Work Text:
time query (daytime)
1000
time query (day)
889000
Time mark, beginning of shift. The prisoner remains in his cell. Pandora's Vault remains in good working order. All systems green.
time query (daytime)
2000
time query (day)
890000
Time mark, one hour into shift. The prisoner remains in his cell. The prisoner is pacing, he will walk from the front left corner of the room to the back right corner in quick succession. He seems agitated, the reason for the agitation has yet to be determined. All systems green.
time query (daytime)
3000
time query (day)
891000
Time mark, two hours into shift. The prisoner remains in his cell. He has stopped pacing, and now stands stock still, staring at the wall. The agitation remains, his fingers twitch, he cannot keep his legs still, his hair is growing long. It will need to be cut. The prisoner used to be allowed one clock, one book and infrequent visitations. These luxuries have been removed. They encouraged bad behavior. This oversight has since been corrected. He is staring at the spot on the wall where the clock sat, there is a vague discoloration, a slight difference in the black of obsidian. It's like he's trying to count the time. There is a clock here, in the guardrooms, he is off by about four seconds, eighty ticks behind. All systems green. There is a ticking, just out of reach, behind the walls, it sounds about half a tick off, it will need to be checked.
time query (daytime)
4000
time query (day)
892000
Time mark, three hours into shift. The prisoner remains in his cell. The ticking has gotten louder, investigations are underway. The prisoner is agitated again, he has gone back to pacing. The doors are locked, there is no way out.
time query (daytime)
5000
time query (day)
893000
Time mark, four hours into shift. The prisoner remains in his cell. The ticking is now two ticks off. It needs to be investigated, properly, but the prisoner is now sitting, looking down at the lava. I worry that he will jump. I cannot be in two places at once, either the lava will have to come down and I will loose sight of the prisoner or the repeater that is firing out of time will continue to degrade. It doesn't seem like a critical system, I can stand and watch for a little longer. The prisoner is more agitated, talking to himself, pacing again. It's almost time for him to get fed. He seems to know this, has figured out the system, he is smart. He was poorly behaved yesterday, the hopper hasn't been loaded with anything. He will be fine, I know what he needs, I provide it: everything in exact amounts. He won't be fed today. He doesn't need it. When was the last time I ate for something other than saturation? When was the last time I ate? It doesn't matter, I'm not hungry. The ticking is getting worse, speeding up and slowing down at random intervals. I will have to check it soon, but he's still staring. He doesn't seem to notice me watching, and I prefer it this way, standing out of sight, in the ready room, surrounded by obsidian walls, kept company by the tick of machinery.
time query (noon)
6000
time query (day)
894000
Time mark, five hours into shift. There are two repeaters out of time now, the clicking is an incessant buzz. It needs to be fixed, before the six hour mark, I have to put the wall down, I have to stop watching. Durability mark, the warden armor is fully intact, the enchantments are newly refreshed, lapis inlays etched in a sentry pattern, glowing a faint blue against the dark black of netherite. What is a warden if not a sentry, a single, solitary guardian in the face of corruption, sin, contempt? Warden's Torment needs to be repaired, the blades have been dulled with continual use. Warden's Hammer is showing small amounts of wear around the edges, it wasn't cleaned properly, that will need to be addressed. The prisoner is agitated, pacing, he keeps looking up like he's expecting to be fed. He should know better. He hasn't earned food. There are three repeaters, I think it's the bridge system that leads out to the lobby. That's fine, it can wait a little longer. The Vault is something of a divine kind of building. It was built by my hands, every block placed with intention. It is a monolith, imposing, powerful, intentional. It is a testament to justice, power, control. It has one prisoner, and I the sole warden. There are no visitors that need to be ushered in safely. The prisoner is safe. He is safe and if he is safe and secure then nothing else matters. Two repeaters, two ticks per repeater, a thousand ticks to an hour, if it takes roughly five hundred ticks for the repeaters to get out of time properly, then how long do I think I can stand to hold off on fixing them? The prisoner is pacing again. He keeps grasping at something, running his hands over the walls, dipping them into the water in the back of his cell, tugging at his pretty hair, scratching at his arms or snapping next to his ears. He told me once that it was too quiet here, a hell made up of depravation, that he thought he was going insane because there was nothing to anchor him. It is just another one of the ways he is stubborn. There is so much noise, a constant, consistent click, it keeps time with the clock on the wall, the sun should be cresting in the sky outside. In here, there is no sun, no change in light levels, it is all monotone, orange and yellow on black stone. It is consistent, controlled, he shouldn't need more than that. The ticking has become a rhythm, music playing itself in a broken, twisted loop. It sounds like it is trying to communicate something, a voice chirping just out of hearing range, someone come to encroach on our space, the silent, early hours where it is just me, the prisoner, and the prison, coexisting. That is my favorite time, when I can watch him, when we are undisturbed.
