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 The Bulkhead

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PostSubject: The Bulkhead   04.02.16 23:38


Regardless of race, sex, nationality, or crime, all were the same...
Whisked away to an unknown location for crimes they did not commit...
Snatched up by a group of faceless unknowns...
Their Retribution had just begun...


For each person, the last thing that passes through their minds upon exiting the courtroom after their trial was the same: That strange man sitting in the front row of the onlookers. He stood out like a sore thumb, who was he? His contrasting black suit with red tie, his short slicked back black hair with grey streak, his sunglasses... it was all so out of place. And his smirk. The smirk was the last visible thing that anyone saw before they were forced outside the courtroom, and into a small, unmarked armored car waiting just outside.

There was no crowd. There were no reporters. The entire thing was just... off. And, now that they think about it, where did the judge say they were going? What was their sentence? They knew their crimes, crimes they did not commit. Yes... those oddly vague crimes for which minimal evidence was given...

None of this was right.

But regardless of right or wrong, they were now in a heavily armored vehicle speeding down the road to who knows where, supposedly a prison. There was no light, none at all. The trip was long, and it was impossible to tell the time. For some, the trip was over land. For others, it felt like they flew, as if their car was loaded on a plane. And, for others yet, it felt like they were sailing on the ocean.

But after the long trip, the vehicle eventually comes to a stop, backing into what feels like a dock as a metal clang could be heard, and felt. The vehicle was locked into place by something in the back. Tired and hungry, they were drained from the entire experience, and may find minor comfort that they've finally reached their destination.

That is, until the back doors unlock with a clunk, swinging open only to reveal a pair of what appear to be soldiers. However these soldiers wore no colors. Patches on their shoulders read "RC" and stitched to their vests the word "Officer". If these were the guards for a prison, they were the most armed prison guards in the world. They wore dark tactical vests, held assault rifles, and even had combat daggers and... grenades?

Their faces are obscured, as they wore tactical helmets which covered their entire head save for a tinted panel over their eyes. They drag the new inmate out by force, revealing nothing but a long grey hallway with fluorescent lights lining it every few yards. Aside from the lights, the hallways were... blank. Nothing but flat cement on every surface, extending probably a hundred feet back, or more.

Dragging the inmate out, the new inmate, you, are forced to walk down this hallway, guns in your back. The Officers speak not a word, ignoring any attempt you may make at conversation, simply leading you deeper and deeper into this place. Eventually you reach a single door on the right, the hallway extending deeper yet into wherever it is this is. The windowless metal door slides open seemingly on its own, revealing a small room.

Inside the small room, another door is immediately visible, just across from the one you enter through. To the left, there appears to be what seems to be person-sized walk-in closet of sorts, with no door. It appears to be some sort of cylindrical metal device, while the walls around it and in this room were still the dull grey cement. To the right, appears to be a metal panel about three feet wide and two feet tall set into the wall.

Shoving you inside, the guards motion with their guns to step inside the walk-in device on the left. Once standing inside, the guards wait briefly, blocking your exit. Soon however, a once hidden door closes, sealing the device closed. In the space, it was cramped, however within moments it becomes even more cramped as it seems to shrink in size as numerous plates and body-hugging contours push into you, forcing a correct posture. Once it is sufficiently holding you in place preventing any further movement, a pop and a whirring noise can be heard from behind. Something clamps onto your restraints behind your back, and removes them, pulling the restraints back further into the machine and disposing of them or otherwise removing them from the area. It seals shut once more, and the machine begins alleviating its 'grip', retracting the parts that were holding you in place. Upon completion, the door opens once more, revealing the room again, the Officers gone.

Stepping out, you suddenly hear a voice over a phantom intercom. It appears to be a man's voice:

"Alright. Now that we've removed your restraints, you're going to remove all clothing and any other accessory you may or may not possess, place them in the chute in front of you, and once you hear the buzzer proceed through the door on your left."

The metal panel on the opposite side of the room slides open, revealing a trough of sorts. Once all clothing items have been placed into the trough, it silently slides back shut, and a click can be heard. After only a moment or so, a buzzing sound echoes through the room briefly. That was the cue to exit through the door on the left.

