Pashban III: Escape from The Sulphur Palace (Game I of 2214

The History

In the year 2214 A.D. the modern history of the world is simple enough. Humankind’s diligent seeking of peace and prosperity had gone terribly awry. It didn’t matter who started the war, only that it was, and so being it pulled all into its maelstrom.

All wars need to be supplied. The combatants need to be fed, fueled, and moved in a hundred ways. The war killed people, it broke things…and it created a vacuum of power that the Three Corporations stepped into, filling it neatly.

The war was never won, it was simply supplanted as the corporations that had fed on its lifeblood grew larger, buying competitors and selling governments until now the only thing left is business. The business of business and the business of lives.

The World

The Three control trade, education, healthcare, security, infrastructure, and the very lives of the people who live in their territories, their employees. Technology has improved relentlessly, taking us farther into space than we had ever been before, breaking the solar system barrier.

We are each employees of our Corporation or, depending upon your point of view…slaves.

There are those who do skirt the edges, trying to avoid official notice. If and when they’re found they’re offered mandatory employment. Acceptance means an assigned job. Rejection…is not acceptable.

And so business moves on, the sublevel businesses of each corporation waging hostile takeovers while the militaries sometimes clash more openly over territory. It’s a reality of haggling, killing, and occasionally the odd, and usually temporary, alliance. It’s corporate raiding in the extreme.

Aerus Incorporated

Spoiler:

Nexxin Industrial

Spoiler:

Xenosel Incorporated

Spoiler:

Weaponry

Spoiler:

Spacecraft

Spoiler:

The Game

In every society there are criminals. For pragmatists, all of them can be dumped in one place for a reasonable fee. In our case it is the penal colony of Pashban Three, dubbed ‘The Sulphur Palace’ by those who reluctantly have reason to be there.

You can be from any of the Three (see ‘Corporations’ for a brief sketch of each) and can be a criminal or be wrongly accused. You can be one of the edge drifters who chose not to be a team player. You can be a prisoner of war only if you are from the Aerus or the Xenosel corporations. NOTE: for the purposes of this game do not play a character who is psychotic or mentally disturbed…we won’t have time to sort out your character’s issues.

Bear in mind that this mission will be dangerous in many cases, lethal. Characters can, and most likely will, be injured and die. The more active you are in posting, the longer your character's life expectancy.

Code:

[b]Name[/b]:
[b]Age[/b]:
[b]Appearance[/b]:
[b]Background[/b]:
[b]Reason For Imprisonment[/b]:

Name: Lillith Seanan

Age: 22

Appearance: Has shoulder length black hair with blue highlights, wears a sleaveless black vest with the zipper in front, pants that are black slightly baggy and has four large pockets (two on each leg), black sneakers with dark blue laces, and (keeping with the dark themed clothing) wears black lipstick and eyeshadow. She stands at 5'7" and has bright blue eyes. Lillith has a lean, athletic build.

Background: Was abandoned as a child and raised by a group of drifters. As she grew older, she became talented at hacking, scouting and salvaging. Eventually she decided to leave the drifter lifestyle and became a coperate spy. She became well known among the powers that be, due to her willingness to accept dangerous mission and her high success rate.

Reason For Imprisonment: Basically, she got caught. She was working a mission given to her by an Aerus exec in exchange for some new technology. She was spying on a company within Nexxen, but just as she was finishing up, a group of Nexxen agents made an unexpectant stop in the facility. They imprisoned her when she refused to tell them who hired her.

Name: Patron
Age: 38

Appearance: 6´3, 250 pounds of raw muscle. Deep brown eyes, no eyebrows, no facial hair, no hair on his head, no hair nowhere. Last guy to make a joke about it (« Patron´s so bald, you can see was on it´s mind. ») ate his suppers trough a straw. All remaining five of them. After which he was found with his head busted in.
Got used to the warden uniforms, but since they took those away he had to settle with grey, loose fitting jeans and a white blouse, which he keeps open at all times. And then his pride and joy; a remotely operated shock collar around his neck. In case old habits die hard.

