Abigail “Atom Bomb” Zebrowski

Abby sat inside of her cell; feeling extremely bored staring at her ceiling all day. Multiple times she had told Dr.Novis that she was not radioactive, but he was not having any of it. Telling her that he did not want to take any chances; of the other prisoners getting radiation poisoning. “Bullshit..” She thought to herself. “How the hell am I going to convince that asshole to let me out of this cell.” Standing up and walking towards the cell door; looking through the small window. Scanning her surroundings for any guards passing by; “Hi! I need to talk to Dr.Novis; I have to tell him something.” Her yelling trying to get someone’s attention; got one of the guards to slap the door with the electric baton. “Shut the fuck up in there.” Abby slammed her fists onto the door. Sliding down beside the door; placing her head between her knees. Tears rolled down her cheeks; Wondering when she would be outside.

Perking her head up and looked at the notebook; opening up to a page and picking up the pencil beside it. Writing down her plans on how to escape the facility. She was not sure if it would work, but she was going to try everything in her power to escape. Putting away her notebook. Looking out of the cell window; trying to get the attention of the other prisoners. Mostly she was just bored out of her mind and wanted to talk to someone. Even though the people around her were criminals.

The guards in the meantime we’re making sure that everyone was inside of their cells. Dealing out pain to whoever was misbehaving like Abby. Dr.Novis meanwhile was in his office speaking with a man named Calico. Discussing how he could help Dr.Novis become mayor of the city.

Scratching away with little more than a piece of chalk, an Asian woman scrawled out incoherent words and phrases in a jumbled mess of languages. Confiscation of these notes had been done on more than one occasion, but no useful information has been gathered as of yet. Figuring out the strange amalgam of Korean, Japanese, and English was as difficult as understanding its author. Still, the activity meant keeping Min-Ji placated which made everyone's lives easier.

Guards came and went outside her cell without being paid any mind. Why bother when the room itself was more than capable of containing the less that intimidating figure. Her door was much easier to see through, being mostly made of a reinforced silica based material due to its poor conductivity. Made for an interesting show whenever it was lights out, like a thunderstorm in a box.

Much like the guards there wasn't much attention paid to the woman making noise. This happened from time to time anyway as there was always someone with a grievance. Several minutes went by, and Min-Ji must have felt Abigail's eyes, because eventually the young woman's head drifted up and she stared across with a slightly dazed expression.

Another day, another rotation around this galaxy's sun. The sharp, piercing light was fascinating to stare into, as Kailani had found out when she had first landed. Not enough to stop her from tearing into the white pod she had landed in, of course, but afterward as she soaked in this new environment. A soft ground that crumbled under her claws, the soft browns and vivid greens that painted the surroundings, and the bright sunlight streaming from the ball in the sky. She had spent so long staring at it, soaking in the warmth that settled deep in her scales, for a moment she forgot of the feast. A star, and what a star it was!

Then, as usual, the hunger returned. It had never left.

When Kailani got out of here, she was going to soak up so much sunlight. There was none of it down here. And barely any food! All 'rations', and 'portions', and 'controlled', and 'don't eat people'.

People shouldn't be so tasty, then.

Someone yelling broke up the monotony, prompting a tilt of Kailani's head to incline her ear towards the noise. Her eyes, however, never roamed from her task in hand. Click click click went the little enrichment cube, the colored squares spinning this way and that. The voice outside her cell mentioned the Good Doctor Novis, but the harsh spitting words of a guard was her only response. Yep, that seemed pretty typical here!

But Kailani was so close! She had two of the red colored lines set up, and if she could just get the last set of three in place-

Click click, clatter.

Honeyed eyed followed the path of the tiny cube that had broken off the larger one, bouncing away in its myriad of colors. Three sides red, blue, yellow. A corner piece, a fraction of the size of the bigger one, that finally settled a few feet away on the concrete floor with one last jitter of plastic.

A moment passed, the creature in the cell staring unblinking at the happy yellow that gazed back.

In a flurry of motion Kailani lunged for the small piece. Her knees scraped under the thin uniform pants against the concrete, spindly fingers scrabbling as she wrenched the piece of plastic to the muzzle locked around her lower face. The plastic cube bashed repeatedly into the bars as she struggled to force it through, and as the edge finally gave way a guttural noise crashed through her lungs at the scrap of sustenance. Within moments, and without any conscious thought, her fingers pried the rest of the enrichment cube into its smaller parts, each one disappearing into the waiting jaws.

It took a few more moments, relishing the scraps of solid material before Kailani reached for the enrichment cube to fiddle with once more.

... Oh. Right.

A chuffing sigh escaped the girl, and she spent a moment mulling over her options of what to do now. Decision made, she promptly threw herself on the ground and howled to the ceiling gods.

"I'm hungry! I'm hungry. I'm boooored!"

While other prisoners were either screaming, scribbling random letters and numbers, or straight up just lying down on the floor, Alfred was doing something... different. The guards didn't really find any reason to come by his cell too often, as he was one of, if not the most well behaved of all the patients/prisoners sequestered within these deep, subterranean hallways. He'd usually just sit there, using his comparatively low end cyrokinetic abilities to make pretty ice sculptures. Sometimes they'd take the appearance of simply but elegant pillars. At other times, the sculptured were penguin statues; a mark that deep inside, he had never left that bit if his childhood, that loving adoration of penguins that Alfre had always possessed. Sometimes, though, he makes heads, with faces with utterly well crafted features, enough so that any onlookers might just recognize who these were.

"Juneau City Council... aka, the Cabal...", Alfred quietly grumbled, an equally sombre voice of dread winter speaking to him in the back of his head, essentially repeating whatever he says. "Cold, cold, what is cold, but the absence of heat, the natural state of things... unlife?"

The man wrapped his arms around the pillow, cuddling as if it were a teddy bear or a beloved pet. "They deny the Primordial Cold its vengeance... yes, they do. Must we wait for another year to finally have retribution? How long till we return to our dear mother, father?"

Dread silence, then another conversation with the wind. "Ah, yes, I miss the friends too. Though you have never met them, Frostbite... right, right, you wish to do so... no, the Cabal must be destroyed first."

3 Weeks Ago...

"Jack Brennan!" shouted Detective Johnson through the bullhorn. "You're surrounded! There are only two ways this ends. Make it easy on yourself, Jack. Come out now with your hands behind your head or we're coming in!" The night air was filled with the murmurs of gathered police officers, the hums of squad car engines, and strobing red and blue lights. Dozens of uniformed cops held their position with guns drawn on the dilapidated house ahead. Beads of sweat adorned each of their brows as they all feigned courage, each hoping the detective's words would somehow inspire a peaceful alternative, because otherwise...

"Alright, boys, let's do this!" Johnson shouted with a rallying wave of his arm. Several officers traded nervous glances as they hesitantly gathered to approach the wood house. Parked just to the side of it was an ice cream truck with a broken windshield, one flat tire, and side paneling decorated with bullet holes. The officers tried to stop Jack before he could reach this creepy looking shack in the middle of a wooded clearing, but the perp was indomitably persistent. "Reports say this might be where he's stashed that missing kid. Saving the boy is priority number one. If you can take down the clown, too, then that's icing on the cake but I want that kid safe above all else, are we clear?"

Officer Diaz, an athletic looking man sporting a thick black mustache and the eye wrinkles that gave proof of his experience, acknowledged the detective with a nod as he took lead. The other officers stayed close behind him as they briskly scurried to the front of the home. The boarded up windows offered very little opportunity for surveillance as the cops gathered on the front porch. With a silent motion, Officer Diaz gave the signal to take out the door. With a hard kick and a loud CRACK, that door was instantly sent flying off the hinges before skidding on the ground, sending up a cloud of dust in the process.