Like the previous door, this door also opened automatically, and silently. Upon exiting, the door would immediately slide back shut. This new room was a short hallway, maybe only 5 feet long, with another door opposite this door. As soon as you would approach the next door, it would slide open and another Officer would suddenly bolt in front of you, forcibly pulling you into the next room, taking careful means to strike you a time or two, notably in the head, with the butt of his assault rifle, yelling at you to move forward and line up against the back wall on the right and await further instruction.

This room was larger than the others, being about 20 feet across and maybe 8 feet tall. However, two details jumped to the forefront of your mind once you regain your composure from being struck (those bruises will probably last awhile...), the first thing of note would be the numerous Officers standing across from you, firing-squad style. Just like the others, they were armed excessively, and were half pointing their rifles at you, and half aiming them at the floor, as if ready to shoot at any moment's notice. Behind them were a few other doors similar to the others you'd seen, but that was less of a concern. The second thing you saw which prompted even more questions, was the giant, likely to be immensely thick floor-to-ceiling bulkhead armored door at the opposite end of the room from where you came in, to the right of where you are now. The door had to be 15 feet wide and 8 feet tall up to the ceiling, it was taking up nearly the entire wall.

Things were making less and less sense as time passed, and the situation becoming more and more concerning.

You are now standing with your back pressed up against a cement wall, with a group of maybe 10 Officers lined up in front of you firing squad style, the entrance door to the left, and the bulkhead to the right. People are being lined up in this row against the wall, and told to wait. No other instruction, no other explanation, no hint of what is to come, and... in the nude.

It's early winter of 2020, and it's starting to get cold.





The first to enter would be a stranger that was quite muscular with short brown hair and tattoos all over his body.
Next would be Anne.
Next would be another stranger, what appears to be a young man with a shaved head. He appeared to be Indian.
Next would be a stranger in his forties, possibly European, blonde with a lot of body hair and a beer belly.
Next would be Randall. Randall would find a clear plastic wheelchair in the first room he is pushed into upon exiting the van.
Next would be Yianni.
Next would be a thin lanky individual with bad posture and no muscle to speak of. He has glasses.
Next would be Nanami.
Next would be a 'skinhead' looking guy, with numerous Swastika and 666 tattoos all over his chest and arms.
Last would be an older Asian man. He looked possibly Korean, and also wore glasses.




More detail about the current room:
 


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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   05.02.16 0:31

Randall remained silent throughout the trial, and noticed a couple of interesting things.
His defense was appointed by the government, but a department was never provided or specified.
His defense also never attempted to do his job.
His crimes were never specified either, and no specific evidence was provided
Despite this, his sentencing was an absolute 'guilty' from the judge, though by that point in the trial he pretty much expected it.

He briefly considered trying to keep track of which direction they were taking him and for how long, but the unusual sensations from outside made it obvious such an attempt was pretty much in vain, so he fell back on his Ranger training and quickly fell asleep. The opening of the hatch brought him back to wakefullness pretty easily, and he was mildly surprised to find a wheelchair provided for him. He wouldn't have been surprised if the made him crawl his way into the facility, but he was grateful to have some way of getting around.
Randall was pushed along and into some kind of machine. The hatch shut behind him and the room began to compress, but though he was uncomfortable, he forced himself to remain calm- if they had intended to kill him, they would have simply shot him. This was an expensive operation, and they wouldn't waste money without reason, especially on overly-complex, mechanical death rooms.
     Sure enough the hatch popped open several moments later, and Randall was now free of his restraints. He took a moment to stretch his stiff arms before rolling out.

hmm, harsh, commanding, authoritative- certainly sounds military. Maybe this is a military prison, but I've never heard of an RC
Randall had been in hazing situations back in the military, and had spent a considerable amount of time in hospitals, so he had few qualms about modesty. Besides, it wasn't like he really had much to lose anyway- nothing on his person would help him. He stripped off his clothes, piece by piece, struggling with his pants but managing, and folded everything before depositing the pile in the chute, and wheeling down where he was directed.