Background: Born Asmodeus Acalata Apps, Patron (he chose the name ´cause he liked the sound of it) soon decided that his parents could to hell, and that all he needed to survive in a world of constant warfare were his own two fists; sadly, it was all true. After a few fruitfull years in the underground, he settled for a job which provided a bit more social security; warden at the penal colony at Pashban III. Here, life was good; beat up a few detainees, help yourself to some women. Paradise for an inglorious brute like Patron.

Reason For Imprisonment: Got drunk. Not enough? Got very drunk and pushed one or two colleagues into a sulphur pit. Maybe three. Surely no more then five. Life been a living hell for him since, as his former colleagues were kind enough to outfit him with a shock-collar, and the other detainees did not forget or forgive. Luckily, after he managed to break a few jaws out of the wardens sight, most people leave him alone.

Name: Misho Aleksandr

Age: 36

Appearance: Is a well toned man of 195 lb. stands at 5' 11". Has greasy black hair that's slicked back with a couple of hairs out of place. Has a stubbly unshaven beard, bright blue eyes, and wears a dirty green coat, white shirt, fingerless gloves, with black cargo pants and boots. Has a scar from the corner of his lip to his cheek in a cragged shape from an accident.

Background: Ex-Pilot for the Nexxin Industrial, was a bomber for the corporation's military force. Recieved 3 medals for campaigns, and air strikes. Was branded a traitor for striking on his own men and now seeks revenge against the company that betrayed him. He has been running for 3 months.

Reason For Imprisonment: Was given coordinates from High Command to bomb a Xenosel base camp. He bombed on that position, doubled checking to make sure they were the right coordinates, but realized too late that he had accidentally bombed his own corporations base camp. He was branded a traitor and hunted down for his act of treachery. Successfully escaped the armed forces for months, but was eventually captured and charged with betrayal and defection.

Name: Jones Fradrick (Freddy) Johnson
Age: 25
Appearance: 5'4, only about 140lbs, he is a small man, though fit (read somewhat tone not ripped). He wears a plain black T-shirt, and a pair of jean work suspenders which normally would have been full of tools (assuming they would be taken when arrested), though he did get to keep his heavy duty tan work gloves that stick slightly out of his right back pocket. Clothes are grease and oil stained. Has dirty brown hair and matching dull eyes, and far from handsome, though he wouldn't look to bad if he wasn't covered in greese all the time.
Background: A drifter, hitching rides with ships that either where owned by other drifters or by a company looking for a good engineer who knows how to keep his mouth shut. He managed to stay nutral most of his life, plying his skills as a mechanic when possible, and taking any other job when he had too.
Reason For Imprisonment: Finished a job as an engineer for one of the companies when the boss decided he did not trust Freddy to keep his mouth closed. The result, arrested under false charges and sent away forever.

reserved for her royal Gloomyness

Name: Melody Dexter (just Dexter for short)

Age: twenty eight

Appearance: light blonde hair that reaches to her shoulders. The mistreatment of her hair has allowed her to have dread locks which she has styled in her many hours incarcerated. Melody has green and amber flecked eyes. Melody has child like features and a delicate frame. She has a scar that runs from her left cheek down her neck. Melody has piercings in her upper and lower lip and three in her right ear. She has a tattoo stating love, hate, written in two swallows on her lower back.

Background: Machinery and weaponry designer, Melody was a top of the class creator of high tech and destructive weaponry and machinery. Laid back with a devil may care attitude; Melody is calm and often the cause of an argument. She is thick skinned and lacks signs of horror or distress towards the pain and ailments of others due to her tough life in the sulphur palace. She’s been known as the peace keeper within the confines of the Palace for resolving disputes or disrupting ugly fights.

Reason for Imprisonment: Sick of sexual harassment in the work place Melody created a explosive device and rigged it to the doors of the female toilets and change rooms where she worked to teach a man who was stalking one of her younger co workers. It destroyed half the building and most of the slimy men that worked there.

Name: Alison Archer

Age: 19

Appearance: 5’6” tall with a slender build and long straight blonde hair down her back, cold grey eyes, and fair skin; wears a dark grey body suit, with a black denim jacket and short black cargo shorts over it, along with plain black shoes and black gloves

Background: Alice is a weapons tester for Aerus Inc. She specializes in long range weapons, specifically sniper rifles, but also knows how to handle the occasional rocket launcher or heavy machine gun. If anyone asks, she has never used a weapon on a live subject. Never. End of story. Alice is very good at her job, though the company doesn't say much about what exactly it is that she does. "She shoots things," they say, "that's all." Little is known about how she came to work for them, but most know that hiring her was probably a very good idea. After all, it would be a shame to have a "weapons tester" of her caliber fall into the hands of the competition.

