The
Divine Comedy
Chapter
One
Prison's a Bitch
FDB- Here's your freaking sequel! Now get off my back!
How long had it been? How long for him…years, four maybe? Yes, that's about right. Four years that seemed to pass in a mist over his eyes and his mind. They were long, heavy years. Jamison Black still thought back the days of yesteryears past. The days where he wasn't alone, where he was somewhat content with his life; the days where every morning meant waking up next to the one you loved with a moderate chance of getting another year shaved off of your life. It was a sacrifice he would gladly make.
Now, with those moments gone, he was bored out of his mind. Sure, being nineteen and all had its ups and downs, what with college and all. However, there was something lacking…an outlet for his frustrations; that and a good shag every once and a while. Yes, boo-hoo.
Well, he thought; at least it hasn't gotten to the point where I miss that fucking Fayth Kid. And he laughed a little. I suppose that was the only upside to it.
Right now he was profoundly busy with lying on his bed, looking up at the ceiling with the expression of a full-blown stoner on his face. What else could he really do? He didn't have anything for school to do, as if he cared anyway. He would sit just like this for hours if no one disturbed him. If anyone knocked on his door, even if it was his faggot of a room mate, he'd throw heavy objects to make them leave. Of course his roommate wouldn't go away, but hell, can't blame him for trying.
Out of impulse he looked out the window. It was dark out, perhaps ten o'clock. The moon was a bright crescent and there were no clouds in the sky tonight. It was relatively warm too. Suddenly he felt a craving for coffee. Hell, there was a place down the street. Why not go? For the first time in eight hours, give or take, he got off the bed, put on a light leather coat and left the dorm building.
Jamie walked down the street staring at the sidewalk, noting the infinite cracks and the splitting seems in his own shoes. It was just another day in the life. S.S.D.D. Yeah, you know the drill.
It was just another run down convenience store, but it had damn good coffee. Since he'd started coming here it had always been. He came in often enough for the little old lady behind the counter to start calling him "Sonny". He didn't like it but he was polite. You have to respect your elders…for some reason.
He stood at the coffee maker and waited, thinking whether he wanted sugar in it or not. He never cared for it much, but something made him crave it. He had a bad case of dry mouth and a hellacious sweet tooth. Sure, why not. His days were still going to be twenty-four hours long no matter what he put in his fucking coffee. Ooh, ding dongs.
It was under five bucks for everything. He left with his coffee and lingered just outside for a while. Jamie paid no attention to the people that passed by, ignoring their shady glances. He didn't much care for what people thought of him. He didn't have to fuck them, so he didn't give a rat's ass.
Soon his plastic cup was empty and the snacks were eaten. He threw the trash away and was heading back towards the dorms. He had an exam tomorrow and it wouldn't hurt to do a little more studying. It was now nearly midnight. He looked at the moon and it gave him a sense of comfort. It had been doing that for a few weeks now. Someone suddenly shoved passed his shoulder, nearly knocking him over.
"Watch where you're going, bitch." A man calling him a bitch? When the hell did that happen? He didn't get the memo.
Jamie gave him a dirty look but didn't say anything. He watched him disappear in a nearby alley. He began to walk on, thinking nothing more of it, but then he stopped. He recognized that voice. Jamie's mind played on automatic rewind, recalling back to a particular point in time. He remembered Central Park, years ago, and a loud bang following an echoing statement that at one time haunted him.
Ice his bitch.
It was him.
Jamie felt a flame start in the pit of his gut as he turned on his heel and followed the guy. He had a fine idea to repay him for that shove, and a few other things he had coming to him. Jamison was angry, his face turning slightly red and his fists clenching tightly. Adrenaline was becoming like heroin; addictive and empowering. Got to love this shit.
He descended like a shadow down the alley. He noted how two more had joined the one who pushed him. No matter. The three of them were all involved. What sort of twisted luck was on his side today? He felt a little giddy to be honest.
They noticed him at the very last second. The one who had pulled the trigger turned to confront him.