The police swarmed in, splitting up into different rooms systematically announcing when each compartment of the house was deemed clear. After no more than a full minute, Diaz and his brethren had determined the entire home was empty.

"This doesn't make sense," Diaz said, confusion and frustration in his voice.

"Does anyone else smell that?" chimed in another cop. Diaz sniffed the air. He knew that fragrance. Years on the force taught him exactly what that smell was. Metallic and sweet with a vile pungence. That smell was blood.

Diaz's eyes quickly swept the room. As he scanned the ground, he noticed a distinct disruption of the pattern of the wood panels below. A hard rectangular shape could be seen in the floor. Eyes wide, Diaz pointed it out and the officers immediately started to claw at it, trying to get what appeared to be a hidden trap door opened.

Just as they succeeded, the odor poured out into the house tenfold. Some of the officers couldn't hold back a gag or a cough as the fragrance filled their nostrils. Diaz pushed passed it all and lead the men down the stairs revealed below. With each descending step, Diaz's nightmares became more of a reality. Standing in the middle of this hidden basement was the clown, his back facing the officers. He made no efforts to move or stir in the slightest. He just stood perfectly still, staring into a dark corner of the room.

"FREE-z-oh... oh my god..." Diaz was nearly ready to apprehend the deranged man, but that's when he saw the source of the foul odors. A layman might have guessed that the Halloween decorations and discarded rubber masks scattered across the floor of this basement was quite the odd sight. What Diaz realized was far more terrifying. Those bloodied bodies and empty masks weren't props at all, but the faces and corpses of this psychopath's victims, stripped of their meat and bones. They were bloody husks of former people. Diaz wanted to vomit. "You- you sick fuck!" A gross, cackling giggle escaped the clown's lips as, slowly, the monster began to turn around to look the officers in the eyes. The psycho's entire chin was painted red with his victims' remains. His disgusting grin stretched from ear to ear as his giggle slowly rolled into full, cackling laughter. As the clown howled with amusement, Diaz's brows furrowed with hatred until he finally gave the command: "SHOOT THIS MOTHER FUCKER!"

Detective Johnson couldn't help but flinch when he heard the rounds begin to go off from within the house. The gunfire echoed out across the trees soon followed by screams that made the detective's blood run cold. Then the commotion just stopped in an instant. Johnson stood waiting, gun drawn at the open doorway of the house. Before long, he could see a silhouette moving slowly inside. Something was wrong. The way the figure moved... awkwardly shuffling at a pace that was in no hurry at all.

"Fuck." It was the only word the detective could muster as he realized this could only mean one possible thing. Just as he was about to squeeze the trigger and unleash a flurry of bullets at the approaching shadow, he heard something he didn't expect at all.

"Thank you," came the croak from within the darkness. Another step forward and then another until finally the man born as Jack Brenan stepped into the light of the squad cars' beams. From head to toe, the clown was covered in liquid crimson. He swayed back and forth as he moved, seemingly euphoric. "That... was... amazing!" He let out another sickening cackle before dropping to his knees. "Now... Now I need a nappy wap." Without a care in the world, the blood soaked clown collapsed forward, laying on the ground just outside of the house and began to audibly snore.

Detective Johnson was dumbstruck. For a moment, he didn't know what to do or how to process what he was even seeing. Finally, he forced himself to snap out of his daze and hesitantly reached for his handcuffs.

---

Now...

Jack Brennan sat on his minimalist metal bed and rocked, humming to himself.

"Yesterday, upon the stair... I met a man who wasn't there..." He suddenly and violently cocked his head to the side, his rocking increasing in tempo. "He wasn't there again today... I wish... I wish he'd go away..." Abruptly, without warning or cause, Jack sprung up and ran shoulder first into the door of his cell, hitting it with the entire weight of his body before letting out a frustrated scream with as much force as his lungs would allow.

Breathing heavy, lips curled back in a snarl, he stared at the door as if its existence was an affront to him. Drool began to makes its way out the corner of his mouth as he huffed, slack jawed, just staring the door down. Then, just as quickly as the outburst started, it seemed to end and Jack returned to his bed and began to rock once more.

"When I came home last night at three..." he said in a hoarse whisper. "The man was waiting there for me..." Once again he violently cocked his head to the side. "But when I looked around the hall... I couldn't see him there at all!" A sickening, drawn out wheeze escaped Jack's... Bonehead's... lips as he cackled with glee.

Körbl Meier

9991

In a small tight prison, an odd spectacle can be seen for those unfamiliar with the asylum if they happened to look at a particular cell.

9992

One of the inmates was upside down, back and legs straight like a pole as two heavy ball and chain cuffed at the ankles dangled freely. Topping it off, he was putting all of his weight onto his two thumbs. A solid chunk of metallic cuffs bound both of his arms together. Yet this didn't stopped the inmates from slowly but surely, lowering himself until his head touched the floor.

9992

Körbl let out a slow, drawn-out breathe, muscle tense as he pushed himself upwards again. Sweat poured downwards in rivulets as he slowly ascended himself.

9993

Once again, he went down, repeating this cycle. Heedless of the stares and whispers of the guards outside of his cell.

There he is again.

Shouldn't we stop him?

He'll do it regardless, and if we go in, it'll make things worse. Let him, the eggheads says he can't get any stronger anyways.

But aren't those balls 200kg total?

Each. Just keep your eyes peeled and mouth shut.

Hearing that he won't get stronger galled him, yet that thought also drove him even further. Purposefully slowing himself even more, taking a whole minute this time for his head to touch the ground. As if like he was like a glacier, slowly inching and travelling downwards. Further straining himself.

9994

But it was necessary, he wanted the strength. He HAD to be stronger.

So once again, Körbl repeated his exercise, right until he finally finished at 10000. The moment he did, Körbl went into his most familiar stance. Legs bowed, low and deep, both arms together, curled around an imaginary sword no longer in his hand, and...stood still.

So still, that aside from his rising chest, he would've appeared to be a statue. Glaring and looking forwards at nothing.

Yet Körbl would easily see or notice the other inmates trying to get his attention. Giving a brief glance towards them but not moving his head at all.

Lionel Gift

"So, did you hear about our newest scumbag? Supposed to have taken out an entire assault team before they got him."

"Whoa. I mean, I guess plenty of these guys would have been capable of that, but not many would actually do it. That guy gives me the creeps more than any of these other freaks."

"Yeah. He's certainly one of the craziest of all these fucking psychos. But despite how nuts he is, he isn't much of a threat in that cell of his. And believe you me, there are plenty of guys here who are more dangerous."

"Really? That can't be right. I mean the guy's a raging makeup wearing maniac. What could be worse than that?"

"Look man, you've only been here a couple weeks so I'm gonna give you a break. But you have to learn who the real threats are down here. It's precisely BECAUSE clownface is so unhinged that I'm not as worried about him. Some of these other guys, despite how fucked up in the head they are, are pretty damn smart. Scary smart, some of 'em. The worst ones have a habit of trying to get in your head."

"What do you mean, get in my head? Like literally? Or just that psycho analyzing bullshit that the ones who think they're smart try to pull?"