Reason For Imprisonment: They say she shot some guy -- blew his head clean off. Impossible. She never came within a mile of that guy. But that's all water under the bridge now that she's here. She doesn't talk much. Doesn't smile much. Doesn't really bother anybody at all. And people have learned not to bother her either, so it's all good. But, seriously, she didn't shoot that guy. Really.

Name: Rimor Navis

Age: 27

Appearance: Clean, sharp features that are truly handsome, dark slicked back hair that is slightly curly, and dark eyes. Or at least that was Rimor's appearance, before he wound up on the Sulphur Palace. Nowadays Rimor doesn't look quite so handsome. His features are no longer clean; it's scratched and hasn't been shaved for ages. His hair isn't styled; it's messy and wild. Once Rimor wore some of the finest clothes available. Now he wears a tattered brown blazer and dirty khaki slacks.

Background: Rimor Navis was Xenosel's and Aerus's top explorer and navigator for energy research. Rimor was the best of the best and was often hired by both corporations. At the top of his career he had discovered numerous energy sources and places to find these sources, discoveries that had made him immensely rich, rich enough to afford his own private vessel and a small crew to go with it, along with interspacial flight rights.

Reason For Imprisonment: While on an reasearch assignment for both Aerus and Xenosel, Rimor wandered into Nexxin territory. Normally this wouldn't have been a big deal, Rimor had an interspacial passport giving him access. This wasn't a normal assignment though, Rimor had found what appeared to be the strongest fuel source yet, and enough of it to last centuries. Nexxin didn't really like the idea of Rimor coming in and taking such a big discovery for Aerus and Xenosel off of their territory and not being part of the deal. So in traditional Nexxin style Rimor was arrested, his ship destroyed, and his discovery stolen.

Name: Herman Porter

Age: 47

Appearance: 6 feet tall and 170 lbs. Slim build with a long face and long fingers. He's more athletic than the average 40+(no Spiderman, mind you, but more athletic) Black hair with grey peeking through, somewhat slicked and shoulder length.

Background: Herman used to work for Aerus before his imprisonment. Basically a selfish workaholic with no life, no hope for his future, no NOTHING. Since being imprisoned 25 years ago, he's turned to religion to help him find hope.

Reason For Imprisonment He beat a man to death who attempted to have his way with some young hot intern. The one time he decided to be selfless, he winds up sent away. He was bitter for his first two years before his late mentor taught him the way, now he tries to help as many as possible.

Long days, long nights, who can tell the difference in this place?

Essentially a crevice thousands of feet deep, just about a nautical mile to the bottom which, if you were into trivia of that sort you would know is 6,076 feet using the antiquated system of measurement from an empire long gone. Call it 1,852 meters, then, but it doesn’t make a blind bit of difference because you’re stuck here and you’ve got all the time in the world to think about it.

The crevice continues over your head, smoothing to perfectly round walls, glassy smooth from a bore bigger than most standard office buildings and ending in a domed roof with four hatches in it. In the center of these, dominating the roof, is a huge ventilation fan, its blades chopping what passes here for air like the biggest helicopter blades you’ve ever seen in your life.

The walls shine with pyrite crystals. Fool’s gold. It glimmers in the rock walls all the way to the bubbling red pit of sulphur far below.

The alloyed composite mesh catwalks that crisscross the cavern are always hot and you might feel sorry for whatever poor bastards had to build them if you weren’t busy sweating all the time yourself. Each catwalk is just about six feet from the one above or below it, making things tricky for taller prisoners. There are retractable ladders that connect the catwalks but you cannot remember ever seeing them down and in use. Prisoners have to jump down or climb up if they want to be on any level other than the one they currently occupy.

There are a few six by six by six cages suspended in the open spaces, out of reach of the catwalks as they dangle from the roof. Solitary. The prisoners inside can yell to the others but can’t join them. Solitary confinement is a special punishment because it is impossible to feed those in the cages.