When the officer jumped out at him, he was not surprised, but he also attempted no counterattack, because that would only result in a beatdown by the other guards who were no doubt waiting inside the room. He simply squared his shoulders and tucked his head to avoid the worst of the blows, and kept moving forwards, sliding to a smooth stop in front of the Asian man, then spinning his left wheel to back against the wall.


It was when he saw the line-up that he found himself more confused- this certainly didn't seem like any group of political prisoners or terrorists. There was no rhyme or reason to any of them, just hodgepodge.

Randall was concerned about the bulkhead in front of them, perhaps moreso than the men with assault rifles, because he knew what to expect from men in assault rifles- he knew nothing about what was behind that door, and had the uneasy feeling that he was going to find out soon.

He tried looking over the officers, but there was nothing useful on them- no indicators, no patches. he couldn't even put faces to them, not clear ones anyway.
So instead, he said, "Lovely weather we're having; anyone visit Australia recently?"




Last edited by JadeDemilich on 09.02.16 9:06; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   06.02.16 3:11

For being forced through a very unnatural situation, Anne seemed surprisingly calm which seemed vastly out of character. Being the free spirited creature that she was deep down one might infer that the idea of a jail devoid of all rights would be her one greatest fear. Those who'd think that would definitely not be wrong, however that's exactly why she was not afraid. More than once in her life she has had dreams similar to this in which her mind would forcibly put her in a situation that she had no power, no choice, and ultimately no clothes... This was nothing new. Even as she walked in and leaned against the cold concrete she couldn't help but wonder when she passed out. It was probably while she was studying honestly. She hasn't gotten much sleep due to her late night escapades. Though she must admit, her mind is making this feel awfully realistic. Best to give her brain the benefit of the doubt and just play along, lest it fucks with her more. At least... This is what she's decided to delude herself to in order to avoid a panic attack. While true that many dreams have taken this route, this was no dream. It was a nightmare.

And she wants to wake up. Please.




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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   07.02.16 22:27

There's nothing anything remotely near bearable about this situation for Nanami. First: she's not in her room. Second: she'd been manhandled by strangers in order to get her here. Third, related to the first two: there are way too many people she doesn't know. The notion of what this place is, prison, doesn't seem to put her off nearly as much as what it isn't.

She's in tears again by the time she's made to remove her clothes, shaking and shivering as she's lead into the line-up. She stares at her feet, unable to look at anyone, much less attempt to initiate conversation or respond.




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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   09.02.16 1:24


As time passes, the entire situation becomes more and more tense for the simple fact that nothing is happening. And then, as if by cue, a beep is heard from the door behind the Officers. The Officers in the immediate vicinity of the door quickly step out of the way, guns still trained on those lined up against the wall.

The door slides open with a sss-shhhk, and a large figure dramatically walks behind the Officers into the room, his exact appearance briefly obscured for the moment. One thing was immediately made certain however, he was massive.

Placing a pair of large gloved hands on the shoulders of a couple of the Officers, the brute pushes them out of his way, and steps into the center of the room. The man has to be almost 7 feet tall, and is probably easily 300 lbs of raw muscle. He has short blonde hair, a military buzz cut, with dark green eyes, an angular thick jaw, a scar on his upper lip, and seemed to be Russian perhaps. He wears body armor that is very similar to the other Officers, however it appears to be thicker, yet somehow more form-fitting. The man stands straight upright, and folds his arms behind his back, smirking as he looks at each of you. He immediately frowns, and states in a clear, gruff voice:

"You are, all of you, nothing. You are worth nothing. If you were once something, you no longer are. If you hope to be anything, let those hopes be crushed now. Dirt is superior to you."

He pauses briefly. Although the man appears to be Russian, he doesn't have an accent to speak of.

"I, am Colonel Shokov. And you will follow my every order to the letter. If you do not understand my order, you will not ask for clarification, you will do your absolute damnest to do what you think I want you to do, and you better pray to whatever it is that gives you that tiny insignificant will to live that you got it right, because you will not speak to me with that shit-spewing hole you call a mouth. Is that understood?"

He points at each person, and then the man begins pacing back and forth, walking up and down the row of inmates. With each step, his sizable boots give a heavy thud. With each person he passes, he looks directly into their eyes. His eyes are cold, expressing a deepness of one with a rough stone heart. And of a killer.