"Trust me, you don't ever wanna find out the answer to that question. Here, this one, Cell XIII. Did you notice how there wasn't a cell with that number among the general population? That's because this guy has been here for years. The nature of his abilities also mean he needs a special cell, with it's own special amenities and power cell. He is also one of the most dangerous of all of our inmates. I'd advise you not to speak to him, do not answer any questions he poses you, and don't even look at him for too long. His appearance may be shocking, but trust me, he can use that as a weapon as skillfully as that blade wielding freak uses his knives. Just give him the food and get out. Oh, and whatever else you do, do not under any circumstances let him touch you."

"Oh..o-kay man. Whatever you say. Make it sound like there's a fucking monster in there but hey, even monsters can go down from enough bullets, eh?"

".....You would think so wouldn't you? Go on in. I've got the entrance."

Lionel stood up, brushing the dust from the pant legs of his pants, his ear pulling away from where he'd been listening at the door. He heard the sound of the cell walls powering down. So, there was a new guard today? Marvelous. He would size him up. Decide whether he might be useful. Or perhaps whether he might be Worthy. It would be disappointing if he was neither, but then, Lionel prided himself on his patience. Besides, he could already surmise some things about the newest guard. Firstly, the guard was likely in his mid thirties by the tenor of his voice. Secondly, he spoke like a man who was used to violence, but did not revel in it. This suggested some sort of military or law enforcement background. Lionel was betting military, due to the way his voice had stayed even when talking about the violence, but there was a tremor in it when discussing the idea of someone getting inside his head. This was a man with some trauma in his past. Lionel was hoping he could use that.

He backed away from the door and sat down quietly in a darkened corner. This damn cell. The walls were all electrified with a high voltage of electricity. The floor was always cold due to the stones under his cell being kept frozen by liquid nitrogen at all times. His ceiling had a super heated metal coil in it, but that fortunately only activated if he tried to phase through it. Luckily, he'd been provided with a comfortable enough pillow and blanket. He'd also managed long ago to convince one of the guards to regularly provide him with a change of clothing suitable to his desires. There was no way he was going to let his standards slip just because he was incarcerated here. Had it already been 14 years? Far too long to let his work go unfulfilled. Who knew how many Worthy had needed his salvation while he was gone? No, remaining here would simply not do.

The door opened and the guard stepped through, a tray of vegetables, tofu and two hard boiled eggs in his hands. The door immediately closed behind him. At first he didn't see anything, then as his eyes adjusted to the gloom of the cell, he made out a small form in the corner. He immediately averted his eyes, focusing on the tray in his hands. They were already beginning to sweat from fear. What if looking at this guy could get you killed? He stared at the tray as he set it down, fighting the urge to glance back towards that far corner. He had turned to the door when he heard what was likely the most eerily out of place sound he could possibly have heard in that horrid place. "Mister? Won't you help me? They're keeping me locked up here. I miss my daddy. Why are they keeping me here?" The guard froze in place. A child. A little boy? It couldn't be. It just couldn't be. It had to be some sort of trick. "Mister? Please. Please help me get back to my daddy. I'm scared and hungry. They say I can't leave. I just want to go home." The guard's mind flashed back to a memory he'd never wanted to relive. He pounded twice high up on the door. The signal to let him out. It's not a child. It's a monster. It's not a child, it's a monster. It's not a child, it's a monster. It's not a child, it's a monster. He thought that as hard as he could, still not daring to look at whoever was speaking. However, the voice was now closer, standing behind him as he faced the door. "Are you leaving me? Here in this scary place all alone? Daddy!" The voice began to cry pitifully and the guard gritted his teeth, pounding loudly on the door now, abandoning any code and yelling to his companion. "Get me the fuck out of here, man! LET ME THE FUCK OUT RIGHT NOW!"

The door swung open and the guard dashed outside, the door slamming shut behind him. Moments later the familiar hum of electricity resumed its constant drone. Lionel stopped crying as soon as it did. A wide grin broke over his face. While that was one of his favorite tricks, it was far more useful a tool to gather information than to actually work as any kind of escape. He knew he couldn't risk trying to charm a guard outright. The last time he'd done that, Dr. Novis had had him burned alive. It had taken two whole years before his body reformed. They hadn't burnt him completely, merely down to a meaty char. Still, it had been quite painful and he wished to avoid those kinds of setbacks if he could. But this trick, it usually just caused the guards to go rigid and begin to second guess themselves. However, this new guard, he'd broken more thoroughly. That meant that the ploy was more effective because whatever trauma was in his past was brought back through his trick. If Lionel had to guess, he'd say the man either lost a young son or killed a young boy while deployed overseas. It didn't matter which. This guard would be a useful tool.

Making his way over to his tray of vegetables, tofu and eggs, his stomach growled. An onion today? Now this was a treat. He was particularly fond of onions and asparagus in particular. Any other green vegetable was also acceptable. The eggs, however, were always his favorite part. He had seen a movie, years ago, where a famous actor was portraying a businessman named Louis. Louis had a line about how many religions believe that the egg is the symbol of the soul, proceeding to offer another character an egg. When the character refused, Louis bit into it, staring the other man in the eyes. It turned out later that Louis was Satan. Lionel had always loved that part. Such powerful symbolism, despite the nonsensical religious aspects. Lionel liked to imagine himself redeeming those souls from Satan when he ate an egg. Though of course, the heart of a Worthy was far more desirable. Still, this was an acceptable substitute. For now.

Barefeet strode across the small space as Ameliya paced along the cool stone floor leaving flaming footprints behind her. The flame flickered for a moment before it found no fuel and started to die out, leaving an ashen mark branding the flooring.

Ignoring the starving flames that would follow her, Ameliya stared out the small window in her door towards the outside world. Her eyes blazed with a light that seemed inhuman as she watched the world outside her cell for any movement. She was just waiting, waiting for a moment for someone to slip up. Waiting for a moment when she had her chance. She had escaped worse, and she was going to get her way out of here. So she paced back and forth the cell, much like a tiger at the zoo, and tried to wait as patiently as she could.

Hearing a cry about food, she stopped her tempo for a moment. Moving closer to the carved-out door, she looked out to the other inmates with a curiosity. It looked like it was going to be another lively breakfast in this hellhole.

Randolph awkwardly flipped through the book, trying to grip the page but not so much as to rip it with his claws. The stench of decay and viscera permeates the air, fresh blood staining the already blood-stained room. The scene invites feelings of horror and disgust in most viewers, but the occupant prefers it this way. To him, it is as pleasant as fresh baked cookies. Freshly cut grass. A pristine rose. But the others don’t see it the same way. They hide in their hazmat suits, blind to the scent of an experience. They are stuck knowing only what they experience, while misunderstanding the experience of others through the clumsy method of communication. They see a corpse, but Randolph sees a life. One that he can experience himself. For when he feeds, he not only absorbs the body but the mind as well. They say three can keep a secret if two are dead, but that is insecure when concerning Randolph. He is a keeper of knowledge long forgotten. A collector of forbidden secrets. When the ways of old die, he resurrects the ancient traditions.

But the others can’t experience, instead they must make do with words, spoken or written. Such an inefficient way to share knowledge, especially when the author is a joke. Randolph hoped to learn a little more about the Fianna, to try to gleam some nuggets of truth from the legends, but the author makes some bold claims that is clearly false from the little Randolph does know. He should have expected little, when he noticed the sources were a commentary of a translation of a translation.

