Lupa the Wolfmother: The Cell next to Pistol: Zigg Cell Block H
Lupa groaned softly to herself.
(thinks) That [censored] Pistol is out of solitary already. She thinks she's sooo hot. [censored].
As she sits on her bunk she distractedly traces the lines of the scars on her face. The wardens don't like her. She's no looker: can't get away with a thing, not like that [censored] in the next cell.
(thinks) I'll wipe that smirk off your face, Pistol. Now you're back in circulation, your precious guards won't be able to watch you everywhere, even if you are blowing them for cigarettes. [censored].
A cold, wolfish smile spreads across her ruined face. Shes had an idea
[How she escaped his grasp, Harry did not know. Although he'd never admit to watching her rear curves when it all happened.]
"Thanks for walking me Harry, you're such a sweetheart" With that, she withdrew his handgun and knocked him out.
She uncuffed herself and tucked the gun into her trousers. Rising to her feet, she ran a hand through her short, fanged hair, silver in colour.
"What the hell are you looking at?" She threatened Lupa.
Skull Biker: A small solitary confinement cell
[In a dark solitary confinement cell, deep within the bowels of the Zig, Skull Biker sat on his bunk, his hands and legs chained together.]
(thinking)
How long now? Five years... five years in this [censored] cell...
[He slowly lifted his head up, his eyes glowing in a deep red.]
(thinking)
They will pay for this... oh and how they will pay...
[He smiled... A smile, that turns warm blood into chilling ice. He licked his lips and began to laugh. He imagined, what he was going to do when, someday, he`ll gt out of the Zig...]
(thinking]
Oh, this is good... this is good... I haven´t returned from the dead to rot in this cell...
[In a fast movement, he stood up, looking at the ceiling. They nullified most of his powers, but not all of them. He smiled again. Something was going on up there. He could feel it. Somewhere in cellblock H...]
"Oh yeah... oh yes... it starts... thank you, father..."
[Grinning, he began to channel small amounts of his power to his arms and began stretching the chains... Soon, blood will begin to flow... and Skull Biker will be there...]
"Alicia Hunter, a.k.a Pistol" said a man in a black suit. "You were first sentenced to three months imprisonment for aiding and abetting armed robbery, but that wasn't enough for you was it?"
Silence. The man continued.
"Your sentence was then extended for the manslaughter of an inmate. Your conditions were waivered, and you only spent a month in solitary confinement, yet.. on the day of release, you assault your private officer, who by the way, is now under serious medical examination."
"Harry and I were just having a little fun, officer" she teased.
"Inmate 320, you are to be returned to your cell until further reports on the conditions of Officer O'Neil."
"Oh so that's his surname" she interupted.
"Any further attempts at escape inmate 320, and I swear to god I'll put you down like the dog that you are."
"Kinky"
"I hereby give permission to shoot her on sight-of-attempt gentlemen." He made to exit, but wheeled back around, "And for goodness sake, have her private officer replaced by something incapable of an erection."
[Moments later, Pistol was back behind the bars of cellblock H-121]
Skull Biker
[A metallic "click" sounded, as Skull Biker´s Chains fell to the floor. He grinned and wrapped them around his wrists. He heared a sound at the cell door and a small, square piece in it was opened.]
"Your food, freak".
[He grinned. It must be Officer Farlane.]
"Farlane... no time to talk? I´d like to tell you about some of my dreams..."
[The metal square was slammed shut and Skull Biker laughed. It was always the same. He took the plate and sat back on his bunk, shovelling the food into his mouth.]
(thinking)
Hm... seems to be quiet up there... but the time is right, now... It will soon happen, father, very soon.
Cruise Control
The corrupt officer, known to the inmates as Cruise Control, sat back in his office. Spinning the key to the prison armoury around his index finger, he counted on his fingers the amount of cash he was going to get that night. The inmates had seemed distinctly more intrested in his merchandise than usual, and more intrest meant more money. Seemed like a good deal to him.
"You? You're my visitor?" Danger Baby sat at the worn desk opposite a man in a black suit. "Where's Carlito?"