"Do you know why you are here?” Shokov inquires, allowing for a brief pause.

"You are here because you are scum. You are not fit for the likes of this world. And so, you are paying for it. You now belong to us."

He continues to pace, from side to side, hands folded behind his back, close to the inmates. He pauses for a moment, and swings his arm, sweeping it across everyone in the line, as a motion.

Welcome, to Retribution City. Where dreams come true, and where you will ALL live out your lives, for the remainder of your lives. However long that may be..."

He stops in front of the Indian man, of whom which is now sweating profusely, and visibly shaking, staring straight forward. Shokov continues, staring directly at the Indian man:

"Whether that be ten years..."

He immediately unsheathes the dagger from behind his back, and taking the Indian man by the shoulder with his free hand, drives the dagger deep into the man's chest repeatedly in quick succession. Over and over he stabs the man, blood running into a pool on the floor, spattering several feet in front of him from the force of the blows. Shokov carefully lowers him to the ground, the man either dead or soon to be.

"...or ten seconds."

Shokov holds up the dagger, examining it. It's drenched in blood. He wipes a drop of blood off his face with his pinkie, and tosses the dagger to one of the Officers who scrambles to catch it. Shokov looks over at Anne, and stares into her eyes, seemingly feeding off of the anticipated fear. He smirks.





[Note: Shokov is pronounced "Show-Kahv"]

Quick sketch of Shokov



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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   09.02.16 2:42

Anne stares forward and screams internally. If there was a God, please let her wake up.




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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   09.02.16 9:10

Randall listened to Shokov's speech and met his stare with an empty gaze, he'd heard a lot of speeches like this back in the Rangers and it was nothing all that new to him.

It was when Shokov started to stab the man that Randall starts showing some emotion. His jaw clenches, his hands tighten on the wheels of his chair to keep himself from trying to make a move. This was wrong on so many levels, but with the assault rifles leveled at him and the damage that he could tell had already been inflicted there was nothing he could do but sit here and watch.


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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   10.02.16 20:46

Nanami doesn't show much of a reaction. Not because she doesn't care, of course -- this is certainly a big deal. But it's way too much for her to process, especially with the way she was brought in, so she simply shakes and stares onwards.

Okay, that's a lie. She does react when the stabbing happens.

She whimpers and promptly vomits onto the floor in front of her, clutching at her stomach.




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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   11.02.16 1:57


With a 'hmph', Shokov turns away from Anne and notices Nanami throwing up. He smirks again and gives a brief 'ahaha' chuckle before he holds one of his hands up, snapping his fingers a couple times. One of the Officers lowers their rifle and puts a finger up to their helmet, near the ear. It appeared that they were likely using a radio or some other sort of communication device inside the helmet, though nothing could be heard. After only a moment, the Officer lowers their hand and puts it back on the rifle, re-training it on the inmates.

Shokov steps back toward the center of the room and folds his arms behind his back again, facing the inmates. The Officers move away from him and disperse toward the left and right walls, away from the center of the room. Suddenly a long beep can be heard coming from the door behind Shokov, and the door slides open. Out from the door comes a steel cart, pushed by what looked like a young man in his middle 20's. He was wearing a grey long-sleeved jumpsuit, and no shoes. On the cart appeared to be sets of folded clothing, which appeared to be the same as what he wore, as well as something else. Some sort of electronic devices?

The kid quickly pushes the cart in, keeping his head down and eyes averted, the door quickly closing behind him. He pushes the cart up to Shokov's right hand side.

"This,"

Shokov begins, picking up one of the jumpsuits.

"- is your one-size-fits-all jumpsuit. Note the beautiful cinderblock grey color. Note that the state of the art polyester-nylon hybrid fabric with steel zipper."

Shokov demonstrates the zipper, which is located on the front, only extending about halfway down the front of the one-piece suit.

"And, note the convenient pocket located over the left breast. Of which, is for one of these."

Shokov holds up a small white credit card shaped piece of plastic. Those with good eyes could tell that the entire card was white, save for a black strip across the back, and a small black and white photo in the lower right corner. This card had the picture of the Indian man on it. Shokov takes the card and places it in the pocket, it's a perfect fit. He then pulls it back out.

