So, as with regular CT, and sorta Simurgh-Taylor, Terror-Taylor is a bit of an unreliable narrator.
There's another POV that's important, but I've decided to couch it for now, so you can enjoy the glorious interluuuuuudes!
Crouching Tiger Goes to Prison 7 [Interlude]
Sophia Hess
Sophia ran, but she hadn't been fast enough.
The recording device beeped on the table, and there wasn't a sound in the room asides from the gentle hum of Sophia's handcuffs. The chair was painful to sit in, and Sophia would have done anything to not be at PRT Headquarters. Anything.
"I want to know exactly what happened, Shadow Stalker." Miss Militia's voice was hard steel, though hardly louder than a whisper. "Why you were there that day and what you were doing. We want to know why you broke the chain of command to attack Terror with lethal bolts. Lethal bolts you shouldn't have had to begin with." Sophia's gut clenched when she remembered that little failure of hers. In the heat of the moment, she told herself she'd justify it to Armsmaster, play innocent and say she was worried about her friend.
Miss Militia continued talking. "I'm not your lawyer, but I can assure you that the less you lie about, the better your sentence will be. The Director has already received clearance to confiscate your Wards trust fund in order to pay for damages. The testimony from several students and teachers in light of that journal means you've already broken terms of your probation. I don't know what your testimony at the trial is so far, but I'm certain you've already committed perjury as well, as a civilian and as a cape. Armsmaster is currently obtaining a warrant to search your civilian phone, as well as your PRT-issued one."
Madison had folded when the journal went public. She came clean about what happened in an online post and left town with her family, others soon followed with their stories and the media ate it up. The entire city was up in arms and Sophia's family was in Witness Protection to protect them from Sophia's new reputation as Winslow's sadist. It was possible she'd never see her family for years. Her mother had been furious with her when the story broke, certain that the entire Empire would come down on their family.
There wasn't a single reason on Earth for risking the Empire's wrath like that, her mother had screamed at her repeatedly. Sophia couldn't find the words to justify why she'd targeted Hebert when she spoke to her mother, just ranted about how people couldn't handle pranks, and how Emma was the real victim. Then her mother hit her. Her mother had never hit her before, despite all the venom and arguments between them.
How could Sophia explain to anyone who didn't get it? Hebert was weak, would always be weak. She'd run or cower and just take it like a victim, and no one would care about her. She was everything Emma had to get rid of, and she'd be forgotten. Just like no one cared about Stephen, lost in the pit that was Brockton Bay. That was how the world worked.
But what could Sophia say now? 'I was a coward, and Emma died for it? All I've been good at is running away?' 'I saved a girl from one monster in an alley, and then created with her the one that finally did her in?'
At least Sophia had been able to attend Emma's funeral. Not that the Barnes' wanted anything to do with her after the journal went public a few days later. And suddenly the villains were heroes, and the predators were prey.
I guess I'm prey now. Sophia's throat was dry. Just knowing that she was in the same building as that massive monster was enough to scare her. She'd done everything she could to the monster that had been Hebert, even barbed crossbow bolts in the eyes, heart, and brain. But the damn beast just kept coming for her, like the rumors people told about Lung. It took the entire Brockton Bay Protectorate and most of the Wards fifteen minutes to take her down.
The newspapers headlines and TV anchors said it was a victory. It wasn't reported that Hebert had simply stopped and let herself get foamed once Sophia had been thrown from the fight and Miss Militia talked her down. Sophia found that out later in the PRT sick bay after Panacea treated her that night, her injuries too great for her smoke-form to heal by themselves.
Sophia hadn't been able to sleep well since she saw her friend get ripped to shreds before her eyes. When she ran away, she justified that she'd get help, get her costume, call the Protectorate, and that Emma could talk her way out of it. That she would still be alive when Sophia returned again to rescue her best friend. Her intestines had been spilling out on the pavement when Sophia last looked back, and Emma was staring at Sophia, terrified. Scared and pleading.
Sophia ran faster, and shouted something she still couldn't remember over her shoulder to her only friend, telling herself that there was nothing she could do but get Panacea and medical attention. Julia was probably a lost cause, but the Protectorate had reaction times measured in single minutes when it came to school attacks, and this was only a block away from Winslow.
It wasn't Sophia's fault.
Hell, it had been her idea to do those things to Hebert that day, but Emma just took it too far, and couldn't back it up when powers came into play. Hebert was weak, dammit, and weak people didn't survive, they just laid down and took it or ran. They didn't fight.
"Whatever, just throw me away so Piggy can get the charity case on her precious Wards team. I never wanted to be here anyway." Sophia snarled.
'I've already lost everything that mattered.' went unsaid. You only get a best friend once.
- - -
Sophia hated juvie the second she walked into it.
The place was old and it stank, like sweat and grease. Half the guards must have been racist, or at least assholes. Sophia's cellmate was an annoying bitch who cried too much in her sleep, and her neighbors weren't talking to her. The food was bad, and the claustrophobia was getting to her. She wanted to run free. Sophia missed jumping from building top to building top, hunting in the night. There wasn't five feet of free space for her at any time, and it was just so aggravating.
