Post by lostandtorn616 on Jun 23, 2007 18:24:18 GMT -5
Disclaimer: I no own; you no sue. Be thankful that I don’t own Naruto; but I can find satisfactory comfort in the fact that you don’t own it either! *Blows a loud raspberry*
“Talking”
Thinking to oneself
-Sharon’s thoughts separated from Bates-
Emphasis
Shouting
((-Bates’ speech-))
(Bates’ Mental Communication with Sharon)
-Whispering-
Writing
~-~-~Dream Sequence~-~-~
My P.O.V.
If I hear another one of those knuckle-headed lame-asses shouting about how they’ll defile us in our sleep, I’ll start to get around to playing knick-knack on somebody’s face! I silently mused to myself, mentally grimacing as my face burned in a mute fervor, contorting with a barely suppressed rage and gritting my teeth; my knuckles slowly turned to a ghastly bleach-white color while the handcuffs juxtaposing to my wrists started to cut off my circulation as the iron, razor-sharp edges bit into my frail skin; minuscule red trickles oozed from within the tiny scrapes, bleeding more and more the harder I clenched my fists.
“Calm down.” I looked up, mildly surprised seeing a pair of grandmotherly brown eyes peering down at me, feeling mental shivers wreck my body and my blood turning to ice; her stare was so intense that it felt as though she were gazing past me, leering into the deepest depths of my soul. No, everyone knows that’s theoretically impossible; you’re just letting your God-be-damned paranoia take hold of your mind again, that’s all.
“It’s your first day here, isn’t it? Don’t let this place get to you or you’ll end up like the others that went mad here.”
My eyes widened at the possibility of losing whatever remnants of sanity I still possessed; however, the elderly woman’s visage remained expressionless by the flabbergasted look plastered on my face, nonetheless she continued despite my wide-eyed stare.
“I’ve been working here for more than half my life, and I trained myself to spot an innocent person. Believe me when I say that you’re innocent; you don’t look like the sort of woman who’d get thrown in the slammer without reasonable cause.” she stated in a matter-of-fact tone, blinking once as the hint of a ‘I-know-something’s-off-about-you’ smirk played at the corner of her lips.
I blinked too, but it was in surprise; the woman seemed very intelligent, despite her elderly appearance.
“...”
I said nothing, staring back at her blandly; was she trying to get buddy-buddy with me? I don’t favor people who try to get you into a good mood all that much; I’d understand and feel a bit grateful if it wasn’t my first day here, but does she have to act like a sweetie-pie just to stop me from going on a murdering rampage?
(That makes two of us.)
No, that makes only ONE of us, you-
I blinked, feeling like the biggest dumb arse who’d ever plagued this stupid Earth, feeling a small dark frown tugging at my lips; you know you’ve finally forfeited whatever remaining remnants of sanity you possessed since the tender age of four when you start hearing a voice in your head besides your own. -What the hell? Now I’m hearing voices all of a sudden... oh man, I’ve finally lost it!-
Oh for the love of God, Sharon dearest, it seems your Mum was right when she told you that you were in desperate need of a therapist! Why now? Why here? Why couldn’t I have lost it at a better time, like at my fifth birthday party when that boy was beating me at Musical Chairs, and I wanted to take the chair I’d been sitting in and played The Causes of Concussions with him?
(That would’ve been... amusing.)
-Yeah, like I was asking you for your views.-
Or how about the time when I felt incredibly tempted to stab the half-witted cunt sitting next to me in the groin with my pencil in grade seven? And had anyone asked me why I did it at the time if I’d gone ahead and did just that, I’d feel pretty darn content in smiling and saying, “Oh, it was nothing really; he got his just desserts for irritating me to no end.”
(As entertaining as I find your mind to be at times, Sharon, you’re mentally exerting yourself. Besides, don’t you think that you’ve got it backwards, my friend? You’re not insane, not yet anyway; you’re only halfway there. Enjoy the shreds of your two-sided mental health while it lasts. Chances are it’ll be gone if you get out of here – and that, sweetheart, is a very big if.)
I don’t recall asking you for your opinion, Mr. Smartass.
(My name isn’t “Mr. Smartass” it’s Bates, if you wanted to know.)
-Do I sense an irksome tone? ...Whatever. I don’t have time to deal with this non-corporeal bastard!-
Well, I DIDN’T want to know in case you wished for me to express my feelings.
(Are you always this moody?)
“Tsunade, are you trying to get the girl in a good mood so she’ll chit-chat with you? How cute.” came a very, very, very, very GAY-sounding voice. Not gay as in homosexual-preference gay, but gay as in an horrendously absurd and migraine-inducing and utterly tiresome voice; unfortunately, neither seemed to perfectly describe the voice – the man’s voice, to be exact.