"This little card holds your Credits. Credits are used for purchasing things within Retribution City. You can do any number of things to obtain Credits in RC; you can do jobs for others, you can steal them, or you can win events. As of right now, your card contains precisely one credit. What can one Credit buy you, you ask? You can buy the gum off the bottom of someone's shoe. Some dirt. Some coffee brewed in a urinal. You can buy a steak dinner for two - Already digested and processed into shit, of course. You find a use for it, because frankly I don't give a damn what you do with it. However, we won't be giving you any more, so don't expect a paycheck. It should be noted that these cards are not the same as Credit Cards. They are not linked to a bank or the like, as instead they are used to transfer the Credits temporarily. That's where this comes in..."

Shokov sets the card down and picks up one of the strange looking electronic devices.

"This is called a City Issued General Function Electronic Device. We call them CIGFEDs for short. These can do a variety of things; they store your Credits, they have a notepad feature so you can keep a little diary of your life in RC, and they also receive broadcasts when we air them. Your own little tv. The standard issue CIGFED comes built with a shock resistant casing, meaning that it can take a beating and not break so easily. Comes with two USB 2.0 ports, here and here."

He points to the left side of the screen.

"And this bit here above the screen is where you swipe your card. You have to select how many Credits you want to transfer from the menu and then swipe the card. The next CIGFED that the card is swiped on will receive the Credits. Now... The CIGFED is placed on the left or right arm, and closed like so."

Shokov holds the device up, and shows that it indeed has an arm hole which the device clamps down on when closed. It appears that this device in particular is off.

"Once it is closed around your arm, it will never open again. You heard me correctly, so choose wisely."

He motions to the kid, of whom which is still standing behind the cart. The kid quickly takes the things from the cart, and begins handing out a jumpsuit, a card, and an open CIGFED to each person one at a time. Shokov continues:

"You get one of each. Bear in mind, we will not replace any of these three things. These three will be with you for the rest of your life, else they are gone forever once you lose them. You cannot pay for replacements with Credits. Though, there is no rule against stealing someone else's. Your cards have your pictures on them, however their functions are universal. Just a little aesthetic touch we decided to put in."

As the kid hands the things out, the other inmates reluctantly begin putting on the suits and CIGFEDs. Those who put on the CIGFEDs will notice that they seem to have a little weight to them. Not that they are heavy per se, but they weigh more than expected. They appear to be an arm-mounted PDA of sorts, being about a foot long in length, and having a screen that is slightly curved, being about 6 inches long and 4 inches or so tall. Should the CIGFED be closed over the arm, they would indeed click shut, firmly held in place. Regardless of size, all of them seem to fit perfectly, and are snug enough that one cannot move them around on the arm. It was almost as if they were a second skin on the arm, albeit about 3/4 of an inch to an inch thick. Once closed on the arm, the user would feel what seems like a cold disk touch their arm, followed by a static shock, located toward the middle of where the device is closed on the arm. The shock was not overly strong, but it was noticeable for sure. A moment or so later, the screen would power on, briefly displaying a startup screen showing 'Retribution City - C.I.G.F.E.D. startup'. It would then soon come up with a home screen of sorts, with a list of applications not unlike a smartphone. It was a touchscreen.

Once everything was passed out, the kid would quickly take the cart and leave through the same door he entered through. Shokov then gives a quick nod to one of the officers, and turns back to the lineup. The officers make their way out of the door Shokov originally entered through.

Well, that’s all you get. Figure the rest out on your own.

He gives a two-finger salute.

Enjoy your stay at Retribution City. And remember, every breath you take may be your last.

Shokov smirks, turns, and exits through the door. It seals shut.

Everyone is now alone in the room.

It's quiet...

Deathly quiet...