The elderly gent adjusted his spectacles and coughed before speaking up, "Your... friend isn't visiting you today, Miss Kim. I am. I have some news regarding your custodial sentence."
"Good news?" Baby asked, but her body language said she didn't think it would be. "Am I getting out soon?"
The lawyer laid his briefcase on the table and rested his hands on it. "No it's not good news, I'm afraid. Your original sentence of three months has been extended... *ahem* to ten months."
"What!?" she hissed, her knuckles whitened. "What the hell??"
"It seems that when Dr Pulman diagnosed your mutant genes and informed the board, steps were taken to... re-evaluate the potential... potential danger you posed to society. Being a superpowered criminal automatically carries longer prison terms than normal... *ahem* people, so the duration of your sentence here has been adjusted to the minimum custodial sentence for your crimes and abilities. I'm very sorry."
"But... I wasn't a mutant when I came in here!" Baby stammered. "They just didn't know what was wrong with me! They made me Threat Level 1 and then poked and prodded me until they found a reason why!! This isn't fair!"
She pounded the table with her fist and then doubled up in pain, "Aw [censored]..."
Droplets of tears fell on to the table, and burned off the cheap varnish where they hit.
"Miss Kim, Liz, you know it doesn't work that way. You don't suddenly become a mutant, you were born one. As such, the courts changed your sentence in light of new evidence. It may seem unfair now, but this is the correct custodial punishment for your crimes."
Baby looked up at the lawyer again, sobbing. He was startled by her eyes, their lids scorched pink by her tears.
She sniffed and asked, "Can't we do anything? Can we appeal?"
"I'm afraid not, Liz. Even with good behaviour you're likely to serve at least seven months."
"I think I'm gonna be sick." Baby sulked.
"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you something more posi-"
"Get lost," Baby interrupted him with a wicked glare.
The lawyer cowed under her gaze, hurriedly picked up his briefcase and left without another word. Danger Baby sat and stared aimlessly into space, her hands resting on her troubled stomach.
[Pistol waited for the guards to leave before dashing to her cell door, glaring upwards, at the hallway ceiling.]
"Hang in there sweetheart, it wont be long now" she said, speaking more to herself than anything.
[Glued onto the ceiling with great balls of chewing gum, was Harry's handgun.]
"I gotta get it back down before someone spots it."
Damn, someone's coming! she thought, as she heard a noise down the corridor.
Danger Baby was escorted back to cellblock H. She plodded along obediently in front of her escort, lost in her own world of self-pity.
"You been crying, Baby?" her neighbour Pistol called out as she passed her cell, but Baby didn't acknowledge her.
"Ha! Cry-Baby!" the guard, Watson smirked as he shoved her into cell 122.
Danger merely stared at him, she didn't have the energy anymore to hit him with a full glare like she had her lawyer. She felt drained, weak, and it showed.
"Ya not gonna talk to me?" Watson asked. "Not gonna question neither the size nor existence of mah pecker? How about the alleged promiscuity of mah rectal cavity? Heck gal, do mah feet smell?"
Baby rolled her eyes and turned away from him. She slumped onto her cot, face down.
"No? Not in the mood, are yah?" Watson went on. "You gals are all alike. Sure you like t'pretend yah'll tough. Like yah know exactly what it is yah doing, that this is what yah want. Free room an' board for a few months, this just a lil holiday for yah'll then it's back to breakin' stuff, stealin' stuff.
"But truth is, you are all just lil gals who ain't grown up yet. You didn' learn how to behave like a civilised woman, then yah did somethin' wrong an' this is yah punishment, an' you know it. So now yah'll takin' it on the chin like you s'pose a real woman would handle it, all wilful with dignity an' indignation.
"But it's all an act! You ain't grown up an' when the mood don' strike you to act like how yah remember yah seen a lady behave, yah just a dumb brattish lil girl who got herself in trouble an' is feelin' reeeaaal sorry for herself! Just a sobbin' lil Cry-Baby! Am I right or not?"