Outside the prison…well…you have no idea what lies outside the prison. You were drugged to the eyeballs when they brought you here, processed all nice and compliant.*

At semi-regular intervals a sound similar to a chorus of buzzsaws causes everyone to duck and cover. Many small devices called omnidrones (nicknamed 'wizzers'), flying with the aid of one or two blurred fanblades, drop a payload of food in random places along the catwalks. It’s first come, first serve and trying to grab one of these things out of the air could result in the loss of a hand. Each are also fitted with cameras and assess the prisoners as they deliver the food and buzz back to the hatches in the roof.

The business of the prison, the processing of prisoners, the eating of donuts, is done outside of this cavern in the surrounding tunnels. At the end of six of the catwalks there is a heavy door sealed at each end. Over these doors is a rectangular yellow light that will come on when the door is about to open. A droning robotic voice will sound any variation on the warning, “All prisoners step back fifteen feet off the yellow grid.”

Don’t get excited just yet.

Any section of the catwalk can be electrified. Before a door is opened, say to add a new prisoner to the cavern, the light and the voice warn and that segment of the grid in front of the door is electrified. If you’re standing on it you get zapped like a bug.

Your shock collar is another item of interest as we are already discussing zapping. The wardens can activate it from the comfort of their office chair or anywhere else they carry the controller at any level from 1 (Don't forget we're here) through five (ow that smarts) to 10 (you may possibly shoot through the roof and/or die).

*Except for our ex-warden…and he won’t talk about it. (Teele or I will PM you, CG)

Game Objective for the Introductory Round:

Spoiler:

Rules:

Spoiler:

Deaths will be in Orange. Read all GM posting or you'll feel silly.

^

Freddy sat quietly on the edge of one of the metal catwalks, glad that his jean suspenders provided his rear with some protection against the anoying heated metal. He slipped a stale piece of bread from his pocket that he had slipped there during his last shot at food and popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly, enjoying the feel of food, if not the taste.

Being one of the smallest guys in this place hadn't helped him gather food any easier. Not that he was fairing worse than some. He just stayed out of the way of the bigger and more agressive inmates and kept a low profile hoping to figure some way out of this mess. If he did, he'd be rigging a certain shuttle belonging to his ex-boss to crash after take off. It'd serve the bastard right too.

Regretibly he swollowed the bread in his mouth wishing he hadn't given some to that half starved girl he saw. He hadn't been here long enough to have lost his soul, and while he knew he couldn't help everyone, he could help some, and would likely go with a bit less food because of it.

He sighed and looked down at the the molten pit below, eyes following it up to the shimering walls that housed him and the rest of these people. Strangly beautiful. Definatly a waste, the heat from this place could have powered a generator easilly and with not to much work made this place a recharge station. Instead it just made him sweat all the time, which made him oddly comfortable, after working around engines all his life he had gotten used to being uncomfortable.

“ You got about three seconds before I rip your guts out. One.”

“Just do as he says.”

“Two.”

“For god sake, just give him the bread!”

The small, half starved girl gave one last desperate struggle before finally yielding. As she fell limp, a small squished piece of bread fell from her hands. Patron forcefully shoved the girl aside, not caring where she landed, picked up the food and devoured it in two bites. It wasn’t that he had been hungry, per sé, but the conditions had been too perfect; a weak target, plenty of onlookers, and none of the bloody camera’s in sight. The food had just been a bonus.

With the population satisfyingly terrified, Patron resumed his morning walk.

To most, one night on the floor of the Sulphur Palace would be considered an uncomfortable experience. Try twenty-five years on for size, and counting. Herman felt like everyday was the same after his first year, even when his late mentor Deacon Dudley showed him the way.

Herman woke up early every morning, and today was no exception. On a merciful night, he might hope to get three hours of sleep before waking up from the dream that vividly played out the incident that landed him in prison to begin with.

Drenched in sweat, he rolls from the flat of his back to his knees to begin a prayer. He has joy in being alive, but being canned makes him wonder how alive he really is once he finishes his morning praise. Using his forearm to wipe the sweat from his brow, he heaves a sigh and looks off into the distance.