[More details about the CIGFED]
The device weighs about 2 or 3 lbs.
Like everything else, the CIGFED is grey in color.
It appears to be made of some sort of plastic, or metal maybe.
Interestingly, there does not appear to be any kind of battery meter on the device, or wi-fi connection to speak of.
If the screen is double-tapped in the lower right-hand corner, the screen will turn on and off, and off and on respectively.
The applications are as listed-
- Notepad
(The same as a normal notepad feature on a computer, notes can be saved, edited, renamed, etc, and shortcuts can be made on the homescreen. The device has a built-in touch keyboard that pops up when the note is opened.)
- Credits
(Opening Credits reveals the Credit Transfer Screen, showing "C: 1" and also listing options for an amount to be transferred and received.)
- Broadcast
(Opening Broadcast reveals a black static background with a dark grey 'Offline' text in the center)
Aside from that, there is nothing else on the device, no buttons, or anything else aside from the two USB ports and card reader that Shokov pointed out, all three of which have protective coverings that can be closed.






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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   11.02.16 23:34

Randall listens and processes what the Colonel is telling him, but he isn't concentrating incredibly hard at the moment- he is just trying to keep calm. It isn't until Shokov walks through the doors and disappears from his sight that he can peel his fingers from the wheels of his chair and go about getting dressed.

This is wrong, all of it, and someone has to put a stop to it. Randall took a moment to look around at his comrades in this nightmare. Might as well be me, or i a part of it

The CIGFED went on first, on his left forearm since he was right-handed. He flinched slightly from the shock, but ignored it for now. The jumpsuit was a pain, but he put it on slowly and methodically while he thought about his situation.
From all indicators, what was beyond that bulkhead was probably a lawless land, and unknown hostiles were probably waiting, but if this room was any indicator then all types were likely outside. Some were likely to just be scared; hell, there could be other military in here, for all he knew.

For now, his immediate mission was to survive whatever came through that bulkhead. Secondary objective was to keep as many of these people here alive as he could. He'd already lost one, and it was very likely he'd lose more, but he would do what he could. He could figure out the rest later
As he put his card in its pocket, he knew that that situation would need to be dealt with sooner rather than later, if this was his only way of getting food and shelter. That said, he could only use it if he lived through the next few minutes.

Randall made sure his jumpsuit was zipped up and everything was snug in-place, and looked over the group again. A couple of tougher-looking customers, some that didn't look like they were handling it too well, and some in the middle. Didn't really matter- some of the biggest people he knew were teddy bears, and some of the smallest were akin to wolverines.
Randall rolled his chair forward about 6 inches, just enough to give him a head start, but made little other movement than popping his neck and rolling his shoulders


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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   12.02.16 15:10

Funnily enough, after the explanation continued Anne started to feel more and more comfortable with the situation. This place was a prison, that much was certain... However Anne could see and feel so much more potential. Strapping the CIGFED to her left arm she started to play with it, fascinated by the prospects before her. Sure this place may be pure anarchy, but that along with the CIGFED is what excited her. This technology, while not incredibly advanced, was amazing in that it was everyone's life blood so to speak. While Anne was only slightly disappointed at the picture on her card it made her happy to know that the photo didn't matter. After all she was already thinking of 'Trading' for someone else. With the number of men here she could only hope the populace is the same. If so... She'd need to do a lot more research into this 'CIGFED'. There was however 1 problem still in front of her...

Anne would look at the bulkhead. Given how everyone here was systematically (And likely wrongly) placed in this place, they have a schedule to keep. Wherever there is a system, wherever there is order, there are people who exist to exploit it. If anything that man said was true about this City, than even she would be smart enough to figure out when new people were being brought into the city... Her only regret is that she was so close to the door, but thankfully she had a much larger man in front of her. With her suit and CIGFED on she would actually unzip her jumpsuit slightly and place her card between her breasts before zipping it back up. If things go the way she thinks, she'd rather not lose that immediately.




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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   17.02.16 1:24

Honestly, somebody kind enough and willing is probably going to have to explain things to Nanami again later. She's hit a point where nothing is processing -- everything the Colonel is saying ends up sounding like the adults in Peanuts. She flinches at the click of the CIGFED being clasped onto her arm and linking up, then scrambles eagerly into her jumpsuit, zipping it with trembling hands.

When it's just the "prisoners" in the room, she breathes a quiet sigh, leaning back against the wall in order to keep her legs steady. She decides quickly that it won't be enough and instead slides down the wall into a sitting position. Sure, she's probably expected to get out of this arrival room soon, but she's not quite thinking clearly still.