It was far too menacing and had a strange, scathing ‘I’ll-torture-you-into-insanity-if-you-cross-me’ underbelly tone to it, like a black rivulet of mind-numbing fire frozen in a sea of musicale ice. Golden reptilian eyes swirled around until they deadlocked on me, and I absentmindedly quaked in fear; rows of animalistic canines slicked with rivers of saliva were displayed to me when he grinned.
“Orochimaru...” The woman – Tsunade was her name, if I wasn’t mistaken – shot the deathly pallor-skinned male a look of grave dislike. ...Hm... arch-enemies? Coincidence or hindrance?
“Tsunade-chan... my, my, my, tell me, how many years has it been since we last met? Ten? Fifteen? I suppose you’ve grown soft in your old age, not that I expected less from you.”
“Nor did I perceive you to be any less cowardly, Orochimaru. You can imagine my surprise when I fancied a cup of cold sake in that fine little establishment downtown a few months ago, and who did I find puncturing the juggler vein of the owner of my grandson’s favored ramen joint with a broken knife? You.”
Orochimaru opened his mouth to respond, but Kakashi interrupted. “Tsunade-sama, that’s enough.” he imputed, a lone black pupil stared her down; a luminous shadow suddenly fell over the half of his face that wasn’t covered, darkening his complexion considerably. “Don’t waste your breath on men whom have stooped so low as to commit murder without the slightest signs of mercy; men like him have defiled all the laws of humanity so many times, have spit on the decomposing carcasses of so many people, that the title of ‘mortality’ applies to him no longer.”
Tsunade mumbled something that sounded like “filthy little blood-traitor”, but I couldn’t be certain; my hearing was good, but not good enough to percept what others were whispering in the softest ear-straining undertones possible.
“Alright then, time to be sorted into your respectable cells; therein you’ll meet your cell mates. And I don’t want any rough-housing or any of that shit tonight, am I clear on that?” stated the correctional officer whom had formerly introduced everyone to earlier.
Two hundred pairs of feet stopped halfway down the long abandoned corridor and stared blankly back at the man’s nerves-of-steel brown eyes; he gave a soft, unconvincing cough as he unfurled a stack of sheets, stopping at the very end of it, and then started calling people in the way a teacher would take attendance.
“Aburame Shino.”
A fair-to-pale-skinned male with dark shades adorning his features stepped forward, and from where I or anyone else stood, you couldn’t really tell if he belonged here or not; he didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular, on the other hand he radiated a strange, peculiar aura; both his hands were stuffed in the pockets of his gray trench coat and his dark-chocolate brown eyebrows creased downward in a slanted fashion, as if he deemed this place to be a grave mordant facility, like he had just stepped foot inside a bone yard full of long-since departed souls.
Aside from his strange attire and outward appearance, I caught sight of what looked like specks of dirt crawling up his face; then, I realized, coming to a subtle, shocking conclusion, that the black specks were actually minuscule insects.
I couldn’t help but smirk to myself, and forcing back a snort of mirthful guffaw seeing a few of the women and teenagers around me gasp as they gave shrieks of fright and scurried away from the bug-lover as if he was the plague; from the back of my mind came a vague mental image of how horrified my elder sister, Elizabeth, would look if she were to even cast him a first-hand glance at the man.
My sister had been known to possess a weird phobia of anything that scuttled about on the ground, walls, ceiling, or across any exposed part of her flesh on more than four legs and its body being smaller than a person’s fingernail; or, in two such incidents, involving an ear-wig dropping into her mug of tea, and not noticing it was floating about in the highly-contaminated-with-sugar drink until she swallowed a mouthful and spat it onto the kitchen floor; another episode in which a carpenter had been happily skittering on the aged spider webs on the basement rafters and plopped down on her hair. (1)
She was so scared that she didn’t stop screaming for an hour. Again, I wanted to laugh, but for a different reason.
“Hm... well now, it doesn’t specifically state why you’ve been incarcerated here of all places, but...” He looked up from the paperwork, his sights were at direct eye-level with Shino’s, pursing his lips together thoughtfully; the only sign that Shino gave he was fully functioning was to remove his right hand from inside his coat pocket and bring up to his face to readjust his shades.
“But orders are orders, son. Your cell mate is Maruyama Hitomi; she’s been prosecuted for two counts of armed robbery, assaulting a police officer, public intoxication and failing to pay for speeding tickets. You’ll find her in Cell Block Nine.” (2)
“Yamanaka Ino.”