Baby responded by throwing her stale pillow blindly at the door.
"Suit yourself, lil'un," Watson laughed.
"I think you've said enough, Earl," Pistol chimed in. Like every other female prisoner in the block, she'd heard the whole thing and was staring intently at Watson through the bars of her cell door.
"Don' you worry sweetheart, ah was jus' leavin'. Don' wanna end up like poor Harry in any case."
"For what it's worth," Pistol smiled, "he had a really great time."
"Ah'll bet."
Watson turned and walked away, blissfully ignorant of the great big bull's-eye his own words had drawn on his back.
Pistol knocked on the wall between her cell and Danger's.
"You okay girl? Don't pay any attention to Earl. If he was anything of a criminal psychologist... he wouldn't be a prison guard now would he?"
"I'm not okay Pistol," Baby said finally. "They upped my sentence to ten months, and I don't even get to appeal."
"Aw Baby, that's no big deal."
"No big deal?" Baby cried out, "I was gonna be out in two months, maybe even one month! It didn't seem that long, now it's gonna take forever! I just want out! Out... I'm never gonna get out of here!"
"I wouldn't say never," Pistol said knowingly.
It took a few seconds to sink in. Danger leapt from her cot and pressed her ear up against the wall.
She blurted in hushed tones, "Wait, you know something? Something's happening?? Take me with you!!"
Pistol giggled and replied calmly, "Be patient girl. Sit quiet. When the moment comes - and you couldn't miss it, I promise you - all you need do is grab yourself a gun, then come find me."
(written with Pious' permission)
[Pistol waited until Earl was out of earshot before diving into her plans.]
"Where you from Baby? Surely not this stinking city of heroes."
Cruise walked up to the cell Pistol & Baby were in, still spinning the armoury key about his finger.
"Alright, Ladies?"
Baby looked Cruise up and down, sighed theatrically and turned over in her bed to ignore the prison officer.
"I couldn't help but overhear you needed to 'Grab yourself a gun'"He said, smiling.
"Pig... pig, pig," Baby said gently, but in the same manner one might use if ever trapped in a lift with a suicidal manic, a jar of nitroglycerine and a bouncy castle. "I think you should get your ears checked out. Pistol was just asking me for some gum is all.
"Perhaps you should take more care when listening to private, whispered conversations in the future?
"What kind of pervert listens in on things that are no concern of his anyway? I make some sound on the john in the middle of the night, do you like to listen to that too?
"Now unless you have any Wrigleys, get lost creep!"
Skull Biker
[Three stories down, in cell block Z (also known as the cellar), Skull Biker woke up. It was pitch dark in his cell, as always. They hadn´t changed the broken light bulb since 1 year.]
I could die for a cigarette... and a beer, maybe two...
[He sat up, rubbing his stiff neck. The air was stale and outside he could hear officer Farlane walking up and down the narrow corridor, guarding the cell doors. Skull Biker grinned. This must be the easiest job in the Zig. All inmates down here were safely locked away for years or a live long term, as Skull Biker was. In the two cells next to him were Killfrenzy and Doc Doom, both sociopathic murderers.]
A cigarette... only one...
[He stood up and did some push-ups. Since Shredder from cell Z-034 has bitten of Farlanes index finger two years ago, they were constantly short on cigarettes, newspapers and even mail, as Farlanes prices have reached astronomic scales. Skull Biker stood up and made another scratch in the wall with his spoon.]
Another day down... Now let´s see...
[He removed a plate and took a small bag out of a hidden hole in the floor. He sat back on his bank, taking out several items. A matchbox with two matches, some leafs of toilet paper and a sealed glass with a small amount of gasoline in it. He had paid a fortune for it. After Skull looked over the items, he put the bag back under the floor.]
Cell inspection!
[He moved to the far end of his cell and waited, his hands folded so no one would notice the broken chain. The steel door opened and officer Farlane came in, accompanied by officers Todd and Henrik, which would guard the door.]
(Skull Biker) You got a cigarette for me, Farlane?
