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This was always the most boring part of working here. The new prisoner intake. It was the same thing every fucking time. Bring the prisoners in by ship, check them to make sure no contraband was being carried, and direct them to their cage. Maybe once in a while someone would try to make a run for it, the chase being one of the few things he enjoyed during such a dreary time. Besides that, it was not interesting.
Ban Hammer was currently watching over a subordinate's shoulder, staring at the few who were unlucky enough to be the newest prisoners. Most were boring, none truly caught his attention. He did feel a tad bit of excitement seeing The Broker caught once more, but it was the usual day of intake. That was until the tiny body that was being pushed by the guards passed by the camera. There was good reason for pause. Short horns, short frame, and a young face. Normally, he wouldn’t think of anything of those traits, but when all put together, they were a reason for concern.
“Pull up that one.” A simple command, his finger coming to push against the screen of the computer. Right on the small one’s face, which was now contorted in a look of fear as he was manhandled and checked for contraband.
“Yes sir.”
Ban Hammer waited as the assistant pulled up the case file. The loading screen felt taunting. Eventually, the spinning circle gave way. The kid’s age was the first thing Ban Hammer looked for, wanting to confirm his suspicion.
14.
14, and he was in the fucking banlands.
Ban Hammer looked for answers. What else was there to do? A teen doesn't just end up in the most secure prison for no good reason. His gaze raked the rest of the file, trying to find the reason. The child was called Grenade, male, only child to a single father, no notable health conditions. Finally, he found it. His crime.
The child was a terrorist. Claimed it was for Blackrock, caused an explosion big enough to topple a building in a Playground concert. Killed 3, wounded multiple others.
“..Swords above.” It was all that he could say. Ban Hammer was not one who was usually lost for words, but this was a special case. It was oh so rare for someone of such destructive nature to act so young. Usually, from what Ban Hammer had seen, they started off small and then got dangerous later in life. Not like this.
A deep sigh tore from the man, pushing away from the screen and turning round so as to not look at the pale face that was the mugshot. He made a mental note to go check on the prisoner later, see if he could simply understand the reasoning behind such a heinous action. But for now, he spoke quietly to the guard. No mercy could be shown.
“Continue the intake process.”
———————————————————————
Stepping through the heat, Ban Hammer yawned. Nothing interesting had happened the past few weeks. No break out attempt, no shankings. It was utterly boring. The lava hissed and bubble beneath the rocks he stood on. Looking down, Ban Hammer debated practicing his golfing skills for a bit to see if he had gotten any better. Or, at least, he was thinking about that before he heard the shouting.
“What’s your name? I’m Grenade. Why’s your skin all puffy? It looks funny. Why do you have bumps on your horns?”
Again, the teen was surprising. The tone most took when shouting was desperate. Pleads to see their family again were the most common, second to that the begging to be freed and argument that they were innocent. Yet Grenade’s voice carried no panic or fear, mere curiosity as it went over the lava lake.
Ban Hammer hated it.
He did not hesitate. Ban Hammer pushed off the ground in one big leap, heading right to where the cage the other rested in hung. He landed against the ground with a loud thud, a small indent forming. Up close, he could now see both the teen and who he was talking to.
Who was he talking to? Roasted Marshmallows, of course. The pyromaniac first looked a tad nervous, on account of being talked to. That emotion was soon replaced with utter terror as Ban Hammer landed. He scrambled backwards in his cage, causing it to swing a tad with how quickly he moved.
Grenade, on the other hand, did not seem particularly fearful yet. Oh there was a glimpse of something behind his eyes as he spotted Ban Hammer, but that was gone quickly. He also backed up a tad from where Ban Hammer rested, but not nearly as violently as Roasted Marshmallows.
Pushing himself to stand, Ban Hammer began to march towards the cage that held the smaller of the two inphernals. Large hands grasped the metal that held no door, pulling it forward. This caused the cage to tilt a tad, Grenade sliding backwards as a small yelp of panic came from the teen.
“You think you're funny? What are you doing, yelling and making a ruckus in my jail?” Banhammer’s voice was gruff as he spoke. He pushed the edge of the cage near him down as the words came out. The other inphernal started to slip towards him as he continued, hands reaching up to try and weakly grab at the bars so that he didn’t fall. It was all for naught, and he slid forward and right in front of the other. “I don't take much appreciation for those messing up how I run things here.”
Grenade stared back for a few moments, before a smile crept on their face. A nervous smile, but a smile nonetheless. His eyes showed it more than anything, the edges of them squinting. “I don't mean to offend. I really don't. I was just wanting to make some friends while I am stuck here-”
“Friends?!?” At that, he could do nothing but laugh. How fucking stupid was this kid? To think they would be making friends in a prison. Good swords above, even worse that he was trying to make some in the banlands. It was a hearty, full chested laugh. Pushing the cage away and letting go so that it swung, Ban Hammer leaned forward to hold his stomach as the laughter died to giggles. His chest hurt.