A dark-blue-eyed, platinum-blonde haired woman sashayed up to him, a seductive smile plastered across her fair-skinned visage that suddenly took on a joyful light to it; her red tube top and purple skirt flashed with every movement she made, her knee-length, high-heeled brown boots clicking against the six-inch-by-six-inch stoned floor. “You’ve been charged and convicted of prostitution, participating in a prostitution ring and dealing a large dosage of narcotics to your many pimps in exchange for extra money, is that correct?”
“Yes, sir.” she purred huskily, blinking all but one time, batting her dark thick lashes and flashing him a formidable, erection-inducing grin; he returned the smile half-heartedly, then indicted her to the cell on her left. “Your cell mate’s waiting for you, a Mr. Naka Shikamaru. No one really knows what he did to end up here; he’s either not willing to tell, or the kid’s just too damn lazy and thinks it’s too ‘troublesome’. He’s in Cell Block Ten.”
“Inuzuka Kiba.”
“Hn.” A sort of wolf-like snarl resonated from the mouth of a rather intimidating character who barreled his way through the small crowd, grinning fiendishly at a few of the men (and women) who pushed him away from them; tufts of unruly brown hair protruded from within the gray hoodie outlined in what looked like cotton; at least I was hoping it was cotton; a nonchalant aura emanated from him as he stuffed his hands inside his front pockets, casting a calculating leer at the man. “Convicted of five counts of battery assault, six counts of assault with a deadly weapon causing fatal bodily harm, and three counts of aggravated assault, is that right son?”
“Yes, you’re most certainly right, sir.” Kiba replied; his brown slits flashed as he sneered. “Right then. Your cell mate is Tenten. Might want to steer clear of her for a bit if you can manage it, boy; she doesn’t take too kindly to newcomers. Bit of an oddball if you ask me; you’ll find her in Cell Block Eleven.”
“Uchiha Sasuke.”
A raven-haired teenager stepped forward, glaring daggers at the correctional officer with pitch-black eyes as he gave the boy an unnecessary one-look over as he put his hands on his hips, acting as though he hadn’t noticed.
His entire self was covered in black; black iron heeled, combat boots; a black mesh shirt with a black overcoat ripped just past the elbows, sporting recently healed abrasions and two-colored contusions dotted with specks of red ending a few centimeters near to his wrists; black cargo shorts that barely covered his pale thighs – decorating macabrely with deeper cuts and bruises than his arms did – and appeared to have once been pants, but now bore the signs of having been forcibly torn apart, almost to shreds; finally, completing his attire, a small holster, big enough to fit a fully loaded Desert Eagle inside, was clasped at the left-hand side of his waist.
(Hmmm... well now, it seems we have a male whore in our midst.)
How can you be so sure of that, Bates? Just because he’s dressed... um, differently, it doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s a-
(Any idiot can see that his profession, his duties as a call boy, wasn’t chosen willingly by any means. All whores, male and female, have a certain scent that radiates from their bodies; they carry themselves about like a mechanical servant, eager to please their next masters or mistresses. This Sasuke character is no different.)
Yes, but it’s just like you said a few moments ago; he didn’t chose it volitionally.
(He probably resorted to a few other things before he finally decided that selling his body, in a physical sense so to speak, was the only quick way to support himself.)
“Other things”? What do you mean, exactly?
(You’re a wise little girl. I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually.)
Gee, aren’t you a swell guy at heart? I retorted in a mused and painfully sarcastic tone, frowning to myself; somewhere in the back a female shouted, “There you are, Sasuke! Where the hell did you run off to? Do you know how much time and effort I wasted in commanding my other sexy pets to find you?” (That’s you, Crazy-chan!)
Sasuke, however, didn’t seem at all pleased in hearing this particular voice; for a moment, I could’ve sworn that his face twitched in an unconscious grimace, mumbling what sounded like “incompetent woman” under his breath.
The guard pursed his lips taut as he flipped a few pages, then finally stopped and looked back at the raven-haired young man, a faint apologetic look creasing his visage. “Sorry to tell you this son, but it looks as though there’s no female two-time loser reserved for you; the only solution for someone in your case is to partner you up with a male candidate. Meaning,” he paused again, leaving everyone but Sasuke to wait with battered breath, thumbing the prisoner registry, “You’ll have to share a cell with Orochimaru.”
“...You’re kidding.” was Sasuke’s only response.
“I wish I was, son, but I’m not. So, if you’ll follow me, I’ll escort you both to your cell down in Cell Block Twelve. Kakashi, Tsunade and Gai here will have to accompany you three to somewhere down in Cell Block Thirteen.”
With that, the guard, Sasuke and Orochimaru ventured off down the corridor, leaving me and the other two remaining girls to stand like bewildered idiots while Orochimaru chuckled at Sasuke’s retreating backside and sending him bemused, and slightly lustful, glances; no more than five minutes into our never-ending yet silent journey, the blissful silence was broken, however, when Gai suddenly bellowed, “Come, come, youthful ones! I, Might Gai, will gladly watch over you three as you mark your paths down into the pits of-”
“Gai, stop it.” Tsunade imputed bluntly, sending him a brief, side-glanced glare.