(Farlane) No, freak... I got this for ya...!
[With a swift movement, Farlane rammed his truncheon in Skull Bikers stomach. He fell to the floor and received a kick to his head.]
(Farlane) It sure is slippery in here, right boys? Man, you have to look after yerself, freak, or someday you´ll break yer neck in here... and we don´t want that, right boys? Well, let´s see if we find somethin´ in this stinkin´ hole.
[After a swift search Farlane took a small knife out of his pocket.]
(Farlane): Look at this, guys! This freak has a weapon in his cell... tried to kill us when we entered, right? Well, we don´t like that, boys, don´t we? Looks like I have to teach ya another lesson...
[After two long minutes, Todd and Henrik left the cell. Farlane turned around before leaving and laid a cigarette on Skull Biker´s bunk.]
Have a nice day, freak...
[The door was shut and Skull Biker got slowly up. His whole body was hurting. The officers sure know what they have done. Groaning, but grinning, he sat on his bunk. He touched the wound at his forehead and looked at the blood on his fingers. Smiling, he painted a skull on his face. He lit the cigarette with one of the matches and leaned back.]
Just you wait, you [censored] [censored]..."
[Skull Biker closed his eyes and used his powers to scan the Zig. He knew something would happen soon...]
[Pistol was in fits.]
"Take it easy Baby. Cruise is our man, if you catch my drift." she winked.
"Matter of fact, I was wondering if you could get this letter down to 'the cellar' for me. Biker needs to see it."
[Pistol handed over a small letter.]
[It read]
Skull, read very carefully.
When you hear the alarms go off, keep your eyes peeled and ears unclogged 'cos I'll be down there to bust ya.
Trust me, I got a few things going on the outside and some new crimelord over on the Rogue Isles wants to see us outta here.
If you got any questions, send Cruise my way.
Remember, stay clear of your doors when the fat lady sings.
Pistol.
[End]
Baby leaned back with surprise, but after looking Cruise up and down one more time she tutted and said, "Doesn't make him any less a creep. More, if anything."
She shrugged and turned from the corrupt prison officer at her door. With a resolute lack of interest in what he had to say, Baby rolled back onto her cot and left Pistol and Cruise to their plot.
Baby already knew what she had to do, and the first part of that was wait.
Deep within the bowels of Ziggursky Pen, Hatespawn stirred. Captured by the Statesman 5 years ago and bound to a stone tablet by the Mystics of M.A.G.I his anger knew no limitation, but unable to pull away from the tablet that held him he could do nothing more than think up new ways to kill his captors.
Only a decade ago, Hatespawn ruled his realm with fear and oppression. A god amongst lower beings, he reigned with an iron fist, creating industry and filling the skies with thick black smog, obliterating the light supplied by the planet's twin sun.
Being held captive had driven him almost to the brink of insanity, caged like a rat, unable to quench his demoic urges for vengence.
Suddenly, Hatespawn felt another presence. Another filled with hate and dark feelings, his equal in brutal aggression and unsubdued rage.
An apparition appeared to walk through the walls of his cell. A femenine figure with tight black leather and long flowing white hair.
"Long enough have you been a captive of these fools..."
With a mystery incantation from the stranger, Hatespawn's stone prison begins to glow, tendrils of black vapour moving throughout the containing room. In a dark flash, Hatespawn stood tall in the middle of his cell, no longer held back by the confines of his living tomb, but free!
"Now, Hatespawn... A destiny awaits you, one you've been longing for all these years. A chance to reap your vengance upon those who sought to hold you!" And with that, the stranger de-materialised.
Where she stood lay a pair of pistols with runes covering the sides of the slide and an ornate glyph etched into the stock. Hatespawn picked it up and grinned.
"Heh... Now that's what i'm talking about..." And with an almighty roar, kicked down his cell door.
Heading out into the main hallways of the Zig, Hatespawn breaks open the cells of neighbouring inmates and as payment asks them to join him in his escape and conquest of everything on Earth...