“Fine fine- You can try to make friends. Just don’t go yelling, got it youngling?” He saw how the other inphernal cringed at the name, Ban Hammer deciding that’s what he’d be calling this prisoner from now on. Just to fuck with him.
“And maybe don’t start with the fucking arsonist next time.”
Ban Hammer was still laughing at the ‘joke’ when he left. He didn’t even remember to try and clarify how the other ended up here. He didn’t even notice how the other had said “while”.
———————————————————————
The teen had certainly taken up the offer he had been given. There wasn’t a day that Ban Hammer wouldn’t hear him talking to the two unfortunate souls trapped next to him. Paper Airplane 2 (Not to be confused with Paper Airplane, a well respected and factual journalist) tended to respond enthusiastically, while Roasted Marshmallows tended to just nod along.
It was almost cute, watching the kid try to make friends.
But then Ban Hammer would remember why he was here, and that tauntingly sweet emotion he felt would dissipate.
Finally, he had enough free time to properly talk to the teen. It had been a busy time, so the thought of hearing from the other had slipped his mind for a while. Stepping towards the cage that held him, he could hear the conversation. Or, more properly, the rambling from the youngest of the trio.
“And then there is this big dragon that breaks out of a mountain because a comet passed over head and broke the curse-”
“Grenade-” Roasted Marshmallows tried to speak up when he spotted Ban Hammer, once again scooting away from the man. Grenade didn’t seem to notice and or didn’t care for the other’s interruption. His voice continued.
“- that was on his bracelet, and then once he was broken out-”
“Grenade, really stop-”
“He tried to start a war with all the ice dragons and-”
“Hey, youngling. Best to actually listen when people are trying to talk to you.”
Finally, Grenade shut up. He turned to face Ban Hammer quite slowly, the look of excitement on his face dropping into something more vile. Ban Hammer didn’t notice how, where the inphernal once tried to hide his disgust, he no longer did. It wasn’t like Ban Hammer was going to see it anyways.
“What do you want, and my name’s Grenade.”
“Ya ya. Youngling, tell me something, won’t you?” Ban Hammer leaned forward far enough that his horns knocked onto the jail bars. A wicked grin passed onto his face as he continued to speak. “Tell me why you pulled the little stunt that landed you here, why won’t you.”
He under played it. It could come off as inconsiderate to the victims of the attack, but he wanted to see how the teen would take such a statement. Most criminals would agree that what they did was little, in some desperate attempt to seem pitiful and wrongfully jailed. Only the bold, or the stupid in Ban Hammer’s mind, would push back.
“It wasn’t a small attack. Killed a few, remember? Wouldn’t count that as small.”
Seems he was the latter.
”And besides, they’re playground folks. They don’t deserve to live.” Grenade spat out the words with such venom it could have burned. His voice dropped a bit, whispering something under his breath. Most wouldn’t be able to hear it. Ban Hammer could.
“Desevre to be fucking eradicated, that’s what I’d say about them. Fucking termites.”
He stared, a few moments. Well, he didn’t really stare, simply blankly looked forward as he processed the words the child had said. To have so much hate in one’s heart was scary. Oh he had heard of the indoctrination that Blackrock implemented, but he didn’t think it ran that deep.
Silently, he turned around and headed off. He refused to dignify such hate with a response.
———————————————————————
A visitor to the banlands. Something interesting. Something not entirely new but not entirely common either. So, of course, Ban Hammer had to come greet them. He made his way down into the entrance way as the boat arrived. He adjusted his eye cover as he waited, until he heard an ever so identifiable noise.
The sound of footsteps, along with something else. Of something.. plastic? Hitting the ground as the other walked. Ban Hammer couldn’t help but be interested. So, quietly, he lifted just the edge of his bandana up.
The first thing that stood out about the new face was just how many horns he had. More than Ban Hammer could count, all purple in color. Tearing out of flesh haphazardly, they looked far from natural. Then came his face, the scar tissue where the other’s eyes once were plain as day to see. It explained the cane at least. He was also just quite a big inphernal, nearly matching Ban Hammer in height and just around the same in body shape, if a bit more box-like.
Pulling the headgear back down so as to not look at that face, he grunted as he pushed off from the wall. He almost held a hand out to the new person, but stopped himself just in time. His voice finally freed itself from his throat. “Pleasure to meet you..? And, what are you looking to do at the banlands?”
