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 Posted: Tue Feb 22, 2011 10:33 am
[Clicking sounds of the recorder beginning]
[Tapping noises]
Interviewer: Introductory physiological interview for prisoner 4- 33480, timeframe 1008, Fallday.
[Shuffling noises, muttered cursing, metal clinking]
Interviewer: Your prisoner number, please.
Prisoner #4: I dunno man… 4 and then some other s**t?
Interviewer: Your name please.
Prisoner #4: Linna. Not Leena, Linna… like sinna, which I am.
Interviewer: Your age by human or trade standards please.
Prisoner #4: 28 by human standards, which I’m not, and I doan give a s**t about Trade, even if your stupid band’s got me talkin it.
Interviewer: Your planet of origin please.
Prisoner #4: Elya. And I’d go back there if I could. I mean, here it’s an effin wasteland, with nothing but rock and sand, and it’s effing hot. Not to mention that yesterday this guy named Trixie tried to steal my stash, and that’s not drugs you’re thinking of, it’s effing food. I mean, what the hell would I do with drugs here in this hellhole? I’d effing starve to death with a smile on my face, jacked all up while the other space trash did whatever they want with my body… yeah, thanks but no thanks. I’ll leave the b’laya huffing to the Penancers who can’t hack it here in the dirt… anyway, I was talking about Elya. Elya is a planet like you could only ever wish to see. It’s hella advanced in techno s**t and effing goregeous! I spent my whole life there, until I was 18 and then I got a job hackin on the space debris from that shuttle that blew up in orbit. It was effing awesome, there was a red streak in the sky for a week after that… anyway, I had always thought that Elya was the prettiest place I’d ever see, and then when I got shuttled up to the wreck, I saw the stars up close-like, and Elya fading in the background, a beautiful deep blue and purple and green, almost glowing. I’d never seen nothin so pretty… and now I’m here. Cain’t hold a candle to nothin I’d seen or ever will see again. This effin place. Oh, by the way, if you see Trixie, tell him I said he’s a d**k.
Interviewer: Which powers do you possess?
Prisoner #4: I ain’t got no powers. Not really anyways. I mean, to have powers would mean that I was like a super hero or somethin, and I cain’t believe that there’s such things as super heroes when my a** is stuck here in this hellhole. When I got to the processing station, the dweeby little guy behind the desk said I had ‘metal control’… I had to laugh, duh, dumbass. You know that dweeby d**k?
Interviewer: I am aware of who you mean, continue please.
Prisoner #4: I tried to tell him everyone on Elya has some kind of Malutation ability, and mine’s metal. But if thirty percent of the people on my planet can all move the atomic structure of metals around then I’d hardly call it a power. I mean, do you call breathing a power? Or sneezing? Naw, man. You’d just say they were normal. I’m just normal. Anyways, I can’t even mend metal all that well, it takes me a good week to even make a piece soft enough to bend. I’m what you’d call weak, a mere drop of talent in a sea of Malutators, and we’re talking like, teaspoon shallow here man.
Interviewer: Can you describe to me any abilities you feel you posess?
Prisoner #4: Ain’t that the same question that you just asked me?
Interviewer: We want to know of all your talents, not just your supernatural ones.
Prisoner #4: You wanna know what I’m really good at, not just if I’m second cousin to effin Superman or somethin. Yeah, I gots abilities. I built my own hovercar when I was 12, restrapped a 320 Carbo when I was 13, hijacked a gocar out from under Gaina’s nose when I was 14, built a Carbohydration unit that could peel the socks off a dingohound at only 40 clicks when I was 15… you get my drift? I can build anything out of anything, and that’s not even cause I gots Metal Malutations, that’s cause I got skills. Mad skills. I’m an effing Maguiver over here. Actually that’s why they hired me on the Wreck Hacking crew, cause they knew that I could get their mistake out of the sky for them in no time at all. The stupid government didn’t want Elyans lookin up at the ‘blood streak’ remembering all the horrible things that it represented. I gots mad build skills and they want me to take apart their exploded shuttle and make it all small enough to burn up and die in the atmosphere… They didn’t know I could build anything out of nothin.
Interviewer: How would you define your personality?