Lillith sat perched up on the top crosswalk, snacking on some old bread. Hell compared to the crap she sometimes ate as a kid, this stuff wasn't half bad. From her high position, she studied the other prisoners, looking for anything she could use to her benefit. That exwarden was taking food from some half dead woman... "How pathetic," she commented. Another man was praying. Though as a whole, these people seem to have excepted being prisoners, which means they were utterly useless.

“ You got about three seconds before I rip your guts out. One.”

“Just do as he says.”

“Two.”

“For god sake, just give him the bread!”

Freddy looked up to see what the racket was. It was nearly right above him, a brute of a man shoved a small girl out of the way and towards the edge of the catwalk. One bad step and Freddy groaned as he saw her tumble over the edge and right at him. She screamed, he yelled and then THUD! He could have pushed her towards the edge that he was sitting on but instead he grabbed her and pulled her and himself away. That way no one died, though the weight being dropped on his chest certainly put him on the losing end of the deal.

She got off Freddy and looked like she was about to say something but Freddy stopped her with a hand raised. "Look, I'm not looking to become your protector, and I don't know what you did to get hercules mad at you. So don't get me involved." He said and she frowned, he was sure her eyes would be tearing up if she didn't look dehydrated. She bowed her head and walked away as if the whole world was against her. Freddy smiled as she left, at least she was alive for another day to try and make her own way, he was far to small, and had no real fighting expereince to speak of, no way he could risk getting on hercules' bad side.

With love for Patron

Volver wasn't really his real name it was a shortened form of 'revolver' which he let everyone think was after the old-fashioned pistol of that type. Really they'd started calling him that for how he spun around in circles in his chair when he got bored, which was often.

Assistant Underwarden Volver took another bite of his pressed-protein sandwich that tasted vaguely of...well, okay, it tasted like dog food even with the Mega-Vegi Sprinkles added to it. The package for the whole sorry thing said it should taste like steak. He'd long gotten used to the things, though and simply masticated with an iron will to match his iron stomach.

His eyes tracked one of several camera feeds from different parts of the prison. The Wizzers (he sniggered everytime he thought of the nickname for the omnidrones) weren't in the inmates' cavern right now so his views were very limited. Still, that old jerk Patron was right in his line of sight as he grabbed something off of a skinny starving girl, tumbling her over the edge of the walkway before loping away on his usual ambling rounds of the catwalks.

Volver waited till Patron was looking smug and then hit the button for the man's shock collar, laughing at the result of a level 7 shock.

Fox said i could join late... i swear.


Name: Kaye "Kitz" Kitsurugi

Age: 25

Appearance:
5'6, 115lbs, short straight black hair, athletic build, large dark
brown almond eyes, pointed nose, confident and lithe... female.

Background:
With degrees in Nano Robotics and Biocybernetics, Kaye finished first
in her class, accepting a position at the the Xenosel Cybernetics
R&D Division before she could toss her hat into the air at her
graduation ceremony. Her first project, to sucessfully hybrid specific
species of plants with nanocybernectics in order to make them perform
more efficiently during terraformation projects, was going swimmingly
until her superior -pissed that she constantly rejected his sexual
advances- framed her for embezzlement and corporate espionage, stealing
the credit and recognition for her discoveries.

Kaye, normally
bright and bubbly, has adopted a cold and gruff outward appearance
since being sent to prison. She is fit and athletic, having trained in
AMA (Amalgamated Martial Arts) since she was a child. Until recently,
she never took her training seriously, never having been involved in
any sort of violence, she always thought of it only as excercise.

Reason For Imprisonment: Embezzlement and Corporate Espionage.

Misho sat on a corner of the catwalk, sitting on his trenchcoat which acted as a sort of dampener against the hot grating. Even with the added protection it was hot, it was always hot. He didn't complain much though, being a runaway convict for three months taught a lot of things. One of them being, get used to the environment.

Even then, sitting in a large hot box, sweating bullets, drenching his own shirt along the collar, he knew he'd never get used to this hell hole. He looked up to see the comotion of some ex-warden tossing a half starved girl right on top of another man. He looked at the girl as she came over his way, an angered look in her eyes. As she passed by him, he spoke up.

"Get used to the reception child, I guarentee it'll become very traditional in your days in here," he then looked up at the warden, "if anything, let that be your revenge," he pointed at the warden being shocked.