Very few people knew enough of what Mob Mentality could do to fear him. For most people he was just a moderately built normal human in his mid twenties, no real threat to super powered folks. Normally not really a threat to the guards either. Unfortunately Mob Mentality could hardly be called normal.
Currently he sat across from a young blonde male reporter. Of course there was the token guard in the room, and a second in attendance only temporarily while Mob himself was handcuffed to a rather sturdy wooden chair. A dull plastic table kept the reporter and subject apart, the only objects on it a tape recorder, a pad of paper and a pen. The basics required for recording the subjects audio testimony.
The reporter looked as though he was about to start, which was why Mob chose that precise moment to speak up. Oh, Mr Waller? He put on his best sincere face as he spoke. Could you perhaps take this to Mr Cruise? Mob slipped a small folded sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to a smaller, bald guard.
Whats that? The other intoned. Prisoners aint supposed to pass messages. Prisoners aint even supposed to be able to write messages. His face was twisted in a scowl, Waller appeared to waver under his gaze as if stuck between two conflicting priorities.
Ah. Mob retorted quickly. But this is a special case Mr Curtis. Ive been a model prisoner. Kind, courteous, co-operative. Why I even give a weekly report on my fellow prisoners, to help the staff. Which is precisely what that is, correct Mr Waller?
Oh, oh yeah. Yeah, that it is. Orders from above you see. None of us are supposed to look at it. Waller glanced sideways at Mob who merely inclined his head slightly. A minute gesture of appreciation.
Hmm. Curtis eyed Mob as he thought. Fine. Dont wanna get in trouble with the boss. But just this once ya hear? Any more and Ill get rid of em the instant I see em.
As you wish Mr Curtis. Mob bowed his head in confirmation as Waller scurried out of the room.
************************************************** ********************************
Just outside of Pistols cell Waller found Mr Cruise as Mob referred to him. He strode up to him rather matter-of-factly and handed him a piece of folded paper. Weekly report from Mr mentality. He repeated, voice strangely monotone, before turning and leaving as abruptly as he had come.
Had the gathered group not known of Mobs specific ability they may have been surprised at Wallers behaviour. Not the least because Mob had never, as far as anyone knew, written any kind of weekly report. That said a select few had been granted insight into Mob Mentalities little secret and the precise effects it had. In exchange they would help him escape and he, in his way, would help them.
Written on the front of the note is simply Pistol. The letter itself read as follows.
Pistol,
I hope this letter finds you in good health and good memory. I am currently being interviewed about my past, a pleasant past-time but no replacement for freedom. As such I do hope you remember our agreement, mutual aid in escape.
I am currently isolated in a cell with a reporter and a single guard, as expected. It shouldnt take me long to extract myself from my current situation so I do hope all will be ready soon. Nevertheless I will soon make my little bid for freedom and rendezvous with you. I believe my aid could be helpful in releasing our mutual undead friend.
In anticipation of our impending early release,
Faithfully,
Mob Mentality
************************************************** ********************************
Meanwhile within the small room Mob had turned his attention back to the reporter. I take it you are here for my lifes story, eh? He inquired, feigning interest, That you went to Mr Furr first? Im guessing he wasnt too sociable. No, no, dont worry about it. He doesnt like to talk much. Actions speak louder than words and all that. Oh and dont worry about how I knew. Word travels fast in here.
Now then. He canted his head to one side, a predatory grin lighting his features. Where do we begin?
My name? Mob Mentality.
Friends are just enemies that haven't betrayed you yet.
Skull Biker
[A few hours later, the square hatch in the steel door opened and a small letter was thrown in. The hatch was closed and Skull Biker was alone again.]
(thinking)
Well, let´s see what the postman has brought me...
[He walked over to the door and picked it up. Good old Cruiser... if you gave him enough money, he would do anything. Skull Biker read the short note. It was from Pistol.]
"Well, at last... Pistol hasn´t forgotten me in this hole!"
[A daemonical laughter slipped out of Skull Biker as he burst the chains around his ankles.]
"Finally it´s time you pay out there... I can´t wait to see you suffer, you [censored]! You here me!?"