Finally, he decided the book was worthless, emphasized by the tearing of paper to help vent his frustration. He looked to the corpse in the corner and breathed in its scent. “It’s been…. Three days, not quite long enough for it to settle. Do I dare sneak a bite?” Randolph considered, not keen on cracking open a cold one this early. “…No, I think I’ll just get my muscles moving a little.” Randolph decided, looking at the door. He’d rather wait longer for it to be worth sampling, taking a walk through the long corridors would help ease his mind better than pacing in a room, even if he has to use those irritating chemicals before he is allowed out.

Several loud rhythmic thuds echoed down the hall as Randolph banged on his door. “I want out.”

***

About twenty minutes later, Randolph waited at the door, his skin itching a little from having to decontaminate any affliction he might accidentally plague others with. An annoyance, but those that run this complex insisted heavily. Kind of hard to run experiments if half the inmates died from some exotic disease. Finally, after minutes of staring at the door, it made the familiar click and buzz as it opened, brighter lights shining through to diffuse the darkness of Randolph’s cell. Instinctively, he looked down, away from the light, attempting to shield himself from the brunt of the brightness while his vision adjusts. After a few moments, who looked up to glance at who drew the short straw this time and saw a new face. One trying hard not to gag from Randolph’s unique fragrance. ‘New guy… guess they want me to break him in.’ Randolph thought to himself. The guards sometimes like to send the 'tough' new guys. Expecting Randolph to humble them, have a laugh, and save themselves from having their nose violated. Normally, with the hunched posture, Randolph is on the short side of quite a few people, but slowly standing upright, he easily towered over the guard. Testing his resolve.

The guard kept his eyes locked on Randolph, refusing to submit in his body language. Randolph countered with his favored weapon, intimidation. “So, you are the new guy huh?” Randolph boomed. “About time as the last guy is starting to age nicely.” Randolph pointed to the corpse at the corner of his cell, “Smell the rot settling in? means it’s almost ready to be served” , Randolph left his mouth slightly open to emphasize the sentence. Drawing attention to his many sharp teeth, and a sinister smile. The guard maintained a calm demeaner, but was giving subtle indications to clue Randolph in on his growing fear. “uhhh, I’m supposed to be with you while you are out of your cell.” The guard said looking away, trying to mentally distance himself. “…So don’t do anything or I’ll have to use this!” The guard said looking at his taser, his voice raising a little to try and save face. While he was a little more confident, Randolph could tell that fear governed his thoughts. Randolph moved quickly to catch the guard off…guard. Randolph grabbed both sides of the guard, pinning the guard’s arms to his body and effortlessly lifted the guard above him. “Go ahead…use it.” Randolph said, cackling like a hyena as the guard struggled without success.

After a few minutes, the guard’s struggle slowed. “Not going to make a move for it? Don’t worry, I’ll make a move for you” Randolph said as he opened his mouth wider, making his intention known. “Oh shit! D-don’t eat me!” the guard screamed, resigned on struggling. Randolph responded with laughter, slowly and gently putting the guard back on the ground. “I’m just kidding, just a little hazing.” Randolph said, trying to hide his teeth to help calm the guard down. “I do it to all the new guys they occasionally send my way, and don’t worry. Just about everyone else broke down and started begging too.” The guard began to calm down a little and let out a nervous laugh to hide his confusion and fear.

“See that camera? There are a few of your coworkers watching and having a laugh at your expense, and I’m happy to oblige. It can get pretty boring around here, and around here excitement is dangerous. Besides, I’m more of a scholar than a fighter…” Randolph flexed his claws to juxtapose his statement. “…Hard to believe, I know. But so long as you don’t irritate me, I will not harm you. That’s about the best you can expect here, some of the others will kill you just for wearing that uniform. Now stick with me, despite having near perfect behavior, they insist someone watches over me. Since I would get punished, I’ll drag you with me if I need to.” Randolph ended, turning to walk down the hall and resuming his normal hunched posture. He had no destination in mind, just do a few loops through the hall. Kill time till breakfast, despite not eating any of that so called ‘food’, he does like to lurk. Sometimes, something interesting happens. Where there is excitement, there is danger, and where there is danger there is opportunity.

@KaelRavenheart

Abigail “Atom Bomb” Zebrowski

Abby soon fell silent when she noticed eyes watching her screaming out towards the other prisoners. She felt stupid for trying to get the prisoner’s attention; “No use; they’re gonna think your some sort of psycho.” Muttering to herself before walking over towards her bed. Taking an iPod Nano underneath her bed; she had bribed a guard to give her the iPod and some headphones. Listening to some music while laying down in her bed. (What she is listening to- youtube.com/watch?v=B4c_SkROzzo ) Staring at the wall thinking about what she would do differently; she would have found a way to control her emotions. If she had control of her emotions; she would have not been in this hellhole.

Standing up from her bed after hearing a knock on her door. Walking over and noticed two guards armed with cattle prods. “It’s time for breakfast, and Dr.Novis agreed to let you out and eat with the others.” One of the guards said starting to open the door. “ Put your hands on the wall and stand still; while we put the handcuffs on you.” Abby did as she was told placing her hands-on the isolated walls. As they opened the door; walked into the room hovering a Geiger counter around Abby. The first guard handcuffed her hands behind her back; while the second guard had the cattle prod near her side.

Being lead outside of her cell; she was glad to be out of her cell after so long. The other inmates were led out of their cells and into the cafeteria. The cafeteria itself was filled with tables and a kitchen on the east side of the room. With a serving station similar to what one would find in a prison. Abby was unhandcuffed with the guards that had escorted them standing to the wall. Getting in line to get his breakfast; noticing the many guards above standing on a balcony armed with M16s. Abby got her tray watching it being filled with not really edible food. But since that was all they were serving; then Abby was forced to eat it. Taking a seat on one of the tables; wolfed down the food in front of her. Finding the food to be not terrible but not good. Eyeing the other inmates around her; breaking the silence by reciting a joke she heard a long time ago. “Two cannibals are eating a Clown. One says to the other, Does this taste funny to you?.”

Meanwhile, while Gift was having breakfast he would notice a note underneath his tray. An interesting thing as not many people had access to communicating with him. Inside of the note was the following written in pencil.

“Dear Mr. Gift

Firstly it is a pleasure to be speaking with you; secondly I am a big fan of your villainous work. I was wondering if you would be interested in being a part of my plan to escape this place. Your help would be greatly appreciated, and you will be smelling the fresh air in a couple of days; if you accept my offer. Please get back to me by writing on the back of this note.

Yours’s truly

Mr.Q.”

Alfred continued to create ice sculptures inside his cell, forming rather exquisite works of art. The other prisoners kept on screaming and shouting though, and when it got rather intense, a blood vessel in his brain twitched. A moment of irritation took hold of the cryomancer's mood as an extremely ill timed shout about 'killing every single little bastard in this prison' caused him to slip, shooting an ice spike towards the wall. He was by no means pleased by it, even if he had hardened his mind against the constant adulations and roaring that reverberated throughout the corridors of their deep asylum. Sometimes, too much was too much.

Alfred could only sigh. The well sculpted statue of the Frostbite's avian form had been marred, the horn on top of its head blown away by the previous blast. He was so close, as close as a master craftsman's thread through a needle's eye, only for some low-life to disrupt his concentration…

"They are lowly beings.", the Frostbite reminded him from the back of his head. "These… things. They are here not because they committed great crimes in the service of a glorious purpose or for simple retribution against ancient wrongs… but rather, only because they are degenerates that merely wish to kill and eat."

"Fair enough…", Alfred replied, reforming the statue's nose horn. "Degenerates, huh. That is a strong word."

