Hi, everyone! This is animephoenix2468. Wow, this story took a while to write! Some people may notice a similarity between a situation in this story and the situation another one of my characters is in, but I promise, there is a reason I risked the similarity. Hopefully, someone will be able to see it… I did my best on this, but if there are any ways I could improve, please, don't hesitate to tell me. Anyway, I guess this is a slight crossover, but I'm not going to bother classifying it that way, because that gives away a major detail. This is based off of the Len Kagamine song "Prisoner" and Rin's answer song, "Paper Plane." I don't own anything except the story, but I hope you enjoy Jailbreak…
I pulled my new prison guard uniform over my head, suppressing a shudder. It's for the mission, it's for the mission, it's for the mission, I thought like a mantra. The symbol of cruelty and misconstrued judgment practically burned my skin.
My new employer nodded approvingly from behind his desk. The sunlight shooting through the office window glared off of his glasses, creating a menacing visage. "It fits. Fantastic. I was worried we wouldn't have one your size. I swear, you look like you could be my daughter's age, boy. You can start right away."
"Yes, sir," I replied passively as he handed me off to a lower employee to show me the ropes.
Once the warden yanked his office door shut, my new co-worker looked me over critically. His short dark hair matched his soil-black eyes, and five o'clock shadow covered his chin.
"Hm, yer a tad scrawny, but I think this could work," he muttered before breaking out into an unexpected smile and stuck his hand out. "Welcome to the team. M'name's John."
Taken by surprise, I took his hand and shook it. "I'm Michael Evan," I lied.
John slapped me amiably on the back. "Looks like yer from a poorer family, same as me." He looked around us at the dark bricks which were covered in red stains I prayed were from rust. "It ain't heaven, but ol' Luke Judikah is a good man at heart. He's just worryin' 'bout his daughter."
I tilted my head and feigned curiosity. "What's wrong with his daughter?"
His face fell. "She's sick 'n hospitalized. They say she has a few months left 'til she kicks the bucket. It's startin' to mess with his head pretty badly, ya know?"
I nodded solemnly. I understood better than anyone.
After a brief tour of the prison grounds and being assigned my guard routes, John left to resume his shift, leaving me alone in the dank, dismal hallway. Memories flooded back to me, and after what felt like an eternity of unsuccessfully fighting them down, I fled into the blinding sunlight—feigning a calm, calculating expression—in time to have a paper airplane soar over my head like a bird. My eyes widened. That's it!
A sharp intake of breath sounded off to my left. It came from a blond-haired prisoner boy, no older than fourteen. He was a skeleton covered in scratches with only a rag for clothes. It was horrible.
On the other side of the fence, a girl about his age in a pink and white sunhat and dress tensed slightly. She was even paler than the boy she wrote to. The warden's daughter and the prisoner…! I found them!
The pure joy fled from their eyes. She looked prepared to make a break for it, and his eyes clearly threatened to fight me if I pursued her. Shaking my head subtly, I winked and pointedly looked the other way. After a moment of confusion, they understood and smiled silently. I grinned back, pushing back a sudden recollection about my mission. I'm here to fix that!
I walked the opposite way towards the other part of my guard route, holding my breath as one of the prisoners blew a ring of cigarette smoke in my direction while John demanded he hand over the banned item.
The next morning, I found John in a café near the jail. He waved me over.
"Hey, Mike! How'd ya sleep?" he greeted, sipping his coffee.
After I remembered my fake name and realized the man had given me a nickname, I admitted, "Not so well. I'm from a higher altitude, and have weaker lungs, so…"
"I gotcha," John nodded. "Ya even got the difference in air quality on top o' the air pressure change. That's rough, kid. Here's a bit o' advice: stay 'way from Owen Plades. We dunno how, but he keeps gettin' his hands on cigarettes. Someone's probably smugglin' 'em in for 'im. I swear, those things're poison in a box—fer him 'n us! He should be glad he has workin' lungs, unlike you and Luke's daughter, though she's worse off than you. If ya can't breathe, yer in trouble."
I agreed. "Thank you for the advice, John."
"No problem. Let's get to work 'fore the boss gets mad."
A paper airplane sailed freely through the air at the same time as the previous day. The kids must have worked out a specific time each day to communicate, because the pattern continued nearly every day except for when the weather was harsh. Each afternoon, the plane would fly, and each day, I would divert the other guards from that part of my route. However, about a month after I began my work as their guard, the boy couldn't make it to his usual meeting and gave me a letter to send to her. On the outside, he had scribbled, 'You can trust this letter. I gave it to our guardian angel to deliver to you.' I couldn't fight the blush that rose to my cheeks, and as I tossed the letter clumsily over the fence, I became more determined than ever to complete my mission successfully.
"Mr. Judikah's daughter's been gettin' worse, and it's gettin' to 'im, Mike," sighed John one day when we met at the café. It had turned into our daily meeting spot, plus they made doughnuts that were out of this world.
I nodded and coughed slightly. She had been coming to the prison less and less frequently. "He snaps at every little thing now." I suppressed a shudder as I remembered how badly he had scared me when he shouted at me for not having my shirt tucked in as I headed to the kids' meeting place.
"Look, I hate to sound like I'm lookin' down on ya, 'cause I'm not," he began slowly, "but a prison's no place fer a boy like you to be workin'."