Whatever the case, Sophia told herself she would survive. She wasn't weak, and she would endure. She didn't care about the charges, or where she'd go after she turned eighteen. It didn't matter.
Sophia was getting into fights once every two days, at first to prove herself, but then out of necessity. Wards training and her own education on Brockton's streets had taught her to fight against several unarmed opponents, but not a half-dozen, and certainly not without powers, breaks, or armor. It didn't matter that her jumpsuit and mask set her apart from the normals, the other two heroes at her detention center were cowards and unwilling to fight alongside her to establish dominance they should have had.
Bastards.
When the other inmates realized the ankle bracelet kept her from using her powers on herself to fight, she was just another kid to them. Just another mortal.
And weak.
Lily Ota
"Good news Flechette. You have a visitor from the PRT." It was one of the PRT troopers that visited her unannounced at her cell-like room. And not for a surprise search.
That's odd, Lily thought. I thought they were embarrassed of me. She nodded and took the paper detailing the time and scheduled visitation room.
'Alcoholic Ward gets drunk and nearly kills innocent hobo in accident,' wasn't the best headline to start Lily's cape career.
Lily didn't actually have that much of a problem with alcohol, she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And had the wrong power. They had to amputate the guy's leg.
So that was why Lily was alone in juvie, working off her societal debts far away from any liquor store she could sneak alcohol from, while taking classes and therapy to try and get 'healthy'. However that was supposed to feel.
Dr. Smins was a bit of a pushy asshole, but at least he wasn't that bitch Dr. Helen. Dr. Helen hated Lily from the first day, clearly, but they still had to do their respective jobs. Lily would talk about some of her shallower problems, and Dr. Helen would give stupid advice and ask horrid questions. Lily was still mulling over what Dr. Helen said, like a broken record.
'Do you think it's possible that being a cape makes you want to escape responsibility for your actions?'
Fuck you bitch. I'm here, I'm sober, and I hate it. Sounds like I took responsibility to me. I'm surrounded by gang members who only talk to me to keep the racist delinquents away from them. I'm in the same place as a psycho who tried to nuke her school over an 'Asian Fail.' And Amble hits on me way too often, the creep. I'm sorry about that guy's leg, for the hundredth time. It was a familiar train of thought for Lily, and one Dr. Smins encouraged her to consider and deconstruct in her spare time.
There was a lone PRT paper-pusher waiting for her in the visitation room, a thirty-something Latina woman with soft lips. The table was dented and rickety, just like the others. Legend had put in a good word with the Warden so that Lily wasn't required to wear handcuffs, they had both told her it would be detrimental to her recovery. But there would be consequences if the troopers found contraband.
"Ah, Flechette, please have a seat."
"Certainly," Lily said as she walked over to the table and sat down. Miss… Hernandez hadn't earned Lily's ire yet, so it wouldn't hurt to be pleasant. She seemed nice so far.
But I bet she can drink whenever she wants, Lily still groused.
"Now, Flechette, I don't wish to alarm you, but Westecher is going to get another villain sent her tomorrow. She's listed as a Brute 5, Changer 5, and Mover 2, and the facility deems her to be a danger level nine. She'll have three year sentence."
"That seems a bit off," Lily said as she scratched her chin. "I'm rated at a danger level four, if I remember. Why would someone that dangerous be allowed as Westecher? Does she have influential parents or something?"
"Her parents are dead, and... Well, there were a lot of extenuating circumstances, and the cape, named Terror, has entered into a plea deal since it's her first offense. Thinkers, the courts, psychologists, and the Directors are under the impression that she's a low flight risk and has no gang affiliation."
That's a lot of effort to put into a teenager's care, Lily thought bitterly. "Why's she called Terror?"
"The PR department named her that after she killed four teenagers and was captured. It was before some... complications of her case were thrown in." Miss Hernandez adjusted herself in her seat.
"Before I say yes to anything, how dangerous is she, really?" Lily asked.
"Very," Miss Hernandez sighed. "It took fifteen minutes, the entire Brockton Bay Protectorate, and several local Wards to take her down, and she injured several heroes heavily during the fight."
"This is getting very weird. I know I'm a fuckup, but I don't want to be some disposable asset to throw at this girl."
Miss Hernandez grimaced. "I assure you, your screw up in New York is orders of magnitude better than Terror's case. After careful review, the Directors have decided that Terror could be reformed and made a hero."
"After killing four people? And not even when she triggered?"
"Look, this is above both of our pay grades, and I don't know the details. But you have an optional task that can reduce your sentence."
Lily sighed, "fine, let's hear it."
Miss Hernandez passed a manilla folder onto Lily's side of the table, "While you're here, see if you can befriend the girl and get her to consider the Wards. Low risk, high reward. Don't antagonize her, and don't threaten her. Just soft-sell the idea that she can have a future being someone people can look up to. Not a lot of capes can get jobs after prison, and this one has been outed already."