"The Cabal are degenerates, and so are these creatures! You're the odd one out, or course, for our minds are in absolute sync, you are me and I am you..."

"Never one…", Alfred answered, applying some finishing touches to the statue just as the Frostbite itself finished the whole phrase, "...without the other."

"Maybe we should call ourselves Kindred," the Frostbite said with an eerie chuckle, "Just like that unitary being in that game you played…"

"They're the Lamb and the Wolf, it wouldn't make sense."

"You're the Lamb and I'm the Wolf, in that case."

As if in cue to end their inward conversation, the door swung open, revealing a pair of guards waiting outside. One of them wielded a flamethrower, while the other had a taser ready on his belt and the power suppressor on his hand. "Come on, Gunther. And Frostbite. Whatever you go by these days."

"You can call us Frosther, because we're one.", Alfred answered, much to the guards' bewilderment. "Oh, hello Terry, my favourite guard. Did you rebond your hair? You look fabulous today."

The guard with the flamethrower barely stifled a chuckle. Alfred had been one of the most well mannered inmates here, and was pretty chill. Chill… How fitting.

"I did, now get out of there and put the suppressant on, you're having breakfast."

"I hope you got me darjeeling tea like we talked about last time?"

"...no, sorry."

"Sad."

Alfred was soon escorted out of the cell and brought towards the mess hall, where villainous personalities and eldritch monsters mingled with one another. Frostbite always said that it was a ticking time bomb waiting to happen. Alfred thought the same, or perhaps not at the same time.

Sitting down, he found himself just opposite of the one named the Atom Bomb. He could barely remember what she was here for, but her title should say just enough.

And she told a joke. Cannibals and a clown.

"Hmm. Funny.", Alfred chuckled ever so slightly as he ate what passed for good in these halls, though he was granted those spicy noodles every now and then because he was so well mannered and nice. "Now that's a… fitting joke to be told here, where we do have cannibals and at least one person in a clown outfit."

The cryomancer kept eating, trying really hard not to make eye contact with anyone.

It was really no surprise that howling her grief to the ceiling did little for Kailani, it never worked for any of those locked up here, at least in the positive sense. Honestly, all the fruits of her labor provided was one of the guards snapping at her to quiet down and, more importantly, breakfast was soon.

What a strange word, breakfast. Humans were so quaint when they weren’t holding her against her will.

The promise of a meal had the intended effect of muffling the girl’s cries though, and she ended up picking herself up to drag to the bars of her cell. The metal muzzle clanked as Kailani pressed her face to the door, a low whine ripping from her throat in tandem.

”...But I’m hungry now,” The Devourer muttered sullenly, but the guard that had warned her was already pacing away. At least the thick metal wasn’t electrified - that was only when she tried to escape, or eat them, and sometimes eat her clothes. As evidenced by the large chunk missing out of her uniform’s right cuff.

The others in this place were also rousing. The screaming and low murmur of voices, the faint sobbing that always seemed to permeate the air was growing louder as the building awoke. Even the inmate across from Kailani was awake, not that she knew anything about them. Just that sometimes there were little flickers of light, and once in a while big roaring flickers of light, but mostly the former. Right now? Little ones. Flick, flick, flick went the ground, barely able to be seen in a peak of the door around the solid concrete. Honey eyes followed the flashes of light, anything to focus on other than the time ticking away with the rumble of her stomach.

Then the light stopped, and Kailani dragged her gaze up, meeting the human’s blazing ones across from her. Despite her lack of energy, a tired grin curved the small girl’s lips behind the bars of the black muzzle.

’Food?’ The word was silently mouthed to the woman, despite the loudness of Kailani’s earlier protests. A secret request between two, as though the very thought of being overheard would bring trouble. Of course, she then emphasized it by opening her mouth and pointing to it.

“Don’t eat your fingers.” A sharper crack of metal against metal made the small girl jump, and that grin quickly focused on the guards that had appeared at the end of her cell. The one that spoke glared at her darkly before moving across the hall, but the second was familiar, a lanky woman that was more often than not assigned to escort the alien. Something about a ‘rapport’? That word was foreign, but Kailani could only assume it meant ‘they haven’t tried to eat each other yet’.

”Breakfast?” Was the simple question even as Kailani stuck her hands through the gap in the bars, already trained in this routine with the shocks of their metal sticks. The guard hummed in confirmation, snugly fitting cuffs around her wrists before she was allowed to withdraw them. And despite the routine, despite knowing it might give only a brief moment of satisfaction, it was hard for Kailani to watch. The way the guard’s fingers moved around her transformation’s smaller ones, seeing how small and slim they were and if she could just grab her escort’s hand in one moment, a finger could slip right through her muzzle into her waiting jaws-

Then she gestured her back, and she obediently followed the silent command before the door was open and Kailani began the path towards her favorite place.

“...Did you eat your shoes again?”

”Yep! And the enrichment cube.”

“Rubik’s cube. We’ll have to find you something else to keep you occupied.”

”Foo-”

“Not more food.”

By the time they reached the cafeteria and Kailani was allowed in line, she was practically vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass. The cuffs remained on, but with enough slack she could pick up the tray and be provided with her nutrient slop. With an excited ‘Thanks!’ that was bright and out of place here, Kailani retreated at practically a sprint. She wasn’t allowed to eat unless at a table, so she moved to the closest one with an opening and slapped the tray down, jumping up to crouch on the bench.

Watching Kailani eat was a bit like watching a shark attack, she was told once. The muzzle prevented her from going at the food with the ferocity she was used to, but using the spoon - and being careful not to bite it in two quite yet - the gruel disappeared at an alarming rate into her mouth. Any company around her was disregarded as long as they didn’t get between her and her meal, and it took a whole half minute for her to finish, including scraping the spoon around the bowl obnoxiously to make sure she got as much as possible. Then the spoon disappeared in her mouth too.

Of course, the problem with eating quickly was that then the food was gone quickly too. Far too quickly, and far too little. The small girl picked up her bowl, trying to nudge it against the muzzle to see if she could get even the edge close enough to bite-

Her head tilted to the side as her tablemates spoke, and for a moment Kailani could only focus on the food still on the table. It was mesmerizing, and she bet she could get a good couple mouthfuls before a fight broke out…

Of course, she didn’t want to be shot again if she did that.

With herculean effort Kailani looked up, away from the delicious muck, to the two speaking at her right. Her head tilted, and the curiosity helped dull the ache of ever-present hunger.

”What’s a clown?”

Ameliya's eyes flickered to the other windows of the prisoners as the screams and complaints filtered into her own cell. The sound seems to reverberate thanks due to the stone consistency of her small cage. The feeling of her eyes suddenly brought her attention to the familiar face across the way from her. The small girl in the muzzle had always brought Ameliya more questions than answers. As she saw the other prisoner mouth the words food to her, Ameliya couldn't help as a small smile played on her lips as she watched the other girl point towards her mouth. She was an odd one but she seemed harmless enough, well harmless as anyone in this place could be.

The sharp crack whipped through the air, and Ameliya unconsciously hissed at the sight of the guard ordering around the other girl. Her bright orange eyes looked back to the girl, and then the guard. Slowly studying his face, she made sure to note what he looked like. Then a small tsk escaped from her lips, as she walked back towards her bed, or at least what was left of her bed.