A calmer voice responded, one that sounded kind if deep. “Looking to talk to an old friend of mine. I want to see what caused them to snap. Oh, and the name’s-” And then, Ban Hammer’s head spun. Not physically, of course, the other didn’t even have a chance of landing a hit on him. Instead, it felt like literal needles were being pushed into his head. As if his eardrums were being chewed in half.
Whatever the other had just said, his mind did not want to process it.
The inphernal in front of him didn’t stop talking though, so Ban Hammer did his best to keep up with the conversation. He acted as if he didn’t now have a headache, and simply made a mental note to look into this man later.
“- but most call me Q. A pleasure to meet. Could you point me in the direction of Grenade?”
“...You're friends with the youngling?”
“Family friends. His dad had me watch over him a few times.”
“...You don’t just get to come to the banlands to talk to someone. Give me a damn good reason or I’m sending you back across in that boat.”
There was deathly silence, for a few moments. Ban Hammer tightened his grip on his gear as the seconds dragged onwards. He waited, and waited, and waited until he finally heard Q take a deep breath as he prepared to answer.
“Subspace wants me to study him. He’s one of ours, unfortunately. If we can find out what drove such an attack, we could perhaps stop another attack in the future. We don’t need a war with Playground, now do we?” A laugh came from them, and it did not feel kind. It was a condescending laugh, a laugh of someone who thought they were an elite. Maybe it was the cadence of his laugh that threw Ban Hammer off. Maybe it was the mention of Subspace. Maybe it was how he worded it like the teen was some lab experiment. He didn’t like it.
“And if I tell you to turn tails right here, right now, what would you be able to do about it? This is my jail and I get to decide who comes in here.”
“Blackrock would not be happy, Subspace would not be happy. I am sure you know how he is with his reports being on time. We wouldn’t want any diplomatic incidents, would we?”
The threat was laced with a sweet tone. Ban Hammer hated it, and soon decided he hated this man as well. What he hated more was that he was right. Blackstone, more so Subspace and his creations, despite all the skeletons they had in their closet, were more important to the banlands than one might think. Those biographs made awful good guards. Ban Hammer simply couldn’t risk pissing off Subspace and getting said robots taken away. So, with a sigh, he relented. He was lucky he couldn’t see the other’s shit eating smile.
“10 minutes. The biographs will lead you there. If you summon your gear, we have every right to kill you.”
“Thank you, and my gear won’t be an issue.”
Perhaps it had been a mistake to let the Biographs lead the other, but he was so fucking tired of talking to the man. He’d rather just head home and watch the cameras. He didn’t expect Q to have pushed out an update to the biographs the night before. He didn’t expect Q to have snuck in crystals, if Ban Hammer even knew what those were. And he certainly didn’t expect Q to give the crystals to a fucking child when no one was looking.
———————————————————————
2 hours. It had only been 2 hours since the fucker with the unintelligible name had left. Ban Hammer had thought he’d be able to get some rest. He had even taken off his blindfold, not wanting to sleep with it on. The exciting part of the day had passed, the guest had come and left without trouble. Even as he heard the explosion go off, he didn’t pay it much mind. Inphernals would occasionally test their gear against the cages and soon discover that normal gear couldn’t break through it. So, it wasn’t much of a concern.
Until he heard the screaming.
His eyes snapped open, landing on the cameras. He could see the guards as they started to run, but for a few moments he couldn’t tell where they were going. Another 2 booms in quick succession ringed out, and finally he saw where it was coming from. The cages at the south of the island.
The cages that held the teen and his friends were where the explosion came from.
He saw him now, Grenade yelling and whooping in success. There was no audio over the camera, but it was easy to see him flipping off the giant eyes that watched the jail. Roasted Marshmallows was slowly inching out of the ruined metal, while Paper Airplane 2 had already jumped down to stand next to Grenade, pulling the boy into a tight hug.
He didn’t see anything else. He was already moving, already summoning forth his gear and wings. He didn’t even have time to grab his bandana. Normally, normally, he wouldn’t be doing this, with ‘this’ being summoning his wings. He had no need, they were on an island in the middle of a lava lake. Anyone who even got out of their cell would be trapped by the terrain.
But Paper Airplane 2 was out. And, like her name suggested, she was able to take to the sky. Above the lava, over their defenses.
He had to get to them.
He ran as fast as his legs would allow him. Leaped over the gaping trenches that most had to build bridged to get over. He could see the guards running with him soon enough, biographs and flesh and blood inphernals trailing behind him. The robots dashed forward, faster than him but not fast enough. Ban Hammer could see the paper that made up the airplane already starting to rise into the air. Three forms sat on top of it, two of them cheering.
With a single burst of his wings, he sent himself shooting forward. Into the air he went. Ban Hammer roared out in anger as he approached the group.