Prisoner #4: I guess you’d say I got it. Personality that is. My old man used to say, ‘Linna’, and that’s a damn good impression of him if you knew him, He’d say ‘Linna, you got so much damn personality that watching you walk around talkin like that is like watching an explosion happening all the time.’ An I liked that. I like explosions and I like me. I’m the kind of girl who will walk right on up and tell you to your face what you need to know, even if it’s bad, I’ll tell you straight up. Though I got better filters now, like on a Carbocar, the atmosphere here is different if you get my drift. I mean, now that I’m a Dirt worshiper here in Hellhole Galaxy I ain’t got s**t to say about nobody, cause that’s like askin to be stabbed in the face… just ask Trixe. And there’s a good example right there. Just the other day I told Trixie how it is, and that if he didn’t stop stealing my stash he was gonna get his a** stabbed in the face. Too bad I didin do it… I’da liked to see the look on his face when he saw it commin. Trix is a d**k, man.
Interviewer: Tell me a little about your history.
Prisoner #4: My history? Not like actual history or nothin right? Damn, man, but I hated school. They never had nothin to teach me that I didn’t know myself and needed to know. I grew up on the Gallia side of the mountain, where all the b***h kids lived with their b***h parents. I don’t mean we was actual bitches, but more like we belonged to other bitches… bitches’ bitches… you get my drift? Anyways, my old man worked for these pompous assholes up top on the ladder of things, and he’d always come home tired and bitchin and moanin about all the things his b***h bosses made him do that day, and I just grew up hating a b***h. What’s the matter wit you?
Interviewer: Your speech patterns are consistently offensive.
Prisoner #4: What’s that supposed to mean? You got a problem with the word ‘bitches’?
Interviewer: Not personally, but can you see where other people might find such a vocabulary offensive?
Prisoner #4: s**t man, I cain’t change the way I talk now, you just gotta deal.
Interviewer: Suit yourself, continue please.
Prisoner #4: Anyways, I was in this school full of the other You-know-whats like me and we all just had it in our heads that we wasn’t as good as the You-know-whats what owned our parents, you know what I mean? So I grew up in a bad way, thinkin I was a dumbass, but I figured out that even a dumbass like me could work a wrench, and anybody who can work a wrench can build s**t… I just happened to be better at building s**t than the other bitches. Oh, sorry. Better than the other You-know-whats anyways. I got to a point where I could make s**t happen even when people said it couldn’t be done. That Carbocar I built for Gallian Prime? That s**t had a ‘Two-weeks-to-live’ notice on it, man, and I brought that b***h back to life with an effin vengeance. I didin even have to think about it, it just comes all natural like. So when I was 16 they had my old man workin the late shift in the shuttle docks, cause they were all about their oils and refineries and ‘Betterment for the Government’. I never did hear a stupider slogan, s**t doesn’t even rhyme. And you know what happens? Same effing crap that happens to all the Bitches’ bitches on Elya, they die in an effing shuttle crash, or a damn explosion, or under the wheel of some b***h’s carbocar. Life ain’t fair, and all of us on the down side of the mountain know it. Anyways, kids with no parents cain’t go to school cause they got nobody to punish when the kid does somethin stupid, and so my a** got kicked out of school, not that I gave a damn. I got hired up workin for a jackass on the upside, cause I could bend the metal he had, and then I got taken to a halfhouse over the runway when the jackass tried to get all molesty on me. Good thing too, or I’da had to stab the effer. I worked wherever the halfhouse had me workin, usually up at the government buildings with the other little castoffs like me, and I got to hear a bunch of s**t I suppose I wasn’t supposed to hear, what with me being lodged in the air shafts all the effing time. I got to know what the government really thought of the people and how they’re the real Bitches on Elya, and I couldn’t do nothin but lay there in the ducts all covered in the s**t the air filter won’t pick up. It sucked man. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore and I decided that if they made me crawl one more shaft I’d throw myself into a filter fan just to eff them all up and kill half the air system in the building by jamming it with my own body and blood, they blew up an effing Pride Shuttle, right in the god damned O-layer, and everybody could see it and they were effed and they effin knew it. They needed all the Halfhousers and dumbasses like me who could move a wrench, and so I got to go up to space to chop the government’s biggest damn mistake outta the sky. The rest is history… though that’s what you asked for, isn’t it.
Interviewer: Indeed. Why were you sentenced to Penance?