"What the fuck you want, man?" Jamison didn't answer him. The thug was about to give him a warning from the business end of a revolver but he wasn't fast enough. In one swift, instinctual movement, Jamie took his face in both hands and ripped his bottom jaw from his skull. He was dead in an instant as his blood sloshed onto the pavement. The other two looked on in disgusted terror. This cracker was fucking crazy!
Jamison felt warm fluids on his face and spat out the taste of copper as he grinned. The other two reached for a weapon, one having a gun as well while the other tried to run as he searched for anything he could use. With a shaking hand the pistol was aimed at his head. Jamison only snickered.
One could barely see him as Jamison moved forward, grabbing the man's wrist, twisting it behind his back and making him pull the trigger, the barrel just behind his head. It made an ever so lovely red mess on the dark brick wall. His limp body dropped to the asphalt with a heavy thud just like the other one. What a fascinating sound.
Jamie picked up both of the discarded fire arms and casually advanced to stand behind the third one, who was still groveling in the garbage for a makeshift weapon. When he noticed the Black Death looming over him he froze, falling onto his backside and losing all the color in his face. He trembled like a trapped animal. To Jamison he was. Nothing more, plenty less. He was so afraid he couldn't even force out a suitable plea for his life to be spared.
Jamie raised his hands, barrels pointed downward at his cowering prey.
"Ice this."
Eleven more shots were heard that night. It was quiet afterwards.
Jamison laughed a little to himself as he looked down at all of the dead bodies. It was actually kind of pretty in this light. The reds and blacks spilled over shadows and darkened shapes. It would've been a cool background for his laptop; something nifty to show off in art class. Yes, I am a sick-o. We've been through this already.
Jamie didn't really give a shit when he heard sirens coming closer, zeroing in on his position. He wasn't going to run. Why bother? If they didn't take him in now they would later so why delay the inevitable? Besides, there was no punishment for what he'd done. For all he was concerned he just did the world a favor. He had no regrets.
He sat down and leaned against a still clean wall, blinking at the flashing lights at the exit of the alley. It seemed to surprise the officers when they saw him with both guns in his hands, showing no sign of remorse or cowardice at their arrival. They expected him to flee.
"Took you guys long enough to get here." He said as he looking up with a blood tarnished grin. He wasn't looking at the cops; he was focusing beyond them at the crescent moon, feeling the subtle comfort of its light.
"Rest in peace, Stephanie."
(II)
He hated having to be away from her for so long. It almost killed him to convince her to stay behind. His excuse was that his temple superiors wanted to see him; that it was best he went alone. She gave him this pouting face and he nearly cried. He had to throw himself onto the ship.
Well, Dennison's pretext wasn't totally inaccurate. He had received word from his instructor to meet in Luca. He couldn't imagine what for. However, that wasn't the only reason why he insisted to go alone. He had a more personally errand to run while he was in the city. It had been almost three days since he'd left his relatively new home on Besaid, and every hour made him miss it that much more. He hated being separated from Andrea. True, it had been a solid month since the Black Phoenix incident, but it still concerned him to be apart from her. He worried.
It was early afternoon when the ship docked in Luca harbor. He went straight ahead to meet his instructor. They met just outside the stadium near the reception desk.
"Good to see you, sir. I came as soon as I got the message."
"I understand. It must be a great distance between Besaid and here, what with having to dock overnight in Kilika. How are things?"
"As well as can be expected. It's been quite peaceful."
"That's good to know. I heard of what had happened and I just had to ask."
"I appreciate it, sir. So what is it you wished to see me about?"
"Well, when all of us heard of your involvement, we agreed that you had potential beyond that of a mere apprentice."
Dennis looked at him curiously.
"It has been decided that you be promoted to the level of novice White Mage. Now you can study spells at your own discretion." And the high priest handed him a gold chain to be put around his wrist.
"I'm honored, sir, honestly; but are you sure? After all I didn't do anything without help."
"We understand that, but we still have faith in you. Our decision stands."
"Thank you, sir. Will that be all? I'm afraid I have other business here and I would like to make the next ship home."