“But, Tsunade-chan-”
“You don’t want to finish that sentence, Gai.” she replied yet again, a faint hint of anger laced about her words.
“No, of course not.”
I mentally sighed. Satan must have a boner for me or something.
“Alright. I suppose we should get this over with.” Kakashi stated, placing a gloved hand on the brown-haired, olive-skinned girl and leading her into a cell on the right from which a diabolical chortle emanated from; the other less-fortunate brown-haired girl was lead into a cell on the left hoisting a malevolent silence, with only the metallic door opening and then slamming shut as its overseer.
“Now for you.”
I looked up for a moment hearing Tsunade’s voice; her face etched with what appeared to be concern, and I blinked once in confusion.
“You might want to exercise extreme caution around your cell mate; he’s a bit of an outcast around here. As well as a...” she trailed off eerily, not that it helped me boost my damaged spirits much; it only furthered my mental discomposure.
He’s a bit of a what? An anti-social prat? A total nut case? A loser?
(I’m going to lean towards him being the possibility of all three you just stated.)
How would you know if someone was any of those? It’s not like you’ve met anyone fitting the descriptions.
(Well now, that’s not wholly true; I’m currently inhabiting the body of an anti-social prat, a lost cause with a non-functioning mind and a loser, right? Or were you about to disprove that, too?)
...Do me a favor and shut up.
“Well,” I was snapped out of my temporary mind-numbing daze when Tsunade spoke up again, “You’ll find out what I mean in time. I hope you don’t end up like all the other unfortunate women who bunked with him.”
Others? What others? Does she mean that he’s actually...?
Without so much as another word or a subtle farewell, she pried open the cell door and stepped aside so to let me enter, though I instantly regretted doing so after I did just that; the room was no bigger than a small bathroom, about five feet by feet in diameter, giving barely enough space for one person to maneuver about let alone two; the walls were comprised of solid stone blocks fashioned like a twentieth-century brick house, each as cold, callous and solidified as a Canadian winter eve; the only colors residing in the tiny room besides the black steel bars adorning the minuscule window, the sickly white sheets and pillows accompanying the only empty bed on bottom, reeking of hospitals and disinfectant, was the small bookcase stuffed full of red hard-covered novels.
Red must be his favorite color or something...
My cell mate wasn’t anywhere to be found. Not on the ground, at least.
Mr. So-and-So was currently dozing peacefully up on the top bunk, dreaming about graveyards, dismembered corpses, surgical utensils stained in blood, and whatever else that psychopathic men envisioned while they slept; I wasn’t maybe less than six feet away from him, but as for him making so much as a snort in his current enervated state, there were none that I could discern; I vaguely wondered to myself if he was dead.
I was half-heartedly hoping so.
I sighed and shuffled my way over to the unoccupied bed, hearing the springs give a shrill squeal when my weight eased down on it, clasping my face between my hands and staring at the floor.
I mentally scowled feeling a sudden pain grip my chest in its vice grip, ensnaring my heart in a treacherous, life-threatening possession; my eyes suddenly started to feel misty, glistening like dull gems in the darkness as tears threatened to spill down my pallor-skinned cheekbones.
I haven’t been here for more than an hour and already I’m getting homesick. Speaking of home... where’s my parents when I need them the most? What about my siblings? Do they know I’m here in this earthly hellhole?
I mentally sighed and tried to ignore the pangs stitching and woving in and out of my chest like a needle seeping through thread, occupying my mind and blinking away the tears as I shifted through the small box of personal items they’d permitted me to have; toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste, my wallet stuffed with family photos (my money seemed to have ‘conveinantly disappeared’, right into someone’s pocket), a few horror novels selectively chosen, and surprisingly as it was, my Dad’s army knife he loaned to me for “safety precautions”.
I don’t imagine I’d live to see the sun rise tomorrow if I didn’t carry this around at all times. I bitterly laughed to myself after that particular thought. Me, dying at the hands of some lunatic? I have just as much chance as hearing- Oh, wait, never mind.
Unbeknownst to me my cell mate had been wide-awake all along.
Watching me.
(1) Actual facts; pure history. Feel free to laugh.
(2) Oh hell yeah, baby! Hitomi is making her second debut; and in this story! I don’t know who she’ll end up being paired with, but if you have any suggestions, any at all, then by all means toss ’em my way, ladies! You know I love hearing comments and/or thoughts from your respectable viewpoints, right?