Prisoner #4: Cause I dropped a god damn Pride Shuttle on the Government, didin you hear? Get this, I’m up in the O-layer, choppin at this heap of metal that used to be a Pride Shuttle, THE effing Pride Shuttle man, and I start to notice that the effer still has its engine! Not only that, but there’s a click’s worth of Propell in the tank, and it starts to occur to me that the bitches in charge don’t know that I know what we’re lookin at. An they put me to work choppin RIGHT ON THE ENGINE like good little bitches, an that’s when I get a plan in my head, the plan that says I’m gonna Eff up the government somethin fierce and make my Old man proud at the same time… if a dead guy can even be proud… anyways, I get on my spacer like I’m sposta, and I get to work choppin at the engine, only I’m not really choppin like they think, I’m building! And it takes me a week, but it’s like working on my first Carbo right? And it comes all natural and s**t, and before I know it, I got a Pride Shuttle Engine rigged to space out at a full click. So I points it at the planet where I know the government building’s at, and I drop a metaphorical brick on the gas pedal, cause you know shuttles don’t have actual pedals anymore cause that s**t’s impractical. Then I go outside and cut the brakers keeping the wreck from movin, and it starts to drift an all, and every b***h on the effer starts to panic cause they don’t know what’s happenin, and before they can find out, I juice the engine from the outer panel and watch as the whole thing plays out. It was EFFIN BEAUTIFUL MAN! I just had time to cut a b***h free from my spacer safety tether and flip it the double birds as it shot away towards the planet. All the stars in the background, the planet underneath me all blue and green and purple, and I get to watch as the Government’s effin Pride Shuttle plummets with a gold blaze all the way to the heart of Elya, or at least that’s what they effing called it before I blew a b***h up! Best damn thing I ever seen, and not even the dumbass bitches sobbin in my radio about how we were all gonna be left to float through space till we burned up in the atmosphere could bring me down. I just floated there, enjoying my light show, wishin my old man could see it all. It was the best EFF you to the Government that anyone ever did. You shoulda seen it. But to really answer your question, I suppose that I been brought here cause they don’t know what to do wit someone who killed the entire government on my home planet… an now you’re stuck with me.
Interviewer: Indeed. That will be all, you can take her back to her holding unit.
[scuffling sounds, muffled speaking]
Interviewer: Prisoner 4-33480 has no real power to speak of, Metal Malutations are dangerous, but only in powerful individuals, and this particular one is mostly bravado from what I see. I recommend she keeps the white band, merely in case she does end up showing some sort of power. I highly doubt she’ll be able to do anything with the metal on the surface. End introductory physiological interview for prisoner 4- 33480, timeframe 1133, Fallday.
[Clicking sounds]
[Tape End]
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Prompt Chosen: #4 ((Penance is a dry, dusty wasteland of a planet, at least as far as your eyes can see. Wrecked remains of metal carapaces litter the lands, providing both eyesore and shelter against electrical storms. On the other hand the Factions also provide a certain degree of shelter; mainly of the firepower variety. Then there is always the boldest and most tantalizing option, setting out on your own and securing a drop point for yourself. How do you strike out in this new dusty world? If home is where the heart is, can the heartless still have a place to call home?))
Prompt Response:
Linna wiped a hand over the blood smeared across her mouth and nose, wincing at the pain that could be found in a split lip and bruised cheek. She thought about cussing as she watched Trixie walk off with her carefully scrounged food stash. She realized as she watched him saunter, that a well placed insult might make her feel better than her usual cussing affair, so she yelled after him. “You’re a cheap trick, you dickhead!”
When she was rewarded with a graceful spin and a ‘you know it honey!’ she just wanted to leap over the metal structure that was her current shelter and kick his trickin a**… but he had his whole possie with him and she had already taken a backhand from a ho named Darren which hurt like a b***h. She sighed, and picked herself up out of the dirt. At least she could take solace in the fact that they all looked stupid with their jumpers cut up into daisy dukes and tied in the front like that. “I gotta get me some effin shoes.” She scowled at a rock, one of her many current arch nemeses.