The child continued onward, and he fished an old piece of bread out from his coat's pocket, and started munching on it. He'd gotten used to crappy food, but this was just terrible.

One thousand eight hundred and fifty two metres...
Melody looked up from the sparse corner she’d stolen away for herself. One thousand eight hundred and fifty two metres, yet she could nothing. No rock, no tunnel of light, only impenetrable darkness that swallowed vision and swallowed hope. The decks of heavy grid work were warm to the touch and even the darkness could not swallow the heat. Perspiration was a constant here, and it was hard to read fear in the darkness, sweat no longer a tell tale sign.

“What you be doing in my corner b****?” a voice asked. Melody looked about to make sure the voice was asking about her. Just walls glinting and winking with their treasure, pyrite crystals. Melody stood up and studied her hands now tattooed with the mesh cross hatching then squinted to see the trouble maker. A squat man as tall as he was round, his weight a tell tale sign of his rank at the palace. He would have been fit when he first came, like a dog catering to the first and foremost of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. He ate not because he was hungry but because it had consoled him, he hurt people that got in the way of his food because they became a stressor between himself and his addiction.

“Who rang your bell? Did someone die and make you head screw?” Melody said standing and stepping forwards. Melody had earnt a reputation here at the palace. A reputation for stepping in when things weren’t fair and fixing them. Nobody called her Melody, that name suggested a sweet woman with a gentile nature. Instead they called her Dexter her last name as some kind of joke. Melody was capable of laughing at jokes but only her own. When what little light there was splashed over her and revealed who she was the man stepped back.
“Dexter, I not be knowing this was your corner,” said the man.

Melody nodded slowly, “well it is. I suggest you motivate your rear end into walking yourself out of here. You don’t want me to get upset do you?”

“No m’am,” the human barrel turned on his feet and scurried away as quickly as his sausage legs would allow him.

Melody leant back against the grainy wall and flapped a hand in front of her face to fan it.

She watched them, scurrying like animals, fighting over the meager scraps of food. Alison was used to watching the world through the scope of a rifle but, even without a gun, she could manage. There was something oddly appealing about seeing things from afar. She was always distant, if not physically, then mentally. But that didn't mean she wasn't on target. No... she never lost sight of her target.

And today's target was Jim. She had never bothered to get Jim's last name. He was just "Jim;" nothing more, nothing less. If prisoners are like animals, Jim would be a rat. He was always slinking around, too weak to be noticed and too quick to be caught. And Alison was like a hawk, constantly spying on its prey. And there's the vulture, she thought, as she watched Patron rob an emaciated girl and get lit up like a Christmas tree for it. But, rather than dwell on the comedic irony of his predicament, she kept a close watch on her rat, who was now emerging from the feeding frenzy, bread in hand.

Naturally, he came straight to her and presented the meal. Jim handed her the bread, she accepted it, broke it in half, and returned his piece. Then, without a word, he departed. It's been that way for quite a while now. He brings the bread. She takes half -- never more than she needs -- and sends him on his merry way. They never speak. They usually don't even look at one another, though she occasionally catches him watching her from afar, probably thinking what any male prisoner would think... but, he's smart enough not to try it.

It all started six months ago, when Jim tried to steal from her. Jim had a serious problem: he didn't know how to keep his hands to himself. Alison 'fixed' his problem... by unfixing half the joints in his body. There was no permanent physical damage, but there's something about having a near-death experience at the hands of a teenage girl that really makes a man rethink his life.

So, Jim's problem was solved. He never laid a hand on anything that didn't belong to him ever again. And, because he's such a nice guy, he's more than happy to share.

Which works just fine for me, Alice thought as she savoured the stale bread, watching from her lonely corner. You're never lonely when there are targets to be watched.