Lily frowned, "So her back's against the wall."
"Yes and no. No friends, no family left, no prior history of violence, and has repeatedly expressed shame and remorse for her actions. You could be her first friend in years. Legend and Armstrong think she could be a great hero. It's one of the reasons she's here with you, Flechette." Miss Hernandez said softly. The woman pulled up her purse onto her lap and handed Lily a gift-wrapped book. "This is from your teammates, they told me they're still thinking of you, and can't wait for you to come back."
"Thanks," Lily said. "You're springing this on me pretty fast though."
"My apologies, Flechette." Miss Hernandez said, as she stood up to leave. "We wouldn't do this if we didn't think Terror could be a great success."
Or Terror could be a drunk fuckup like me. Kicking your Director and a few other Wards in a drunken rage isn't model Ward behavior, according to that bitch Dr. Helen. "Fine, I'll see what I can do," Lily said flicking through the papers, "but I'm sure as hell not letting her live in my room. I'm not risking it if she's really psycho."
Alice Kazawa
Alice was pumped for her new roomie's enthusiasm to see her bomb show in an hour. She had her lucky trigger-goggles in her pocket, and a pre-written speech detailing the little suckers that were going to explode in a way no one had ever seen before. Pity she couldn't ok her Event-Horizon bomb, but that thing was pretty unstable in the first place. It would need a lot of work and materials she didn't have access to.
"What's up champ? Dr. Smins get you down?" Dr. Gregory Smins was a bit of an ass, but he recognized that Alice was smarter than he was and didn't coddle her with search-your-feelings bullshit. They both read the books on that stuff, and thought it was amateur hour. That alone made him the best shrink ever.
Shrink, hmm, shrink bomb? Bomb that brings about your greatest fears? Interesting, interesting… A flurry of blueprints flew into Alice's mind, and she pulled out a pen and some paper to write them down.
As Alice was finishing some traces on the outer core of a implosion shell, she felt a poke on her free hand. Alice looked up to see Terror screwing up her face. "Bakuda, I don't know how to tell you this, but the pudding tastes like bland shit."
Personally, Alice liked the rice pudding, but she wasn't going to provoke a dangerous roommate like Taylor Hebert, scourge of Brockton Bay. "Bah, it's just 'cause you're not Asian enough to appreciate it, yah white twig. You'll never get the pumpkin spice lattes here, but there's chocolate pudding scheduled in five days according to one of the meal workers."
"The meal workers must hate us."
Alice snorted. "Nah, they're bad ass bitches that don't give a damn, but they're cool if you talk with them occasionally when they're not busy. And don't fuck with them or you'll regret it. You heard of the Soup Nazi?" Taylor nodded, so Alice leaned forward to demonstrate confidentiality with her badass new friend. "There's no Soup Nazi. I've read books on psychology, and I know misdirection when I see it. What earth-shattering stuff happened in there? Smins get inside your head?"
"...You could say that. Doctor Smins said you… well, lied about getting candy for not wanting to kill people." Taylor said after a moment with a bit of sardonic edge to her voice. Getting info from the girl was like pulling teeth, and she'd pretend to act like a scared little girl half the time, but Alice figured that was part of the mystery of capes in her weight class. It made Alice's life just a bit more fun to live.
Well, there goes all my hard work. "Fine, you got me. I may have exaggerated some things about myself so I could sound cool and more badass."
Alice was actually relieved to have Taylor on her side. Asides from her heavily regulated bombs, which she didn't even actually have on her, she was a sitting duck for the other groups at Westecher. Only since Taylor had shown up did she feel safe eating during the regular mess hall hours. That alone was worth eating crow in front of a cape who made the Protectorate themselves shit their pants. No shame in that.
And she was just so nonchalant about the fact that every other person in the facility was clearly terrified of her. Except the Warden, who Alice revised her opinion of recently.. Just because he was dickless didn't mean he was spineless.
"It's more of a half-lie, really. You get the candy when you make it through the session, but I had meltdowns the first few and had to get hauled out of there by troopers for everyone's safety. Dr. Helen's a bitch and she doesn't know what the fuck she's doing. Watch out for that one. I see Smins and a guy they fly in named Holden now because I wanted to strangle her after every session."
"Mmmkkch, urk... I'll keep that in mind. I don't want to kill anyone here." Taylor said as she choked down another spoonful of rice pudding.
See, that's what I'm talking about! Alice thought. Fuckin' metal and she doesn't even realize it.
Last edited: Jan 9, 2017
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Somewhat Disinterested
Jan 9, 2017
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Czlyydwr Llrngwl
Czlyydwr Llrngwl
"Sell ya a door Learn gull" Czly/Celly for short.
Any
Jan 11, 2017
#196
Fixed? Fixed!
Omakes of the Omake-that's-now-canon
Coil's vocabulary
I was going to put it in a box...
