<b>RE: Breakout! (Chapter 1 - Crash)</b><br/><br/><span style="font-size: 12px"><a class="link link--internal" href="http://bluemoonroleplaying.com/forums/showthread.php?tid=41087&amp;pid=1086609#pid1086609">David</a> had been uncharacteristically calm the entire morning. After the little 'baton party' some of the guards had had with him the night before, it was understandable that the purple-haired upstart didn't feel like talking very much. In his short time in his current lodgings (read: prison) he had learned very quickly that his mouth often got him into more trouble and pain than he was used to receiving. Especially since the guards tended to carry hard, blunt objects, and blunt objects tended to hurt. As he was loaded into the van at that ungodly hour- David wasn't used to waking up before noon- he did a once over on the female guard who seemed to have a bad habit. Namely, talking.<br/>
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<i>Christ in heaven, does this bitch love the sound of her own voice. Not too hard on the eyes though, if one could look past the aforementioned blunt object on her person.</i> he thought. David's swollen, purple eye began to throb with the mere memory of nightstick making contact with face. The relatively young malcontent sat down quietly, trying his damndest to avert his eyes from the female prison guard, instead deciding to turn his attention to the situation at hand, namely the mind crushing, soul-numbing boredom that was the transport ride.<br/>
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He decided to risk a quick glance around the interior, noticing few other inmates besides himself. He knew his own past, but a few of these others  he could only vaguely recall. Of course, there was John- who could forget the killer who had not only made the news headlines for some of the shit he'd pulled, but had also made David's rap sheet look like a traffic citation? The other two he didn't have the faintest idea as to who they were- one was some big shot who seemed to be the 'mob' type, and the other one- the creeper in the back- hadn't even registered on his radar until about an hour after they had departed. Admittedly, David could hardly think straight on account of the painful recollection of the last nights events. Thankfully, the guards had spared him the sodomite treatment.<br/>
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When the driver- Hank, he had overheard Erica call him- began ranting about the radio having gone to shit (to the great pleasure of David's ears- Country music, as Maze had once put it so eloquently, was only for closet fag rednecks and inbred retards who cared more for fucking their cousins and any farm animals nearby than they did for music with any taste) David began to perk up. Having been raised on a steady diet of violent media and video games, his first reaction was one that would've made sense to any person who had ever read up on the power of the fruits of the Manhattan Project.<br/>
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"No... no fucking way, it's really happened then? Some stupid government  fuckwit decided to push the big red button and blow us to kingdom come!?" he said with increasing fervor. The words fell from his mouth like a waterfall, the panic in his voice rising- it could've been paranoia for all anybody really knew, but dammit if David didn't believe his conclusion wholeheartedly.<br/>
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"DRIVER! Hey, Hee-Haw, open the damn gate and get us the hell out of here! Those bombs don't give a half a damn about you any bullshit you may have against us, just let us the fuck out of here RIGHT NOW!" he roared, slamming his fists against the metal grating as hard as he could, which wasnt very hard considering the fact that he was shackled to the railing running down the length of the van, his panic becoming more apparent as the look in his eyes grew more and more wild.</span>