Prisoners, Guards & Shanks, Oh My! - Prison
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Extreme =&gt; Extreme Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Marguerite on 15-08-2010, 03:55:46</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>15-08-2010, 03:55:46</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://www.hmprisonservice.gov.uk/images/noflash/map.gif)</div><br><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Threads</strong></span><br><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">Prison (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=79170.0)</span><br><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">Cafeteria (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=79346.0)</span><br><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">Solitary Confinement (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=79279.0)</span><br><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">Recreation Hall (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=79280.0)</span><br><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">OOC Thread (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=78910.0)</span><br><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">Announcement Thread (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=94837.0)</span><br><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">Character Profile (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=78918.0)</span><br><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">Warden's Office (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=79988.0)</span>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>15-08-2010, 04:16:12</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3558/3430306983_9514d32d7d.jpg)</div><br><div align="center">(http://www.lexpress.fr/medias/219/prison-bagdad_488.jpg)</div> <br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>15-08-2010, 04:16:20</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://www.interet-general.info/IMG/France-Paris-Prison-Sante-1-2.jpg)</div><br><div align="center">(http://i366.photobucket.com/albums/oo110/bivouac-id/45eaef53.jpg)</div><br><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>15-08-2010, 04:26:55</strong>
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				<div align="center"><span class="bbc_u"><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size"><strong>Cells</strong></span></span></div><br><div align="center">(http://www.aclu.org/images/womensrights/tyc_solitary_brownwood_350.jpg)</div><br><br><div align="center">(http://www.unodc.org/images/southeasterneurope//prison051707.jpg)</div><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>16-08-2010, 05:32:27</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://www.lefigaro.fr/medias/2009/08/22/38145a9c-8f07-11de-8b2e-620ce1383861.jpg)</div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>16-08-2010, 05:33:16</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://filmnorthflorida.com/photos/Century:-Prison/Century:-Prison_07.jpg)</div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>16-08-2010, 21:42:55</strong>
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				<div align="center">(http://www.gov.mb.ca/justice/criminal/corrections/images/headingleycorrections.gif)</div><br><div align="center">(http://www.csmonitor.com/var/ezflow_site/storage/images/media/images/2010/0211/0211-ajail-california-prisons-600/7384075-1-eng-US/0211-Ajail-CALIFORNIA-PRISONS-600_full_600.jpg)</div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>16-08-2010, 21:45:13</strong>
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				"We have a few new prisoners coming to join us in our lovely home, Warden," Jackson Hills joked as he popped a nicotine gum into his jaw and started to smack away on it. This was the third time he was trying to stop smoking knowing if he failed this time, it was going to be three times as hard to keep himself off of the cancer-inducing sticks. He started smoking a few years back as a way to calm him nerves while on the job as an officer. Usually, he took the late shifts which brought the crazies and the hike in violence to his front steps and the need for something to center his nerves came in the form of cigarettes. Now these same damn relaxing moments brought a hacking cough and made it difficult to work his job at the prison. Should a riot break out or a prisoner get out of hand, he did not want to end up wheezing and needing an oxygen mask because his lungs failed to get the proper oxygen into each one.<br><br>Now he had to be able to get off the cigarettes with the new list of prisoners. From the case files, a lot of them were not too bad with the exception of a few who were in for rape or the murderer of one their own good cops. This Taylor King needed to watch his back because not only did he looked like fresh meat to the rest of the rapists in the prison but the guards and he as well would keep a close eye on King. King killed one of their best detectives and treatment was usually severe for his kind. Even now, Jackson pondered over the possibility to bunk King up with Santos, a prisoner accused of a few rapes or with Takeshi who was booked for assault and homicide. Either way, he wanted Taylor to get his just desserts for killing a man in the line of duty. He even wondered throwing Taylor in with Charles but knew it was too soon to start up trouble in his own prison. Well, it might be Warden Kane's prison but Jackson hoped to take the position in a few more years. <br><br>Still, Jackson needed to lay off the drinking and smoking to keep up with these low lifes. Individual in a prison cooped up with far nefarious and murderous prisoners, aggression could go off the charts. He rather not have a prisoner come up behind him with a shiv and he was unable to fight back or run away from the danger. Jackson's constant chewing and chomping of the gum might get around to annoying his Warden Kane Mercer but the man had a lot of other things on his plate than get riled up over a piece of gum. Still, Jackson needed to be on his best A game. Right now, his A game was to go outside to meet the bus of prisoners who had gone to get arraigned on their charges, get a court date settled or see if their bond was too much to be paid off. The list showed a lot of them were going to spend a short amount of time or a very long one in his prison.<br><br>"Alright, let us count them off," he called out to the guards who surrounded the Warden and Jackson. Time to get acquainted and introduce or reintroduce these prisoners to their humble house.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Izu</strong> on <strong>16-08-2010, 22:28:01</strong>
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				This wasn’t happening… was it? It was all one bad dream and he was going to wake up any moment now, realizing that he had once again drunk way too much the previous night and he had fallen on the ground off his bed from having tossed so much from the bad dream… Right? He was going to open his eyes and he was going to see that he was on the dark wooden floor of Mark’s apartment, and not on sitting on that hard seat in that stinky bus, right? His hands and arms were going to be all tangled in the sheets, and not chained by cuffs not allowing him to walk or even scratch his nose, right? This was all just one horrible dream… <em>’Please, let it be a dream…’</em> He prayed in his thoughts to a God he had long forgotten about. But that God didn’t reply to his prays… <br><br>“Get up, you lil dirty bitch! Welcome to hell!” Some guard grabbed him for the shoulder and literally threw him out of his seat, grabbing his short hair next and pulling him back up on his feet. “Oh, King, you’ll be charmed by the welcome party they will make for you here, you son-of-a-bitch!” The guy hissed in his ear, his breath stinking of shithole, most probably his mouth having not seen a toothbrush since middle-school. “Argh!” Taylor cried out as he was half kicked off, half thrown out of the bus, landing on his knees on the dusty ground. And, no. It wasn’t a dream. It was the goddamned reality that he had gotten himself into. Well, not really had gotten himself into it as he hadn’t wanted it – he had been dragged into it, but instead of being protected by the law and those who enforced the law, he had been forced into staying into this hell.<br><br>Three months ago he would have never thought that his life could be over in less than a minute, because it had taken him that long to push that guy – Detective O’Neil, off himself and punch him in an attempt to save himself from a rape. And that man had died in a matter of seconds as his skull (most definitely thinned by drug abuse) shuttered from the clash with the corner of the sink. For a med-student who had wanted to devote his life to saving lives, seeing someone dying because of him had been more than a punishment… But instead of people seeing that he had been trying to save himself, they all saw him as that crazy King gay guy who killed an honest and honored cop… And here he was now, instead of getting ready for the new fall semester at the best Med-school in the state, he was about to begin the first day of the rest 15 to 25 years of prison life that were ahead of him…<br><br>“Get up, bitch!” Some other guard shouted at him as he pulled him up for the hair, making Taylor cried out again. He got pushed and shoved until he was at the end of the row of new prisoners. His bright&nbsp; eyes needed a few moments to get used to the light as the sun was shining straight in their eyes. He swallowed hard as his eyes caught a few towers with guards with guns in them, high walls with electricity signs all over them, and some fence through which he could see at the yard where prisoners were already gathering to look at the fresh meat, some were already whistling. Was he terrified? Yes. Did he want to get out of here? Of course! Did he care what was going to happen to him?... No… After seeing his parents, his closest friend and the man he had sworn to in eternal love turning their backs on him, not trusting him when he cried that he was innocent… It no longer mattered to him what was going to happen with him. Even if he got out of prison he had nothing and no one to go to… The best he could hope for was to get killed as soon as possible, so that he wouldn’t have to live in that hell place for long.<br><br>Not that he even thought that he would survive for a single week – especially with all the guards knowing that he was the O’Neil’s murderer. He had almost got killed back at the holding cell, and no, not by the criminals held in there, but by the cops, who didn’t let him go to a prison, but forced him to stay there, so that they could beat the hell out of him… But of course those bruises all over his face and body were never even noticed by the jury and the judge and the media… The media even started rumors that he was starting fights in prison, being all crazy and nuts… Wasn’t it funny how people could turn so blind whenever they wanted to?...<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Braioch</strong> on <strong>16-08-2010, 23:39:14</strong>
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				Kane Mercer was a man who enjoyed his job, and that was putting it mildly. There was a great pleasure to be found, keeping some of societies worst within their own pretty little cage, a small one of concrete and iron, surrounded by an even larger cage of stone and steel, encased finally by again stone and steel. Their schedules, of eating, sleeping, exercising and their few liberties, all dictated within the walls of this cage within cages. At the head of all of this, was himself, and he was not afraid to admit to loving the concept of being the dictating force amongst it all, center of it all, directing with a few words and a command. <br><br>He liked things around him in a sense of order and control, correction, in HIS sense of order and control. He was a neat man amongst other things, those other things including domineering (even saying nothing at all, he commanded attention, respect and perhaps fear in weaker constituted minds) and having a direct love of being in control. He also took pleasure in punishing those who broke the rules, so long as the rules and laws (so to speak) that he laid down were followed, then inmate and employee alike were just fine and could do as they pleased within obvious reason. Should they break the rules, his law, then there would be hell to pay as he held no proverbial punches when it came to striking down a potential anarchist in the midst. He knew full well when he took the job, that there would be those who did so but he managed well enough with his gentler policy of leniency on those who behaved, his punishments reserved for those who strayed. He made sure his guards knew damn well that any abuse of a prisoner, especially (mostly just) those that behaved themselves, was a quick way to get on his bad side, and you never want to be on the Warden's bad side.<br><br>He straightened his suit, (http://www.omiru.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/jcrew-year-round-suiting-vest_080108.jpg) making sure to check for any stains and even out any wrinkles, something that was sheer habit for him. Within the confines of being alone, or at ease around certain employees such as Jackson, he was a bit more relaxed, rolling up his sleeves, removing his jacket and perhaps the tie. Now though he had business to take care of, as was par for the course. He wasn't quite sure if other Warden's made frequent trips to see new inmates as much as he did, but he liked to see them, to mark in his own mind those that stood out, those that he knew should be watched, monitored a bit more closely than others. There was also an aspect of them seeing him, as their Warden that held a strange and inexplicable appeal to him that he wouldn't be able to articulate even within his own mind to himself.<br><br>He grabbed his jacket, (http://www.suitsmen.co.uk/suit-images/full-size/douglas-novonic-suit-jacket-1.jpg) swinging it around and easing it over his shoulder, buttoning it up and straightening himself up one last time to be sure and set off. <br><br>It was only moments later that he found himself waiting, Jackson and the other guards nearby, he turned his head and looked over the list and information he held in his hand, "I see that, and a few names I even recognize, imagine that."<br><br>He made a mental note to keep an eye on Taylor King, more of the guards around him than anything else. He fell no strong rage or prejudice against the man for the nature of his victim, a killer was a killer, no matter who they had killed. Though he knew full well that cop killers were not treated as such, and he had the feeling that he would have to remind his own that treating a prisoner as any less than they were was not going to happen in his prison. Out of hand, rule breaking problem inmates needed reminding, but if there was no problem, you let them do their time, let them rot in their own misery and have the 'luxury' of dealing with one another instead. There would be no accidental deaths caused by overly rough treatments of his guards in his prison, that was not how things were done.<br><br>His blue eyes pierced like a shard of ice through the noise and heat outside, trailing along the line of windows on the bus and the moving figures, including the staggered figure of a one Taylor King whom he recognized from the news coverage, he addressed Jackson, "Jackson, do make sure to remind the men how we treat every inmate here, no matter our personal prejudice on their crime. I don't want an incident."<br><br>His voice was even, controlled, a rumbling that shook from within his chest, carrying a direct and commanding aura that seemed inherent, unforced and intuitive. It just plain fit him, all the way down to his face, his eyes and the way he held himself. With that done he resumed watching, making note of ever prisoner to step down into the light.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oneiros</strong> on <strong>17-08-2010, 00:26:46</strong>
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				Dominic Slade was waiting on the sidelines as the other guards lined up the new prisoners, chuckling to himself as he gave them a quick once-over from behind shaded glasses, taking the opportunity to sneak a quick smoke while he was outside. <br><br>He knew there was a cop killer in the midst of them, and as he saw the treatment the little one at the head of the line was getting, he figured that was probably him. Oh, sure, they were supposed to treat all inmates fairly and equally, but he knew he was going to get some rough treatment when the warden and the second-in-command weren't looking. <br><br>He didn't really care that he was a cop killer. King was in this place with Slade now, that was all he cared about. He raised an eyebrow as he looked across the line of new prisoners - several of them were rather small, King included. How fun. <br><br>He smirked a bit, taking a drag from the cigarette that hung from his lips before flicking it down to the ground, crushing it under his boot as he shifted his weight slightly, watching the other guards busily deal with the 'fresh meat' as he exhaled a slow stream of smoke. The warden was coming out now to greet the new arrivals, he saw. Right on schedule. <br><br>He glanced over at the row of prisoners along the fence, taunting the new boys with calls and whistles, and he strode over purposefully, whipping out his nightstick and smacking at the fence to drive them back. "Shut your mouths and get back from the fence," he commanded. The prisoners didn't all obey immediately, but most of them backed off, a few of them chuckling and shaking their heads as they finally wandered back from the fence. They knew Slade usually got a crack at the new boys before they got to. Just reasserting the order. He ranked higher than they did, and he'd make sure they didn't forget that. <br><br>A grin came over his face as he remained near the fence, watching as the guards rounded up the new boys as they emerged from the bus, lining them up and counting them out to make sure everyone was accounted for. <br><div align="center">__________________________________________________________________________________________________</div><br>Takeshi Rojas squinted a little as he stepped off the bus finally, eyeing the grounds with a hint of disdain, though in general he seemed rather calm. This place... no, this place wouldn't do at all. He'd have to find a way out of here. He hesitated at the bottom of the stairs off of the bus, only to be shoved towards the line by the attending guard. Brought back to reality, Takeshi walked over to his place at the end of the line, exhaling in a silent sigh as his mind ran over what he was doing in this place. <br><br>He knew there were things going on around him, but he wasn't really paying attention to any of it. He'd wanted excitement, the suburbs were too boring... hah. Well, this place was less boring than home, he supposed, casting a quick glance back towards the prison grounds. He smirked at the line of prisoners on the other side of the fence, calling and whistling at the new arrivals, rolling his eyes as he turned to face back fowards just as a guard snapped at him to do so. <br><br>Damn. Now they'll think he turned forward because he was told to, when it'd just been a coincidence. He mentally cursed his timing, while mentally reminding himself, now wasn't the time for making enemies. He'd just have to let that one slide for now.<br><br>He did glance over the guards, then what appeared to be the assistant warden, and... finally the warden. His dark eyes searching the men briefly, before he exhaled in a long sigh as he moved to stare straight forwards. His mind obviously elsewhere now, not really paying attention to what was going on around him while he tried to formulate some kind of plan. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>17-08-2010, 01:18:42</strong>