The benefit of having a loosely defined Tinker specialty
Bakuda's brilliant plan
PR(T) and their powerpoint presentations
The PRT sales pitch for Taylor's Juvie Center
From the writing desk of Terror
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Czlyydwr Llrngwl
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Somewhat Disinterested
Jan 14, 2017
#223
Whoop whoop! Another chapter! Get to see Bakuda in all her crazy glory, and some fun times with other stuff.
Crouching Tiger Goes to Prison 8
I sat on the field with a bunch of the inmates I had seen at the Courtyard each day. No one would come within ten feet of me, but that was fine. I told myself I'd work up the courage to learn to play basketball from the Black and Latino kids this week. Perhaps they'd be more inclusive than the gay crowd.
It was time to see just what Bakuda had been up to all week.
My, friend, possibly? We hadn't even unmasked to each other, despite having lived together for a week or so. Bakuda was standing with some nervous-looking PRT troopers holding a box. Some more relaxed troopers were walking around us outside a perimeter. True to Bakuda's word, The Warden sat outside the trooper perimeter, away from the inmates, with another five trooper. The whole setup was surreal. Think 'day at the beach' with a dash of 'Bond-villain showoff'.
He had a goddamn deck chair and a glass of lemonade with a tiny umbrella. I couldn't make this up if I tried.
"Alright-y, folks. It's time for you to bask in my brilliance!" Bakuda was wearing a gas mask with a weird voice modulator, along with her prison suit. She did a wheezing dramatic laugh, while I sat there trying to pretend I didn't know her.
"Get on with it already! We're falling asleep here." That was one of the asian gangers who I had seen talking to Bakuda before.
"You fool!" Bakuda shouted at the guy with a dramatic point, "you'll just wait and see!" She started rifling through her box and pulled out a small steel orb.
"Fuck yeah, bitches-ouch! Hey!"
"No swearing in a public setting, Warden's Rules" I heard one of the troopers say to Bakuda after bopping her on the head with a baton.
"…fuckin' stupid kiddy rules, I'll make a swear-box bomb one of these days that just screams 'fuck' repeatedly… or a firework that'll spell out 'Dickless' in the sky for hours... " Bakuda said under her breath.
"Ok then!" Bakuda shouted with a bit of forced cheer. "Here's the first bomb of the week, TSF-3."
"Come up with better names for them, we can't remember!" said another random member of the crowd.
"Hey, peanut gallery!" Bakuda shouted. "I don't see any of you helping me name them when I explain the damn things in the first place, so until you get about a hundred times smarter you can go- ouch! Mother- ouch!"
"Bakuda! No swearin' or cursing out the other inmates, or trying to rile them up." Oh hey, I remember that voice! It's Henderson.
"…Fuckin' stupid-"
"What was that, Miss Bakuda?"
I heard Bakuda sigh, which sounded weird through her gas mask, "… yes Ma'am."
Bakuda hoisted the ball above her head, so everyone could take a look. "This baby is the TSF-3. Inspired by that Krieg guy whom Terror over there ripped the legs out from underneath on a whim. Totally badass. Don't worry, this baby's nonlethal, and only lasts for a few minutes." She actually pointed to me in the crowd when she mentioned Krieg. I tried to wave and give a sheepish smile. Flechette didn't look amused. I think she frowned. I mean, Krieg hated Asians, wouldn't she be happy about that?
Without out further ado, Bakuda threw the steel ball at a target dummy. The steel ball beeped, made a bang noise… and then nothing.
"...That's it?" One of the inmates ventured.
"Hah! No way, man. Check this out. Normal ball in my hand here, and" Bakuda whipped it at the area around the target dummy that she threw the first ball at. It gradually slowed to a near crawl as it
Bakuda hooted and did a victory dance. "Temporary telekinetic stasis field! Objects larger than a certain size slow down during the center, even people. But they won't suffocate. I think." Bakuda then threw several more balls at different angles to demonstrate the effect of the TK field. I had to admit it was cool for a first bomb, and probably damn useful in a fight as battlefield control.
Bakuda dragged her box about twenty feet to the right in preparation for her next demonstration, I guessed. "Alright, I know what you're thinking. Not nearly as funny as the Piñata bomb or the mucus bomb."
"I had to spend two hours in a bath because of that thing, you psycho!" A trooper over by the perimeter shouted. A bunch of the troopers and inmates laughed at him.
Bakuda cackled too, "you wanted to hold it while I tied my shoe! Your fault, not mine! Anyway, now this baby is the GF-2, and took up a lot of work." Without further ado, Bakuda threw a blue-tinted steel ball at another dummy.
Nothing seemed to happen, so Bakuda pointed at a trooper standing guard near her. "Yeah, Jacobs, you. You drew the short stick today, gotta go inside the field."
"Fine," the woman groaned, "What's in the field?"
"It's a seeee-eee-eeecret… and it's not surprise chocolate sauce like the last time. Here, tie this rope around your waist in case we have to pull you back in."
The poor trooper looked at the Warden, who nodded and pointed at the dummy, " 'M too old for this shit." After the top was tied around her waist, she slowly made her way into the field. Then promptly broke down crying twenty feet from the target dummy and had to be dragged back by three of the troopers. Some of the inmates near me laughed, but everyone else was quiet. I guess no one liked Master effects, even if they were bombs.