"Of course, of course. I will see you again. Do try to keep in touch with us, would you?"
"I will do my best, sir. Goodbye."
Well, that wasn't so bad after all. He'd half figured to be excommunicated. Couldn't imagine why. Anyway, now it was off to do something important.
He'd spoken to Yuna before he left and she'd told him of the perfect place to find what he needed. She noted the possibility of a moderate discount if he mentioned her name to the clerk there. Hell, with his pockets dwindling on empty he could use one. Dennis found the store he was looking for on the inner sector of the city. Right next door to the pub, go figure. A little bell rang when he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
"Good day to you," there was a tall, burly, silver furred Ronso standing behind the counter. His massive hands almost completely covered the top of it. He looked at Dennis with bright yellow eyes and cat's grin. He could understand considering no one else was in his store. He wasn't surprised that the owner was happy to see him.
"Same to you," he nodded.
"What is it you look for?"
"High Summoner Yuna referred me," he replied. "I was looking for a gift."
"With that I can help you." He sounded slightly humbled at the Summoner being mentioned. "What sort of gift?"
"I was wondering what you might have in terms of a ring."
"Come and see, my friend; I have much," and the Ronso walked over to a glass case a few paces away from the counter. "I have many styles and many metals. I also have a variety of stones and settings."
Dennis looked through the glass pane at what was on display. The Ronso was right and he was impressed at what he had. Many of them had to have been handcrafted. His eyes settled on one in particular. It was simple, but it was quite the beauty.
"Tell me about that one," and he pointed to the silver band with the blue gems.
"It's a fine one, quite rare. Ronso don't make many of these." He said as he took it out from beneath the glass and set it out so Dennis could look at it more closely.
It was a simple silver ring with four deep blue stones set in it. There was a bright red fire star gem fixed in the center.
"It's gorgeous. Why wouldn't the Ronso make them?"
"Disrespect."
Dennis lifted an eyebrow at him. He asked for an explanation.
"There's a legend among the Ronso about these two stones being sacred. Two of the creators of Spira were lovers, and the stones were created as a celebration of their union. They wanted the people they created to know the beauty and solidity of their love."
Dennis laughed. That was funny, in an ironic way. The Ronso saw him smiling and grinned himself. He understood. This White Mage was aiming for a celebration of his own.
"Should I get a box for it?" the Ronso asked.
"How much?"
The Ronso stroked his chin for a moment. "I will sell it to you for sixty. Is that acceptable?"
He couldn't believe his good luck. "Sixty is all? Of course, thank you so much!"
Dennison paid him and put the new purchase securely in his pocket.
"Do come again if you should need me."
"I will, and thank you again."
He felt rather proud of himself. Dennis smiled all the way back to the harbor where he caught the next boat for Besaid. He couldn't wait to get back, nearly willing to jump ship and swim if it meant returning sooner. It seemed things were starting to look up.
The ship landed in Besaid the next evening. Dennis was one of the first to disembark. He noticed no one waiting for him. Well, it was almost dark; people would begin settling down for the night soon. However, the sun was up just enough to where the ocean looked like it was on fire and you could still see enough to walk the trail to the village without much worry. He went on ahead, itching to be back in his element. Not to mention the ring was burning a hole in his side as it remained in his pocket.
Dennison passed the waterfalls, the bridges, and the old ruins. He was making his way towards the top of the hill, where the monument was when he heard a faint strain of music. He stopped for a moment to listen and then continued. He crested the hill and stood still, watching as Andrea sat on a stone and played. Dennis had never known how skilled she was, but he was well educated to the contrary. Her instrument was what she called an "acoustic". It was six string guitar and she was very good at it. He must've stood there for about ten minutes before the music stopped.
"It's called Orion." She said.
"You knew I was standing here?"
"Yeah, but I wanted to finish playing. That's one of my favorite songs." She got up, setting the guitar down and hurriedly walked up and embraced him. There was no denying that she was happy to have him back. They shared a kiss and then just looked at each other.