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				Terrence Young laid atop his small, modest bed.&nbsp; If he could call it that.&nbsp; It looked like the offspring of a cot and a sofa bed and about as comfortable.&nbsp; The sheets smelled of the dank water they were washed in.&nbsp; Clean and adequate.&nbsp; That word sort of summed up the entirety of his experience here.&nbsp; Adequate.&nbsp; It'd been nearly a year since he arrived.&nbsp; It hadn't been so easy in the beginning.&nbsp; There was a steep learning curve where one found out just how strong both their resolve and sanity were.&nbsp; It's not uncommon to hear one of the newbies crack under the pressure.&nbsp; It would end with a breakdown or an outburst.&nbsp; How ever that particular individual seemed to cope with that kind of thing best.<br><br>He was lucky enough to make it through the first few months.&nbsp; There were some he might consider friends, some acquaintances, and others he hardly gave a glance to.&nbsp; Things were stable enough there.&nbsp; His cell mate wasn't ideal, but he could do much worse.&nbsp; At least the man didn't snore.<br><br>His hands were currently grasping either side of the morning newspaper.&nbsp; Between that and the television they were allowed to watch, he didn't feel so detached from the outside world.&nbsp; Granted, he wouldn't be seeing it with his own eyes anytime soon, but he could still feel time passing by somewhat.<br><br>Laughing and yelling broke his concentration on what he was reading.&nbsp; It came from the outside which meant it must be arrival time for the new inmates.&nbsp; His hands closed the paper and folded it in half before tossing it on the bed beside him.&nbsp; Young threw his feet over the side and stood, moving to the small window in his cell.&nbsp; He had to stand on his tip toes to see downward on the ground, but when he did, he saw a bus and a line of men ready to be admitted in.&nbsp; One in particular seemed be receiving a rather rough welcome.&nbsp; Terrence could barely make out his face, but upon finally getting a good look, he knew just who the man was.&nbsp; A smile crossed his lips.&nbsp; "Taylor King."&nbsp; He muttered to himself and glancing back to the headline of the newspaper.&nbsp; So this was his resting place for the next quarter century.&nbsp; He almost felt sorry for the man...almost.&nbsp; At least he could say he never killed anyone, especially not a police officer.&nbsp; Was the other man really that stupid?<br><br>Young turned and grabbed his shirt which had been thrown on the floor near the bed.&nbsp; He usually went without it when not needed.&nbsp; The ventilation in his cell block wasn't great, so every bit of airflow was good in his mind.&nbsp; He slipped the plain white garment over his torso and walked out of the cell.&nbsp; Seeing as King was there, it seemed like a good time to go and see for himself.&nbsp; It wasn't every day that they got such a celebrity walking amongst them.&nbsp; The resulting events would surely be worth watching.&nbsp; The guards did not always embody the 'by the book' mentality.&nbsp; Young knew that well enough when one of them threatened to have him thrown in confinement if he didn't do as he was ordered, and that was just for someone like himself.&nbsp; He was sure that it would not be all kittens and rainbows for King.&nbsp; No.&nbsp; This, he had to see. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Saerrael</strong> on <strong>17-08-2010, 03:13:00</strong>
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				<em>Right.<br>Prison..<br>Here we go.</em><br><br>Cracking his neck, rolling his shoulders and shifting his eyes, Mark, more commonly known as 'Sunny', made no mistake in keeping the pace on his spot in what seemed to almost be a line that left the bus. Almost. Messy commotion. Probably that boy that kept looking around with an expression to his face this was a nightmare and he'd soon wake up.<br>Perfect. Less eyes on him.<br>One more glance around and near black eyes flicked downwards, mental notes made on what and who he had seen. Nearly automatic. Just how he was trained.<br>This time around, however, this was not a job. No cash waiting him after a few days of fun and games. He slumbed a bit, trying to look even smaller, less significant, shoulders hanging.<br>Slight bump to his back. Made him almost react, but he refrained. Just in time.<br>The lesser was known about his skills, the better his life would be in this.. hellhole.<br>Make 'em think you're nobody, and you have the element of suprise. Half the game won.<br><br>Once again his mind went over who could have possible ratted him out. There were just too many who held a grudge. But no one had ever done so. He <em>had</em> been rather well protected. But, apparently, hands had been pulled away from him. Else he wouldn't have been here, now would he?<br>Long fingers flexed and relaxed, knuckles cracking, ears tweaking a bit to listen at the inmates close by. Inmates. Hah. He was one of those now.<br>Head raised. He couldn't resist. Some part of his mind just had to gather information. Other parts were pondering, contemplating. If there weren't colleagues incarcerated here. Someone he had known.<br>He'd find out soon enough.<br>And if the US found out just how incomplete the list of his 'crimes' was, he'd either be here a very, very long time.. ..or would face his end very, very soon.<br>Sunny couldn't help but chuckle. He was majorly fucked.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shihong</strong> on <strong>17-08-2010, 06:08:07</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">Charles Donovan</span> </div><br>"You ever been in a Russian prison, boyo?"<br><br>The guard didn't budge an inch, most of his face obscured by the heavy black helmet over his skull and the bars over the laughably small window set into the cell door.&nbsp; Just the faint glimmer of an eye, the edge of a cheekbone, the slope of a nose.&nbsp; The man hadn't blinked in over five minutes, placing him firmly in the same category of stolid indifference as a Queen's Guardsman and storefront mannequins.&nbsp; He also hadn't spoken once since Donovan had been thrown into the cell, at least not when he was within earshot.&nbsp; The total lack of human contact would have been enough to drive most men completely up a wall within the first week, let alone a month.<br><br>Then again, Charles was not most men.<br><br>"It's a bit less comfortable than all this, I'd say," he drawled, resting on his rusty metal bed in a tangle of athletic limbs and wrinkled bedsheets.&nbsp; His wily face was drawn up into an iconic smirk, as though he found everything about his current situation to be both terribly amusing yet wholly predictable.&nbsp; "You know, I quite like the American Justice System.&nbsp; So long as you ain't sneaking bombs in your undies at airports you don't even have to worry about a lick of professional torture.&nbsp; I'd say this is a welcome break, all things considered.&nbsp; And a lot less wet."<br><br><em>Lungs struggling, burning, heaving against his battered ribcage in an exercise of desperate futility.&nbsp; Eyes staring at the rusty bottom of a bucket, indistinct beneath a haze of swimming bubbles and churning foam.&nbsp; There's a roaring in his ears that he can't quite concentrate on, a horrible noise of water and rage-filled bleating from the man standing in front of him.&nbsp; Anger for anger's sake, it tears into his ears until they bleed.&nbsp; He can feel the fingers digging into his shoulders, his back, the hair at the nape of his neck.&nbsp; Twisting, taking all the fight out of him with stern grips that turn his muscle to jelly.&nbsp; His body struggles against his will, yearning for air, and all he can think about is the fact that he'd rather they left his face in that bucket for just a few seconds longer...&nbsp; </em><br><br>Donovan laughed, hopping to his feet in one fluid movement and padding over to the door.&nbsp; "You know, that Warden of yours seems to have gone to a lot of trouble to keep me in here.&nbsp; I suppose with my record they have to be a bit trickier with accommodations, eh?&nbsp; It's a shame how <em>small town</em> this place is though.&nbsp; It reeks of suburbs and old-style management.&nbsp; Kind of like a bulldog guarding a safe, but all its teeth've been yanked out.&nbsp; Plenty of bark but not enough bite, y'see?"<br><br>The guard didn't answer, but he didn't need to.&nbsp; Charles had become quite adept at amusing himself over the years, and he didn't mind one-sided conversations in the slightest.&nbsp; A good thing too, because he would have otherwise been bored to tears.&nbsp; About the only thing that had surprised him so far was that he hadn't just been thrown in Solitary, instead of this single cell off in some dank hallway.&nbsp; That wouldn't last for long.&nbsp; Either he'd be thrown into a pit, or with the other meat.&nbsp; All in due time.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nadir</strong> on <strong>17-08-2010, 07:27:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He was glad when the bus finally fucking stopped. Not just because suspension was fucked so bad every pebble sent jolts of pain through his shoulder, but because of the stink. Anger and fear mingled thick in the close air, making him feel his was in a fucking kill zone. <br><br>The guards jostled one of the softest pieces of ass out first, already tenderised by the look of his bruised face. Whatever that fucker had done, Santos smirked, it was bad enough to make the guards hate on site. He didn’t look like a paedophile, but then, that would be to the guy’s advantage. It really didn’t take a genius to work out the kid was at the bottom of the food chain before he’d even stepped into the fucking building. <br><br>How long would it take for him to get what was left of his pretty beat away? If the rest of the inmates took the same liking to him as the guards had, he might not even last a night. <br><br>Santos stood up when it was his turn and stepped out lightly, narrowing his eyes from the sun. It was an ugly place, but he’d not expected a spa. The guy in front wasn’t moving very fast, and the moron even giggled. <br><br>The guards had them line up like a stable of whores on show to a john, and didn’t that just rub him all wrong but he couldn’t do shit but stand there. His gaze moved from guard to guard, gauging which he could take head on and which he’d have to be sneaky with. Not that he was stupid enough to try.<br><br>Where the fuck could he get a smoke? <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>17-08-2010, 22:36:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Will do, Warden. If we have them all here, all will be processed as usual through the proper channels."<br><br>At first, Jackson did not react to seeing Taylor the Cop Killer thrown out of the bus and landing on his knees. The boy's face looked as if it had been using as a punching bag in a boxing place. Jackson did not get into too much of his curiosity over who gave Taylor the bruises but instead wondered over the stupid guard. He guessed one of the more tougher guards had made him get out of his seat with a bit more force than necessary. While he did not mind Taylor being smacked around, outside of the prison, everyone was being watched. He heard through the grapevine the ADA was looking into any dirty guards who were taking favors from prisoners or even taking advantage of said prisoners. For Jackson, he needed to be careful none of the guards fucked up the balance between doing their jobs and going vendetta on the prisoners because someone looked at them funny or blew them a kiss. He knew a few of the guards were as homophobic as the Ku Klax Klan members were racist bigots. The way the prison system worked, homosexuality was rampant with no woman around to keep the sexual tension to a low simmer. <br><br>"Whoever pushed Taylor needs to get their god damn eyes checked. No one pushes one another. If someone falls and cracks a head open, it is going to cost the state money to fix them up and it will mean no overtime pay for everyone," he threatened, shaking his head at each of the guard. He saw the guard who must have pushed Taylor grab the new prisoner up by the hair. He was stupid motherfucker to be pulling this bullshit in front of the Warden and him. "Guard Stallone! You do not put your hands on a prisoner who is chained and ready to be shown into the prison. Are you looking to get suspended and have internal affairs all up in your fucking asshole?!," he screamed while he walked up to get in the guards face. Jackson could be considered the guard dog who did the screaming and the shouting for the Warden. Sometimes, he wondered if the Warden was in the wrong position and not running for political office the way he was spruced up in nice suits and shiny shoes. <br><br>Jackson stared the guard down before the guard finally turned his head away and apologized. "Better not fucking happen again. I swear to God, I will write this up in your report and bring to list your affair with Sheila in booking to your wife. Is she not married for the third time? Man, I wonder how much child support you would have to dole out along with alimony to her and your three brats?," Jackson wondered, letting another thread hang in the air above the guard. Jackson would use anything to his advantage and keep everyone under control. He hated disarray and even more for people to fuck up on his watch. Even more if the Warden noticed the bad guard and he would not stop the destruction between Warden and self-absorbed guard. Jackson had his own way of dealing with things and the Warden had his own set of rules/punishment to dish out to both prisoners and guards. Should the guard get noticed by the Warden, oh, he was not going to stop the man so long as he did not try to pat the guard on the head for a fucked up job well done. <br><br>He glanced over her shoulder towards Guard Dominic and narrowed his eyes at the man. "No smoking while on the job, Dominic. Put the god damn cigarette out," he called out to the guard. There was something off about Dominic and Jackson had yet to figure out what the man was up to; he felt the guard was a sneaky and dirty guard considering the prisoners usually listened to him and some even had fear in their eyes. Was he doing something to the prisoners beyond his capacity and guidelines? Jackson had no idea but he was going to get to the bottom of it sooner or later. For now, he let his gaze turn back towards the line of prisoners. He counted off Taylor, Takeshi, "Sunny", John Boy, Markus, Eric, Bill, Santos, Lafayette, everyone who was supposed to be on the bus and in their new prison was here. Now, it was time to bring these handsome gentleman to their new residence for however long the justice system thought to keep them in the big house.<br><br>"Alright, take these prisoners inside, give them their strip search, cavity search, their clothes and their assigned rooms," he called out and pointed towards two guards, one of which was Dominic. "Dominic, you are to check up on Terrence who might be getting one of these lovely ladies as a cell mate and then on Charles Donovan's progress. He should be out of his solitary confinement by the end of today. Hopefully he has learned his lesson to play well with others." Jackson took a deep breath and swallowed the nicotine gum. He would need a second piece later in the afternoon but for once, he was too jacked up on showing around the new inmates to their residence. As for the others, he hoped the regulars knew to be welcoming individuals and not try to shiv someone on the first day. Right now, he could do without shiving and stabbing. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oneiros</strong> on <strong>18-08-2010, 01:40:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Slade's jaw tensed at the order from Jackson, seeming a bit like he wanted to challenge the man, but he bit his tongue. Jackson seemed pissed enough that Stallone was being such a prick, he didn't feel like dealing with that for now. Crushing the discarded cigarette beneath his boot, he glanced across the line of prisoners quickly before nodding in acknowledgement. "Sorry. Just needed one quick. Better than me kicking someone's ass because I'm jittery." With a slight smirk, he joined the other guards now. <br><br>He watchced as they accounted for everyone, keeping an eye on the proceedings with a vaguely bored expression, looking them over from his position behind them. He furrowed his brow as his eyes caught the kanji symbol on the back of Takeshi's neck, trying to figure out if it was some kind of badly drawn face or tree or something when he was suddenly brought back to reality by Jackson's orders to get Terrence. A slight smirk sneaking onto his face, he nodded in acknowledgement, muttering a quick "Yes sir" before turning to head into the prison reception area, making his way towards the cell block to look for Terrence Young.<br><br>As he rounded the corner into the cell block, making his way towards Terrence's cell, he smirked as he caught sight of a slim man coming down the hallway, seeming to be heading towards the rec area. Speak of the devil, there he was... probably on his way to get a look at the new arrivals. <br><br>"Not so fast, Young," Slade said casually as they nearly passed each other, placing a hand on his shoulder to turn him back around towards his cell. "You're being moved again, back to your cell and gather up all your shit. Be ready to get a move on by the time I get back from solitary." <br><br>Slade gave Terrence a nod before making a turn down towards solitary confinement, where Donovan was being held. The troublemaking smartass. <br><br><div align="center">_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________</div><br>Takeshi squinted slightly against the sun, his eyes more or less scanning the fence surrounding the perimiter of the prison. He was still trying to figure out if this prison was somehow escapable. With a soft sigh he gradually returned his eyes to the guards and the warden before him, beginning to feel a little annoyed with the whole situation. This wasn't going to be any fun.He resisted the urge to groan or protest, though he <em>wanted</em> to, not wanting to come off any more like a spoiled rich boy than he already was. He knew the guards and other prisoners wouldn't make anything any easier on him if he made it especially obvious how much this whole situation disgusted him.<br><br>His eyes quickly glanced over the other prisoners in line with him now, scanning each one quickly. His lips curled in a slight smirk as he noticed the way they seemed to focus on the small guy at the end. The rest of them almost might as well not exist, that kind of amused him. He was almost like an attention lightning-rod, focusing the majority of it away from him, and he was okay with that. For now, at least, when extra attention wouldn't exactly be beneficial.<br><br>He took a longer look at a few of the other prisoners. Most of them weren't terribly interesting, they looked like the usual filth that endded up in places like this, but two caught his eye further down the line. One rather unhappy looking man looked to have been injured, his eyes falling on the bandage on his shoulder. Briefly he wondered what that had come from, before his eyes drifted over to the slouching dark-haired man near him. There was something... something unusual about him. He wasn't sure what it was. The chuckle he'd heard escape from him earlier only incrased that feeling.<br><br>Then Takeshi heard the assistant warden suddenly announce that they were being taken off for strip/cavity searches, snapping him back to what was going on, pulling an unhappy looking expression. He didn't like the sound of <em>that</em> one bit. Taking a deep breath to try and calm himself down, Takeshi made a mental note to kill his assholish 'friends' who'd hung him out to dry when he got out of here.<br><br><div align="center">_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________</div><br>Slade approached the solitary cell where Donovan was being held, nodding slightly at the guard who was standing watch outside. He'd gotten the key for the cell on his way there, and he moved to unlock it, casually stepping inside and staring Donovan down. <br><br>Donovan. Fucking smartass. He got on Slade's nerves every time he spoke to him. <br><br>With a slightly annoyed sigh, Slade tucked the key into his vest pocket, before his dark eyes locked on Charles. <br><br>"Are you ready to behave now, Donovan?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Saerrael</strong> on <strong>18-08-2010, 02:31:42</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Sunny found himself staring at a tattoo. Apparently for quite some time, as well. The owner probably didn't even know what he had peeking out just above the collar of his shirt and he couldn't help but wonder if there was more Japanese on the man, maybe following the spine. It sure was an odd character to have for a man that.. didn't quite look like.. ehm.. a prostitute. Maybe a combination with another, or more then one character, would rid the idea Sunny found himself having.<br>On second thought.. The man's skin sure looked Japanese. Sort of. Mixed with.. something else. Maybe be he did know the meaning of the tattoo. Sunny couldn't help but be somewhat intrigued.<br><br>Glances met when the man he had been studying, rather openly even, turned his attention to Sunny, evoking an amused smiled from him. Those eyes sure looked at least half Japanese.<br><br>The words 'cavity search' also brought Sunny's attention back to the here and now, knitting his brow while a sigh passed his lips. That, and he had to give up his leathers. He sure loved these clothes, black leather was a thing he enjoyed wearing, even if he was nearly frying in them at the moment.<br>Ah well, what had he expect? This was no Holiday resort.<br>If he'd ever get out of jail, he'd just have to make who ever the fuck put him here paid dearly.<br>Something to look forward to..