Bakuda was doubled up in laughter, "Ha ha! So yea, I saw Glory Girls' aura and Gallant over in Brockton, and was like, 'I could mix and match this shit!' so we- ow! fu-uck~ow!"
"Stop cursing, dammit!" The padded baton made a light 'bof' sound on Bakuda's mask, which was much more funny than it should have been.
Bakuda rubbed the back of her head. "Yeah, anyway, depending on the calibration, you get laughter, tears, fear, all sorts of fun stuff. The field should last for about an hour. Aren't you glad you're friend with all the other guys? Eh?"
"What's this piece of shit's name?" An older guy drawled over by my peripheral vision.
"I dunno, 'Crying game?' I'd have to draw a dick on it though, and I'm not much of an-" Bakuda cringed as if another hit over the head would happen, but it didn't. So that just emboldened older-asshole guy.
"So you just dragged us out here for a time bomb and a crying bomb? I could'a done that with Krieg himself and some garlic, bitch." That was one of the Empire kids, so it made sense. He looked like he was going to say something else, but The Warden gave him the scariest look I've ever seen on a person's face, and the guy shut up. Not even Piggot came close to The Warden's Stink Eye. Bakuda seemed to waiver for a second, and then start rummaging in her box.
"Make another mini-nuke! Make another asteroid bomb! No one fuckin' appreciates the subtle stuff. The fuck am I, children's entertainment?" I heard Bakuda mutter. I kept waiting for some shoe to drop, and violence to break out, but nothing happened… The hairs on the back of my head were raised, and I had grown two inches in anticipation so far, but...
Today's demonstration was going better than even I had hoped, and if this is what a wacko bomb tinker could do safely in juvie without going nuts, maybe, just maybe that Dr. Smins guy really was a genius.
Kudos to you, Smins.
"Alright, you got me, boys and girls. I was saving the best for last. Behold!" Bakuda shouted as she thrust a softball-sized red orb in the air, "This baby's the real dangerous one! Better step back for real. And I hope you guys are recording up there." So one of the guard towers had recording equipment. Interesting.
Bakuda pulled a pin, pressed a button, and threw the steel ball at the last practice dummy.
We all squinted or covered our eyes as the target dummy went up like kindling in a fiery explosion. Then the fiery explosion had weird explosions come to the surface from inside of it, and it looked like a beautiful red, orange, and white dome twenty feet wide. It was like one of those nuclear blasts, but it didn't recede at all for ten, twenty, thirty seconds, and still counting. It was lasting much longer than a normal explosion should have.
I was a little worried, but no one else was panicking, so I figured I'd stick tight before running and screaming like a little kid. The fireball was almost as bright as the sun, and rotating a little bit.
Bakuda turned to her audience and crossed her arms. "Yeah, bet you weren't expecting that! Based that one on Lung and Ash Beast. Can't put that it out, can only wait for an hour. Not advised for your home grill. Makes napalm and greek fire look like kids toys. Can't put it out without a reacting agent I cooked up. You can't even let anything touch it, or else it might spread. Real nasty." She definitely practiced that speech and pose.
The Warden, sitting in his lawn chair, only looked amused and wrote down a few notes. Seriously, that guy had to have been a badass in whatever previous career he had. Hell, I was visibly scared by today's little show, and this guy, with no powers, reacted with a 'meh, I've seen better' face. Note to self: never mess with the guy.
"What are you going to use that on? Nilbog?" That was Amble, the other hero cape in the facility. No idea what he was in here for, but I wasn't sure how to ask. Hell, I couldn't even make basic conversations with Flechette, and she had actually bothered to talk to me once before for some reason.
Bakuda made a show of shrugging, "If Dragon bows before me and acknowledges I'm the better Tinker, she can have it." She picked up her box of orbs and walked off with a few troopers flanking her.
"Fat chance!" Said one kid who looked about twelve, sprawled on the grass somewhat close to me. "Dragon's the best Tinker alive, and doesn't do anything in person. Everyone knows that!"
"Then she'll fall all the harder when I leave this place and unseat her, Motherfu- Ouch!" Bakuda was bopped on the head again and pointed towards a nearby shed.
"Stop cursing!" That was another trooper, who sounded like an exasperated mother. I was getting worried that my roommate was going to suffer brain damage if this was a common occurrence.
"Alright, kids, show's over. Get back to class," one of the troopers shouted as he gently pushed Bakuda towards a door on the shed. I assumed it to be Bakuda's actual lab.
I stood up and brushed off my knees, ready to trudge back to the manacle tango I had to go through several times each day. The tediousness of it was more irksome than even the somewhat shitty conditions of my cell. I was using small bits of electricity to kill nearby cockroaches so we wouldn't get an infestation, but I was hoping we wouldn't get lice or bedbugs.