As much as I hated to admit it, John was right. Little by little, I had been forced to wear a mask to work, and it muffled my voice when I wore it. I only removed it when I ate and spoke, and even that was pushing it.
I shook my head and gave him a vague answer. "I can't quit, John. Everything is riding on me."
"I understand. It's difficult."
If only you knew…
The next week, she stopped visiting altogether.
One month crawled by, and the situation was more dismal than ever. The boy stood by the gate faithfully every day, but the hope faded from his eyes when she didn't appear. Behind my mask of cold professionalism, my panic grew steadily. What if I'm too late? What if she's already— I curtailed the thought. Don't even think about that!
While I kept watch according to the silent agreement I made with the kids, a flash of white caught my eye. I locked eyes with the boy, looked out past the fence, and quickly returned my gaze to his eyes, silently alerting him to what seemed like a miracle.
She was back.
Bright-eyed, he rushed over and caught the shakily-thrown paper aircraft. As he read, his expression changed from unbridled joy to puzzlement. By the end of the letter, he looked like all the light had been sucked out of him, out of his world.
The warden's daughter turned to leave, but the prisoner boy called after her. A breeze snatched the words from my hearing, but as he finished and she left, the breath of wind stopped, and distinct sounds reached my ears: two choked sobs, one from inside the cage and the other from the outside.
After that day, Luke was a rampaging monster. Everybody steered clear of our boss, terrified that he might wring our necks over a stained shirt or untied shoelace.
I began accompanying John on part of his shift during my lunch breaks instead of eating in the cafeteria. The filthy air in the jail didn't agree with me and forced me to wear the mask almost constantly. Owen's icy black eyes always lingered on me as we passed, but my concern about the kids forced it to the back of my mind. The boy had begun reading and re-reading the letters during my shift, and it was the only time he smiled his pained, cracked smile.
Three weeks later, John hit me with a bombshell.
We narrowly escaped crossing Luke's path by taking the long way around to Owen's hallway.
"Mike, I'm beggin' ya, quit the job!"
I removed my mask to talk with my friend. "I'm sorry, John, but I already told you that I can't quit."
"Ya gotta!" he implored as we rounded the corner near Owen's cell. "Things're just gonna get worse 'round here."
I raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Why?"
Owen Plades took a long drag from his illegal cigarette as we got closer.
John shook his head sorrowfully. "Mr. Judikah's daughter can't even walk anymore."
I gasped, and a well-aimed cloud of tobacco smoke clogged my lungs.
Clutching my throat, I fought for breath and choked on the lingering filth. It felt like I was breathing through a straw as John snatched the cigarette from Plades, burning himself in the process, and stamped it out. His calls to me began to sound distant, and blurry prison guards crowded around at the commotion, but one order stood out among the throng.
"Get him outside!"
John hoisted me up and commented that I was "as light as a feather" while he followed the speaker.
The fresh air did wonders compared to my previous reaction, and everything came back into focus.
"—good thinking, sir."
"Unfortunately, John, I have more experience with this type of situation than I'd like to."
"Any idea what it was?"
"All I can say is that it wasn't an ordinary asthma attack."
I squinted against the glare of the sun until a shadowed figure blocked its rays.
"Are you alright, boy?" wondered Luke, a look of concern on his face which added to the lines of stress caused by his daughter's illness.
I bolted upright on the grass just outside the fence. "Yes, sir, I'm sor—" Another, less violent coughing fit hit me.
My boss advised, "Calm down and take deep breaths."
"But it's my shi—shift."
He forced a smile. "Some of the other guards and I will cover your shift for today. Stay here until you're well enough to head home. John will keep an eye on you." It was an order.
I knew I couldn't protest anymore, but panic rose in my chest. What about the boy's letters? He doesn't know I won't be there today!
After a few minutes of anxious silence, I heard Luke shout and then grunt like he had been hit. A young man's cries of protest could be heard over his bellowed orders, and I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the tears back.
I had failed.
Luke Judikah laid me off at the end of the day, saying that the environment was too dangerous for me. It was unclear whether this was his true reason or if he blamed me for allowing his daughter to visit the prison which further damaged her body. I didn't fight it as I handed in my prison uniform and borrowed a regular outfit that was two or three sizes too big for me. John hugged me at the door, careful not to crush my lungs. I thanked him for everything and headed to the small room I had been renting. Changing into my normal clothes, I contacted my home using a projection and knelt on one knee as it was answered.
"I'm sorry, my lady, but I failed my mission." I couldn't look her in the eyes.
"No, it was a success."
I stared at her before remembering my manners. "May I ask how?"
She explained, "Your assignment was to ensure that those two children would be together."
Nodding, I replied, "I needed to prevent what you foresaw: their secret getting out and Len being killed in the gas chamber." I struggled to choke back the tears. "Rin is dying in the hospital, and they've probably already dumped Len's body somewhere."
"Yes, but you allowed them more time for their relationship to grow. If not for your presence, Medusa's servant, using the alias Owen Plades, would have separated the children months ago. In the end, he could merely hurt you with his cigarette smoke, knowing how fragile the lungs are for someone like you."
"My lady?" I couldn't believe my ears.
"Now when they are reborn, those children will always find each other, whether as lovers, friends, or even twins."
I smiled, and a tear ran down my cheek. "Thank goodness."
"Come home, Pit. We'll heal your lungs properly here. Earth's air has taken its toll."
"Yes, Lady Palutena."