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shihong</strong> on <strong>18-08-2010, 04:34:17</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">Charles Donovan</span> </div><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"Are you ready to behave now, Donovan?"<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Charlie grinned from ear to ear, taking a few jaunty steps backwards that seemed less like the cautious retreat of a prisoner and more like the practiced footwork of a star right out of a 1950s Broadway musical: far too chipper and lively for its own good.&nbsp; <br><br>"That depends, Sladey-my-boy!" he said, spreading his arms wide like some sort of damnable showman.&nbsp; "How would you like me to behave, exactly?"<br><br>The beanpole of a man kicked his heels and leaned against the nearest wall as casually as could be, like he were waiting at a bus stop instead of being glared at like a piece of meat in a holding cell.&nbsp; "It's all a matter of <em>perspective</em>, y'see!&nbsp; For example, y'might want me to behave as <em>society</em> thinks I should.&nbsp; Maybe get me a pair of blue jeans and waste away in front of a glowin' screen all day long, venturin' out into this grand 'ole country of yours from time to time to buy a whole mess o' stuff I'll look back on in a few years time with disgust, get a stable job in a five-by-five box, then settle down with a bonny lass to pump out a few more bleatin' sheep and stave off the self-loathing just long enough to regret every mindless decision I ever made before grabbin' a shotgun and blowing my head off on the steps of Congress!"<br><br>"Now I <em>know</em> ye ain't wanting me to behave like I <em>usually</em> do," he said, raising one slender finger in the air like a proclamation to the gods.&nbsp; "Since that's why I'm standin' here looking at your rugged mug in the first place, innit?&nbsp; If I were to behave in the way I'm accustomed, well, that'd just infringe upon all the <em>noble</em> sensibilities that good, law-abidin' folk put so much stock in.&nbsp; From <em>my</em> perspective I'm just living life, while to them I'm one o' them dastardly ne'er-do-wells that rob banks and steal yummy diamonds from musty old museums while wearin' a catsuit that rides up in all the <em>wrong</em> places."<br><br>Donovan leaned forward, flashing a Cheshire smile and looming quite a few inches over the otherwise intimidating Slade.&nbsp; "Or maybe you want me to behave in a way that pleases <em>you</em>, eh?&nbsp; Buckle down under your knuckles, jump when you say jump, cower whenever you pass by with that willful swagger of yours."&nbsp; Then, a little quieter, "Maybe pump me fulla something to make me a bit less <em>loquacious</em> and a little more <em>compliant</em>, when your natural charms just ain't cuttin' it, eh champ?"<br><br>A single silent beat and he was laughing again, as though he'd just remembered a particularly hilarious joke that tickled his fancy.&nbsp; "I jest, of course!&nbsp; I'll dance to your tune, and the Warden's.&nbsp; Am I really so troublesome a person that you need to ask?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oneiros</strong> on <strong>18-08-2010, 05:13:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				There he went, with his little 'show', Charles Donovan showing off again, probably doing so specifically to get on Slade's nerves. He was positive of that. There was no way anyone could be this mind-numbingly infuriating on accident. <br><br>Slade positively bristled whenever he was around Donovan. He was one of the few people who could just... push his buttons like no tomorrow. He clenched his hands into fists, his knuckles cracking as he had to hold back a very real, very demanding urge to punch Donovan in his smug face right then. He couldn't, of course. That kind of thing got you in trouble, especially in a place where it'd be obvious. <br><br>"... you listen here, 'Charlie'." Slade lowered his voice to a low growl, and despite the fact that Donovan had a good several inches over him, he glared daggers at the man. "Unless you <em>want</em> me to make your life miserable, I'd cut the smartass crap. You're coming out of solitary today, and my money's on you being put with one of the new arrivals. Guess what? A lot of them in here for murder, and the ones that aren't, are in here for rape." <br><br>His eyes locked on Donovan's, he decided not to acknowledge what he'd said - about him pumping him full of something to make him more compliant. Acknowledging something like that with another guard within earshot would've been stupid. <br><br>"You want your life not to be a living hell? Show some goddamned respect. And yes, you <em>are</em> that troublesome." <br><br>Slade took a deep breath, taking a few steps back and folding his arms. "Gather your things. Though I'd like nothing more than to leave you locked in here alone where you can't grate my last nerve, you're getting out of here."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shihong</strong> on <strong>18-08-2010, 05:36:25</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				It was amazing just how innocent Charlie could look when he really tried.&nbsp; Just as his face seemed to curl naturally into a smirk, it also seemed equally predisposed towards looking entirely unassuming.&nbsp; If Slade hadn't already been experienced with the man's peculiar theatricality, he might have been convinced that Charlie would balk at borrowing someone's pen, let alone sneaking into vaults and pilfering stacks of money.<br><br>"Murder?&nbsp; <em>Rape?</em>" he cried, making a show of flinching backwards.&nbsp; "My <em>goodness</em>, Slade!&nbsp; To think that they'd let such uncouth reprobates into such a respectable establishment!&nbsp; Why if I didn't know any better, I'd almost think this was a <em>prison</em> of some sort!&nbsp; It's a bit difficult to tell, y'see, what with the lack of <em>security</em>.&nbsp; I've been in hostels with stricter regulations."<br><br>He waggled his eyebrows in one practiced motion.&nbsp; "Now Slade, what gave you the idea that I don't respect you?&nbsp; You have so many admirable qualities...so many in fact that I'm having trouble recollectin' any of them!"<br><br>Patting himself down he would shoot a passing glance around the cramped cell, then flash another infectious smile.&nbsp; "I'm a simple man with simple pleasures, y'know?&nbsp; As much as I love these comfortable sheets y'gave me, I think what I'm wearin' is all I need to bring along.&nbsp; Lead on!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>18-08-2010, 05:53:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=79170.msg3491869#msg3491869">Quote from: Fedora on 18-08-2010, 01:40:06</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"Not so fast, Young," Slade said casually as they nearly passed each other, placing a hand on his shoulder to turn him back around towards his cell. "You're being moved again, back to your cell and gather up all your shit. Be ready to get a move on by the time I get back from solitary." <br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>He was just about to hit the stairs when Slade, one of the more forceful guards, rounded the corner.&nbsp; Terrence thought nothing of it at first though he did wonder why the man was in here and not outside tending to the fish that had just arrived.&nbsp; The warden usually had him out there because he got things done with as little hassle as possible.&nbsp; The answer to his silent query came next as he was addressed by the man just as they were about to pass.<br><br>The hand hit his shoulder with enough force to stop him, and in one fluid motion that only a man of much practice could perform, Slade had turned him around to face the way he had just come.<br><br>"Again?&nbsp; What the fuck, man?"&nbsp; He said rather annoyed while looking over his shoulder at the man.&nbsp; His eyes followed the man's arm down all the way to Slade's face where he met the rather piercing gaze of the guard.<br><br>There wasn't even an acknowledgment of his annoyance or even of his cursed question directed toward the other man.&nbsp; Instead, all that he got was a nod before the hand pulled away.&nbsp; Apparently, Slade had to go deal with more pressing matters.<br><br>Young growled in frustration and bounded back to his cell.&nbsp; There wasn't much for him to gather there.&nbsp; Some magazines, a few newspapers, his toiletries, a picture of his father who died many years ago, and a single change of his issued clothes.&nbsp; They were all piled next to him as he laid on the bed, both arms tucked behind his head as he waited for Slade to return.<br><br>Who knows what kind of fuck-up they would throw him in with.&nbsp; He was just getting settled into his new cell with someone who wasn't the worst of people to be thrown in with.&nbsp; Terrence rolled his eyes at the thought.&nbsp; "I didn't even move apartments this much..."&nbsp; He muttered in frustration.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Izu</strong> on <strong>19-08-2010, 22:06:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Taylor’s hands were shaking as he stood at the end of the row of prisoners. His fingers twitched and slowly rolled into fists, his eyes locked at the fence behind which he was going to spend the best years of his life. He had lost all his hope that the truth would come out. He knew that the videotapes that had mysteriously disappeared weren’t going to reappear… Or cops would go check the case once again as it was about a dead colleague… It was simply ridiculous to even dream that he would walk out of here before the end of those 15 to 25 years. Unless he got out in a black plastic bag…<br><br>He swallowed hard, wincing lightly as the two guys who seemed to be in charge of the place spoke. He wasn’t really listening to them, but he did catch a couple of words that for a moment made him think that maybe he wasn’t going to be treated all that badly here… Especially if the wardens made their subordinates actually follow the rules… But then again he doubted that this was going to happen. It was a public secret that life in prison was hell not only because of the inmates, but also because of the guards, who often took advantage over the weaker prisoners… Taylor could only hope that he wouldn’t be one of the weaker prisoners.<br><br>He glanced at the guys next to him, but this one glance was enough to tell him that he was most probably the ‘smallest’ among them. Yeah, he was fit and muscular, but it was just a city boy’s look, while the muscles on most of those guys seemed to be lethal weapons. He swallowed hard and bit on his bottom lip, trying to just switch his mind off, but it was simply impossible. He couldn’t stop thinking about all the possible things that could end up wrong here. Even if he wished he was dead, it didn’t mean that he actually wanted to be in pain. He was sick of being in pain… The past three months had been nothing but pain, but then again he was ready to bet that the pain until now had been nothing compared to the pain he was going to feel here…<br><br>“Walk!” One of the guards shouted at him and poked his ribs with a bat. Taylor glared at the guy – the very same one who had kicked him earlier, but he said nothing – he was smart enough to keep his mouth. He started walking slowly as his legs’ movements were limited by the chains, but it wasn’t long before they walked into a tunnel that led them between the prison’s walls. He was looking straight ahead of himself, trying to ignore the raising panic in his chest. It was just so unreal that this all was happening… But the hope that he would wake up from a nightmare had completely vanished by now.<br><br>In a matter of a few minutes the whole group was led into a big room, tiles on the floor and the walls, all wet. He almost tripped over a big hose on the ground, but he managed to stay on his feet, earning another painful poke in his ribs by that guard. He was going to be the first to pass through this strip, search, washing routine that everyone had seen on movies. Some of the guards remained with the other prisoners, while Taylor was taken by three other who took his cuffs off and ordered him to take his clothes off.<br><br>Taylor glanced over his shoulder, feeling how his cheeks warmed up for a moment – he had never stripped in front of so many guys, before he started taking his clothes off. A minute later the pants, the shirt,the shoes, the socks and the briefs he had been wearing were on the ground on a small pile that was taken away by one guard, wearing gloves, and thrown into a trashcan.<br><br>“Lean on the table and spread your legs.” One of the searching guards ordered him, pushing him lightly towards the table that was set in the middle of the room. Taylor closed his eyes, breathing in and out deeply, trying to stay calm. His body was nicely toned and he really had nothing to be ashamed of...Well… except for the fact that he was going to be searched in a second and that his pale skin was covered here and there with bruises… He did as he was told, keeping his eyes shut, his head looking away from everyone else. “Argh…” He cringed as he felt that guard spreading his ass cheeks and shoving a few lubed and gloved fingers up his rear. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been fingured before, but this wasn’t being fingered… There was nothing erotic about it, just purely humiliating and rather painful experienced as that guard tried to reach as deep as possible to make sure that Taylor was not hiding anything up his ass.<br><br>“Turn.” The guy ordered once he pulled his fingers out of Taylor, reaching out and taking Taylor’s chin, pulling it down to make his mouth open as widely as possible. He shoved his fingers in the blonde’s mouth with the very same hand and glove that he had searched his ass a moment earlier. Taylor gagged and choked as the man made sure that there were no threads tied for his teeth, hanging down his throat, having whatever tied for them. <br><br>And once he was satisfied he pushed Taylor into something that looked like a shower booth. One other guard threw a bucket filled with that white disinfecting powder in his face and front, shouting at him to turn to throw another one at his back, and soon Taylor looked like a ghost. The third guard, took the long pipe-like end of the hose and turned the ice cold water on. The jet was so strong that it made Taylor scream in shock. His pale skin went red from the ice-burn as that guard washed his body, under his armpits, his groin, ass, everything… It hurt like hell and Taylor didn’t even realize that he had started crying at some point of time…<br><br>When the water was turned off he could hardly stand on his feet, but the guards pushed him away towards another table and another set of guards. He felt like throwing up and collapsing at the same time, moving in a dream-like haze. “Dress up, bitch!” Some guard yelled at him and Taylor looked down to see that he was holding a blanket, two folded sets of that pale prison-blue clothes, two t-shirts, two pairs of socks and white underwear, sneaker, soap, small tube of tooth and a small folding toothbrush that had been designed so that it couldn’t be used as a weapon…<br><br>He put his new belongings down on a long bench, starting to put his clothes on. He was staggering a little bit, his hands shaking even worse from the cold, but he managed to put the clothes on, sit down and take the other items in his lap, waiting for everyone else to be done with the procedure so that they could be moved to the cells block and sent to their cells…<br><br>"This is hell..." Taylor mumbled to himself as he bent down a little, resting his head against his palms as a raging headache started taking over him. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PaleEnchantress</strong> on <strong>20-08-2010, 00:51:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"<em>Ah, a new pack of dogs for the kennel</em>" Lucius thought to himself as he saw the transport buss pulling out. He tapped on the steering wheel of his black Jaguar as waited for the gates to open so he could get inside and park. His parents had originally given him a Mercedes as a graduation present when he finished his doctoral thesis. Not because they gave a shit about him or what he chose to do with his life but because it was apparently expected of them to show that they were happy for their child. Of course the first thing he did was trade the car in to help him buy one he actually liked. Everyone in the De'Lorca family seemed to drive a Mercedes and they all looked like overpriced cans with bad paint jobs. <br><br>He was cleared past the gates and through reception surprisingly quickly. Lucius surmised that the influx of new prisoners had brought the warden's eyes to the front of the penitentiary so everyone had their knickers in a twist trying to look good at their job. Mercer was certainly a a man that appreciated <em>discipline</em>. Hopefully he was to busy watching the new cons get their drug stashed yanked out of their asses to worry about bothering him. Then again maybe that sort of thing just got him all sweaty. <br><br>"Hey Dr. De'Lorca. Glad I caught ya before you went in." The guard they called Mendez trotted up to Lucius, far to happy about something considering their caustic tolerance of each other. "I'm going to have to take that belt from you. No one is allowed to carry chains around here. I'd hate to find you dead in your office because some desperate psycho beat you with your own belt and strangled you with your own panty liners." The Mexican guard flashed Lucius a big shit eating grin.<br><br>"Mendez, are you trying to get my pants down? To think that I went commando today just for you too." Lucuis just winked a black rimmed eye at the guard and strides into his office within the health care building. "Morning Shelly" he said to the office worker who informed him about the case files for several of the new inmates being on his desk. <br><br>He casually scanned through each manila folder as he reclined in his executive style chair. Some of the new guys look more like models then cons. The puppy eyed rapist was surely going to be interesting, and he wondered what sort of issues the baby faced cop killer had. Afterward he rubbed some sanitizer on his hands and dabbed his face with a cloth that absorbed any oil on his skin. He knew it was an OCD issue but he really didn't give a shit. Instead he wondered what sort of trouble all the caged men were getting themselves into at that very moment. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nadir</strong> on <strong>20-08-2010, 10:47:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Once they were counted they were herded into the grey pustule of a building. At least he wouldn’t have to look at the ugly motherfucker if he was on the inside of it. The guards jostles and sniped, like they were pissed off that his and the other prisoner’s legs were hobbled. Or like they’d ‘forgotten’ and chose to believe he had chosen to walk old-man slow just to jerk their chain.<br><br>It reminded him a lot about the first harsh weeks he had joined his crew. The hazings had been more lethal than the drug runs and drive-bys. <br><br>He really didn’t like the idea that this would be every fucking day. At least he wasn’t getting the sort of attention Pretty was. More than half the guards were watching that one, drool almost running down their chins. If he wanted to pull any shit, it was going to be with that boy standing at the other end of the room, that was for sure. <br><br>Sure enough, the beaten little bitch was getting searched first. He had a very designer looking body under the bruises. Muscle that was made by working out had a different look to it than hard earned muscle. It was even, fucking sculpted. Even his ass looked like it had come from a fucking catalogue. <br><br>Seeing the guy bend over and just take the guard’s fingers with just one little grunt – it made him feel a burning rush of anger. They were going to do that to him, Santos. Fuck. <br><br>He looked away finally, his jaw clenched as he tried to keep his head. It was meant to be his signature, wasn’t it? Not stepping wrong when the world was on fire and bullets were flying. So long as he fucked knew what to do he could fucking do it. <br><br>Only difference here was no one was telling him what to do. He’d gotten himself off the streets by himself. Made it rich. So – here and now, he had to… had to not lose it. <br><br>The bruised Pretty was squealing at being hosed when Santos’ felt a guard’s baton push the small of his back. “You next, fucker.” He stiffened. He wasn’t next in line, he thought he’d have more time to calm down – the baton smacked his hip sharply at his hesitation. Pissed off, he shuffled forwards to the guards in the centre of the room. They unlocked his ankles and wrists, and he took a moment to twist his injured shoulder, the journey leaving it feeling stiff. Then he undressed, glad his civy’s weren’t his. Seeing his own clothes thrown away would have gotten under his skin.<br><br>“Lean and spread ‘em,” ordered the guard with the rubber glove. Santos slid a glance towards the bin, trying to see if there was a used glove in there. He’d not kept an eye of the man, he had no idea if it was the same one used of the cocksucker or if he was lucky enough to get a fresh one. “On the table, move it convict!” The second guard lifted his baton, but Santos was already bracing himself with one arm.<br><br>Despite trying his hardest to think of nothing but keeping still, he twitched when he felt hands on his ass. He twitched again when cold, gel coated fingers pressed into his hole then again when the digit slid deeper. The jammed so deep into him it felt like he was trying to work his fucking fist in there. He didn’t know what he was doing to keep himself from turning around and tearing the motherfucker’s face off&nbsp; but the effort was making tremors run through him and his ass clench. “Goddamn it,” the guard hissed in a tone that was far too fucking breathless.<br><br>The fingers pulled out fast and that was almost as uncomfortable as them going in. “Turn.” Getting straight wasn’t pleasant, and not going after the guard with the glove was just like trying not to slap Tina when she was whining about going to visit her mother. <br><br>The look on his face almost sent the guard back a step. Santos couldn’t stop himself give a snort of amusement. The guard looked pissed as a pitbull too dumb to climb up the right end of a bitch – shit, wrong sort of metaphor. <br><br>“Open your fucking mouth or I’ll break your teeth,” the guard hissed. Santos knew he’d won this, so opened his mouth like a good con, the rough search making him gag. He didn’t even care the fucker hadn’t changed gloves, he felt better than he had in weeks.<br><br>Once every bit of his mouth had been jabbed and scrapped at and he was sure the edges of his mouth were torn, he was shoved into a nook and powder thrown over him. The water was freezing and pummelled him, sucking out every bit of warmth he had and driving ice into both sides of his gun wound. “Fuck!” he snarled, the torment seeming to go on forever before finally, it ended and he was pulled out, and shoved at another table, where some other guards – he was too disorientated to pay much attention to them – gave him some clothes.<br><br>He got his pants on with a little struggle, but the t-shirt was too much for his shoulder. He got his head and good arm through, but he couldn’t bend his arm to get it through the armhole. He struggled with it for a few minutes, then hissed out a string of curses before tugging it off and putting his crapped-out arm first, his good arm and head going next. <br><br>He dropped onto the bench away from the pussy to watch the rest of the convicts get sorted, his legs splayed before him and his hips at an angle, his ass still feeling uncomfortable from the guard’s sick poking.&nbsp; <br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Saerrael</strong> on <strong>22-08-2010, 21:08:55</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				For some reason this 'intake' to the prison reminded Sunny of jobs he had done ages ago in Eastern Europe. He wasn't one to work in teams, but now and then it had provided to get the job at hand done either more quick or more efficient.<br>He didn't, like the others did, really watch what went on. It would be his time soon enough to be humiliated before the others and there was no way to get out from under such a thing, so he'd just have to grin and bare it when it was his time.<br><br>He bend over the table, only mildly annoyed to his own suprise to see his expensive jacket and leather pants being so casually cast into a bin. A part of his mind wondered if one of the guards present wouldn't just nick the garments for his own. He'd paid quite a deal of money for them. Then again.. he wasn't all too big. Who'd be able to actually fit in it?<br><br>His training and mental discipline caused him to but hiss at the intrusion of lubed fingers.<br><em>Breathe.</em><br><em>Ignore. It's nothing..</em><br>His head inclined as he closed his eyes and bit down, adamant to not respond in the slightest, using his skill to relax that one ring of muscle and not entice the guard.<br>He had heard what the man had breathlessly exclaimed before and he'd not give him the pleasure of getting the same responds from him.<br><br>Turning, he opened his mouth, locking ice cold eyes on the guard, inviting him to do what ever he pleased. The guard actually blinked at him, and Sunny would have grinned back, but he had sworn to not react, and thus he didn't.<br>Even the hosedown that pulled every last bit of his bodyheat from him, only evoked his brow to knit and his hands to ball at his sides. For a moment he was back in China, under that waterfall.. Oh so long ago..<br><br>Snapping back to attention, he shook his head, water splattering around him. He couldn't, unfortunately, suppress the shivers that ran through his body when he dressed again. Rubbing his torso to help the bloodflow warm his body again, he sat down, winching for a moment, and flicked his gaze back up from the ground, only now realizing it had been cast down.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Braioch</strong> on <strong>23-08-2010, 06:10:55</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				There was no doubt in his mind that these men were the worst of the worst, scum on the earth. They had done their crimes, been tried in the courts and found guilty, after that, they were in his hands. Whether for the rest of their lives or a handful of years, these men and the occasional woman, were his priority, his task, and he was responsible for each one. He despised each of them for what had brought them here, yes, men and women all over the globe made mistakes, but these were not men who had just made mistakes, a willingness to destroy the laws letter and spirit burned within almost all of them. They were in prison, and he made sure that they knew it, but as he had stated to Jackson, they were ALL equal in that regard, they all received the same treatment, the same meals, the same schedule and privileges, that is if they were well behaved. Once they broke his rules, then most of the niceties he bestowed upon them, the protections, fell right off onto the floor like dust. The guards knew better than to go too far, but they knew that maintaining order was the most important thing, as well as the reputation of the prison. Deal with the prisoners as need be, so long as they are not unnecessarily abused, the well behaved ones are still watched carefully but not given a reason to act out, and everyone should get along just fine.<br><br>That didn't change the fact that the prisoners themselves dealt with issues accordingly, their own little twisted political system within his system. Honestly it was just an attempt to assert what little freedoms they had left in the end, but that didn't mean that it didn't need to be watched. Assaults, and the rare death had happened within the walls of the prison before when one inmate had provoked another, whether or not the provocation was a bit asinine in the first place. Still going that far meant that you were thrown instantly into solitary confinement, and he made sure his meanest and worst guards were kept there. Those guards above all others were like attack dogs, kept on a sturdy and well kept leash, but the teeth and claws were now less sharp, the proverbial muscles no less strong for it. That wasn't to say that he didn't get his own pleasure from watching those who broke the rules to be punished brutally, he didn't take well to that sort of thing and enjoying something like the punishment seemed only natural to him.<br><br>He let Jackson flit off in the high energy and overly tense manner that he seemed far too prone too, Kane honestly felt that quitting smoking had been the worst thing the man had done to his health. Without the smoking, he might lose his second to a heart attack, stroke or god knows a coronary within the next year. Jackson was a good guard, whether or not he was a good man was irrelevant, so long as he did his job and stuck to the rules, at least overtly stuck to them, Kane couldn't be happier with the man. Kane was more of a silent strength over being boisterous and noticeable through overt gestures, Jackson took care of that for him, and with gusto at that. Kane's sheer presence was often enough without him adding his deep and resounding voice to the matter, especially (though rare) when he was angered.<br><br>He turned, waving off the guards that made to move with him, warden or not, he knew damn well how to take care of himself and had proven it a handful of times before. The last prisoner who thought himself a clever shit to go after the unguarded warden ended up with several broken bones in his hand, as well as fractured and broken ribs to boot. Honestly the man was lucky Kane had caught himself before he went any further, the shabbily made shank in his hand had almost been driven into the prisoners jugular. It was a matter of pride to Kane that he still walk on his own and he would do so when he pleased.<br><br>He walked past Jackson and stopped, turning, "the good doctor I'm sure will be wanting to hook his well manicured and probably painted nails into them soon, so let's try to get them at least some what presentable lest he wet himself in the anticipation of waiting for them to arrive in his office. Oh and Jackson? Do take it easy before you give yourself an ulcer."<br><br>He raised a brow as he finished and nodded, turning to continue on his way to his office. (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=79988.0)