She’d woken up in the middle of the dirt yesterday, curled in a ball, with no jewelry, no shoes, no underwear… just her perty orange jumper that made her look like all the other dirt worshipers in here. And since then she’d wandered over rocks and glass and other offending things that kept her feet sore and cut up, making sure that she limped like a b***h who was just waitin to be robbed and have her a** kicked by dumbasses like Trixie and his b***h-bags. “You put a b***h down here in the effin dirt and don’t leave her a stitch of personals or even a god damn pair of shoes! That’s Effin torture! And you’re a bunch of sick sons-a-bitches!” She railed at the sky above her before flopping down onto what she thought was a dune but turned out to be a piece of the strange metal barely buried under the sand. She sliced an elbow on the metal and rolled to one side, throwing a mini (well, not really so mini) tantrum, kicking and cussing, rolling around in the sand. “GOD DAMN METAL MADE FROM EFFIN ALIEN TARDIFIN MOTHER EFFERS!” She came to a rest in the sand, elbow firmly coated in dirt, and heaved a sigh. “I hate sand.” She muttered to herself. “I have sand in places I didn’t even know I had.” Linna closed her eyes and let the sun work its way over her facial muscles, trying to be calm and relaxed for at least a moment.
When she’d first wandered away from her initial transport site a day ago, she’d had high hopes for her future here on Penance. She didn’t, of course, think that she’d be the king-boss-supreme-b***h here in prison, but upon having seen all the metal structures around, she felt that her personal powers and abilities would see her through at least a life of some comfort. It was only a mere hour later that she first tried to Malutate a piece of metal and had gotten a nasty tingly feeling all up and down her arms. It was like trying to hold onto a Carbo500 when its belt was shot, and it had taken two hours before she’d stopped feeling nauseous from the attempt. Apparently there was something strange about this metal that kept her from being able to change it… which was great. NOT! This effing planet was going to keep her from being anything more than a common girl prisoner, no abilities and no powers, with not a blessed scrap of underwear to her name. This hellhole was going to suck. “I guess that’s why they call it prison.”
Linna lifted her elbow and tried to look at it, but soon she figured out that looking at your own elbow without a mirror was harder to do than it sounded. It felt like all the blood was being staunched by the sand though, so she wasn’t too worried. All that was left to do now was find some more food and eat it before the Ho-squad could come and take it from her. The big food drop points were a no-go. The larger factions had complete control over them, and Linna wasn’t about to be some guy’s b***h just so she could have a cracker now and then. “Won’t be no cracker b***h.” She huffed to herself and crawled to her aching feet once more, only this time with a little more resolve.
Scanning the horizon she saw several short metal structures that held some promise, and began to amble over towards the nearest one. The first one she came to had a corpse in it, and Linna had to roll her eyes at it. “I bet you was just like me. Did the Ho-bag-boys get you too?” The corpse didn’t really have enough definition to it for her to tell anything about it, other than the fact that it had a white band like she did. That wasn’t heartening at all, and it took her a little more resolve to hike to the next metal cropping. That one was taller with the strange symbols on it, but it was completely empty. Linna found herself staring at the metal, trying to make sense of the markings, but she hadn’t been the strongest reader on her home planet, so she didn’t hold much hope of being able to read them. What was it about this metal that kept it untarnished and unscratched and such? And why couldn’t she meld it? She’d never not been able to at least identify a piece of metal before in her life and this was infuriating! Slowly, and with complete caution, she extended a finger and slowly… so slowly… she touched just the barest tip of her finger against the metal. If she closed her eyes she could swear that she could feel it thrumming with some kind of… something. She decided to try and malutate just this one piece. Maybe the reason she had felt bad before was because she was starving and tired and just the little bit sunburned (yes black chicks can sunburn too). She ignored the part of her brain that was trying to be intelligent by informing her that she was no less tired or starving or sunburned now, and she closed her eyes and began to ‘press’ at the metal with her mind. The sudden shock of the metal ‘pressing’ back was enough to send her reeling backwards, retching up the nothing that was in her stomach. When she was done retching, she flopped over back down into the sand again, laying spread eagled on her back.
“I’m gonna die here. Right here. So long, Pops, I tried.”