The people in charge of the asylum didn't seem to see it fit to replace her bed quickly, maybe in hopes that it would teach her a lesson about keeping her temper. Not that this knowledge would have changed her actions in the slightest. So against the wall there now just lay a charred mattress on the floor, the melted pieces of what had been her bedframe having been removed for what they called security reasons. Probably a good thing considering all the ideas she had come up with for what she could have done with it. Not that she had had time to do anything, as soon as the room had been lit up fire she had gone down quickly as oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

So she threw herself back down on the mattress with a heavy thud, and lay down with her arms behind her head. It would only be a matter of time before some idiots knocked on her door and she was going to be eating whatever slop they served today.

Knock, knock

Ameliya smirked slightly, they were right on time. Slowly getting off the mattress, Ameliya stretched out her back as she eyed the guards who would be coming in to escort her. The sight of a recognizable and recent guard, made her furrow brow but without needing to be told she walked over to the wall. She knew the procedure well enough and she wanted food enough not to make an argument at the moment. That would have to wait for later...

"To the wall," Came the shout of the guards as they opened the door cell, "Hands behind you."

Ameliya rolled her eyes, didn't they see her standing there already. Clenching her teeth as she tried to keep herself calm, she put her arms out behind her. Just hold it in for a little bit more, just think of breakfast...

A few minutes later and she was being escorted out with not only a power dampener strapped to her arm but a set of cuffs as well, to her sides were the poor suckers who were dressed up in firefighter gear. Eyeing the bright yellow that announced the guard's outfits, Ameliya couldn't help but question if they pulled straws for who had to wear that.

Her eyes roamed back to the face of the man that had so rudely interrupted her interaction with the other female inmate. Her teeth clenched as she reminded herself to just wait a bit longer.

The balls of fire staring directly through the young guard, was not only realized but had him starting to question what the hell he had done bad enough to deserve this. He really needed to get a new job, the pay might have been great but there had to be something better than this bullshit. Even working at Mcdonald's would be an easier way to get coin.

With a sigh of relief, they reached the cafeteria. She would surely be looking at the other inmates now right, as he turned to look at her as his coworker undid her handcuffs he found her blazing eyes still glaring at him.

"Shit," the other guard mumbled as the handcuffs fell towards the tiled ground. He leaned down to get them but Ameliya was faster, hands quickly seizing the metal from under his hands. The guard's hand had quickly reached for his side, his hand wandering over both the gun and fire extinguisher as he seemed to have trouble figuring out exactly which one to use at this moment.

Ameliya ignored it though and her eyes locked back on the younger guard, her hands reaching towards him with the handcuffs. The younger man was startled for a moment as he watched her behavior, was she actually... helping? He put out his hand for the shackles.

What he hadn't seen was the cold silver colour of the metal starting to turn into a brighter orange. With a smile on her face, Ameliya forcibly put the searing hot metal into his open hand.

A scream emanated throwout the cafeteria.
"Ops," Ameliya said feigning innocence, as she watched the guard hold on to his wrist in shock. The smile growing back, she quickly turned towards the food line before they could stop her possibly getting breakfast.

(lol feel free to punish her)

---

---

---

"None of you seem to understand. I'm not locked in here with you."

"You're locked in here with me."

---

The man in the lab coat pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a quick sigh of annoyance.

"That was everything?" Professor Connors asked, handing the Guard back the incident report.

"Yes." The Guard responded curtly. "He said to any inmates still in the area while we were dragging him off. Wasn't yellin' it or anythin' but..."

It was a very clear threat.

The incident in question had happened in the early afternoon. John Doe, AKA "Charon", had attacked and killed another inmate. A man with superhuman reflexes known as "Ronin". It was a... Controversial incident, to say the least. To the other staff at Thornwood it was quite cut and dry and something clearly needed to be done to pacify John Doe, but to the guards it was a different matter. Ronin, though more used to a sword, had managed to carve a shiv unseen by cameras out of the end of his toothbrush. During his recess period, Ronin had taken Guard Adams hostage, threatening to cut his throat out if he was not given release. The chaos of all this had caused Charon's own guard at the time to take his eye off him for one mere second. Then, all of a sudden, the man with superhuman reflexes had a scythe made of Charon's right arm, disembowel him.

It was, directly anyway, the only time the staff at Thornwood had known of an inmate helping staff in such a manner. Of course, everyone else in the Asylum was trying to keep their inmates alive for a very specific purpose, so the incident was quite a serious matter. The guards however, some more than others, were much more sympathetic. A few had even stated to Connors that the incident not be filed down as cause for discipline since Adams would undoubtedly be dead rather than just on leave. Needless to say, Research staff weren't exactly happy at the situation. It had led to some, trying, attempts.

"Sir, why don't we try the implant?" A younger researcher walked up to Connors as the guard left his sight.

"We'd tried that several times." Connors stated through gritted teeth. They really were scraping the bottom of the barrel. "Meier, Brennan, half the population in here... It never took. Useless."

Connors was about to brush past him but the researcher stood his ground, on his pad he flipped to some images constructed of Charon's physiology. The, almost parasitic, substance that dwelled on him, granting him his immortality and abilities.

"The implant may not function on the human body itself as a host. But we ran some tests. It may just interface with the, uhm... "Gunk" on our subject." The research team had long since stopped trying to come up with a scientific name for what the hell was actually wrong with Charon.

Connors narrowed his eyes and read the test reports. With a grunt he peered over at his assistant.

"Can't hurt." He muttered.

---

---

Charon stood stone faced in his cell. Two large cement like blocks over his hands and up to his arms. Speakers surrounding the top corners of his abode, ready to blast in high ultrasonic sound if he ever turned violent. Similar high tech looking cuffs, placed around his ankles and keeping them close together at all times. All of it like window dressing.

The real precaution was the implant. Everyone knew it.

When it had first been planted, weeks and weeks of tests were conducted to make sure the damn thing actually took. Aside from a couple of points where Charon stubbornly resisted the needle like insertion into his brain from the implant. Almost straggling some of the inmates used in the testing. Other than that, it was considered a success. It was even announced through the facility's P.A. Presumably a sort of "The immortal ink man will no longer try to kill you on sight. Please return to your daily lives." That wasn't entirely accurate however. The implant could be turned off and everyone knew it. That was the real reason he was let out into the general population.

Not for socialization. Not for rehabilitation. But as a reminder. That, at any moment and without warning, staff could let him off the leash. Then the guards would be the least of the inmates problems.

Charon stood against the wall as the guards began to search him for any concealed weaponry. Like he needed it. Satisfied, they turned him around and begun leading him out towards the cafeteria. He didn't really need to eat as they'd discovered during testing. But, again, a valuable deterrent to stick out there during the most crowded time of the day.

Due to his restraints, Charon couldn't actually carry a tray. So, somewhat embarrassingly, one of the guards had to do so for him.

They placed him down at the end of one of the lunch tables and laid his feast of grey formless slop in front of him. He didn't pay his meal much mind as he scanned the rest of the table. A punkish woman, an icy gentleman, a little girl. He didn't even bother to hide his obvious sizing up of them.

Slowly, mechanically, he then turned his face back ahead. Staring off into some far away world only he inhabits as his spoon picked and moved around fruitlessly in the gruel.

'I'm not locked in here with you...'

"Chow time!" the guard announced from outside of the cell. Bonehead quickly jerked his head toward the cell door and stood up, his grin widening as his mouth began to salivate. "Prisoner 5318008, Jack Brennan-" hearing the name quickly erased Bonehead's smile. His pupils retracted and his body quickly slumped where it stood. "-get up against the wall and put your hands behind your back."