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oneiros</strong> on <strong>26-08-2010, 06:13:20</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Takeshi had been off in his own little world, looking at everything, contemplating, he barely even heard as they told him his turn had come. He hadn't been paying attention to the whole proceedure, but he frowned a little as he knew this wasn't going to be pleasant. <br><br><em>Okay, you can deal with this,</em> he told himself, taking a deep breath as he pulled off his clothes, exposing the rest of the tattoo on his spine, not paying attention to what happened to them. <em>Think of how you're getting out of here, think of being back home, think of anything other than this...</em> <br><br>It was the best way for him to cope with everything right now, to just ignore it, not just the impending violation at the hands of the guard who currently had him bent over a table. His grip on the edge of it was white nuckled as he repeated to himself over and over, to just imagine something else. Some<em>one</em> else, maybe. He tried to tell himself to imagine the guard was really hot. <br><br>A slight grunt escaped him as his brow knitted in concentration, his eyes screwed shut as he tried to block out the lubed fingers feeling around inside his body. Imagining the guard was hot helped a little, but not much, and he found the next best thing to distract him was to focus on the pain in his hands that came from gripping the table as hard as he was. The guard said something, but it was lost in the haze. <br><br>He felt like he was about to snap part of the table off with his bare hands, when thankfully, the fingers withdrew from him, and he was suddenly ordered to get back up. His back ached slightly as he straigtened himself, his whole body had been so tense. He ignored the soreness, his eyes staring past the guard as he opened his mouth, submitting that to being forcibly examined as well. He was actually able to suppress his gag reflex, so strong was his power of denying what was happening, though once the fingers were removed he coughed a couple of times to clear his throat, spitting on the ground as he was ushered over to the area to be cleaned. <br><br>He flinched a little away from the powder as it was suddenly thrown onto him, and again from the sudden rush of freezing water from the hose. In the end, when it was finished and he was suddenly handed his prison-issue clothes and toiletries, he looked rather furious. Still dripping wet, he walked over to the bench where the other prisoners were, the look in his eyes positively smouldering with anger, directed at no one in particular. <br><br>He was <em>going</em> to get out of here.<br><br><div align="center">_____________________________________________________________________________________________________</div><br>"Come on, Young." Slade knocked on the bars of Terrence's cell with his baton, gesturing for him to follow him, his order rather curt. He was in no mood to talk to either of them very much, and the fact that Donovan was on his last nerve was obvious on his face. He strode purposefully, not actually bothering to make sure the two inmates were following him, just taking for granted that they were. <br><br>"You're both getting newbies," Slade said plainly, and as they approached the other end of the cell block, the gestured the both of them to empty cells. "Young, you're on the left, Donovan, you're on the right."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>26-08-2010, 20:22:49</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Terrence grunted and blinked his eyes.&nbsp; He had just nodded off when the rather annoying clank of a baton upon metal bars rang through the cell.&nbsp; He sat up just in time to see Slade walking off with another prisoner in tow.&nbsp; Without much haste, he stood, rubbing his eyes for a moment.&nbsp; Young grabbed his belongings and strolled out of the cell to follow the annoying bastard.<br><br>He realized that it wasn't Slade's fault he was being reassigned, but he had no one to unload his frustration upon at the moment.&nbsp; The man followed a moderate distance behind while staring daggers into the man's back.&nbsp; If looks could have killed...or at least wounded, Slade would have surely been so.<br><br>He recognized the other prisoner following Slade.&nbsp; It was Charles Donovan, a rather tall and lanky man.&nbsp; He stood nearly a foot taller than Terrence which in itself was a bit intimidating.&nbsp; That being said, his rather nonchalant attitude was known all too well even with the short time the man had been there.&nbsp; He had been to solitary two...three times.&nbsp; Terrence didn't keep track, but he knew that he made trouble for the guards.&nbsp; All the better though.&nbsp; At least they would be busy with more important matters to notice anything illicit he would be doing.<br><br>Once they approached their new cells, Slade directed them in.&nbsp; Terrence walked into his cell but not before giving the guard a rather piercing sideways glance.&nbsp; He threw his belongings on the bed before turning back to the guard, giving a completely fake smile.&nbsp; "Thanks, Mister Slade."&nbsp; He said in his most mocking jovial voice before rolling his eyes.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Izu</strong> on <strong>26-08-2010, 21:11:44</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Taylor kept his eyes on the floor, feeling just so exhausted. He guessed that it was the ice-cold water shocking his organism that made him feel so tired, but he didn’t even try to think about it – he had no strength. He sighed quietly, wincing every time when the water started running to wash the next prisoners, making him hold his belongings closer to him as if trying to get some warmth out of them. He didn’t know just how much time had passed since his search, but at some point a guard came to him and pulled him for the elbow.<br><br>“Get up.” The dark-haired guard ordered (well, almost shouted) as he pushed Taylor forwards, thinking that those damn prisoners were such lazy asses. Taylor groaned and glared over his shoulder, not that his glare was all that much of a glare – he was really like a kitten among tigers in here, wasn’t he? But still… He didn’t like being treated like this. He had killed a man by accident! He wasn’t a murderer! He wasn’t a scumbag! He would have been a doctor! He would have been saving people’s lives!&nbsp; And most importantly – he was a human being… And he was not feeling great right now – he doubted anyone would feel great after a search like this, so why did this damn guard have to be such a moron?<br><br>“Move.” The man hissed as he poked his ribs with his baton. Taylor clenched his teeth as he stumbled out of the room, guessing that each of them was going to be taken to their cells by their ‘own’ guard. He bit on the inside of his bottom lip as he walked down the corridors, soon walking into the common part of the cell blocks. The prisoners had already seen the fresh meat coming in, so they had been waiting for the new boys to be led out of the disinfection room and as soon as Taylor stepped out they started whistling and calling him to come over and try how it feels to have a big cock up your ass.<br><br>He tried to ignore all of this, not looking around, being poked every now and then in the back by the guard’s baton. “This way.” He was guided until they reached an opened cell. “Get in.” Taylor was pushed in the cell and the door was closed, making a clicking noise as it was locked automatically. “Have fun, boys.” The guard laughed as he walked away, leaving Taylor and his new cellmate alone.<br><br>Taylor breathed in and out deeply, swallowing hard as he turned to look at his cellmate. He remained next to the door, holding onto his new and only belongings as he faced Terrence for the first time. At this very moment he didn’t know what he felt… maybe a little relieved, because he guessed that his cellmate could have been some huge guy who could break him into two with little to no difficulty, but this man… he looked a little bigger than he was… Though his eyes did look scary.<br><br>Taylor gulped as he glanced at the bunk bed, noticing that the man had just moved in as well. He really wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. Was there any proper greeting in prison?! Finally he gave a faint nod, trying to keep his face emotionless, though his eyes gave away just how freaked out he was right now. “Hi.” He spoke, his voice low, a bit chocked. “I’m… Taylor… I guess we’ll be cellmates…” He did look alert – as if he was expecting to be attacked or something, but truth to be told, he simply didn’t know what to expect. Even if his cellmate didn’t look all that scary, it didn’t mean that he wasn’t a psycho...<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>26-08-2010, 23:46:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The footsteps outside his new cell didn't even register with Terrence.&nbsp; Guards and prisoners walking back and forth all day was common, so he didn't bother looking to see who it was.&nbsp; The clanking of bars annoyed him more than he already was.&nbsp; He was just getting settled in when he glanced up from the paper he had been reading once more.&nbsp; A dark eyebrow followed the upward direction of his glance as he saw just who it was he would be sharing his cell with.&nbsp; The kid was lucky.&nbsp; There were worse guys he could have been stuck with.&nbsp; Terrence just hoped he didn't snore.<br><br>He had to suppress a chuckle when Taylor introduced himself.&nbsp; It was kind of cute how he spoke as if they were going to be good buddies.&nbsp; The only buddies Terrence had did more than just share a cell with him.<br><br>The man folded the paper and threw it beside him before standing up and eying Taylor quite blatantly.&nbsp; He folded both arms across his chest and crooked one corner of his mouth into a smirk.&nbsp; "Well well well...Taylor King.&nbsp; I never thought I would be so lucky as to share a cell with someone like you."&nbsp; The man purred out.<br><br>"How'd you enjoy the welcoming party?&nbsp; I have to admit, the search wasn't as exciting as I wanted it to be back when I first got here.&nbsp; I'm sure you had no trouble with it, seeing as you have a boyfriend and all...or is it 'had' a boyfriend?&nbsp; I guess killing a man really turns people against you, huh?"&nbsp; Terrence chuckled and stepped closer to the man.&nbsp; Taylor was still near the doorway to the cell, so there was nowhere for him to go other than backward against the bars.<br><br>His smirk turned into a grin.&nbsp; "Oh, don't be afraid, King fish.&nbsp; I'm not going to hurt you.&nbsp; You and I have something in common."&nbsp; Terrence said as he reached a hand out.&nbsp; He let his fingertips brush against the younger male's cheek, his thumb teasing against Taylor's lips before he could pull away, and when he did, Terrence laughed.&nbsp; "Skittish thing, aren't you?&nbsp; Don't worry.&nbsp; I like a hard cock just as much as the next fag.&nbsp; I'm sure you'll get your fill in here."<br><br>He turned back toward the bunk now, walking the short distance and nodding to the bottom bunk.&nbsp; "That's yours."&nbsp; Terrence said looking over his shoulder with a smile.&nbsp; "I like to be on top."&nbsp; He purred once more with another grin as he climbed onto the top bunk.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Izu</strong> on <strong>27-08-2010, 00:25:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Taylor's eyes stopped for a moment at the paper that the other left on the bed - there was his picture from the trial with a huge title over it, saying 'Justice!!!', obviously the article being about how he got what he deserved. He swallowed hard, feeling how his heart stopped for a moment, though he wasn't sure why - was it because he was upset with the injustice or was it because he freaked out that his cellmate knew his name and why he was here? Or both? It was hard to tell...<br><br>His fingers clenched onto the folded blanket and the clothes that he was holding as the man spoke, hitting a rather painful nerve inside his chest - his boyfriend leaving him... well, everyone leaving him actually. And he knew that he shouldn't have been surprised about the dirty talk and the hints and all that, but it did make him feel rather uncomfortable that the other man could have even thought that there could have been a possibility to like the search. And he did step backwards as the other stepped forward, his back soon pressing against the cool bars. "It's... none of your business." He tried to snap back at the 'had boyfriend' bit, but it didn't really work as his voice choked and it ended up almost whiny. <br><br>He winced as the other said that they had something in common, thinking that maybe his cellmate was in for murder as well, which would have freaked him out even more. And when that hand reached out towards his face he pulled his head quickly, ending up hitting it in the bars, a dull <em>ding</em> coming from the impact. He tensed up as he was touched, frowning at the other's laughter. "I'm not..." He protested to being called skittish, though it was kind of obvious. He had been a good boy, coming from a good boy, having always been surrounded by sweet good people, living in a good neighborhood, studying at a good college... How would he be skittish when he was locked in a prison full of crazy murderers and guards that hated him??? <br><br>He sighed relieved when the man pulled away, leaving Taylor staring at him with flushed face. He knew that rape was quite common in prison, but he really didn't want this to happen to him... and being told that it would... well, it was a hard blow. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the other's words that he liked being on top, hoping that it didn't mean that he was going to rape him right away. He waited for Terrence to climb on his bed before he dared to step closer to it, leaving his belongings on the mattress, before laying down facing the wall, one arm under his head. <br><br><em>'My hair is still wet...'</em> He thought to himself as if it mattered... Maybe he was going to be lucky if he ended up getting pneumonia and dying... He was breathing heavily obviously not being able to control his nerves. He didn't even bother putting his stuff away in the small locker that he had. He didn't even see that there was a double locker next to the toilet seat. He was definitely going to need a while to get used to this place as it was quite shocking. <br><br>"If anyone touches me, I'll kill them." He said with a quiet voice, quite cold and lifeless. Who cared about the truth? Everyone thought that he was here for a murder, so he was just going to play along. After all killing a skilled and experienced detective in a fight was not something that anyone could accomplish. He was just going to make people that think he was crazy. Yeah, that was going to work! It had to! At least he tried to convince himself that he could pull off a good act...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Saerrael</strong> on <strong>31-08-2010, 01:54:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The touch of a hand to his shoulder and he stood. Even before he had formed the very idea of standing up from the bench.<br><em>Damn it. Gotta be more careful.</em><br>But suppressing lifelong trained moves that had become nearly reflexes was an impossibility. Sunny just had to mask them somehow.<br>Running his hand through his soaked, black hair, he eyed up the guard that had retracted his hand as if Sunny's shoulder had burned him.<br>He knew his eyes were just as cold as he felt when the guard backed up, nodded at him and jerked with his head, indicating him to follow.<br>Yeah, why not.. Not like he wanted to remain seated on this bench.<br><br>Casting glances around he followed the guard to a cell. Seemed he had to share it with someone. Two bunks. One above. One below.<br>He smirked low and put the junk the prison had provided away and raised his eyes to the top bunk again.<br>One elegant and agile swing and he was on it, leaning back lazily against the wall, arms folded behind his head as he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander.<br>It would take time to get used to the sounds of the prison, but he'd manage, he was sure. Reminded him of Peking..