Lying there with her eyes closed, she heard nothing but the sounds of the wind and the distant cries of the other dirt worshipers, the far off cry of a bird somewhere, the imaginary voice of her Old Man back on Elya teaching her how to rig a billy engine at the tender age of 7, the mechanical thrumming of… wait…
Her eyes snapped open just in time to see the pale blue light of a transport system. Not more than 20 feet from her current spread eagled position, was a food drop. The cardboard box was the same as the kind she’d seen the Man-ho faction carting around with them. She’d even had a chance to look inside an empty drop, and as she crawled towards this new box, she found herself praying to unknown gods that there would be food in it.
Coming up on the box, she held out her hands, almost afraid to touch it for a moment, but her hunger got the better of her and she grabbed at it. Linna’s heart leapt at hearing the box open, and then fell when she saw that it had some light brown material in it. She didn’t need material, she needed food and water! As she pawed through the drop, however, it became apparent that there was food, and it was wrapped up in about a yard of the fabric.
She wasted no time stuffing her face full of bread, and sipping at a water stick that she’d found at the bottom… the water stick wouldn’t last longer than this impromptu meal, but she didn’t care. The material she ripped into three strips. She also tore the cardboard box into strips, and wrapped two of the material strips with the cardboard around her sore and bruised feet, and the larger around her head to stop the sun from beating down on her. It may have been the food and water, but having these small comforts made her feel a lot better right away. Now she just had to hide this spot in case it was a common drop point, and stuff the rest of the food into her pockets.
An hour later, she was walking along a line of metal walls, muching on a stick of dried beef (or beef-like othermeat, she didn’t really care in any case), and thinking of the brilliant way that she’d tipped a piece of rounded scrap metal over onto the drop spot. She didn’t expect it to be a consistant drop point, but she could hope and dream, right?
“Hey, Chicka, where didchu get that food, huh?” Her heart leapt in dread at the voice, and she knew it belonged to Trixie even before he came around one of the walls. “Nu-uh, Mocha gurl, you better not have had that food when we had our last little one on one.”
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The black banded inmate sleeping at the base of the tall metal wall would swear he had been dreaming when he later recalled having seen a short black woman being chased by a group of trampy campy men in daisy duke shorts. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard the woman yell “BEEF JERKY MAKES YOU FAT!” as she streaked by.
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Posted: Thu Feb 24, 2011 9:22 pm
[Clicking sounds of the recorder beginning]
[Tapping noises]
Interviewer: Introductory psychological interview for prisoner 1- 88745, timeframe 1255, Fallday.
[Shuffling noises, metal clinking]
Prisoner #1: Oh my goodness! Are you the Shrink? You are one handsome piece of doctorin’ if I do say so myself! My goodness!
Interviewer: Have a seat please.
Prisoner #1: Don’t mind if I do, thank you sweetie.
Interviewer: Your prisoner number, please.
Prisoner #1: 1-88745. Woo! This is fun, I’m 1 for 1. Ask me another!
Interviewer: Your name please.
Prisoner #1: Betty ‘all Bets off’ Beckon. But you can call me Bets, Shugar.
Interviewer: Your age by humanoid or trade standards please.
Prisoner #1: Humanoid my rear end... I’m all human, Darlin. From tippy top to tippy bottom, and it ain’t polite to ask a lady’s age, though I suppose I ain’t really a lady, and so I’ll tell you if you promise not to repeat it. I’m 31.
Interviewer: Your planet of origin please.
Prisoner #1: I don’t have a planet of origin, don’t they give you doctors a file to read on us or anything like that? Or is it only the homely doctors that get extra information, cause that would explain a lot. I guess I come from the Davin Colony on Madillan, the human half of course. I know you know that I’m not Borine, I mean, I’m usually horney, but I don’t have horns or anything.
[female laughing for 5 seconds]
Prisoner #1: Aw, c’mon now Sweetie, that was funny. I don’t know how much that answer will help you in any case, because I doubt even the Davin Colony would want me callin’ them ‘home’, and that’s saying something, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you.
Interviewer: Were you born at the Davin Colony?
Prisoner #1: Naw, Shugar, I was born on Earth, like 80 percent of all the other Human race… I guess it just wasn’t meant to be though, cause when I was 2 my parents split and my Ma and me went to live with her crotchety old aunties on Madillan. They were sweet old bags, even if one was dumber than a bag full of hammers and the other smoked enough to give a blue whale lung cancer. You know that old bag is still goin’ strong? Never had a stitch of cancer in her life, ain’t that strange?
Interviewer: Which powers do you possess?