"How did everything go?"
"Oh, just fine. I'm no longer an apprentice mage. That's what the high priest wanted to see me for." And he showed her the gold chain around his wrist.
"That's wonderful! The others are going to be happy to hear it."
"I suppose so. What about you; you didn't miss me too much did you?"
Andrea rolled her eyes playfully. "I thought I was going to die."
"Oh come now; it's couldn't have been that bad,"
"It was! I hate it when you go," she gave him that pout again. That was the last straw. He would never leave her behind again, only to save himself from that face.
"Well, come one, it's getting dark and I'm sure you're tired from your trip." Andrea led him by the hand to the village.
Yuna was about to go inside and ready herself for bed when she saw the two of them come into view. She couldn't help but smile. They looked so cute together it was almost nauseating. Mostly she was glad that their relationship was intact after everything that happened. She wasn't sure how, but one way or another they made it through together. It was something to be admired.
The High Summoner gave him a friendly hug and was glad he'd returned safely. The three of them were caught up in conversation for a long while after that. During their talk Yuna noticed Dennis's hand had been jammed in his pocket the whole time. The two White Mages exchanged glances and Dennis gave her and excited sort of smile. She knew what he was thinking and tried her best not to blow his cover.
"Actually, Andrea; there's something I want to ask you."
She looked curiously at him and said "okay". Dennis took the guitar out of her hand and let Yuna hold it for just a moment. He then knelt down, not caring he was getting dirt on his pants. Andrea looked down at him, uncertain as to what he was doing.
With a red face and shaking hands, he took a deep breath as he opened the small box and showed her the ring.
"Will you marry me?"
At first she could only look at him in surprise. When the immediate shock left her she made an attempt to laugh the tears of happiness away as she agreed.
"Yes, I will,"
Dennis stood up and put the ring on her finger.
What a wonderful age this was turning out to be.
(III)
It had been a couple of weeks now. Jamison was accustomed to wearing an orange jumpsuit and being escorted everywhere he went.
After being arrested he was quickly booked and put in a cell. Nothing too exciting. Soon after they asked that he write out his confession which he didn't much care to do. It wasn't like he was going to deny it. He didn't go into much detail and stuck to the basics of the event. Sure, he could've mentioned how slap-ass happy he was to see the little fuckers dead, or how the moonlight reflected nicely off the pools of blood left behind; maybe even say how he wanted to dance around naked with joy. But it really wouldn't affect the outcome of anything. Just write it, he said to himself. The sooner you finish that sooner you don't have to look at that schmuck detective's face anymore.
He was kept in a moderate security lock up until his court date was set. It was maybe a week and a half that he had to wait. He had to attend in his ever so trendy jumpsuit and some fine chrome prison bling around his wrists and ankles. He actually thought it funny that they were so cautious. He laughed aloud a couple of times about it.
The state provided Jamie with a lawyer who he'd never seen but once before the trial. He was going to a shoot for a "moment of insanity" plea. Jamie really didn't care. If he was off his rocker when he pulled the trigger, so what? They were dead and gone and he couldn't be happier. He pleaded guilty anyway. By law he was, so there was no use in arguing.
The trial lasted maybe an hour and a half. The first hour was the defense and so on presenting their case and calling witnesses. There was slight shock when Jamison was allowed to have his say on the stand. The cross examination was cake, no matter how arrogantly the people's representative swaggered in front of everyone.
"Mr. Black; have you ever thought about killing anyone before?"
"Doesn't everyone?"
"Just answer the question."
"Yeah, maybe I have. Like I said, everyone does at least once in their life."
"Did you think about killing those three men?"
"Before I killed them? No, but I did as I was doing it." And he smirked a little.
"So you're saying there was no premeditation involved in your actions?"
"Yeah."
The cross examiner nodded his head and paced a little before continuing.
"So tell the court," he paused. "Why did you kill them?"
"Because they deserved it."
There was a gasp amongst the witnesses, and the attorney looked at him crookedly.
"Who are you to decide that, Mr. Black?"