Flechette walked over to me before I got halfway to the manacle-holding trooper of the day. "Are you sure you feel safe with her living with you?" she asked me. My eyes widened a little as I imagined Flechette dressed like a combat-oriented princess, rescuing me from bad prison pudding and going on romantic adventures. We were totally meant to be, like Juliette, and whatever other hot girl in Hamlet existed so they could live happily ever after.
… Then again, I killed people, and was basically a dragon. She'd probably be killing me and rescuing the sexy princess from me. Stupid Hollywood expectations and-
"-ello? You ok there?" Flechette asked as she waved her hand in front of my face.
"Oh! Uh, yeah, I'm fine." Sweet jesus fuck, Taylor, don't blush. She's a hero, and she probably isn't into girls. Or villains. Probably has a boyfriend back home who writes every day. "Bakuda's been blabbing a… version of what happened regarding me, but uh… What are you here for?"
Flechette's mouth fell slack, and I immediately regretted opening mine in the first place. "…Uh. Stuff." She had a very pretty lower face, I think. It was hard to tell. I had a pretty… well nothing unless I was about ten to twelve feet long and covered in scales.
"Oh, uh… sorry? You don't have to tell."
Flechette's entire body made a sigh. "It's fine. I should probably be honest and say what my therapist tells me to tell people: I have a problem with drinking, and a problem with violence when I'm drunk."
"Bad enough to land here?" Really, a problem with drinking and violence versus my complete clusterfuck of a day shouldn't have even moved the needle.
Flechette shook her head from side to side, as if she was debating on whether to elaborate. "...Long-story short, after an altercation, I bitched out all the other Wards, and the Assistant Director while completely smashed."
"Wow," I couldn't help but snigger a bit. "That's not too bad though, a couple of thank you notes and apologies could help, right? Along with a short trip to AA?" With Bob, who has Bitch Tits, I think the Aleph movie goes. Not that I'd be able to see it anytime soon. Not that I was bitter or lashing out at all about it. I'm in prison, not a resort.
Flechette visibly cringed, "...Then I called the New York Director some awful names, and assaulted him along with a few of the Wards. Legend was pissed, to say the least."
"Was it... justified?" I was desperate to find a silver lining in her story. I mean, the girl was a Ward dammit! Shining paragons of virtue worth putting on breakfast cereal that commercials said tasted great. Even though the Wards' cereal was too expensive for Dad to buy, even when Mom was alive to justify-
… Ffffuuuuck, dammit Taylor. Stop thinking about that right now.
"-not even close. I almost killed a homeless man, while drunk on a patrol. That was the 'altercation' that started it," Flechette said darkly as she leaned in as though we were speaking in confidence. "Most of us deserve to be here, or worse, Terror. I've seen you getting chummy with Bakuda, and I'm a bit worried. Once you get computer privileges, you had better take a look at what your roomie was up to when she got captured. We can talk more once you get some more class and computer privileges, if you want. I can't imagine the other villains make good conversation, like that Nazi guy I heard you got in a fight with."
My face must have looked a like a tomato.
"… yeah… The Nazi guy wouldn't take no for an answer, and … Please don't look into what I did either… It's not, not, well-" I said weakly before trailing off. I was kind of surprised Flechette was even talking to me in the first place. I was probably every red flag rolled into one. The only thing this gorgeous, great-smelling hero and I had in common was the fact that we were in prison.
It's kind of hard to bond over that, you know? 'How're the prison bars?' 'They're ok, nice and strong. At least they don't make me remember the quadruple murder that got me here in the first place.'
"I got briefed on that before you got here, and looked up some of the rest. Real nasty. And not just on your end. You're mostly here because the upper-level guys think you might be redeemable."
Redeemable, right. Not that I'd go apeshit again, it's just… I mean, fuck.
At least it was a good thing that she was still willing to talk to me? Silver linings? A lifeline anywhere?
Where's that crazy bomb bitch when you need her to make the conversation awkward, but not focused on you!?
"I- err…" Our conversation was cut off by those two tall goons in the grey jumpsuits from earlier slamming into the both of us. A trooper noticed me standing by Flechette and yelled at me to hurry up.
"Sorry," I said, "I gotta go put on the manacles. It was, uh…" But she pushed past me, in a bit of a hurry.
Did I piss her off, or something? I chewed on a fingernail, more than a little nervous. I was on most cape's shitlists just in Brockton, I didn't want to be on hers too by accident.
"Just go already before they take away your dessert privileges, Terror!" Flechette shouted over her shoulder. I thought I saw a bit of a smile.
I quickly ran over to the the annoyed trooper with a sloppy grin on my face. He was a bit pale for some reason, but I figured he'd get a tan from the bomb-sun thing that would still burn nearby for another hour.
Back to class. The Nazis leave solitary in a few hours and will get the chance to harass me again. But more importantly, I'll get computer privileges tomorrow, so I'll get to find out just who my little friend 'Sophia' is.
Last edited: Jan 14, 2017
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Somewhat Disinterested
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Somewhat Disinterested
Jan 17, 2017
#278
Another chapter is made! And I feel guilty for not working on Full Metal Bakuda, much less Crouching Tiger, but that's yet another case of writer's block. I'm certain that a bad chapter is worse than a late chapter… soooooo….