I’m having fun writing this story; this is probably going to the third easiest fic to write about, since I can vividly imagine how I’d cope (or at least try to) with being sent to the penitentiary.
“Talking”
Thinking to oneself
-Sharon’s thoughts separated from Bates-
Emphasis
Shouting
((-Bates’ speech-))
(Bates’ Mental Communication with Sharon)
-Whispering-
Writing
~-~-~Dream Sequence~-~-~
My P.O.V.
If I hear another one of those knuckle-headed lame-asses shouting about how they’ll defile us in our sleep, I’ll start to get around to playing knick-knack on somebody’s face! I silently mused to myself, mentally grimacing as my face burned in a mute fervor, contorting with a barely suppressed rage and gritting my teeth; my knuckles slowly turned to a ghastly bleach-white color while the handcuffs juxtaposing to my wrists started to cut off my circulation as the iron, razor-sharp edges bit into my frail skin; minuscule red trickles oozed from within the tiny scrapes, bleeding more and more the harder I clenched my fists.
“Calm down.” I looked up, mildly surprised seeing a pair of grandmotherly brown eyes peering down at me, feeling mental shivers wreck my body and my blood turning to ice; her stare was so intense that it felt as though she were gazing past me, leering into the deepest depths of my soul. No, everyone knows that’s theoretically impossible; you’re just letting your God-be-damned paranoia take hold of your mind again, that’s all.
“It’s your first day here, isn’t it? Don’t let this place get to you or you’ll end up like the others that went mad here.”
My eyes widened at the possibility of losing whatever remnants of sanity I still possessed; however, the elderly woman’s visage remained expressionless by the flabbergasted look plastered on my face, nonetheless she continued despite my wide-eyed stare.
“I’ve been working here for more than half my life, and I trained myself to spot an innocent person. Believe me when I say that you’re innocent; you don’t look like the sort of woman who’d get thrown in the slammer without reasonable cause.” she stated in a matter-of-fact tone, blinking once as the hint of a ‘I-know-something’s-off-about-you’ smirk played at the corner of her lips.
I blinked too, but it was in surprise; the woman seemed very intelligent, despite her elderly appearance.
“...”
I said nothing, staring back at her blandly; was she trying to get buddy-buddy with me? I don’t favor people who try to get you into a good mood all that much; I’d understand and feel a bit grateful if it wasn’t my first day here, but does she have to act like a sweetie-pie just to stop me from going on a murdering rampage?
(That makes two of us.)
No, that makes only ONE of us, you-
I blinked, feeling like the biggest dumb arse who’d ever plagued this stupid Earth, feeling a small dark frown tugging at my lips; you know you’ve finally forfeited whatever remaining remnants of sanity you possessed since the tender age of four when you start hearing a voice in your head besides your own. -What the hell? Now I’m hearing voices all of a sudden... oh man, I’ve finally lost it!-
Oh for the love of God, Sharon dearest, it seems your Mum was right when she told you that you were in desperate need of a therapist! Why now? Why here? Why couldn’t I have lost it at a better time, like at my fifth birthday party when that boy was beating me at Musical Chairs, and I wanted to take the chair I’d been sitting in and played The Causes of Concussions with him?
(That would’ve been... amusing.)
-Yeah, like I was asking you for your views.-
Or how about the time when I felt incredibly tempted to stab the half-witted cunt sitting next to me in the groin with my pencil in grade seven? And had anyone asked me why I did it at the time if I’d gone ahead and did just that, I’d feel pretty darn content in smiling and saying, “Oh, it was nothing really; he got his just desserts for irritating me to no end.”
(As entertaining as I find your mind to be at times, Sharon, you’re mentally exerting yourself. Besides, don’t you think that you’ve got it backwards, my friend? You’re not insane, not yet anyway; you’re only halfway there. Enjoy the shreds of your two-sided mental health while it lasts. Chances are it’ll be gone if you get out of here – and that, sweetheart, is a very big if.)
I don’t recall asking you for your opinion, Mr. Smartass.
(My name isn’t “Mr. Smartass” it’s Bates, if you wanted to know.)
-Do I sense an irksome tone? ...Whatever. I don’t have time to deal with this non-corporeal bastard!-
Well, I DIDN’T want to know in case you wished for me to express my feelings.
(Are you always this moody?)
“Tsunade, are you trying to get the girl in a good mood so she’ll chit-chat with you? How cute.” came a very, very, very, very GAY-sounding voice. Not gay as in homosexual-preference gay, but gay as in an horrendously absurd and migraine-inducing and utterly tiresome voice; unfortunately, neither seemed to perfectly describe the voice – the man’s voice, to be exact.