"Because I was there when they killed an innocent woman. A woman that I loved. Because I had the chance to pull off what the system decided not to. You should be thanking me."
"So you're saying that the families of those men should be thanking you?"
"Objection," yelled the other notary. "Relevance,"
"Sustained. Please rephrase the question, prosecutor."
"If it pleases your honor I wish for the statement to be stricken from the record."
The judge nodded his head and it was so erased.
"Could you explain to the court exactly how they deserved you killing them?"
He thought they'd never ask. He went vividly through the gruesome details of that night those many years ago, how he and Stephanie had been mugged, attacked, and in the end she was shot and killed. He didn't expect sympathy from the jury for his story, and it was probably a good thing.
"Those three were useless wastes of flesh. They wasted their freedom of choice and it just so happened to get them killed. You actually expected me to just sit by and wait for the system to pass judgment? Hell no, that wasn't going to happen and you know it. If the system wouldn't do its job, I did it for them. And no, I don't wish I could change it. The only thing that would be different is that I would've made them suffer more."
The jury only deliberated for a quarter of an hour. Like you needed to know the verdict anyway. It's obvious enough.
"Jury, have you reached a verdict?"
"We have your honor." One of them replied. "We find the defendant, Jamison Black, guilty on three counts of voluntary manslaughter."
"There will now be a fifteen minute recess. We'll resume the session and I will decide your punishment."
The time passed. It only felt like a few minutes. The judge gave him two consecutive life sentences with no chance of parole until after he served a mandatory fifty. Not to mention it was a maximum security prison he was being shipped off to. Well, he didn't really care. Throughout the whole spiel he could see the judge's mouth moving but all he could hear was blah-blah-blah.
Jamison got to ride all by his lonesome in one of those corny white roadie vans. Yeah, you know the ones you wish you could demolish with graffiti and fingernail polish remover? Yup, one of those.
The prison was out in the middle of nowhere. The grounds were decked out in the usual razor wire fences and guard towers and so on-so forth. The main complex was three stories high and surrounded by a courtyard of concrete. Inside were plain gray marble tiles and rows of cell doors. It's a prison, what do you expect? Yes, I too thought of padded rooms and trampolines but that's just a lie. I know it hurts.
Jamie was led to a cell door that was opened by a guard that pressed a button on a switch board. There was a loud buzzing sound and the bars slid open. He stepped inside and turned around so that his cuffs could be taken off, then he watched as the bars rattled shut. All he did was shrug. It wasn't out of stress or despair, or even because he was tired. He shrugged just because he could.
He turned around to take a look at his new home but walked into what felt like a brick wall. This was a bright orange wall. Wait a minute…and Jamie looked up.
"Hey there,"
The bald giant had to have been at least eight feet tall and weigh no less than three hundred pounds. His voice sounded the roar of a semi-truck. An eighteen wheeler at that.
Jamie just stared him down.
"You're the new guy, aren't you?" he licked his top lip.
"So what?"
"Well, you know how every prison is supposed to have a 'Bubba'?"
"So?"
"Hi, my name's Bubba. Actually, Bubba's my middle name, but who cares?"
"Fuck off tinker-fag."
A few minutes later there was a great commotion amongst the other inmates. The guards came running ready to stomp out a riot. They had the shields, the tazers, the Kevlar gear and even the fire hoses. They advanced militarily down the cell block. The whole posse stopped when they noticed Bubba's head sticking out through the steel bars of his cell. The giant was out cold.
They carefully maneuvered around and were shocked to see Jamie ever so comfortably sitting on the top bunk.
"Oh, howdy there boys. Sorry for all the fuss but you see I had my reasons. You know, it's amazing what you can do with the right amount of force and a jar of Vaseline." He laughed.
Author's Notes: Yup, it's part three. Aren't you all excited? Well damn, don't everyone jump up and dance at once. I'm writing this one with another author so I guess that's why I called the chapter that. Anyway, check out Flaming-Dingleberry on Don't know when the next chap will be done so just sit your asses down and hold it…I said hold it!