New prison chapter!!!
Crouching Tiger Goes to Prison 9
"Miss Terror!"
The Nazis were due to be out of solitary at least an hour ago, so I had amped myself up about three inches during class. No one seemed to mind, or comment on it, so I figured they knew it was a precaution. Just in case things went sideways and those Nazi pricks walked into class to try something again. I never got the ringleader's name, and it was uncharacteristic of me, at least before the rampage.
I had a few hours to kill before dinner, so I strolled out of class to go back to my-
"There's a message for you, Terror." It was the pale trooper guy, running to catch up to me.
"Oh. Hi there, mister, uh…" The guy was snow white, like an albino, it was nuts. "Brown. What's the message?"
It was so fast that I didn't even see the scythe rip up into my ribcage and then yank to the side..
And yeah, that hurt a lot. Blood, and I think some of my organs spilled out.
"Son of a fuckin- grrk!" Another scythe went right through my throat. I felt to the ground spluttering as regeneration kicked in and my neck started to reform.
I leapt up and two-hand-punched the guy in the face hard enough to knock him back four feet with a shattered jaw. I heard a groan as I awkwardly fumbled at the scythe in my chest with my hands.
Then the guy leapt at me like I had never even shattered his-
Wait. That was Alabaster. The Albino Empire Eighty Eight Cape. Shit.
A regenerator. And here I was alone in a small hallway with brute five manacles.
He was fast. I barely blocked a scythe to the eye before another scythe ripped through my intestines. I nearly threw up blood as I two-hand punched Alabaster in the side of the head with my manacles, slamming him into the wall.
The manacles broke, and I flexed my fingers.
"I do apologize, girl," the creep said. "But you will have to die, and I'm certain you will tire before I do. If you cooperate, I can end it quickly."
"Fuck you," I growled as I grew another inch.
I wasn't tall enough, wasn't covered in scales. I was just irritated.
I felt footsteps and bodies rush to where Alabaster and I were fighting. "A little help here!" I shouted at whomever had rushed to the other side of the hallway. Hopefully it wasn't Hookwolf jumping in to make my life even more difficult. Could I even beat Hookwolf?
I screamed in frustration as I thrust my hand through Alabaster's chest and kicked him off me. It was gross, and frustrating.
The sick bastard was smiling the whole time, in between fatal wounds and the occasional scream.
"There's blood everywhere, Taylor! What the fuck is going on!?" Flechette screamed. Behind her were several PRT troopers. Oh thank god for Flechette, hopefully.
"This. Nazi. Won't. Stay. Down!" I bellowed in response. At least I hoped it looked like I wasn't ripping through a PRT trooper. She had to have seen Alabaster revert back to his normal state a few times.
"You sure he's a Nazi?" Flechette asked.
A third damn scythe appeared out of nowhere and lodged itself in my neck near my collarbone. I snapped Alabaster's neck, only for him to revert again and try to kick me between the legs.
"Hold still, little girl!" the albino creep shouted before glancing back at Flechette.
That gave me the time to recover a bit and inform her. "It's Ala- cough, baster-, brute number-something because he regenerates every three seconds."
I ripped his arm off, only for it to regenerate and allow him to slam a scythe into my face. This hallway was not conducive for my fighting style, and Alabaster had to have known it. Kaiser wanted my death drawn out.
You're goddamn right that scythe to the face hurt.
"Shit!" Flechette charged Alabaster, then jerked to the side and threw out her hands.
Alabaster screamed that time as he crumpled to the ground, clutching his stomach. I kicked him into the wall so he wouldn't be able to hit Flechette with another scythe, and Flechette followed it up by throwing… pencils? Pencils at Alabaster, pinning him there.
He screamed a few times, but when his body reverted, he was still injured.
I took the short break to cough up some blood onto the ground.
Ooooh, and what looks like a trachea. My trachea.
Then it was quite for a moment, asides from the weird sound Alabaster made when he reverted back to his base state every three seconds, and my ragged breaths. "Thanks, Flechette." If I were less thankful, I'd call her pencil-pusher.
More boots pounding on the floor, and the hallway was flooded with PRT troopers. Some with guns trained on me, some on Alabaster, and some on Flechette. Which was interesting.
"Situation clear, sir."
The Warden stormed in like Vader right of of Star Wars, taking note of all the gore in the hallway. It was mine, for the record, but it looked pretty bad. He actually looked more imposing than Vader. I don't know what made the guy scary, but he pulled it off.
Flechette and I turned to look at him. "Uh, this isn't what this looks like?" I said as I realized Alabaster was still wearing a PRT trooper uniform.
"She's sort of right," Flechette offered when The Warden glanced her way.
"I turn my back for thirty minutes to watch a TV show and everything goes to hell. What happened here, Terror?" The Warden said with a hard edge to his voice.