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nadir</strong> on <strong>03-09-2010, 02:45:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Watching the rest getting fingered and hosed down would have been a lot more amusing if he wasn't so fucking cold. He licked his lip, wishing he had a cigarette. He could do with a little something else, but he wasn't all that eager to find out what quality junk they had here. That, and he really didn't like the idea of how far up it had to be shoved to get passed security. <br><br>Finally they were done with the delousing, or whatever the fuck they thought they were doing, and filed out into the cell levels. A good portion of the cells were empty of inmates - out in the yard - but those inside were pressed against the bars, eyeing the new arrivals like they were fucking showgirls at a tittybar. He wanted to punch their teeth down their throats for even thinking they could do half the things they were calling out.<br><br>He was prodded in the back with a baton and told, "That one. In." <br><br>'That one' was being shared by one of the new convicts, too. The Asian. He was already sitting pretty on the top bunk. Santos stepped inside and waited for the guards to move on before saying in a low voice, "Get down off my bed, you ugly chink fuck."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Saerrael</strong> on <strong>03-09-2010, 03:01:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Movement. Someone entering the cell he was in. Then a voice. Sounded.. Hispanic in accent. Sunny nodded to himself. Definitely Hispanic. Probably the cellmate.<br>He opened his eyes, dropping his gaze down to the other man and studied him, ignoring the command he had uttered.<br><br>"You're injured," he said, Chinese accent making the words nearly sounding sung, even if he had spoken quietly, calm, detached "That shoulder. Such a shame.."<br>A soft grin dropped from his lips and he shifted a bit on the bed so he was able to see more of the other man. Didn't look half bad. Pretty little boy. Those eyes were just lovely. He wondered just how fierce the boy's glances would be.<br><br>"If you want the bunk, claim it." he murmured, rolling his shoulders once.<br>The injured shoulder would make it way too easy, but Sunny wasn't planning on playing fair. Afterall, advantages were there to be taken.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nadir</strong> on <strong>03-09-2010, 05:25:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The cocky shit sat up and spoke. Santos narrowed his eyes and snarled, "Are you even speaking English, fucker?" He'd understood, but he really hoped it would get under the chink's skin, wanting to know what pushed his buttons. He jerked his chin up, aggression and anticipation seething under his skin. The cell was tight, with no where to retread to or to properly move around in. There was also the guards, distracted for the moment putting the rest of the convicts in their cells. They'd have long enough.<br><br><em>Claim it</em>, he'd said. He'd been claiming territory for years on the streets where the war was fought with guns and knives and anything else that could be grabbed at the time. A few punches and the yellow pansy would curl up and whimper like a bitch. Santos dropped the cheap supplies, not giving a shit how they scattered over the floor and grabbed the man by the front of his newly issued shirt and dragged him down from the bed with one hard jerk.&nbsp; &nbsp;
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Saerrael</strong> on <strong>03-09-2010, 05:56:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The man moved like a streetrat, no grace at all. It actually made Sunny smirk. All muscle and no controle. Too bad, no fun to be had this time around.<br><br>Sunny didn't even attempted to avoid the grab, it made his job of getting down from the bunk easier and could even make the other man think he was slow. Though he did compensate, hopefully going unnoticed, so he'd not be at the man's mercy and against him, leaning back immediately when his feet felt the floor. Without a second glance the mouse of his hand darted towards the other man's wounded shoulder, hard but focused thrust. Immediately followed by a flip so the palm would be up and a slashing move to the neck was made, aiming to have the side of his hand make unsubtle contant there.<br><br>His free hand didn't just hang there, but had raised to his own breast bone, palm to the other man, fingers slightly curved, ready to react with a new thrust if the Hispanic man didn't respond strongly enough to his taste.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shihong</strong> on <strong>03-09-2010, 20:21:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center"><span style="font-size: 14pt;" class="bbc_size">Charles Donovan</span> </div><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=79170.msg3537403#msg3537403">Quote from: Fedora on 26-08-2010, 06:13:20</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"> <br>"You're both getting newbies," Slade said plainly, and as they approached the other end of the cell block, the gestured the both of them to empty cells. "Young, you're on the left, Donovan, you're on the right."<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>"<em>Fantastic</em>!&nbsp; I always love being in the right," Charlie responded cheekily, slipping into his new cell and closing it behind him with a wink.&nbsp; "From one empty cell to the next!&nbsp; At least this one has a bit of a view, eh?&nbsp; And promised company sometime soon!&nbsp; I don't suppose it's someone with a sense of humor this time?"<br><br>Slade didn't respond.&nbsp; In Donovon's mind that was a victory.&nbsp; It was one thing to rile someone up into a fit of hysterics, insults, and abuse, and admittedly it was always fun to play off the rage-addled words of a flustered prison guard.&nbsp; But to needle someone so thoroughly that they refuse to even dignify you with a response was another kind of sport, the silence filling him with a nasty sense of pride.<br><br>But in that silence there were other sources of entertainment to be found.&nbsp; Whispers from the cell next door.&nbsp; He'd watched with keen interest as King was led into the cell after Terrance, smirking as the infamous cop-killer disappeared from view.&nbsp; A single glimpse was more than enough to tell him what he so wanted to know: that the man was both sorely out of his element, and that it was terribly unlikely that he was the sort to kill a man in cold blood.&nbsp; What series of strange and unfortunate coincidences had led to such a man finding himself bruised, wet, and violated in a prison filled with the most nasty sort of villains?&nbsp; Charlie felt curiosity knocking at the back of his neck, forcing his ear eagerly to the wall.<br><br>It was amazing what a man could learn just by choosing to <em>listen</em>.&nbsp; Knowing the right people also helped, of course.&nbsp; Despite being confined in solitary for most of his stay thus far, he knew quite a bit about both the structure itself and the people residing in it.&nbsp; Terrence was acting true to form, equal parts teasing and predatory.&nbsp; It was King that aroused his interest, an unknown quantity.&nbsp; <br><br><strong><em>"If anyone touches me, I'll kill them."</em></strong><br><br>"Really now?" Charles cheerfully responded from the next cell over, leaning up against the bars to help his voice carry.&nbsp; "It was my understanding that Kings got <em>other</em> people to do the killing for them.&nbsp; Unless you really believe your royal fingers have the strength to choke out another man's life?&nbsp; Your kingdom for a guillotine, so that you might not need to paint your already-stained hands with a fresh coat of blood!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nadir</strong> on <strong>17-09-2010, 05:07:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=79170.msg3578277#msg3578277">Quote from: Saerra on 03-09-2010, 05:56:27</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">The man moved like a streetrat, no grace at all. It actually made Sunny smirk. All muscle and no controle. Too bad, no fun to be had this time around.<br><br>Sunny didn't even attempted to avoid the grab, it made his job of getting down from the bunk easier and could even make the other man think he was slow. Though he did compensate, hopefully going unnoticed, so he'd not be at the man's mercy and against him, leaning back immediately when his feet felt the floor. Without a second glance the mouse of his hand darted towards the other man's wounded shoulder, hard but focused thrust. Immediately followed by a flip so the palm would be up and a slashing move to the neck was made, aiming to have the side of his hand make unsubtle contant there.<br><br>His free hand didn't just hang there, but had raised to his own breast bone, palm to the other man, fingers slightly curved, ready to react with a new thrust if the Hispanic man didn't respond strongly enough to his taste.<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>The way the man just fucking <em>moved</em> sent a spike of fear through Santos - though he barely had time to feel it lick quick and cold against the inside of his spine before his mind exploded in a rush of sick pain, the chink's blow landing solidly on his wound. Santos let go of the man and instinctively twisted away and let out a cry - which turned into a choke when the bastard hit his neck.<br><br>His brain buzzed with pain and rage. If he hadn't been locked in such a small space he might - <em>might</em> - have retreated, because he wasn't fucking stupid. The motherfucker was doing some kung-fu shit. What he wouldn't do for his glock. But here he was, stuck in a fucking closet with a kung-pow chink who thought he had a fucking right to the top bunk. Santos had heard what that made the guy on the bottom bunk, and he was no one's bitch. <br><br>He bared his teeth and fisted his hand and instant before he let it fly, going for his cell mate's ugly-ass face. <br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Saerrael</strong> on <strong>18-09-2010, 02:35:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The man might have moved like a rat, but he moaned like a girl. How cute..<br>He also didn't seem all too smart either. Maybe Sunny should advice him to just give up.<br>Nah.. this was a bit of playing, a bit of fun. He'd survive. Sunny had plans for the boy...<br><br>Smirking a bit, he ducked, gracefully, under the fist that came his way, and thrust the hand that had been held ready for just this towards the man's ribcase. One inch lower and he'd have killed the guy, but now it landed precisely in the middle only a bit less hard then had been needed to break the man's breast bone.<br>He didn't leave it at that, though. The boy seemed to want more, so he'd get it. In the same motion, he turned, hooking a leg briefly to capture one of the other man to attempt swipe him down to the ground.<br>Sunny was quite certain the boy wouldn't stand a chance.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Nadir</strong> on <strong>04-01-2011, 05:59:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Of course the bastard moved like he was something out of The Matrix, dodging Santo's punch and returning to deliver his own while Santos was still recovering. Santos <em>knew</em> he wasn't slow, but shit, what was this guy? <br><br>The hand-slam to his chest drove all the air from his lungs in a low, rough grunt, his ribs aching and frozen, unable to gasp back the breath that he had just lost. His cellmate spun around and Santos stumbled as his weight went off balance - then the whore's son grabbed his leg - and the floor slammed into his back and head. Santos writhed and struggled to breath, managing to gasp in halting, shallow pants. The heavy fall had made his brightly aching shoulder scream with pain, so much he could barely stop his eyes from rolling back. Concentrating too much on the agony and getting his breath back after being winded, he heard a whimper before he realised that it had come from his own throat. <br><br><em>"You're a dead man,"</em> he wanted to snarl at his cellmate, but forming words was beyond him for now, but at least he could hold back any more humiliating, weak sounds that scrabbled at his throat. He could only glare his ire, and let his fury burn through them.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Suiko</strong> on <strong>05-01-2011, 00:50:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://oi54.tinypic.com/200wpdc.jpg)</div>This wasn’t right... Not right at all. <br><br>How had he ended up in this situation? Riding on a God-forsaken bus to a prison that he didn’t deserve to be in? He had done nothing wrong, had even taken time from his life in order to defend his country serving in the armed forces, risking everything selflessly for the sake of millions... And yet here he was, alone and abandoned by the very people he had been instructed to take care of. <br><br>He loathed it deeply and sighed, looking out of the window at the barren landscape as the bus rumbled along the dirty road, bumps causing him to jerk upward and curse quietly to himself, which in turn earned him a brief glare from the driver. It was alright though, Jay told himself; the man didn’t understand, thought that he was another criminal like the other men he had ferried to and from civilised society. <br><br>He wasn’t, however. He had done nothing wrong, and was determined to get out of the place as fast as he was able to. He would call a good lawyer, someone who would listen to him and represent him in a court... He wouldn’t spend long in the prison if he could help it. He was certain. There had to be some justice left in the world, and Jay was sure that he would come off better, especially when compared to the criminals that already were within the prison.<br><br>A heavy sigh passed between his lips as he leaned his head sideways against the warm glass, his basic black vest hanging loosely upon his tone upper body, a slender tattoo of an elegant dragon coiled about his left shoulder, vanishing beneath the fabric. His arms had folded and rested upon his rather ragged navy jeans, held up by an equally ragged leather belt and he yawned openly, lifting a hand to run over his short black hair with another sigh. It was so very dull; waiting for something he couldn’t avoid, no matter how he longed too...<br><br>Still, the journey soon came to a close and he blinked quickly as the bus lurched to a stop outside the grand complex, a frown coming to Jay’s rather attractive face as the driver spoke. “Out you get; a guard’s waitin’ for you if you do anythin’ funny...” The man’s tone was hostile and gruff; something ay didn’t appreciate...<br><br><em>It’s alright, Jay... He thinks you’re one of them...</em><br><br>He calmed himself as he merely stood and hurried from the bus, stepping out into the hot area of the outer prison, narrowing his eyes finely upon the grim-looking building... He wouldn’t remain long in there. He was innocent. He had done nothing wrong. He was nothing like the others.<br><br>A rather large man stood waiting for him at the gates of the prison and swiftly closed the distance between them, his burly appearance heightened by the large club that was fastened to a thick belt about his hips, which his hand lingered upon. “Rule one: You want to last long, you’ll shut you and behave. Rule two: You get caught roughhousing with the other inmates, going against the superiors or any other shit, it’ll be solitary for you. Rule three; You’re here because you’re scum, and you’ll be treated like that.”<br><br>The man then abruptly gripped Jay’s arm, who winced at the contact, teeth clenching with a low hiss. He forced himself to simply walk through the gates, looking around slowly as he was guided into the prison before suddenly he and the guard stopped at a four-way branch of the corridor, the latter clicking his tongue. “Since you were late, we don’t have all your papers yet...” HE commented, speaking as though it was jay’s fault before he continued. “So you’ll have to mull about here for a bit until we figure out where to put you, so shut up and behave until then.”<br><br>It seemed like a rather useless way of bringing in new inmates; however, jay merely sighed heavily and looked around, searching for another person nearby. He felt a little awkward simply standing in the hallway... Maybe there would be somewhere he could amuse himself until he was placed?
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Chelemar</strong> on <strong>05-01-2011, 01:55:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br>Jace flicked the last of the dust off of the plain black desk lamp and satisfied that the room looked good enough, made is way with the cleaning cart to the door.&nbsp; Humming a tuneless song under his breath, he strolled toward the storage closet to put away his supplies.&nbsp; His mind on the fact that they were actually having a warm meal tonight, it took him a blink to realize the light was on in the glass holding cell to the right of the offices.&nbsp; ‘Well, hmm, looks like a newb.’&nbsp; He mumbled to himself.<br><br><br>As he made his way past the cell, he nodded or gave a half wave to those who called out to him, but hooded eyes flicked back and forth to the new prisoner.&nbsp; ‘This could be the new guy I heard the Warden and Jackson talk about.’&nbsp; He mused.&nbsp; ‘The dude up for murder.’&nbsp; In general, the FOB assigns prisoners cellmates by degree of violent crime committed.&nbsp; “I could get into that.”&nbsp; Jace smirked inwardly, keeping his face expression free.<br><br><br>Strong arms put away all the supplies in the cart with quick, practiced efficiency.&nbsp; ‘A place for everything and all that…’ he sighed.&nbsp; &nbsp;Grabbing a thin booklet from an upper shelf, he made his way to the barred sign of the cage.&nbsp; Fixing his white jacket to fall evenly across his slim, muscular hips, he walked to the cell and without looking at the prisoner there, passed the booklet through.&nbsp; “Unofficial prison manual.&nbsp; Good idea to study it.”&nbsp; His voice was clipped and precise.&nbsp; Pausing for a moment, he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket with a book of matches and lofted those in to land at his feet.&nbsp; “A gift.”&nbsp; This time his voice was that of calm dominance.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Suiko</strong> on <strong>05-01-2011, 02:24:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jay blinked quickly and turned his head at the sound of footsteps, walking to the barred wall in order to crane his neck and view the man that approached. Judging by his manner and state of dress, Jay assumed his to be a prison guard and as the man spoke he nodded mentally in confirmation.<br><br>This was good; he had worried that he would run into another prisoner and be made to go through some sort of 'induction' process. If films or TV shows were anything to go by, they were nothing pleasant and as Jay didn't deserve to even be in the ace, he had zero desire to mingle with his cell mates.<br><br>"Right..." He said quietly, bending down in order to pick up the rather grimy booklet, idly tucking it into his back pocket for future reading. "Since when did crime have a booklet...?" He added quietly to himself with a light shrug of the shoulders. He had expected to be left alone then, in the no-man's land of the holding cell, he certainly didn't think that some cigarettes would be slipped in with him.<br><br>Dark eyes widened as he hastened to snag the items, tucking them deeply into a more secure front pocket along with the lighter. He had thought that he would have to go cold turkey on the smokes inside... It was quite a nice surprise. "... A gift? Huh..."<br><br>Weird. "Um... Thanks..." He trailed off for a moment before he coughed and spoke again. "Hey, you have any idea when I'll have my own cell?"<br><br>Personal space. He needed his personal space.