How fucking dare they try to escape. How dare he try to escape. After all he had done for him. He had turned a blind eye when Grenade made friends, he had turned a blind eye to the noise he created. He turned a blind eye to his happiness in a place that was meant to destroy such emotions.
And here he was, trying to escape.
He decided, in that moment in the air, that no mercy would be given.
The three of them had signed their death warrants.
With another beat of his wings, he was upon them. His muscles barely strained, demi-deity strength unleashed to its full potential. With a slam downward, he sent his hammer into the top of the airplane. The yells of excitement soon turned to ones of panic. He could hear two of the bodies on the airplane start to scramble to grab onto the sides of the paper so as to not fall off, while he could see Paper Airplane 2 trying to right the hole that Ban Hammer had formed in the weak paper.
A perfect opening. She was focused on something else, the idiot.
The hammer came swinging from below. It would be the last thing she sees, he thought. Good swords above she might not even see it. The thought was enough to make Ban Hammer giddy. To kill a rule breaker was always a wonderful thing. She’d just be another to the list.
And then the explosion rang out.
His ears were fucking spinning, wings faltering a few moments as he tried to right his position in the sky. The hammer missed the airplane completely, the boom setting him off course. No harm was done, though. The explosion had missed him, but his ears still rung. Looking up and away from the failed hit, he stared at the perpetrator.
Grenade stared back. For the first time since they met, Ban Hammer looked in his eyes.
He saw fear.
He felt nothing but rage.
With a few more wing beats, he righted himself. He watched as he did that, watched as Grenade started to yell. He yelled as he worked, words unable to be made out by Ban Hammer and certainly not by the people around him. Looking closer, he could see the man trying to stuff something geometric, something glowing, into his grenade.
Ban Hammer didn’t care what it was. He just wanted this wrong doer dead.
He rushed forward in an instant. Wings pulled tight to his side after a single strong beat, he became akin to a bullet as he went after the teen. His hammer raised into the air, above his head. He wanted Grenade to see his death. He wanted the other to know there was nothing he could do to stop it.
His hammer swung down.
It hit crystal and plastic. Grenade had, in a last line of defense, brought his arms up to protect his head. Still holding that crystal stuffed grenade.
Ban Hammer had hit it dead on.
The explosion was massive. Perhaps it had been a combination of the deity-like strength hitting the crystal mixing with the gunpowder packed in the grenade. It didn’t matter what had caused it. What had mattered was the impact. Ban Hammer felt himself be thrown backwards, felt something in his body shatter. Blood and bone fragments flew past him, some of the shattered parts embedding themselves into his flesh. He didn’t even realize he was falling till the ringing in his ears had died down a bit, and he heard the air whistling around him. He had half a mind to spread his wings before he hit the ground to slow the fall.
He hit the ground with a loud thud. His breathing was strained, his wings breaking under his weight. He felt them snap, then dissipate. Blood started to pull around him, and from far off he heard the guards yelling as they spotted him. But that was not where his focus was. Ban Hammer was watching the trio from afar.
He could barely see it, but he saw the flame on the paper. He saw how Roasted Marshmallows pulled it into himself, watched how Paper Airplane 2 started to patch up the hole the explosion had caused. He watched as the plane tilted and turned and barely remained flying.
And he watched Grenade slump. Ban Hammer could barely see the burns from here, but he still saw how the other’s flesh was either boiling or missing in places.
He didn’t know if he killed him.
All he knew was that he failed.
———————————————————————
?? hadn’t expected anything from him, really. Grenade had been a tool, a distraction. A hopefully successful one, that was true, but he wasn’t supposed to be anything more. The Broker had snuck out during the confusion, something he had confirmed after a single phone call. So, Grenade had completed his job. Hell, he had only told the teen where he lived because it gave comfort to the boy, not because he would actually end up there.
He hadn’t expected the knock on the door.
3 bodies, only 2 awake, had stood in front of him when he opened it. He saw how they were fearful of him, how the woman of the group carried a boy over his shoulder. ?? saw the burns over the other’s form, he had seen the blood that stained the two of them. Clearly not their own.
He would be a terrible person to not invite them in, no?
That’s how he ended up with two inphernals having tea in his kitchen as he carefully removed the bone fragments from the body beneath him. It would be a miracle if the kid lived. His hand was fucked, at least a few fingers were completely gone and it was a question if the others could be saved. His eye had gotten a shard right to the middle of it, so that had to be removed too.
While he worked, ?? planned. ?? also prayed, for the first time in a while, that the kid would live. He couldn’t lose someone so valuable. So moldable. What to do with such a fun tool, one who could not only break out of the banlands, but break out with 2 others in tow. So many possibilities.
He was so excited to see them all come to fruition.