Prisoner #1: Lookit you, all business. Fine. I have the ability to slow down time around myself for three seconds. Now, you may not think that’s a long time, but you’d be surprised what all a body can do in 3 seconds. I had a boyfriend once who could do the whole deed in two and a half seconds, foreplay and all!
[female laughing for 4 seconds/ female sighing.]
Prisoner #1: You really ain’t gonna give me any slack here, are ya?
Interviewer: Can you describe your power in more detail.
Prisoner #1: Aw, sure sweetie! It’s really a neat process. To me it seems like I’m real slow and anyone touchin’ me moves real slow, but everyone else slows down even more around me and I just do whatever I need to do for three seconds until time snaps back in around me like a rubber band. It’s like I get an extra three seconds whenever I need it. A boyfriend, the same one actually, once told me that it looked like I was on speed when I did my time thing and he wasn’t touchin’ me, cause I was movin’ around so fast and all. He actually liked it when I slowed down my own moment during… well, you know. He said it drove him crazy! And like I said, I HAD to, cause he was like Speedy Gonzales or something! You ever seen that old show? With the little mouse and he’d yell something and then run around really really fast?
Interviewer: No.
Prisoner #1: We’ll ain’t you just a proverbial stick in the mud? Anyway, Johnny always said that there was one thing he liked best about me, and I bet you can guess what that is. He said when I slowed down time when we was In flagrante deletco and he was ‘with’ me that he liked the way my boobs bounced around all slow like. Aw, Honey, it’s okay to look at them, that’s what evolution gave them to me for. Here have a good look, ain’t they pretty?
[Sounds of a zipper being run]
Interviewer: Let the record show that the prisoner is trying to show her breasts to the examiner.
Prisoner #1: Wait? You recordin’ this? Here, let me get’em all the way out so everyone can see them. Cain’t have anyone missin’ the show. You know I’d be mad, except this ain’t my first time being filmed.
Interviewer: We’re only recording audio here, you can put your breasts away Miss Beckon.
Prisoner #1: I told you, it’s Bets. Don’t be such a stick, it ain’t suiting for life, but I’ll forgive you this one time cause you’re such a handsome man. You do know how handsome you are, dontcha?
Interviewer: My wife has informed me of this, yes.
Prisoner #1: Alright, suit yerself. I’m winkin’ at the Doctor now, just so the recording knows.
Interviewer: Can you describe to me any abilities you feel you possess?
Prisoner #1: Like other powers? Or Talents?
Interviewer: Other powers if you have them, but mostly we’re looking for skills you’ve learned or perhaps a trade you were a part of. Talents is a good word for it.
Prisoner #1: You mean besides the fact that I can charm the pants of a Moonbear even when they're not wearing pants ? Well I’m ridiculously pretty, I’m smart, I never tell a lie, I’m modest, and I’ve got ol Herty and Gertie here… Gertie prefers to spell her name with an ‘ie’ because she’s the fun loving lesbian, and Herty is all traditional and just wants a man! HUBBAH HUBBAH!
[Female laughing for 10 seconds]
Interviewer: Let the record show that Herty and Gertie are how the Prisoner refers to her breasts.
Prisoner #1: Oh yeah, I forgot. The left one is Gertie the right one is Herty, and let’s see… besides my being a fun lovin’ gal, I’ve got the whole ‘trained assassin’ thing going for me.
Interviewer: You’re a trained assassin? What does that include exactly?
Prisoner #1: Now don’t you go lookin’ at me like that! I ain’t gonna go picking this belt lock and leaping across the table all ninja like. You’re safe with me, shugar. Til someone pays me to kill you that is, and then it’s all business, no hard feelings.
Interviewer: I would like to know more about your Assassin training.
Prisoner #1: Um.. let’s see… martial arts, swordplay, and I don’t know why they call it swordplay, it’s really not a game when it’s used right… poison creation and immunity, stealth, desensitization training, hand to hand combat of all kinds, but really, if you just walk up to someone and flash them you usually catch them off guard enough to have the upper hand… or the upper everything really, wanna see?
Interviewer: No.
Prisoner #1: Suit yourself. What else didja want to know?
Interviewer: How would you define your personality?