It was far too menacing and had a strange, scathing ‘I’ll-torture-you-into-insanity-if-you-cross-me’ underbelly tone to it, like a black rivulet of mind-numbing fire frozen in a sea of musicale ice. Golden reptilian eyes swirled around until they deadlocked on me, and I absentmindedly quaked in fear; rows of animalistic canines slicked with rivers of saliva were displayed to me when he grinned.
“Orochimaru...” The woman – Tsunade was her name, if I wasn’t mistaken – shot the deathly pallor-skinned male a look of grave dislike. ...Hm... arch-enemies? Coincidence or hindrance?
“Tsunade-chan... my, my, my, tell me, how many years has it been since we last met? Ten? Fifteen? I suppose you’ve grown soft in your old age, not that I expected less from you.”
“Nor did I perceive you to be any less cowardly, Orochimaru. You can imagine my surprise when I fancied a cup of cold sake in that fine little establishment downtown a few months ago, and who did I find puncturing the juggler vein of the owner of my grandson’s favored ramen joint with a broken knife? You.”
Orochimaru opened his mouth to respond, but Kakashi interrupted. “Tsunade-sama, that’s enough.” he imputed, a lone black pupil stared her down; a luminous shadow suddenly fell over the half of his face that wasn’t covered, darkening his complexion considerably. “Don’t waste your breath on men whom have stooped so low as to commit murder without the slightest signs of mercy; men like him have defiled all the laws of humanity so many times, have spit on the decomposing carcasses of so many people, that the title of ‘mortality’ applies to him no longer.”
Tsunade mumbled something that sounded like “filthy little blood-traitor”, but I couldn’t be certain; my hearing was good, but not good enough to percept what others were whispering in the softest ear-straining undertones possible.
“Alright then, time to be sorted into your respectable cells; therein you’ll meet your cell mates. And I don’t want any rough-housing or any of that shit tonight, am I clear on that?” stated the correctional officer whom had formerly introduced everyone to earlier.
Two hundred pairs of feet stopped halfway down the long abandoned corridor and stared blankly back at the man’s nerves-of-steel brown eyes; he gave a soft, unconvincing cough as he unfurled a stack of sheets, stopping at the very end of it, and then started calling people in the way a teacher would take attendance.
“Aburame Shino.”
A fair-to-pale-skinned male with dark shades adorning his features stepped forward, and from where I or anyone else stood, you couldn’t really tell if he belonged here or not; he didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular, on the other hand he radiated a strange, peculiar aura; both his hands were stuffed in the pockets of his gray trench coat and his dark-chocolate brown eyebrows creased downward in a slanted fashion, as if he deemed this place to be a grave mordant facility, like he had just stepped foot inside a bone yard full of long-since departed souls.
Aside from his strange attire and outward appearance, I caught sight of what looked like specks of dirt crawling up his face; then, I realized, coming to a subtle, shocking conclusion, that the black specks were actually minuscule insects.
I couldn’t help but smirk to myself, and forcing back a snort of mirthful guffaw seeing a few of the women and teenagers around me gasp as they gave shrieks of fright and scurried away from the bug-lover as if he was the plague; from the back of my mind came a vague mental image of how horrified my elder sister, Elizabeth, would look if she were to even cast him a first-hand glance at the man.
My sister had been known to possess a weird phobia of anything that scuttled about on the ground, walls, ceiling, or across any exposed part of her flesh on more than four legs and its body being smaller than a person’s fingernail; or, in two such incidents, involving an ear-wig dropping into her mug of tea, and not noticing it was floating about in the highly-contaminated-with-sugar drink until she swallowed a mouthful and spat it onto the kitchen floor; another episode in which a carpenter had been happily skittering on the aged spider webs on the basement rafters and plopped down on her hair. (1)
She was so scared that she didn’t stop screaming for an hour. Again, I wanted to laugh, but for a different reason.
“Hm... well now, it doesn’t specifically state why you’ve been incarcerated here of all places, but...” He looked up from the paperwork, his sights were at direct eye-level with Shino’s, pursing his lips together thoughtfully; the only sign that Shino gave he was fully functioning was to remove his right hand from inside his coat pocket and bring up to his face to readjust his shades.
“But orders are orders, son. Your cell mate is Maruyama Hitomi; she’s been prosecuted for two counts of armed robbery, assaulting a police officer, public intoxication and failing to pay for speeding tickets. You’ll find her in Cell Block Nine.” (2)
“Yamanaka Ino.”
A dark-blue-eyed, platinum-blonde haired woman sashayed up to him, a seductive smile plastered across her fair-skinned visage that suddenly took on a joyful light to it; her red tube top and purple skirt flashed with every movement she made, her knee-length, high-heeled brown boots clicking against the six-inch-by-six-inch stoned floor. “You’ve been charged and convicted of prostitution, participating in a prostitution ring and dealing a large dosage of narcotics to your many pimps in exchange for extra money, is that correct?”
