simply.
"Yes, I am," Carrie whispered, repeating those words with a louder voice, as if she wanted to make it clear who was the dominant one inside the cell, pausing only to direct her eyes downward, as if acknowledging who was who between them... Her eyes moving over her figure as she pulled her shirt up and over her head. She tossed it casually on the security camera. And smiled. "Let's break you in...." She said roughly grabbing Carrie and tossing her on the bed.
Landing on the bed, Carrie tried to make herself comfortable and smiled, looking at Abigail and defiantly saying, "Well....you going to break me in, Red?" daring Abigail to do something about it....
If there was one thing about working in the prison kitchen, Sarah Lyell mused, at least you didn't go hungry...which was true; for the forty or so women who worked inside USP Blue Ridge's food services unit, it meant that while they had one of the hardest assignments anywhere inside, which was namely the preparation and distribution of enough food for the couple thousand inmates inside, it also came with perks, namely all the food that came with it. As one inmate told Sarah her first day working in food services, if you go hungry working this job, something's wrong with you.
However, it wasn't all fun and games: the work was back-breaking and hard and most days when Sarah would return to her cell, all she wanted to do was lie down on her bunk and just sleep the rest of the evening and night. Of course, with all the sound and noise inside the cellblock, that wasn't a possibility, so Sarah just focused on the job at hand, occasionally stopping to think about how Samantha was doing - she'd heard Samantha was doing time in solitary for hitting a guard - and hoping the time alone didn't break what, to her mind, was an already cracking soul.
Hefting an inordinately heavy pot of mixed vegetables, Sarah waited for one of the other inmates working in the kitchen to lift the industrial-size lid over so that she could dump the pot in; on tap for today's evening meal was chicken pie, which most times tasted like industrial-size slop...and that was before they added the not-flaky-at-all crust to it, Sarah thought as she stepped back to let the other person close the vat lid. Carrying the empty pot back over to the long line of indstrial sinks, Sarah heard someone call out, "Hey, we need a case of flour; Sarah, go get it!"
Waving to acknowledge she'd heard the request, Sarah headed over to one of the dry storage coolers, where canned goods, flour and other shelf-stable items were kept for the kitchen staff to use; stepping inside, Sarah had just taken one step in when, right out of the blue, she felt someone give her a hard slap across the back of the head. "Hey, Cueball!" the other inmate sneered at her as Sarah, having been knocked to the ground, got back up and turned to see who it was...it was one of the bigger women inmates, an old bull dyke notorious for going after smaller, younger female inmates. Looking at her, Sarah remembered something her cellmate had told her the first week she'd arrived at Blue Ridge....You will be tested; might not be today, but you will be tested.
And so Sarah stood there, trapped inside the cooler, this ugly-as-sin mutant woman - if she could be called that - standing between her and the rest of the food services area; she knew she couldn't call for help or try to talk her way out so in a defiant manner, Sarah flashed her hands at the bull, challenging her to come at her. Which she did, only for Sarah to sidestep her and trip her up, getting out of the way as the bull fell, snarling in anger. "Ole, bitch," Sarah said, taking the time to slip out a short but very deadly plastic shank she kept hidden under her belt; for some reason, the guards never thought to search the inmates around the hem of their jeans or the belt area, so Sarah had taken to keeping a small but very deadly if used in the right spots plastic shank her cellmate had taught her to make. It wasn't from much: a small piece of plastic - a toothbrush handle, to be exact - with melted-down plastic for a handle. Wouldn't be picked up on a metal detector but stab someone in certain areas and you could kill someone.
For several minutes, the two women fought, each keeping to the peculiar rules that female inmates kept to when fighting; unlike their male counterparts, women didn't go for the face, neck or the arms when hitting, going for body shots which, if bruises were left, wouldn't be seen by the guards...but Sarah wanted the fight over with so she could go about her time in relative peace. Suddenly, she found herself cornered but as the bull charged her, Sarah dodged and, with a sharp movement of her arm, drove the shank right into the bull's neck, stepping back as the bull staggered away towards one corner of the cooler, blood spurting out of the wound as the older woman fell to the cooler floor. Horrified at what she had done, Sarah didn't wait for anyone to catch her inside there; she gingerly stepped around the now-motionless woman and headed back outside, ironically carrying the case of flour she was originally sent to get, whistling to herself as she stepped back into the food services area like nothing had happened....
“Redemption is something you have to fight for in a very personal, down-dirty way. Some of us lose that, some stray from that, and some regain it.” ― Joss Whedon
Post by Abigail Black on Jun 20, 2018 20:34:58 GMT
When it was all said and done Abigail was pretty satisfied with herself. She stood up and slipped the thin fabric of a t-shirt back over her slender shoulders. She pulled on a pair of green pants and moved her hair to her other shoulder. "You're going to be just right for me buttercup." She said still fidgiting with her hair and casting a devilish wink at Carrie. She'd make the time in here go faster anyways. It was a good thing she didn't plan on being here much longer.
Abigail was planning on breaking out. It was only a matter of time before one of these assholes slipped up. Forgot to fasten a powre collar all the way. Or didn't quite flip the switch all the way up on the power jammer machine. Then she'd roast the fuckers. "Get dressed. Yard time starts soon an I want to show off my new trophy." She said with all the tender affection of a kick to the stomach. She rolled her eyes at Carrie as if she were already goring bored with her, but her tone suggested a hidden pride. Abigail liked to play games. Of all sorts. Head games. War games..... Violent games came to mind.
She was wild card. You could never quite tell what she was going to do next from one minute to the next. "Prisoners put on your power collars before your door will open." Abigail sighed and placed her collar around her neck. She felt like a fucking dog with this thing on. She turned to the camera so they could see the little green light. "Put your collar on sweets. They're not going to open the door until we're both obideant little puppies." She stuck her tongue out at the camera. "Go to go boss?" She said raising her hand in exasperation and dripping her voice in all the sarcasm she had in the reserves.
The door swung open and Abigail smiled. "Come on sweets. Let's go take mama's new lapdog for walkies." She winked at Carrie again. Now that she had her where she wanted her all her cocky bravado was showing itself in spades. She just couldn't wait to see all the shocked faces and jealous looks. Turning out her pocket so it was inside out she handed it to Carrie. "You grab this. And you don't let go. As long as you hold this in the yard it means your my bitch. And no one fucks with what is mine. Got that?" She waited for Carrie to take hold of her pocket. Abigail had a bit of a reputation for being a troublemaker, but she loved trouble. Almost as much as she loved being envied.
