On Lockdown

[Mael Feu]

== Part 1: Thoughts ==

Bastard. That f*cking bastard.

I can't even say that it's his fault that I'm here behind these cold iron bars of a prison cell. Wouldn't be the first time I've spent time in a place like this. I knew things were dodgy when I met him that night in the forest so to have made such a rookie mistake as I had. The promise of getting what I wanted had sounded to sweet and had made me sloppy. This hell hole is where I belonged - at least until it was time for me to leave.

This prison wasn't one of those places where a person checked in and were treated to comforts, here you were lucky if your meals consisted of something other than watery gruel. And they didn't.

Far off from any mainland, this place is designed to keep the magically inclined in, their abilities are neutralized by some sort of field that surrounds the place. The Syndicate invested lots of interest in this prison for that very reason, funding its experiments and providing the guards with advanced weaponry to neutralize some of the more dangerous inmates. Many of them were in here because of me. Guess I should count myself lucky that I haven't been recognized by the prisoners. How ironic it is that I'm here now as a convict.

When I was caught I could have told them who I was, flashed my ID and had everything sorted out before ever arriving at this hell hole. Even now - though they have taken my personals - all I need do is give a sequential order to the presiding guard and I'd be a free man. Trust me, that thought has crossed my mind more than once. It's that damnable barrier. The one thing it couldn't guard against was a creatures natural ability but, if they were lucky enough to find themselves here, then they've already been through sedation and given a drug to keep those abilities at bay. It wasn't a perfect system as often a few, like myself, are put through the system without having the drugs.

Lucky me.

Once you were in here people on the outside started to forget about you. There was no trail to determine your sentencing and there were no judges to go before to get your time reduced or ask for parole. You were here for the world to forget about you until death or, in the very rare case, got your freedom.

While staying here would keep the Syndicate away for a while (I don't believe for a second that they don't know where I am) there is another reason and his name is Jake. I thought that he would have been dead by now, killed in some prison riot or from trying to escape, but I had caught a glimpse of whom I thought to be him the other day as I was being dragged to the Hole. I don't forget many faces and his still bore the scar I made across his forehead when I busted him and his entourage on a raid ten years ago. That man he had twin venomous fangs that also held acid and I would need his help if I wanted to escape.

I'll sleep on it for now. This plan needs perfect execution.

[Mael Feu]

== Part 2 : Negotiations ==

Once a week the prisoners were let out into the yard for a bit of recreation. Whether it was scorching hot, frigidly cold, or pouring down torrential rain, they sent us out. It didn't matter to them (though it should) if an inmate got ill, those people were sent to the infirmary to await a doctor that may or may not come. If you happened to be contagious and ourself and others died because of it, the guards cared enough to clean out the bodies to make room for new prisoners.

The yard was about fifty yards long and over half of that in width. There was no way to escape it without scaling over the seven story fence, even then where would you go? Beyond the fence lay rocks and the ocean. Without a boat you'd have to be one hell of a swimmer as the nearest land mass was a handful of leagues away.

There were two shelters - if they could be called that - on the yard and neither of them big enough to cover more than seven or eight people. The closer you were to the middle, the better coverage you got. Having a spot in one of the shelters was optimal for days like today where the rain was hard enough to drill through skin. I didn't know anyone who would pass up a chance for five minutes of coverage, but things like that came at a price.

Any place you go there's always a system, a ladder of hierarchy, and it was no different in prison. Ja'Tone Ferals, he wasn't much to look with his dwarf frame and scared face, but he was a genius with his hands. The Syndicate had found out about him a handful of years ago. A report came in of a man who had constructed an aqueduct system out of paper maché - we couldn't believe it until proof was seen, but after that we wanted him on our side. Unfortunately, he declined. Exactly how he ended up here I don't know but, because of what he could do, he spent his time here with his hands encased in iron shells. The other guys here called him Iron Fist and he, and his entourage controlled the shelter on the South side of the yard.

The North shelter was held by a man called Odyn Patrell, a giant and berserker hybrid. How that mix happened I don't want to know. He wasn't very smart but he made up for that with his crazy eccentrics. The other day he sprang on some guy during lunch and with his teeth ripped the man's ear clear off and paraded around with it hanging from his mouth. I don't know what the guy did to deserve loosing an ear, I'm simply glad it wasn't me.

Most of the inmates had some sort of alliance to one of the groups, but it was fickle. Some of the men even had their own groups. Jake, the man I needed to see, belonged to Odyn's group so that is where I had to go. Me? I wasn't one for prison politics and always sought to stay off of any 'watch list'. Guess that was about to change.

=== To Be Continued.... ===