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Saerrael</strong> on <strong>05-01-2011, 02:52:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=79170.msg4085210#msg4085210">Quote from: Eden on 04-01-2011, 05:59:35</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">Of course the bastard moved like he was something out of The Matrix, dodging Santo's punch and returning to deliver his own while Santos was still recovering. Santos <em>knew</em> he wasn't slow, but shit, what was this guy? <br><br>The hand-slam to his chest drove all the air from his lungs in a low, rough grunt, his ribs aching and frozen, unable to gasp back the breath that he had just lost. His cellmate spun around and Santos stumbled as his weight went off balance - then the whore's son grabbed his leg - and the floor slammed into his back and head. Santos writhed and struggled to breath, managing to gasp in halting, shallow pants. The heavy fall had made his brightly aching shoulder scream with pain, so much he could barely stop his eyes from rolling back. Concentrating too much on the agony and getting his breath back after being winded, he heard a whimper before he realised that it had come from his own throat. <br><br><em>"You're a dead man,"</em> he wanted to snarl at his cellmate, but forming words was beyond him for now, but at least he could hold back any more humiliating, weak sounds that scrabbled at his throat. He could only glare his ire, and let his fury burn through them. <br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>The whimper uttered evoked a smile so calm, so detached, one could start to wonder if this little song and dance had been that, and not a fight for domination. The lean Asian hadn't even broken a sweat, or so it seemed. If he had, it surely didn't show.<br>Having the Hispanic right where he wanted him to be, on the ground, Sunny darted one hand to the man's throat and the other one between his thighs, gripping breath and blood-flow to the brain in one hand and the family jewels in the other.<br><br>"Tell me..," he murmured while he leaned into the man's face, noticing he was still trying to catch his breath "Do you think you're fast enough to escape this? Think you can get free before I twist your balls..? I'm curious..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sable</strong> on <strong>07-01-2011, 03:55:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Heads bobbled with each bump the road offered the dingy bus. Thankfully, Deimos had been seated towards the back, giving him the vantage point of observing all the other inmates occupying those worn leather seats. Towards the front was a young man, the way the guards scowled at him meant some thing to Deimos- this one had done some thing particularly abhorrent to the men. Abhorrent to the average American man, a good old boy- the rape, molestation or murder of a child, the rape, molestation or murder of a person of authority. He could only assume that enough rapists passed through the prison, some could even sit on the bus now, so woman-raping man would be nothing to give extra attention to.<br><br>He scoured his memory, it finally dawning on him who he was- King, "brutal murderer of a well-respected detective." Deimos delved into the potential prospects of this man. On one hand, he had killed a man who had sent many of these men to prison, for that the some inmates could be pleased with his "work." On the other hand, he had killed a man of authority, this would, no doubt illicit some negative attention from guards. And the final characteristic to tip the scales- he was a pretty boy. <em>Keep away,</em> Deimos judged the young man. For now, he would avoid the man at all costs, unless the scales tipped favourably. <br><br>There was an Asian man rolling his shoulders, cracking his neck as they filed out of the bus... <em>Tense,</em> Deimos marked him with that word. A dark haired scruffy man, that olive skin paired with his dark features was a sure fire sign of Latino blood. His shoulder was bandaged, a wound, too strange a place for a knife wound, too small for an accident with no other signs of bruising or other injuries, perfect for a shoddy shot. His eyes were wild, he'd grown up a dog on the streets, he would probably be a trouble-maker and he was attractive and rugged enough to make others want to tame him. <em>Gang...</em> he assumed, <em>Watch him.</em> Another Asian man, another pretty boy who seemed considerably calm, though a bit annoyed and some what curious. Deimos himself was tiny in comparison to the others on the bus, of course, he could also assume he was the youngest. He presumed he would be seemingly out of place in the prison as he was in the bus.<br><br>When finally they filed in line, Deimos kept quiet, but did now lower his head, his eyes seeming some what dazed as he listened, looking out among the prisoners who, in return, whistled at the meal of fresh meat presented before them. The wardens were white, they looked like the good old boys and Deimos guessed they wouldn't be particularly interested in him- he was small, incapable and fucked given the situation. Ah, well, maybe his record was a little tarnished, but he was sure they'd hosted plenty of murderers. He was nothing, other than a rat in the midst of hungry snakes. Fortunately enough for Deimos, rats had been known to chew the heads of snakes, a brutal fight for survival that Deimos could handle if need be.<br><br>When it came time to strip, Deimos wasn't bothered, even bending over and taking a few fingers up the arse didn't phase him. He kept his mouth shut and eyes blank. Having that ice-cold pressurized stream of water sting his skin didn't even result in a peep, he instead clenched his jaw, digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands. After dressing, he waited to be assigned a cell. He amused himself by placing bets on who would survive and who wouldn't. As far as he was concerned, none of them would climb to the top, but out of all of them, he placed his bets on one of the Asians- Sunny making it most comfortably, well, other than himself, of course.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Saku</strong> on <strong>07-01-2011, 17:04:17</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft"> (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v376/nemaatkd/blindfoldmale.jpg)</div><br>A new start to a new life. Being a priest was unfamiliar to him but his faith in God was absolute. He couldn't <em>not</em> believe in the man upstairs because God had saved him in the past from a complete massacre when he had been indulging in sinful pleasures. Galen looked up at the prison as he got out of his dark green '67 Impala and a faint smile came to his lips.<br><br>He could save people here, he knew it. When they left this life behind and ascended to heaven or descended to hell, their conscience would be clean even if their souls were destined to go elsewhere. Standing, he smoothed out his priestly robes and checked to make sure there were no stains, wrinkles or creases anywhere. He liked being meticulous.<br><br>At least when it came to his appearance.<br><br>Taking out a small mirror, he made sure his blond hair wasn't messy or sticking up in any particular places. A finger wiped away any traces of sleep within his blue eyes and removed any flakes of skin that might have been lingering on the skin. Yes, everything was perfect. That in mind, Galen headed over to the prison and showed his identification.<br><br>Soon afterward, the guards parted to allow him entry. It was obvious from the way he dressed that he was a priest. But of course they would need to check and make sure he wasn't just someone pretending to be one. He understood that. Once he was inside the place, he realized he probably should have asked the guards how to get to the warden's office.<br><br>The letter of entry had instructed him to report there with the paper in hand but hadn't given him the attached directions it said it had included. He wasn't sure if that had been accidental or intentional although he was leaning towards the former. And so, Galen was left to wander around the main entrance of the prison, looking somewhat lost.<br><br>But then, he <em>was</em> lost so his behavior shouldn't come as too strange. Perhaps he could ask one of the prisoners or guards around this area for directions. However, would they really tell him the truth? He'd heard how inmates liked to mess around with those who weren't at their level. But was that true or just a rumor? The blond let out a soft sigh.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Major Major</strong> on <strong>08-01-2011, 23:22:03</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Into the room came possibly the oddest looking prison officer any of the prisoners had seen. He was a tall, very thin man in his early fifties with thinning brown hair going grey at the sides and watery eyes, dressed in a stiff looking&nbsp; white shirt and black trousers combo, with a black visor cap and black necktie. "All right you chaps, get fell in, in three tidy rows, if you would." The man had one of those soft, quavering voices that spoke a lot about his character. "All right, I'll read out your names, and then take you to your cells."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>WhiteyChan</strong> on <strong>11-01-2011, 13:55:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Another day, another prison bus.<br><br>The dilapidated old vehicle rattled loudly as it came down the newly-laid and resurfaced road that led to the front gate of the prison. It slowed, then bobbled as it went over a speed bump - presumably there to stop friends of the convicts inside from smashing a speeding vehicle through the front gate. The jerking motion woke Wasp up. No, not Wasp any more, not when he didn't have a computer. Now, he was Nick Lewis. Not even that - he was Prisoner 31892. He'd managed to fall asleep on the bus to the prison, the rocking motion aiding the fact that he'd not really slept in the last week, due to the rather rapid nature of his so-called trial. The FBI had just wanted to put him away for a long time, so he couldn't embarrass them by revealing that not only had he, at just 21 years old, broken past their firewall system and gained access to their entire computer network, but also revealing the deep, dark secrets he'd discovered about their activities. So, his trial had been little short of a farce, a slight nod to the idea of innocent until proven guilty before throwing him away without chance of appeal in a fairer court. <br><br>Lifting his head from the window he'd been leaning against, Nick got his first look at the place he'd be spending the next 5 years of his life. It was oppressive, to say the least. Giant fences of presumably electrified wires surrounded the complex, with guard towers every 500 metres or so, each with two armed guards at the top. An inner fence about 10 metres short of the outer fence made escape even trickier. Not that he was thinking of escape, or anything, that would be suicide - he was just good at noticing every little detail in a scene with a single glance. The gates opened wide, and the bus whizzed through, going for another 30 seconds or so before coming to a halt outside the main building entrance. The guard at the front of the bus got out and opened the back doors, directing all of the prisoners out of the bus and into the prison building. Shuffling along with the rest of them - a thoroughly moronic bunch of pill-pushers and gang members - Nick tried to get used to moving with his hands and ankles cuffed and chained like this. If he fell over, he doubted the guards would be kind in picking him up again. The stairs provided a real challenge. Eventually though, he made it into the meet and greet room. <br><br>It wasn't exactly a warm welcome. After uncuffing all of them, the guards got them all to strip off their clothes. A thoroughly humiliating experience for Nick, the only middle class white guy amongst the busload of black guys and lower class white guys. The most important-looking guard called the first prisoner in the line up to a table in the corner of the room, got him to bend over it, then proceeded to stick three fingers up his pooper. Nick winced. He wasn't looking forward to that - he'd never had anyone put anything up his arse before, and this was hardly going to be a loving, caring first time. The line moved on and soon it was Nick's turn. Stepping up to the table, Nick bent over, breathing deeply in an attempt to keep calm. That went out the window as the guard's barely-lubed fingers thrust into his rear, wiggling around inside to try and find hidden contraband. It was excruciating, and Nick could barely keep himself from crying. Just about managing to keep it down to a whimper and a groan, he winced again when the hand was withdrawn.<br><br>Standing up - hardly straight, though, not with his arse hurting that much - Nick opened his mouth as instructed, suppressing the urge to gag and vomit when the same hand that had just been up his bum delved into his mouth. He could taste latex, and lube, and something else that he didn't want to think about - he was just glad that he'd been to the toilet before he'd gotten on the bus. Thankfully though, the inspection was soon over, and Nick staggered through the doorway to the right, expecting just to be given some clothes and directed to a cell. But no, it seemed the guards had something else in store. Hit with a powerful blast of freezing-cold water, Nick cowered, trying and failing to protect himself. After what seemed like hours under that jet of water, but was probably only a couple of minutes, the spray turned off, and Nick was left shivering in that tiled room. One of the guards shoved him a towel, and gave him all of about 5 seconds to dry before pointing him to a pile of clothes on another table, telling him to get dressed. Complying, albeit slowly, Nick went over and stood with the prisoners who had gone before him, waiting for someone to arrive and take them to their cells.<br><br>Only 3 weeks ago, he was working at IBM, on the fast track to success. Only 6 months ago, he'd graduated from MIT with a degree in computer science and artificial intelligence. How quickly life changed... 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oneiros</strong> on <strong>12-01-2011, 02:25:14</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Takeshi had gotten dressed quickly, though he still lingered with a few of the other prisoners who'd yet to be shown to their cells, and he thought to himself for a moment that the prison didn't seem to be as well organized as perhaps it should have been. He wasn't sure if this was just because today was particularly hectic, or perhaps the guards were slacking off right now, but either way it gave him something to contemplate. Anything to keep himself distracted from the fact that he was still rather pissed off about the cavity search. <br><br>He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing out in a long, deep sigh to calm himself down before turning slightly to glance at some of the other inmates. He'd been rather distracted with his annoyance with the situation, and it dawned on him that perhaps he could find people useful to him in some way. Takeshi was not the tiniest bit afraid of the other inmates - he was confident in his ability to rise to the top here, or at least fend off anyone who tried to fuck with him. Perhaps now was the time to determine who he could make into an ally. <br>-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br>Slade was beginning to head his way back towards where the rest of the inmates were waiting so he could help guide them to their cells. As he passed a certain cell on his way out, he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of a couple of inmates in an altercation. He sighed annoyedly - he was in no mood for this shit. Yanking his baton out of its holder he slammed it against the bars of the cell, glaring at the two.<br><br>"You two, knock that shit off right now or I'm tossing you both into solitary." The look in Slade's eyes was indicative of both his irritation at having to deal with this petty shit, and the fact that he didn't give a fuck what the inmates did to each other when he wasn't looking, but was required to break them up when he caught them. <br><br>"<em>Now</em>. Let him up."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Altheras</strong> on <strong>12-01-2011, 04:06:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				(http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y4/willsie/matsushitayuya.jpg)<br>Sebastian found himself on a prison bus, headed to maximum security prison. This had to be some kind of joke, or a terribly bad dream that he just couldn't wake up from. He had been working as a butler for a rich family, trying to pay his way through college. He had been an excellent student that had earned top grades and had grown up as upper middle class, raised by Japanese immigrants who had done well for themselves in America. He had been living the American dream, and had been so sure that he would succeed just like his parents had. He had never touched drugs, and had been a rather upstanding young adult, except for his sexual exploits. He had quite a thing for sex, and was not picky about who with. He frequently went to parties, choosing to abstain from the available drugs and alcohol, choosing instead to leave the party early with a partner. He was often seen with both males and females, and he enjoyed all aspects of the act, both being on top and being dominated appealed to him. He had even briefly entertained an idea of a career in porn, but he knew his parents would not approve of such a thing.<br><br>It had not been his sex life which had led to his downfall however. The head of the wealthy family he had been a butler for had been murdered a few short weeks ago. So much had happened since then. He had been the one to find the body, and not knowing the man was dead, he had ran to the bloody corpse and tried to help it, only to find the man to be unresponsive. This had provided his fingerprints and hair all over the scene of the crime, which had been damning enough in itself. Then one of the man's family members had decided to make a case against the innocent young man. Making up lies about how he was discontent with his job and had been overheard threatening to kill the man for overworking him. It was so far from the truth that it was laughable, Sebastian had quite liked the older man, perhaps more than was healthy between an employee and a boss, but still, he had never entertained even a slight thought of killing him.<br><br>Money and influence seemed to hold a lot more sway than the pleas of an innocent man who had no proof or alibi for the time of the murder. It did not help that his DNA was the only one found at the scene of the crime other than the victim's either. So his dream had been shattered, and he had been convicted of murder. His parents had been devastated, and even they had started to believe the lie, refusing to return his letters or come to visit him at county. He was heartbroken, and afraid of where he was going. He knew life here would not be easy, and he cringed visibly when the bus came to a stop.<br><br>He followed the rest of the inmates out, his shackles clinking around his ankles as he went. He was going to hate it here. The catcalls and whistles of the inmates already inside did not help, as he was led to the inspection room. He sighed when he was forced to strip, embarrassed at being naked around all of these strangers, though looking over the crowd he did find himself thinking some rather naughty thoughts about some of his fellow inmates. A few of them he would like to take, still others he found himself imagining what it would be like to be beneath them.<br><br>When it was his turn to bend over, he only winced slightly as the fingers were forced past his tight ring of muscle, glad that they had at least used a little lube. He of course hadn't sought to sneak anything in. The few belongings he had with him in his possession at County had been shipped with him in a bag that would no doubt be eventually delivered to his cell. Even though he was going to hate life here, he did look forward to getting to know his fellow inmates and even the guards. He was a social person, and even if there would be some brutality, he was bound to find some sex he could enjoy here.<br><br>His happy naughty thoughts slipped from his mind as he was led into the other room and hosed down with freezing cold water. He wondered how necessary this stage of things really was, seeing as how he had come from another prison. All the same, he did not get too put out by it, he had needed the cold shower to diminish his erection which had started to swell at the thoughts he just couldn't seem to control.