Trying to focus on something other than the death she'd just witnessed and all the other crap going through her head, she pokes lightly at the screen of the CIGFED. At least she has something vaguely computer-like to play with, though she knows she'll likely never return to her hobby.

The first thing she does is open the notepad and slam in several keys of jibberish.




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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   17.02.16 1:51


Nanami may notice that the skinhead seemed to have taken an interest in her. He'd been staring for... some time. After everyone had gotten dressed and put their devices on, he leans back against the wall and grins, jumpsuit unzipped, twirling his card back and forth between a few of his fingers with his left hand. His eyes were sunken and dark, sinister and piercing. His teeth were chipped and he was missing one or two on the side.

"Hey there pretty lady, what say you be my girl? Fuck all these losers and weak assholes and get with a real man. You too, sweet cheeks!"

He says to Nanami, and calls out to Anne.

"Just lookin' for some love, you know how it is. Plus you Chink girls are good at your... professions."

He leans closer, taking a few strands of Nanami's hair in his hands and stroking them. It was clear that the other inmates were getting uncomfortable, but the man at the end by Anne seemed to be staring a hole through the skinhead.

Then, the elderly Korean man steps up behind the skinhead and places his hand on the skinhead's shoulder. He shakes his head in blatant disapproval.

"No."

He says.

"No girl, leave."

It was obvious that his English wasn't very good, but his intentions were clear. The skinhead jumps to react, and shoves the elderly man against the wall with his forearm pressed into his throat, cutting off his air.

"Listen here, motherfucker..."

He snarls, in a low voice.

"How 'zbout you keep your wrinkly ass gook hands to y'oself 'fore I cut 'em off and make ya' understand the true meanin' of pain. You're on my territory now, bitch!"



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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   17.02.16 1:54

"Son, take a hike"

That was all Randall said, but his voice was low and very much a 'don't fuck with me on this' tone


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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   17.02.16 1:58


After a moment of the Korean man putting up a small struggle as he wasn't able to breathe, the skinhead lets go. Almost as if in slow motion, he takes a step back, head lowered. He licks his teeth, and cranes his head over to look at Randall.

"Fuck you say, wheels?"



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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   17.02.16 2:04

Remember the whole "not thinking clearly" thing? That includes reactions borne entirely of panic and disgust. Not only is her skin crawling from being touched by a stranger, but she's filled with a quick-boiling rage as she watches the man assault the one person who came to her defense.

That's why when the skinhead turns his head to address Randall, she promptly stands up and smacks him in the nose with the hardest part of her CIGFED.

"Don't -- don't touch me again. And leave him alone."

If she's going to be in prison, she should probably learn how to do Prison Things, like fucking up people who try and fuck with her. Step one, she guesses, even though she regrets her actions immediately afterwards and stumbles away from him.




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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   17.02.16 2:15

Randall gives himself a hard push, almost a 90-degree turn as he propels himself in the punk's direction.

Randall was a lot of things, but one thing he was not tolerant of was sexual assault. For that matter, he was not tolerant of anyone that tried to hold power over anyone else. So when this little punk started acting like he ran the place with a giant stick, that was his cue to knock the man down a peg...or a few.

Only...the girl stood up for herself before he could get there. Whether it was luck or design, the girl hit him right as he turned to look at him. It was a solid hit, and even though he had absolutely nothing to do with it, Randall couldn't help but smile happily.

He kept going and rammed into the disoriented man's shins with his chair. At the same time, he grabbed the man by his shoulder and the front of his jumpsuit, trying to pull him down to a position where he had no leverage and put him in a chokehold.

"Very good," he praised the girl, "well done"


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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   17.02.16 2:24


Nanami bashes her CIGFED into the skinhead's face, only to learn the answer to her internal question of which part of the device was best suited to strike with: all of it. He recoils, covering his nose very quickly out of pain, with blood running through his fingers and dripping onto the floor. It was fairly evident that the strike broke his nose.

"OY WHAT THE FUCK?!"