I didn't have anything in me for a reference or something, so I just stuck to the facts. "Kaiser decided to send Alabaster to give me a message. The message was apparently a scythe up my ribcage. I was fighting with him when Flechette showed up and pinned him to a wall." Alabaster was still whimpering and hadn't even bothered to look up at us or the Warden.
"No one else was here?" The Warden asked. There was a sheen of sweat on the guy's face.
"No Mr. Warden, I was all alone. Seems like an ambush. Nazis." I told him. I had nothing to hide really, and I wanted to keep my impending computer privileges. Not that I'd be able to look up anything I wanted, but it would be cool to have access to the outside world again.
One of the more senior-looking troopers walked up and saluted. Which was weird. "Sir, she's correct. All agents are accounted for except Corporal Brown. The hostile cape is wearing his uniform."
And boy, oh boy did the Warden look pissed. "Something happened, and the place is compromised. I want every free trooper and staff member to find Corporal Brown, now! Get me the New York PRT and Protectorate on the phone immediately. Agent Colger, I want a log of all visitors and personnel changes on site since the last time Brown was seen. Holmes, get a lockdown on all known Empire members in this facility."
Troopers scrambled around me, running this way and that.
"Terror," the Warden growled. "You've been a model prisoner since you've arrived. I don't want to find out you've been having problems."
I shrugged. Flechette was about to say something, but I spoke before she could. "I didn't do anything until he tried to gut me. He said Kaiser had a message for me, like the last guy you put in solitary."
The Warden pulled up a tinker tech tablet and started tapping on it furiously. "Fine. Terror, go back to your cell immediately and clean yourself up. Bakuda will join you in a bit. Under no circumstances are you to leave the cell until tomorrow. Dinner will be provided later to your cell. Henderson, give her another set of Brute Five manacles."
"S-Sure thing sir," Henderson said as she approached me. I casually held out my wrists for her to secure them She must have been a little taken aback by all the blood and guts in the room. A nice little click and I was nice and safe for everyone.
"...Good. Now that that's over with, escort her back to her cell. Flechette, you're to follow me after we deal with Alabaster here."
"… Uh. Ok." I slowly turned and left with Henderson, who walked briskly behind me.
"Oh, one sec. Alabaster?"
"huh?" Aww. Poor guy was actually in pain.
"If Kaiser wants to deal with me, he can wait until I'm out of here. I'll happily come find him to give him his own message." This was simply too annoying.
"Come on, kid. Stop scaring the other vill'ns." Henderson opened the door to the last hallway before my cell, and ushered me through. I took my time, though. I was outside of the hallway where it all went down, but I could still hear the conversation between the Warden and the hero.
There were the sounds of several pats. "Hey, Flechette, it's ok. You technically broke procedure there, but it was the right call." It wasn't the Warden, but that trooper who had first reported to the Warden a moment earlier.
"-I- I mean… fucking hell Bob! She ripped through him like paper and nothing stopped her! Those restraints were in pieces on the floor. I could've been next, or you, or anyone."
Was she… crying? I felt a massive pit form in my gut. But… I still wanted to hear this. I stopped at the door and clunked the back of my head against the door frame I just walked through.
"You ok?"
I eyed Henderson. She seemed to be taking this rather well. "Not really, sorry. I need a moment."
"Take your time, just don't do anything stupid."
I heard more pats, and a few sobs in the distance. "It's not that bad, Flechette. Thinkers suggest you're a hard counter to her, and she's never attacked a hero outside of that one day when she was half mad and she still didn't go for lethal then."
That was… reassuring. "There's nothing we can do if she does. Reinforcements are too far away."
"Nothing us troopers can do, kid. It why we're paid big bucks to be here, hazard pay and all that. We knew those restraints are bullshit, but she's playing by the rules. By all accounts she seems nice. Started out here without much fuss either."
"…She's b-better than I was? I don't believe it." That didn't sound like the voice of someone who wanted to be my friend, orders or not. I slumped down with my back to the door and pushed my new, less gore-covered manacles to my face. That was my face... getting wet, along with the manacles.
It doesn't feel good when you realize that the heroes are more horrified by you than the immortal Nazi trying to kill you for no reason.
I heard a low chuckle. "Yeah, much better than you were. We haven't found whiskey in her room yet. And it's even more dangerous because her roommate's Bakuda. She'd make tinker molotov's that dance or something."
Flechette let out a strangled laugh. "Fuckin' crazy bitches. Both of them."
"Yeah, just work on keeping everything peaceful. Come on, let's get you up and out of here. We've got work to do."
Their conversation was over, but I sat there on the ground for another minute, shrinking until Henderson coaxed me to stand up and keep walking with her. I honestly struggled to push myself back up off the floor, and then trudged back to my cell. I wiped my face clean for some reason. I figured Bakuda wouldn't want me to be emotional around her. Another awkward and unnecessary dance with Henderson and the manacles before I entered my cell, and I was free to talk to Bakuda and lie down on my bed to process the day.
"Hey. Good news roomie, we're stuck here while I have to- ah, fuck."
Last edited: Jan 17, 2017
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