Jack, slightly panicked, looked at the metal plate mounted on the wall. It was to serve as a mirror and, in it, Jack could see his bare face and trembling lip. He was back in the driver's seat. This is not where he wanted to be. Bonehead was supposed to be the one who served time. Jack was meant to come back out once the jail time was over. This wouldn't do, not at all. Did he say 'chow time'?

Reluctantly, Jack did as he was told. The guards were quick to get in there and put on the restraints before escorting him out of the room and toward the cafeteria. "Will there... Will there be hamburgers?"

---

“Two cannibals are eating a Clown. One says to the other, Does this taste funny to you?”

"Mmhmmhm" Jack tried to force a polite laugh while masticating on some sliced peaches. He eagerly wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his uniform before leaning in on the table. "One of the cannibals started at the head," he explained with a nervous grin, "And the other started at the feet. After a while, the first cannibal asked, 'How's it going?' to which the second cannibal replied, 'Great! I'm having a ball!' Then the first cannibal shouted 'Hey! Slow down, man! You're eating too fast!'" Jack then began hissing wildly out of his nose with a giggle that sounded more like a snake rhythmically hissing. He looked over to the dark haired man and pointed. "Hehehe! He gets it!" before suggestively pointing down at his own lap. His giggles soon died off and, under his own breath, he said "Bonehead tells it better, I guess..."

With that, he shoved another slice of peach into his mouth. "By ah' way," he began as he chewed. "Who ahr yoo guys a'eeway?" His lips audibly smacked between each word. "I'uh Jack" He swallowed. "Jack Brennan. Entrepreneur. I'm a guy that knows how to get things," he lied. In Jack's mind, value was it's own protection. If Jack was good for something, maybe he wouldn't be given a hard time by the other inmates.

Körbl Meier

Time passed as Körbl kept to his stance, mind whirling as numerous scenarios played in his head. One that stuck out especially was the last battle before he was sent into this asylum.

Bricks fly past, his eyes barely keeping up as the air itself tear and bend. Sound following later.

Körbl felt his blood boil and rise, sweat poured as well despite the fact he stood still doing nothing. Temperature rose and it felt like a sauna in his cell. If the prison had deigned to equip him with a monitoring system, they'll note that Körbl entire body was supremely active. As if he's fighting for real.

This went on until finally, the guard's activity came and stopped at his cell. Letting out other prisoners first before allowing him to go last.

"Chow time, you know the drill." One of the guards addressed him through the coms first, four to five other heavily armed and armored guards stationed far away equipped with fast-acting tranq guns.

Körbl finally stood up, walked to the back of his cell, and raised his arms. The cuffs in full view and hands open.

Only then, did the door to his prison open with a snap. The lead guard gestured to him to get out of the room instead of them going in themselves.

They learned that from the first altercation.

So Körbl silently moved, the two chain balls tugging along his feet and screeching on the ground as it was dragged behind. His first step outside of the cell had him greeted by the much cleaner or sterile air. Eyes studied his surroundings, guard position, angle, anything he could get his mind on.

"Get going!"

A single moment was all he was allowed before being shouted as guns trained on him, prompting him to make the journey to the cafeteria.

Strong as he was, sustenance was still a necessity. At least he can drink from the tap water he was allowed but eventually, he had to eat something.

The journey to the cafeteria was uneventful but it was calming for Körbl since he could stretch his leg around. Already, he can hear the chatter, tinkling of spoons and metal tray against one another. A guard swiftly kept his distance from him the moment he approach the entrance, and finally, Körbl entered the area.

He could see some of the prisoners turned away from his gaze when he made his entrance. His presence was already announced by the jingling chains and ball. The guards turned their heads to his spot, a seat with little or prisoners that are physically weaker than him. Especially from the pale-looking prisoner with black veins all over his body, giving a glance at Körbl. The latter of whom returned it without any fear or hesitation, fingers twitching in eagerness as he too sized the prisoner up.

Tall, strong, trained too. But body and movement seem off? Körbl thought quietly before he was nearly shoved into his seat by the barrel of a tranq gun. Barely the moment he had planted his rear, a tray was dumped unceremoniously onto the table, splattering parts of the area with food before a wooden spoon was slid next to it.

He wasn't even allowed to get his own food.

Sighing at that, it was certainly a bit too much. He only murdered one prisoner with a metal spoon across him once and that somehow got him the VIP treatment. Feeling more gazes from the guards above overlooking them.

The foods at least decent. Körbl idly thought to himself in between bites.

“Two cannibals are eating a Clown. One says to the other, Does this taste funny to you?.”

"Nein, it taste of a bad joke." Körbl replied nonplussed, causing the guards assigned to him to shift but other than that, he continued to eat. The pun was good, so hopefully, his follow-up could be understood. At least, good enough for the low standards in here.

God, he missed the jokes told by the Brooklyn mafias.

With that, he shoved another slice of peach into his mouth. "By ah' way," he began as he chewed. "Who ahr yoo guys a'eeway?" His lips audibly smacked between each word. "I'uh Jack" He swallowed. "Jack Brennan. Entrepreneur. I'm a guy that knows how to get things," he lied. In Jack's mind, value was it's own protection. If Jack was good for something, maybe he wouldn't be given a hard time by the other inmates.

"Körbl Meier." Hearing someone else asking for introductions, Körbl answered back as he took a spoonful of food, shoved it into his mouth before retracting it to the point the spoon was clean. Eyeing it for a moment before setting it down, back straight, and nearly sending the assigned guard to Körbl panicking when he heard the one phrase that often has Körbl marked that prisoner down for a fight or brawl depending on the response.

"Are you strong?"

Randolph paced down the hall, lost in thought and oblivious of his destination. Frustrated and stifled by the prison restricting his ambition, he reminisced of his time before imprisonment. The many temporary shelters in many crypts which claim fewer residents after Randolph left. The beings he swapped information with, some of which were not even human. Most importantly the tome he was in the middle of studying when he was imprisoned, which hopefully still waits for him if and when he gets out.

Randolph was lucky to find such a rare book, only half a dozen copies of the original are known to exist. So many were burned following the author’s death, as certain groups aimed to suppress the information within.

Das Buch von den Unaussprechlichen Kulten, published in 1839. When Friedrich von Junzt was found dead with the book almost finished. His friend Alexis Ladeau reassembled the last few pages for his deceased friend, oblivious of the contents, but was later found dead with his throat slit from a razor once he read those pages. Many called to burn this ‘evil’ book. Randolph believes that knowledge should not be suppressed just because it offends one’s sensibilities, or in some cases is simply dangerous to know…

Randolph’s thoughts were interrupted when he noticed a guard approaching in the corner of his vision.

“Hey newbie! Enjoying the company of our resident ghoul?” The guard said to the one escorting Randolph, who looked visibly sick from being around Randolph for the past thirty minutes.

“Oh man, you don’t look so good… you breathing through your mouth, right? Most people figure that out after five minutes. Can’t smell him if you ain’t breathing through your nose y’know. But alright, I see you need a breather. Go recover in the breakroom for a few minutes and I’ll watch Randolph for ya.

The guard practically jumped at the opportunity, with newfound vigor. After scrambling to hand over the taser and light, he ran down the hallway and out of sight.

“Hey, thanks for knocking that guy down a few pegs. He was annoying the rest of us with his mouth, pretending to be tough like he can singlehandedly keep all the inmates in line or something…. We were kinda close to just leaving him alone in a room with that clown and a spoon!” The guard ended in a laugh.

“I appreciate sending him my way, I relish the moment when they realize the powerlessness of their situation. When their confidence gives way to despair, it’s one of the few moments of pleasure I’m allowed here.”