<br><br>When he was done he was forced to dry off and handed a plain prison jumpsuit, which he slipped into willingly with little effort taken to do up the buttons. He was then handed his plain green bag that held his few possessions and marched down the hall to a cell that had been assigned to him. The guard shoved him inside and closed the door behind him. "Sit tight Princess,&nbsp; you'll have a roomie soon enough." <br><br>He blinked curiously after the guard, wondering if he'd done something specific to earn the title princess, or if the man simply called all inmates that. He went over to the bunks and sat his bag down on the bottom one, opening it to dig around inside. He found his toothbrush and toothpaste and put them beside the sink, then drew out a paperback book and propped himself on his bunk against the wall. As nervous as he was about meeting a roommate, he felt the need to pass the time with a little reading.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Altheras</strong> on <strong>12-01-2011, 04:40:04</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				(http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y4/willsie/Desperation_by_Suishuyiku.jpg)<br><br>Altheras sat at the back of the prison bus, a vacant expression on his thin features. He seemed to have little care for where he was or even where he was going. Though internally he was suffering a great deal of nerves and turmoil, he did not let it show. He doubted that the guards or other inmates would be any worse to him than his father had been, and his trim body was nearly covered in scars. <br><br>He had grown up poor in a mobile home. He had grown used to the label 'white trash' growing up. His mother had died in child birth and his father had blamed him for her death. As such he had taken out his aggression on the boy repeatedly, and as he got older, the sadistic man had started using his son for his own pleasure. Telling him that he was the reason he couldn't find a woman or get laid, so he was just going to have to man up and give daddy what he needed. <br><br>He hated school, because he had been picked on for being small and reclusive, but even though he hated it, he dreaded going home every day. His father often made him go without food, and he beat him savagely, raping him almost every night. The abuse and neglect at home had led to abysmal grades, which had led to him failing so much that he was two years behind his peers. His father's abuse had only increased when he had a bad grade, and every report card he brought home meant an especially violent night for the poor boy. <br><br>He had hidden the abuse well enough at school, simply staying quiet and keeping to himself. He had been too afraid of his father to go to the authorities, and not long after he turned nineteen, he had simply run away from home. For the last seven years he had simply lived on the streets, feeding himself by stealing and selling his body to other men. He had never been with a woman before and his father had taught him to please men, so he had simply embraced and accepted his own homosexuality.<br><br>For the most part, Altheras had stayed clear of drugs, though he did dabble in them from time to time, suffering a brief period of cocaine addiction, which he had forcefully weaned himself off of. The murder of a drug dealer was what had put him here, but whether or not he did it and the circumstances surrounding it, he had revealed to no one. Even at his trial he had remained silent, simply allowing the conviction to pass unchallenged.<br><br>When the bus came to a stop, he climbed out, squinting into the bright light, his pale eyes hurting from the sudden change in lighting. He easily followed the orders he was given, going inside with the others and stripping off naked as if it meant nothing. Though one would think he would not want to be seen naked as his body was completely covered in many harsh scars that told tale of his abuse. <br><br>He didn't even flinch when the fingers were harshly shoved into his body, not even the slightest sound escaping his lips, nor even a change of expression coming over his vacant features. When he was led away and sprayed down with the freezing water, he simply endured it, not shivering, and still his expression unchanging. It was almost as though he was lifeless on the outside, though on the inside he screamed, cried, and whimpered at the thought of being someones bitch for the rest of his life. He had ran away from home just to escape that, but now he was likely to end up right back in the same situation with a different man.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Saerrael</strong> on <strong>14-01-2011, 02:26:20</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=79170.msg4120108#msg4120108">Quote from: Fedora on 12-01-2011, 02:25:14</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">Slade was beginning to head his way back towards where the rest of the inmates were waiting so he could help guide them to their cells. As he passed a certain cell on his way out, he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of a couple of inmates in an altercation. He sighed annoyedly - he was in no mood for this shit. Yanking his baton out of its holder he slammed it against the bars of the cell, glaring at the two.<br><br>"You two, knock that shit off right now or I'm tossing you both into solitary." The look in Slade's eyes was indicative of both his irritation at having to deal with this petty shit, and the fact that he didn't give a fuck what the inmates did to each other when he wasn't looking, but was required to break them up when he caught them. <br><br>"<em>Now</em>. Let him up."<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>The guard's interruption evoked a quiet hiss that he probably couldn't heard from where he was stood. He had the Hispanic right where he wanted him, of course a guard would wander past..<br>Releasing him, carefully, slowly, he stood to his full length and addressed the guard.<br>"Of course, sir. This pest was just trying to steal my stuff. I'm aware I should not have taken matters in my own hands, but I did not see nor hear any guards nearby. Perhaps you wish to take over..? The thief is subdued nicely.."<br>The last bit of his sentence was accompanied by a sly grin and a light shove of his foot against Santos on the floor.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Chelemar</strong> on <strong>17-01-2011, 05:20:06</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Jace checked over his cell once more before his new cell mate arrived.&nbsp; He hated disorder and dirt.&nbsp; The cell was too damned small for any type of disorder and crud was just wrong man.&nbsp; He didn't so much care if a bunk was messy, but anything else.&nbsp; No fucking way.&nbsp; Especially the head, it was always clean.&nbsp; ALWAYS.&nbsp; <br><br>He eyed the pinks as they had came in, and now as he was called to stand outside his cell, he checked over the lot again.&nbsp; They, as always, ran the gauntlet of scared pissless to dead eyed.&nbsp; 'Maybe in this group there would be someone that he would connect with.&nbsp; Find someone to love.&nbsp; Even after all this time he still had a streak of romance to him.&nbsp; Though he would kill anyone who accused him of it. <br><br>&nbsp;Part of the reason he used his buildup of goods and services to protect newbs was because he was a romantic.&nbsp; He let those who owed him pay him off in different ways.&nbsp; It didn't matter to him who they screwed, if they wanted protection from someone, he supplied it as best he could, and if they wanted to choose who took them, he tried to make that work too.&nbsp; Sometimes shit just had to roll the way it did though.&nbsp; <br><br>That's when he saw him.&nbsp; He was thin, dark, messy looking hair and eyes like the ocean during a cyclone.&nbsp; He&nbsp; &nbsp;touched his nose and held&nbsp; down&nbsp; seven fingers.&nbsp; The mark he wanted was number seven.&nbsp; All he could do now was wait.&nbsp; He had made his preference know as to which of the new prisoners he wanted as a cell mate.&nbsp; If the series of payoffs he had orchestrated worked, then he would know soon.&nbsp; With that, he relaxed his knees a bit and began humming softly to himself, "You can call me Al."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Altheras</strong> on <strong>17-01-2011, 22:50:54</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Altheras watched with some measure of disinterest as the other prisoners were directed to cells, some with cell mates, others that had previously been empty. He hoped he would find himself in one alone, he wasn't a terribly social person, and he found himself having awkward moments when conversation was forced on him.<br><br>When they came to Jace's cell, the guard tugged him from the group roughly by the arm and shoved him inside, pressing him firmly against the wall and holding him there for a moment. "This is your new home. You so much as think of trying to run, and we'll beat you until you can't move." <br><br>The guard then stepped outside the cell, waiting for Jace to go back inside before he would slam the door shut and continue on his way with the rest of the prisoners.<br><br>Alth had not entertained even the slightest thought of running, and he simply held his position against the wall, his hands and forehead flat against the surface. He let out a small sigh at the realization that he would have to share his cell with someone. It was a little bit unsettling to come into a cell that had previously only held one inhabitant. It was a bit like being forced into someone else's home, and he knew he would have very little rights here.<br><br>He simply stayed against the wall, not turning around or speaking. He would wait for the cell's occupant to address him first. If the other chose not to, there was no telling how long he would just stand here. He was never one to start a conversation, and he had learned to expect the worst from people. He was used to violence and aggression in others. It had been part of his life for so long that being in prison would probably not be nearly the shock to him that it would be to some others.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Chelemar</strong> on <strong>18-01-2011, 01:52:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				This new one, his newest roomie intrigued Jace, but he'd never admit it.&nbsp; He could see that the man was scared...hell who wasn't!&nbsp; &nbsp;But he wasn't shityourpantsandbecomearodent scared.&nbsp; That was a good thing.&nbsp; Jace had long ago learned that a bit of fear kept a body healthy and wise... and sometimes even wealthy.&nbsp; <br><br><br>He peered down from atop where he lie on his stomach on the top bunk and studied his newest up close.&nbsp; The cell light swayed slightly, casting shadows of gray, blue and black across the taught lines of his thin shoulder blades giving the young man a shimmery appearance--almost as though he were moving in a slow rhythem under his shirt.&nbsp; The long column of his neck strained forward, bent like a hanger making it look as though his head was merely wearing the long shaft that was his body.&nbsp; Jace allowed himself to be mesmerised for a few moments more before he skimmed down to the rounded fullness of his newb's ass.&nbsp; His smile widened.&nbsp; <br><br><br>He was waiting for the sign...the one that would tell him who Al needed him to be.&nbsp; And then it came.&nbsp; It was the slightest thing, but it was all Jace needed.&nbsp; He slid down from the bunk and walked to stand behind and to the left of his new roomie.&nbsp; You never ever stepped too close or too behind someone unless you meant some serious touching, and now wasn't the time...not yet.&nbsp; <br><br><br>"I'm Jace."&nbsp; he began without preamble.&nbsp; "I don't care why you are there, that's your business."&nbsp; Jace spoke softly but with complete authority.&nbsp; "What I do know is know how to survive here.&nbsp; You want my protection, you let me know.&nbsp; I will tell you the cost."&nbsp; His voice was calm, as though he were speaking of selling a sofa or bed.&nbsp; "The bottom bunk is yours.&nbsp; Always keep the toilet clean."<br><br><br>When he was finished, he backed up a step and with a one-armed leap took a seat back up onto his bunk, long legs dangling free.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Altheras</strong> on <strong>20-01-2011, 07:55:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Altheras was aware of the other man's motions behind him, and though he did glance sideways at him as he came closer, he made no other motions until the man was securely back on his bunk, and far enough away from him for him to feel like he had his personal space back. He took a deep breath, relaxing a little bit and turning around to face Jace. He leaned back against the wall, actually taking some pleasure in the cold feeling against his back.<br><br>His head stayed lowered, his gaze firmly fixed on the ground. He would not raise his head or look his cellmate in the eye, at least not yet. He was submissive by nature, and it showed very strongly in his body language as he seemed rigid and tense, as if he still expected an attack. Truthfully though, he already found Jace to be more pleasant than what he had expected in someone having their 'home' invaded by an outsider.<br><br>"I have lived on the streets for the past seven years... I don't know if I need your protection or not. I know this place will not be kind to me, but I'm not used to the world being nice, ya know?" He sighed, casting a glance at the bottom bunk, his eyes drifting back to a spot on the floor at his feet. "I wanted to be alone, but since there's no changing it, I would like to get along with you."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Chelemar</strong> on <strong>20-01-2011, 08:47:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jace nodded as Al spoke.&nbsp; He figured the man, kid really, was from the streets.&nbsp; He had that look of starved want about him.&nbsp; That watchful stillness.&nbsp; <br><br><br>"You don't say...streets huh?&nbsp; We'll we all gotta come from somewhere."&nbsp; His gravely voice held no malice, just fact.&nbsp; "As to the fact on if you need my protection or not.&nbsp; It took me a second's look at you... nah," he amended, "Half a second's look at ya to tell you needed protecting."&nbsp; <br><br><br>Jumping down again.&nbsp; He went to his desk and grabbed a pack of cigarettes.&nbsp; Pulling out two he lit them both and gave one to Al.&nbsp; Lighting it was his way of saying it wasn't a bribe or a gift, just a smoke.&nbsp; "Hell, on the streets, it's fucking rough, but you got a lot of running space."&nbsp; He looked first left, then right, then taking a long drag, held the smoke deep in his lungs before answering, "Ain't no where to run to here babe."&nbsp; his voice was thick with the effort to hold the smoke and with the truth of his words.&nbsp; <br><br><br>"Besides, you are a pretty one.&nbsp; No way you are gonna make it without being made prison friendly."&nbsp; Jace let his eyes roam up and down Al in discernment.&nbsp; "No," he half smile as he took another puff, "and it will be fast."&nbsp; Jace took the last puff off of his smoke and rising from his seat added, "Up to you kid."&nbsp; He shrugged.&nbsp; "Offer's good for a little while at least."<br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br>________________________________________________________________<br>*to be made prison friendly is to be made to engage in sexual acts 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Altheras</strong> on <strong>23-01-2011, 12:48:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Altheras took the cigarette, bringing it to his lips and taking a long slow drag, holding in the smoke for a moment before letting it out in a long breath. It tasted good on his tongue, and the familiar burn in his lungs was a nice feeling. He hadn't exactly been addicted to cigarettes, but he'd always had one when he wanted it on the streets. Since his arrest he had not had one smoke, and he was starting to get a little bit antsy. <br><br>He listened to Jace's words, not finding them disturbing at all. He could tell the man was honestly just trying to help him, but he really didn't think there was anything in here any worse than what he'd faced on the streets. The comment about him being a pretty one did make him chuckle slightly and he shook his head, letting it out in a real laugh for a moment. "You shouldn't worry too much about my ass man." <br><br>He stretched, visibly relaxing a little, then went over to his bunk, taking a seat on it and drawing another long puff off of the cigarette. "My father used to rape me, that's why I ran away from home. There's nowhere to run when it's your own parent... in your own house. He beat me too... a real abusive prick."<br><br>"There may have been room to run on the streets, but I didn't. Made most my good money from prostitution... I'm not afraid of what the guys in here will do to me. I might even enjoy it." He offered a small smile, finishing off his cigarette and putting it out.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Chelemar</strong> on <strong>23-01-2011, 14:00:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Jace's eye's darked when the man in front of him spoke of how he was abused.&nbsp; "Rotten fuck!" he exclaimed.&nbsp; I hope you're in here cause you went back and killed him.&nbsp; He shook his head.&nbsp; "I'd give you free stuff just for that.&nbsp; The big guy could feel the blood making his heart pump so that it echo'd in his ears.&nbsp; He hated, no despised anyone who hurt kids.<br><br><br>Watching Al tick and move as he spoke, he smiled a bit.&nbsp; He had to admit the guy was cute.&nbsp; "Relax a bit kid, or I'm gonna start calling you Twitch."&nbsp; he grinned.<br><br><br>"Yeah, street life ain't cake."&nbsp; he agreed.&nbsp; "Ain't no shame in making a buck when you need it.&nbsp; What's yours to sell nobody should deny."&nbsp; His eyebrows rose when Al said he might like what the guys would do to him.&nbsp; "You might huh?"&nbsp; He rose and walked over to stand in front of Al, "Ok, so you a punk huh?"&nbsp; He grinned.&nbsp; "I'd be a good daddy.&nbsp; I'm not just gay for the stay."&nbsp; He winked, but that's ok,&nbsp; little fish, you wanna take chances on your own, go ahead."&nbsp; He bent and kissed him softly on the lips before whispering, "The offer to ride with me still stands, for a week."<br><br><br>With that, Jace one armed himself up to his bunk and stretched out to sleep.<br>_______________________________________________________________<br>*punk&nbsp; gay man<br>*gay for the stay&nbsp; only engaging in gay sex while in prison, straight on the outside<br>*fish-someone new to prison life<br>*ride with-when an older, experienced prisoner takes a fish under his wings and offers protection and goods for services, usually sexual, but could be a vast array.<br><br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Altheras</strong> on <strong>23-01-2011, 14:26:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Alth did not shy away at the kiss, though he did flinch, his body tensing slightly as the other man pulled away so quickly and went to his bunk. There was no doubt that Jace was attracted to him, and though he was gay, and had even been expecting to be raped his first day here, he wasn't entirely sure how he should feel about this.<br><br>He laid back on his bunk, staring up at the underside of the one above him, contemplating what his fate in here would be like. He was not terrified, and curiosity was much stronger in his mind than fear, and yet he had a certain amount of nerves when he considered all the things that could happen in a place like this. Afterall, he did not want to die, and he had heard of people being beaten and raped to death on the inside.<br><br>He sighed, bringing his hands up to touch his lips where the other man's had been only moments before. He did not speak though, simply considering his offer as he tossed and turned on his bunk, trying to get comfortable enough for sleep to take him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Prisoners, Guards &amp; Shanks, Oh My! - Prison</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Chelemar</strong> on <strong>23-01-2011, 14:45:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				THE REST OF THIS STORY LINE WILL TAKE PLACE IN THE JACE AND AL'S CELL (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=95926.0) STORY THREAD.<br><br><br>THANKS. :)
			</dd>
		</dl>
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