Prisoner #1: Honest, fun loving, character driven to a fault! My Ma used to say that I’d have sex with anything that moved, and you know… In my ‘travels’ lets call them, I’ve found out that sometimes the less ‘moving’ the other party does, the better it can be.
[female laughing for 8 seconds]
Prisoner #1: Ah, Ride’em Cowboy, Doc. I’m assuming of course, what with you saying you had a wife an all, but you can ride’em cowgirl too if that’s what floats your boat.
Interviewer: Tell me a little about your history.
Prisoner #1: I’ll take it the subject change means that you’re ignoring me, which probably means that you’re handsome and gay and married to a woman so no one will know your dirty little secret… I could help you out with that Doc, if you like. There’s nothin’ wrong with you bein’ a fruit, but we could experiment here… They’re keeping me in the women’s wing, and don’t get me wrong, women are nice but there’s nothing like a good…
Interviewer:MISS BECKON!
Prisoner #1: Bets…
Interviewer: Your history please.
[female sighing]
Prisoner #1: I was born the only daughter to Miss Scarlet, and Mister Edmond Lafayette, and we lived all happy and sweet in our house until I was two and apparently my Ma caught my two timing pa doing exactly that and she left him… divorced his cheating soul, packed me and my teddy bear into a car and we transferred to the Madillan colony where I grew up with my Ma, and her two sisters. You remember me talking about my two old bag aunties. It was a regular paradise if you were a girly girl, which I can be if THAT’S what floats your boat. They dressed me up and made me be all pink, and I was a good little girl until I was 15, and then I met Micky. He was a nerd of all things, glasses and everything, and we did it right there in the library at school… in the reference section. It was amazing. I didn’t stay with Micky long because the door had been opened. After Mick came Martin and Tim and Josh and Harvey and oh so many more… My aunts kicked me out of their house when I was 17 because I was pregnant, saw that one coming. I had a son, who lives with his father. I actually have three more children, all with different fathers, and with the exception of little James, they all live with their fathers. James was taken in by Garth’s Dad, so at least he gets to live with his brother. James and Garth, Natty, my daughter with her dad, and my first, Micky… named after the man who ‘woke me up’ sort to speak. I don’t really feel bad. Having kids is fun… well not the actual having them part, but carryin them and knowing that there are four little me’s out there living good lives with their dads, who are all good men… don’t even say that those men aren’t good guys.
[female sigh]
Interviewer: When did you become an assassin?
Prisoner #1: When I was 21… right before I got knocked up with James… I was dragin’ James around with me everywhere, after that, poor kid, but I was a VERY good assassin. I got hired by a guy who… well, he’s James’ daddy really, and that’s part of the reason he lives with Garth now… but I got hired by James’ daddy to kill some high end business man who liked a good hooker now and then. James’ daddy knew I would be up for it, and he said he’d pay me. So that was how I got my big start in pretend hookin’ real assassinin’… I moved on up to sniperin’ and stealth assassinin’ not too long after that, but there’s a certain thrill in doin a guy in after ‘doin him in’ you know what I mean? I been doin assassinin ever since.
Interviewer: Why were you sentenced to Penance?
Prisoner #1: Cause I killed the Jurian. He’s basically the same as the human pope, only for the Hevats. I don’t really feel no shame in it, I mean, me killing the top man in a multiplanet religion… I guess I figure if his god didin want him dead, then he wouldn’t have let me kill him, now would he? Anyway, I’m not sure I believe in gods, so it doesn’t really matter.
Interviewer: That will be all, you can take her back to her holding unit.
Prisoner #1 Nice talking to you Shugar. All that an I don’t know your name… I don’t suppose I’ll ever see you again, will I?
Interviewer: No, you won’t. And my name is Drake.
Prisoner #1: Handsome name for a handsome man. Let me know if you ever need a hook up Shugar, I’m always available.
[scuffling sounds, muffled speaking
Interviewer: Prisoner 1- 88745 has a unique and potentially dangerous power, with the intent to use it without thought to the consequences. I recommend that her white band be upgraded to magenta for her own safety and for the safety of the other prisoners. Her psychological profile will read ‘unstable’ and we’d probably better get at least one black band attached to her file for whatever ‘little children’ she manages to conceive. End introductory psychological interview for prisoner 1/88745 , timeframe 1255, Fallday.
[Clicking sounds]
[Tape End]
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