“Yes, sir.” she purred huskily, blinking all but one time, batting her dark thick lashes and flashing him a formidable, erection-inducing grin; he returned the smile half-heartedly, then indicted her to the cell on her left. “Your cell mate’s waiting for you, a Mr. Naka Shikamaru. No one really knows what he did to end up here; he’s either not willing to tell, or the kid’s just too damn lazy and thinks it’s too ‘troublesome’. He’s in Cell Block Ten.”
“Inuzuka Kiba.”
“Hn.” A sort of wolf-like snarl resonated from the mouth of a rather intimidating character who barreled his way through the small crowd, grinning fiendishly at a few of the men (and women) who pushed him away from them; tufts of unruly brown hair protruded from within the gray hoodie outlined in what looked like cotton; at least I was hoping it was cotton; a nonchalant aura emanated from him as he stuffed his hands inside his front pockets, casting a calculating leer at the man. “Convicted of five counts of battery assault, six counts of assault with a deadly weapon causing fatal bodily harm, and three counts of aggravated assault, is that right son?”
“Yes, you’re most certainly right, sir.” Kiba replied; his brown slits flashed as he sneered. “Right then. Your cell mate is Tenten. Might want to steer clear of her for a bit if you can manage it, boy; she doesn’t take too kindly to newcomers. Bit of an oddball if you ask me; you’ll find her in Cell Block Eleven.”
“Uchiha Sasuke.”
A raven-haired teenager stepped forward, glaring daggers at the correctional officer with pitch-black eyes as he gave the boy an unnecessary one-look over as he put his hands on his hips, acting as though he hadn’t noticed.
His entire self was covered in black; black iron heeled, combat boots; a black mesh shirt with a black overcoat ripped just past the elbows, sporting recently healed abrasions and two-colored contusions dotted with specks of red ending a few centimeters near to his wrists; black cargo shorts that barely covered his pale thighs – decorating macabrely with deeper cuts and bruises than his arms did – and appeared to have once been pants, but now bore the signs of having been forcibly torn apart, almost to shreds; finally, completing his attire, a small holster, big enough to fit a fully loaded Desert Eagle inside, was clasped at the left-hand side of his waist.
(Hmmm... well now, it seems we have a male whore in our midst.)
How can you be so sure of that, Bates? Just because he’s dressed... um, differently, it doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s a-
(Any idiot can see that his profession, his duties as a call boy, wasn’t chosen willingly by any means. All whores, male and female, have a certain scent that radiates from their bodies; they carry themselves about like a mechanical servant, eager to please their next masters or mistresses. This Sasuke character is no different.)
Yes, but it’s just like you said a few moments ago; he didn’t chose it volitionally.
(He probably resorted to a few other things before he finally decided that selling his body, in a physical sense so to speak, was the only quick way to support himself.)
“Other things”? What do you mean, exactly?
(You’re a wise little girl. I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually.)
Gee, aren’t you a swell guy at heart? I retorted in a mused and painfully sarcastic tone, frowning to myself; somewhere in the back a female shouted, “There you are, Sasuke! Where the hell did you run off to? Do you know how much time and effort I wasted in commanding my other sexy pets to find you?” (That’s you, Crazy-chan!)
Sasuke, however, didn’t seem at all pleased in hearing this particular voice; for a moment, I could’ve sworn that his face twitched in an unconscious grimace, mumbling what sounded like “incompetent woman” under his breath.
The guard pursed his lips taut as he flipped a few pages, then finally stopped and looked back at the raven-haired young man, a faint apologetic look creasing his visage. “Sorry to tell you this son, but it looks as though there’s no female two-time loser reserved for you; the only solution for someone in your case is to partner you up with a male candidate. Meaning,” he paused again, leaving everyone but Sasuke to wait with battered breath, thumbing the prisoner registry, “You’ll have to share a cell with Orochimaru.”
“...You’re kidding.” was Sasuke’s only response.
“I wish I was, son, but I’m not. So, if you’ll follow me, I’ll escort you both to your cell down in Cell Block Twelve. Kakashi, Tsunade and Gai here will have to accompany you three to somewhere down in Cell Block Thirteen.”
With that, the guard, Sasuke and Orochimaru ventured off down the corridor, leaving me and the other two remaining girls to stand like bewildered idiots while Orochimaru chuckled at Sasuke’s retreating backside and sending him bemused, and slightly lustful, glances; no more than five minutes into our never-ending yet silent journey, the blissful silence was broken, however, when Gai suddenly bellowed, “Come, come, youthful ones! I, Might Gai, will gladly watch over you three as you mark your paths down into the pits of-”
“Gai, stop it.” Tsunade imputed bluntly, sending him a brief, side-glanced glare.