The commotion of the food delivery stirred Kaye form her sleep, if you could call it that, it was more like an exhaustion-induced, involuntary descent into deep REM. She never felt safe enough to comfortably lay down and rest her eyes so she slept rarely, when she did, it was only for an hour or two at most. There was no unified concept of day and night at Pashban III, at any given time there were animals stalking about, looking for easy, unsuspecting prey and Kaye was determined not to be caught unaware. Day five of her imprisonment, and save for a few scuffles over food, she had avoided any major confrontation. Her Martial Arts background had been a useful tool in deterring any would-be predators. Her first couple of days, inmates underestimated her because of her size, but what they came to discover is that what she lacked in brute strength she more than made up for in speed and technical skill. A few broken bones and hastily eaten victory meals later, people were calling her "the food ninja." She'd even been offered a spot in an all female gang, but declined when she found that they traded their bodies with some of the stronger males in exchange for food and protection. Kaye hadn't reached that point yet, the point of utter desperation... Not just yet, but whoring myself out will always be an option, she thought sarcastically.

Kaye's hunger commanded her to her feet, she sprang from her spot in a seated position on the hellish, ever-scorching grating, and ran full-sprint toward the food. Using her small size to dart through and over the desperate people in the crowd, she was able to snatch up a few handfuls of food from the hands of others and shove it into her own mouth. a couple of times she had to use her training to keep from eating the fists of those who she'd stolen from. When she'd had enough, she snatched up a few pieces of bread for later and stuffed them between her shirt and the flesh of her chest. Then, expertly, she climbed 3 levels up from where she had previously been, just in time to take notice of a small altercation with a dangerous looking woman and an ogre.

“Dexter, I not be knowing this was your corner,” said the man.

Melody
nodded slowly, “well it is. I suggest you motivate your rear end into
walking yourself out of here. You don’t want me to get upset do you?”

“No m’am,” the human barrel turned on his feet and scurried away as quickly as his sausage legs would allow him.

Melody leant back against the grainy wall and flapped a hand in front of her face to fan it.

Dexter. Kaye repeated in her mind as she eyed the woman. She wondered what evils that woman had done to command that kind of respect among men like the bumbling giant that had just scurried away. Kaye stood pondering, unaware that she was staring.

Melody paused in her fanning sensing the eyes of another upon her. She paused and looked up frustration lacing her features. What did a girl have to do around here to rot on her own? The lack of space seemed to eat the common sense of others. They weren’t shy about treading on toes.

“Cat got your tongue?” she asked when her eyes locked onto a woman with black hair and a lithe frame. She tilted her head and maintained eye contact. “There’s no food here, that why I chose this space, lack of food means a lack of people.”
The woman’s gaze continued and Melody sighed. “You know lady the longer you spend looking at me the less chance of a meal you’re gonna have?”

A strange man talked to the girl, telling her to get used to life. Freddy watched the man for a second, sighed and stood up away from the edge. "Hey, you look pretty tough and all but you might want to try and not appear friendly with the targets." He advised. "Do like me, help them if you get the chance, even if it is accedental. I could have let her fall, but leaned back pulling her ontop of me." He explained rubbing his soar chest. "But opennly siding with them might get you killed. At least that's what I noticed around here." He told the man, both his hands in his pockets, he looked around to make sure none of the 'bullys' where anywhere in punching range. He hadn't been here long but he knew eventually he'd have to confront one when they decided to make little old him a target, he wasn't sure what he'd do when it came to that. He had never killed, never fought really, and the one or two times he had been in a fight he'd been pretty sure he was on the losing end.

"Hey, you look pretty tough and all but you might want to try and not appear friendly with the targets." He advised. "Do like me, help them if you get the chance, even if it is accedental. I could have let her fall, but leaned back pulling her ontop of me."

Misho looked up at the man who was talking to him. He was even more dirty than him, shorter, and had the feel of an engineer on him.

"But opennly siding with them might get you killed. At least that's what I noticed around here."

"I'll take my chances here comrade. From a small experience my own, being in jail is about the same as a running convict. Get enough rockets and even a tank won't bother you," he said mentioning the ex-warden.

"However we both have our own insights, as we do the same agenda. Enough of this talk though, I'd like to know who I'm conversing with."

"However we both have our own insights, as we do the same agenda. Enough of this talk though, I'd like to know who I'm conversing with."

Freddy smiled, he couldn't falt the man's point. "I'm Freddy, and if you can't tell I'm out of rockets." Freddy said offering his hand and a short laugh. The man seemed the type that might improve Freddy's chances of not dieing a horrible death. "And in the tradition of every prisoner ever asked, I'm innocent. Not that it really matters, got some bogus fraud charges. How about yourself? What didn't you do?"