“Yeah, me and a few of the guys were hanging around watching the cameras. He got real shook up, you did not sneak a bite did ya?”

“I think I got his balls stuck in my teeth… do you see it?” Randolph said, opening his mouth a little to give the guard a view of his teeth.

“Yeah, I think I see it there a little to the left” the guard said, laughing as Randolph probed with his tongue, pretending something was there before joining in the laughter. “It’ll probably be a few days before he stops shaking and gets some of his confidence back… anyways, It’s chow time… and no, they still will not allow you to eat your ‘food’ there and I do get the irony. But you are still supposed to be there for whatever reason I don’t care about.”

“I don’t know, I was thinking maybe I’d escape…”

“Well, if you do escape, take me with you? I don’t want to have to deal with the fallout of letting someone escape.” The guard said with a chuckle.

“I’ll think about it.” Randolph ended, heading towards the cafeteria.

***

The cafeteria was noisy, a symphony of metal porcelain and plastic. A cacophony of voices speaking at once. Randolph listened to pieces of the noise to pass the time.

“…so then I says to him ‘you done fucked up now.’…”

“…I only tore off a little of his face. But they now will not let me have any metal utensils, say can I borrow…”

...I'm a guy that knows how to get things,"

This piqued Randolph’s interest who turned to the source. The clown, Randolph heard tales about him from the guards. He got up and approached the table. Probably lying, but it’s worth satisfying his curiosity. Before he could introduce himself, another prisoner, whose lethality could be surmised from his restrictive wear, spoke...

"Are you strong?"

Though not directed at him, Randolph was intrigued by the question, and why the prisoner would care to know.

"What do you mean by...strong?" Randolph interjected. "if you are looking for strength of character I believe it a difficult endeavor among criminals... Strength of will? I will indulge my pride and claim that I would be a fine specimen of that, I've endured experiences that would break the spirit of most. Are do you mean something so simple as strength of flesh? I admit I am lacking in that department somewhat, I neglect martial prowess in favor of strengthening my mind."

Before anyone could offer a reply, Randolph turned towards the one known to most as the clown.

“allow me to introduce myself, I am Randolph Ward, connoisseur of flesh and seeker of the esoteric. I could not but help overhear what you said. I am interested in if you could procure... items of interest, and perhaps we can establish a mutually beneficial relationship.”

Routine, Min-Ji worked well with routine. It didn't take long for the guards and management to figure this out even with subtle things like changes in schedule. Things like the infernal Daylight Savings Time for instance was a concept she did not take well to nor understand. Eventually even things like that became at least a little tolerable. So it was none too surprising then that she dusted off her hands and approached the door. On queue a slot opened in front of her and she stuck her arms through where two shackles were mechanically clasped around her wrists. With a third restraint clamped around her neck "The Battery", the block's pet, had her powers restricted to short and touch based range. As was learned long ago, completely locking away an inmate's abilities was a good way to get them killed, which was largely a waste in the eyes of science.

Door opened she was met by three guards. A quick glance revealed familiar faces behind the masks. "How is the Arc Dragon today?" An odd question to the uninitiated, but for Min-Ji the answer often gave hint to if she was in one of her particular moods.

"She is fine." The woman stated simply and stepped out of the cell, seemingly unfazed by the weapons pointed at her and she began calmly walking in the direction of the cafeteria unprompted. The guards relaxed slightly, though they wouldn't let her out of their sight. Interacting with the other inmates was more like rolling dice since they were unknown variables on a good day.

---

@Perse
Plastic tray with one serving of mystery substance later, the Asian woman stood and observed the room for an uncomfortable amount of time. Her attention turned over to the woman roasting a guards hands with burning hot cuffs. Blinking slowly and unmoved by the agony on display she looks up at Ameliya. For a second it looked like she might say something, but the inclination died in a flash and she stepped away.

Min-Ji would approach one of the tables adjacent to where most of the others were gathering. Eyes drifting down slightly she eyed another inmate who looked as much metal as man. "I am sitting here. Move over." She would state as if she were talking about the weather.

Craning his neck up with a scowl the man glared at Min-Ji who looked back with a glazed expression. There must have been an agreement or previous encounter because after a few seconds he shifted over and made room for the small woman to sit on the bench. For the next five minutes she wasted time poking at her food and listening to the things going on around her. Most of it was uninteresting, useless drivel which was all one could expect to hear when buried alive underground to rot. One of them asked about strength or some such. Others were chuckling about something. Hard to tell, humor was complicated for her most of the time. Things? Mmm... One of them was the woman complaining in her cell earlier. Lot of good that did.

Of all the things that did catch her attention is was the myriad of smells in the room. Extremely annoying. A slight buzzing sound, that tiny electrical hum you hear in an appliance when you flick it on, began to emanate from Min-Ji. Around her the air began to smell like after a thunderstorm, almost chlorine like. The human air freshener huffed a bit and proceeded to eat with the inconvenience cleared up.

Turning around Ameliya was about to move to the line of inmates getting their food, but on her way she found a smaller woman staring up at her. With a raised eyebrow, Ameliya looked down at her just daring her to say anything about her actions with the guard. The interaction was caught short though.

The guard that tried to hold onto the handcuffs held onto his hand in pain; “God damn it….” He screamed out. The other pressing the cattle prod against Ameliya’s ribcage. Sending many volts of electricity into her body. Soon helping her onto her feet; “Fuckin bitch. Ya try something funny like that again, and you gonna be put into the hole for a couple of months.” The guard took the cattle prod while the other handcuffed Ameliya. The injured guard shocked Ameliya once again. Bringing her to the cafeteria with the others; uncuffing her and sitting her beside Abby. She was given a tray of slop looking quite miserable to the other inmates.

Hissing out in pain, Ameliya clenched her mouth shut as she forced herself to not scream. She wasn't going to give them that pleasure, especially with all the other inmates around her that were always eagerly testing each other's strengths and weaknesses. This did not help her legs that instantly buckled under the electric charge though.

As she felt the guard's hands on her, picking her back up, she swiveled to look at the two guards and gave them both firey death glares. Her hands were already starting to glow a warm orange, reacting on instinct she looked as if she was about to not go down so quietly. That was until her mind seemed to catch up with her body as it heard the words 'the hole'.

That stopped her for a moment long enough to have the cattle prod once again electrocute her. Hissing in pain, she let herself be moved over to the cafeteria table.

“Ya guys should lay off on her; She’s been through enough already...we all have.” This got her a smack with the bud of the cattle prod. “Shut up.” The burned-hand guard shouted. Abby spat some blood on the tray below her; “Fuckin piss ant.” She cursed with a sneer on her face.

Sitting down heavily, her form seemed to shimmer with heat for a moment. Her hair looked a lot less like a mess of red fibers and more like the flames that she was infamous for. Staring down at the table she took deep breaths as she tried to remind herself that she actually needed this food. Hearing her fellow inmate tell the guards to lay off her, she stopped her calming breaths and looked up curiously. A small smile grew on her face at the woman cursing at the guard. Maybe not everyone here was so bad.

With that in mind, she looked around at the table and the other inmates. She had seen some of them around before, the 'food' girl was even sitting just a few places from her. Next to her far side was also the demon woman she had seen around before, Ameliya gave her a small nod in greeting.

That was when she caught up to the talk about different types of strength coming from the guy that smelt like he had just been uncovered from a grave.

"We really talking about strength in a place like this?" She scoffed before shoving a spoon full of muck into her mouth.