[He grinned at the steel door. He couldn´t await to get out to teach officer Farlane a serious lesson. And then the FBI... Skull Biker cracked his knuckles.]
(Thinking)
And I shouldn´t forget the capes... yeah the capes. This do-gooders will never forget my name!"
[He took a deep breath and moved to the far end of his cell, where he sat down and leaned against the cold wall. It was time to wait for Pistol...]
Wolfmother: Cell Block H: The Zigg
Lupa knew something was going down, but no one would tell her what, much less when. Pistol seemed to have the whole damn Zigg buzzing around her like flies around a [censored]. Maybe she should swallow her hatred and call a truce.
If only she had something that whoreson Cruise wanted, she could get some answers. But Cruise was way too expensive. Lupa hadnt had a visitor since she was banged up. Her Wolfpack had gone to ground, and there was no way to get a message to them, no way to get funds smuggled in.
The Judge had told her shed die in prison for killing that pimp, but Lupa knew that was not going to happen. Shed get out. She just hoped that it was soooooon.
She hisses Hey Pistol! Just loud enough to be heard in the next cell. I know what youre plannin. I want in, or Im squealin. It was a lousy bluff, but Lupa had no other leverage. That would all change once she got outside, but for now shed just have to improvise.
"Well, well, well" Pistol refused to let this slide. Nobody, especially not an inmate would dare to blackmail her. "Look who's threatening to rat us out Baby, it's Chuckie's Bride, queen of the two-dollar streetwhores."
[Pistol rose from her matress and inched closer to the wall between Lupa's cell and hers.]
"You've had a problem with me since the day we met. You've witness my natural gift to rise in power, you know exactly what I can do to pathetic has-beens like you." [She lowered her voice to a wisper.] "You've never been in my goodbooks Lupa, but I swear to you, make an enemy of me and I'll gut you like a fish, scalp off your ugly face and feed your eyes to the filthy dogs you call a wolfpack."
Wolfmother: Cell Block H: The Zigg
Yeah, yeah, Pistol, keep it coming" Lupa hisses between the bars. "Just remember, when you got somethin, you got somethin to lose. Like your pretty lil nose, frinstance. Me? I got nothin to lose, and I got sharp teeth. You know they wanna fry me for what I did, why should I be 'fraid of a skinny little [censored] like you?
"Listen, we all know somethin bigs comin'. You sure you want to be looking over your shoulder while its all kickin off?
Heres the thing
let me in on the deal, and youll have one less thing to worry about. Yeah Yeah, 'Whats in it for me?' that's what I'd be askin too. She-it girl, you know I can get the best damn drugs known to woman kind, stuff that can turn a strong man to Jell-O, or clear your mind no matter how whacked out you are. Hell, what I got can raise the dead!
*cackles*
Do the wise thing, and Ill even put the wolfpack at your disposal once were on the outside. I reckon youll wanna run another gang when you get back to the Isles. Cmon, girl, we dont have to like each other to use each other. Wise up. You know the score....keep your friends close... *whispers*...and your enemies closer.
"Lupa, you're already close enough to stab. You're in, but this aint over."
This thread is for open roleplaying, everyone who wishes to participate (hero or villain) may enter in-character, but must somewhat respond to the status quo. Having said that, the thug masterminds from "The Gang" villain group are the targeted users.
As GM, I will set the scenes and play as Pistol.
Act One : Scene One : Ziggursky Penitentiary
[Pistol had only spent a day in the cross-gender prison and already, she'd killed a man in self defence. She spent a month in solitary confinement, and today, she returns to her cell.]
[The prison guard unlocks the gate, and Pistol steps out. She'd refused to wear her orange jumpsuit as told, always with the bottons undone, clevage exposed, torn trousers and a piece strung around her forehead like a bandana. She got away with it, her natural charm and flawless beauty penetrated the prison officials.]
"I'll be escorting you to cellblock 121 Alicia. Any sudden movements and I'll fry your brain so dry you'll be dead before you know it."
"I'm scared ******** Harry, I really am"