“But, Tsunade-chan-”
“You don’t want to finish that sentence, Gai.” she replied yet again, a faint hint of anger laced about her words.
“No, of course not.”
I mentally sighed. Satan must have a boner for me or something.
“Alright. I suppose we should get this over with.” Kakashi stated, placing a gloved hand on the brown-haired, olive-skinned girl and leading her into a cell on the right from which a diabolical chortle emanated from; the other less-fortunate brown-haired girl was lead into a cell on the left hoisting a malevolent silence, with only the metallic door opening and then slamming shut as its overseer.
“Now for you.”
I looked up for a moment hearing Tsunade’s voice; her face etched with what appeared to be concern, and I blinked once in confusion.
“You might want to exercise extreme caution around your cell mate; he’s a bit of an outcast around here. As well as a...” she trailed off eerily, not that it helped me boost my damaged spirits much; it only furthered my mental discomposure.
He’s a bit of a what? An anti-social prat? A total nut case? A loser?
(I’m going to lean towards him being the possibility of all three you just stated.)
How would you know if someone was any of those? It’s not like you’ve met anyone fitting the descriptions.
(Well now, that’s not wholly true; I’m currently inhabiting the body of an anti-social prat, a lost cause with a non-functioning mind and a loser, right? Or were you about to disprove that, too?)
...Do me a favor and shut up.
“Well,” I was snapped out of my temporary mind-numbing daze when Tsunade spoke up again, “You’ll find out what I mean in time. I hope you don’t end up like all the other unfortunate women who bunked with him.”
Others? What others? Does she mean that he’s actually...?
Without so much as another word or a subtle farewell, she pried open the cell door and stepped aside so to let me enter, though I instantly regretted doing so after I did just that; the room was no bigger than a small bathroom, about five feet by feet in diameter, giving barely enough space for one person to maneuver about let alone two; the walls were comprised of solid stone blocks fashioned like a twentieth-century brick house, each as cold, callous and solidified as a Canadian winter eve; the only colors residing in the tiny room besides the black steel bars adorning the minuscule window, the sickly white sheets and pillows accompanying the only empty bed on bottom, reeking of hospitals and disinfectant, was the small bookcase stuffed full of red hard-covered novels.
Red must be his favorite color or something...
My cell mate wasn’t anywhere to be found. Not on the ground, at least.
Mr. So-and-So was currently dozing peacefully up on the top bunk, dreaming about graveyards, dismembered corpses, surgical utensils stained in blood, and whatever else that psychopathic men envisioned while they slept; I wasn’t maybe less than six feet away from him, but as for him making so much as a snort in his current enervated state, there were none that I could discern; I vaguely wondered to myself if he was dead.
I was half-heartedly hoping so.
I sighed and shuffled my way over to the unoccupied bed, hearing the springs give a shrill squeal when my weight eased down on it, clasping my face between my hands and staring at the floor.
I mentally scowled feeling a sudden pain grip my chest in its vice grip, ensnaring my heart in a treacherous, life-threatening possession; my eyes suddenly started to feel misty, glistening like dull gems in the darkness as tears threatened to spill down my pallor-skinned cheekbones.
I haven’t been here for more than an hour and already I’m getting homesick. Speaking of home... where’s my parents when I need them the most? What about my siblings? Do they know I’m here in this earthly hellhole?
I mentally sighed and tried to ignore the pangs stitching and woving in and out of my chest like a needle seeping through thread, occupying my mind and blinking away the tears as I shifted through the small box of personal items they’d permitted me to have; toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste, my wallet stuffed with family photos (my money seemed to have ‘conveinantly disappeared’, right into someone’s pocket), a few horror novels selectively chosen, and surprisingly as it was, my Dad’s army knife he loaned to me for “safety precautions”.
I don’t imagine I’d live to see the sun rise tomorrow if I didn’t carry this around at all times. I bitterly laughed to myself after that particular thought. Me, dying at the hands of some lunatic? I have just as much chance as hearing- Oh, wait, never mind.
Unbeknownst to me my cell mate had been wide-awake all along.
Watching me.
(1) Actual facts; pure history. Feel free to laugh.
(2) Oh hell yeah, baby! Hitomi is making her second debut; and in this story! I don’t know who she’ll end up being paired with, but if you have any suggestions, any at all, then by all means toss ’em my way, ladies! You know I love hearing comments and/or thoughts from your respectable viewpoints, right?
I’m having fun writing this story; this is probably going to the third easiest fic to write about, since I can vividly imagine how I’d cope (or at least try to) with being sent to the penitentiary.