He shouts, immediately thereafter being virtually tackled by Randall. Being taken by surprise, he wasn't in a position to immediately retaliate. He stumbles to his knees, in the choke hold.

"Aghk! Leht-a m'go yra bast'rd!"

He chokes out, trying to push Randall's arm off of his neck to no avail, the blood running down his face now running down on to Randall's arm.

His nose was pretty fucked up, to be honest.



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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   17.02.16 2:30

Randall had no intention of relenting just yet- this guy had already proven his willingness to threaten and harm the others, so for the time being he would feel much more comfortable with him out of commission. Also, given the cavalier way in which the Colonel had killed one of the other inmates, Randall felt he had little to worry about in the way of repercussions, at least until an officer told him otherwise

That said, he didn't want the guy dead, either. So he just increased the pressure, and didn't relent until he felt the man's body go limp in his arms. That should only take a matter of seconds, but he kept it up a little longer, just in case...


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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   17.02.16 18:35



"...I'm...I-I'm gonna...gonna...fuck...you...up..."

And like that, the skinhead stopped struggling, and slowly loosens his grip on Randall. Randall seems to have knocked him out. The tattooed guy at the end seems to become less tense, but keeps watching nonetheless. The portly fellow with excessive body hair snorts, amused by the turn of events.

The old Korean man coughs, holding his throat, and takes a few steps forward toward Randall. He is hunched over just a little; probably has a bad back. He looks at the skinhead to confirm if he was actually out, and once he was satisfied with his evaluation, he glances back at Nanami, then back at Randall.

"Thank you."

He then looks back at Nanami, and partially gestures toward her as if he wanted to put a hand on her shoulder but also wanted to respect space.

"Good? Ok? Sorry no strong, good man for here."

He seems to refer to Randall, stating that it was fortunate that Randall was there.

"Where home?"

By this point, the buff tattooed guy steps up to the group and also looks at the skinhead, and at Randall. As he passes by the deceased Indian man, he takes careful care to step around his body, frowning at it, and at the idea that it occurred in the first place. Reaching Randall and the others, he stops, and gets a closer look at the skinhead.

"Boy you did him a number. I was going to step in myself had you not handled it as well as you did. Have to say, I'm impressed. Let me guess... formerly a... Cop? Firefighter?"

He crosses his arms, idling, still watching the skinhead to make sure he doesn't get up.





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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   17.02.16 19:12

Randall felt the man go limp and finally loosened his grip, pushing the man's shoulder so that he fell to the ground on the opposite side of the group before looking up at the tattooed man.

"Army, actually, and after the accident I transferred to the Marshall's Service."

Randall lets him take over watching the punk and turns slowly towards Nanami. He does not get closer though, leaving a respectful distance between them. His face is a bit softer, and his voice is not as cold

"Ma'am, are you okay?"


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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   18.02.16 21:49

Anne would react to the situation in a mix of fear and pure adrenaline. What just occurred was classic survival, and the guards LET it happen. This was the kind of freedom that, while a little scary, was exciting as hell! All her life she wanted the power to do what she needed and be who she wanted without limit, and now she can. She'll need to keep an eye on the two who fought though as they might prove... Useful.





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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   20.02.16 1:42


Just then without warning the entrance door slides open, the same door that the rest of the inmates had entered through. A new inmate was kicked through the door by another Officer, being forced into the room. This new inmate was already wearing the jumpsuit and CIGFED.

"Got a late one. Have fun."

The Officer states, coldly. And just like that, the door shuts again, leaving the new inmate in silence.




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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   20.02.16 23:34

The new inmate looks around, already adorned with his dull grey outfit, his CIGFED attached to his right arm. Judging from the scene he walked in on, seemed the Officer he got was a bit friendlier, which he wasn't sure was possible. But hey, at least he wasn't laying in a pool of his own blood and/or urine, right?

He leans against the wall, right near the door where he got pushed in. Taking care to look up every few seconds, he idly messes with his new device, playing with the applications and covers, rather intrigued by the technology of it. He doesn't say a word.
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PostSubject: Re: The Bulkhead   22.02.16 14:16

Randall rotated his head slightly to look over the newcomer, but as he said nothing and kept to himself, Randall returned his attention to Nanami


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