time query (daytime)
7000
time query (day)
895000
Time mark, six hours into shift. Maintenance is underway. I had to put the lava down in order to fix the redstone. The prisoner looked at me as it descended, I think he was shouting, I couldn't hear what was being said over the pop of molten rock. I'm sure he's fine, he's still in his cell, where it's safe. I had to remove the warden's armor in order to fit in the gap between the walls. The redstone is kept safe out of the way of meddling hand or Prime forbid, water. It's hot in here, obsidian has a way of holding onto heat, and it works like nothing else to nullify magic. The redstone trails that works like muscle holding the Vault together are prone to wear and tear. I can barely keep up with the maintenance, between regular system checks and maintenance, and updating the enchantments on the armor for the warden, the other guards, it's a constant drain. The repeaters needed to be reset, the nerve wracking noise of doors sliding shut a few blocks from my ears doing nothing to quell the gnawing anxiety. How long has it been since I've seen the prisoner? Only a few tics, surely, he can't have gone anywhere in that time, there are systems in place, systems I built and maintain. He's fine. I need to reset the repeaters, run additional dust through the channels that connect them and listen for the telltale sound of the doors sliding open and then shut as the mechanism is triggered. The ticking returns to it's usual consistent tick, the internal clock of Pandora's Vault. All systems green. It eases the gnawing anxiety, knowing that everything is running smoothly. I should check the rest of the doors.
time query (daytime)
8000
time query (day)
896000
Time mark, seven hours into shift. All systems green. The lava surrounding the main cell is slow to release. I designed it that way. It's fine if I can't see everything immediately. The prisoner is in the main cell. All systems green, except for the clicking, there's a new sound, maybe a piston misfiring somewhere. It's not an issue, if it was one of the critical systems everything would be locked down. It's just the two of us in here. It all works on its own, the prison could keep going, the Vault is meant to be locked, if I died, or things went wrong. I built it with safeguards in place for a reason. The prisoner is agitated, he's shouting, I can hear it as the lava descends. His spawn point is in the cell, if he takes too much damage it will catch him, even that is automated, out of my control. I could douse the cell in potions, just to feel something, but that would be a breach of power, of duty. I'm going to check the doors again.
time query (daytime)
9000
time query (day)
897000
Time mark, eight hours into shift. All systems green. The piston continues to misfire, I believe it's in the main cell block, away from where the prisoner is kept. The prisoner remains in his cell, I can see him again, which quells the pit in my stomach. The prisoner is pacing again. I should go check on the main cell block, that is my job, maintaining this place, ensuring the prisoner remains here. He will stay here forever, and I will guard him for that long. This body may give out soon, I can feel a weakness forming in it, I am growing attached. This weakness must be purged, I cannot falter, I cannot waver. The Warden must remain, a testament, a warning. The prisoner is looking at me. I am doing my best not to look back. I need to appear busy, that is the nature of my work. I should go check on the pistons, they are going off more irregularly now, it could spiral. The prisoner is still looking. I am going to check the perimeter.
time query (daytime)
10000
time query (day)
898000
Time mark, nine hours into shift. Systems yellow. There is a misfiring redstone circuit in the main cell block, the doors are opening and closing without a key. This has the potential for disaster. The doors need to be realigned, given power and cycled. That should fix the problem, but then I will need to do a full security check, a sweep of all cells and the atrium. Everything will need to be double checked. Is this a routine failure? Was it orchestrated? Was it a fluke, an accident, pieces in misalignment grinding each other down into a fine powder until it becomes sand in the gears of a well oiled machine? It doesn't matter, I will determine the source and snuff it out. The prisoner is in his cell. I should check, just to be sure, but there are more pressing matters. There is nowhere else he could go. That is cold comfort, the idea that he should be there doesn't mean that he is. Redstone dust buzzes, an electric current that runs through the animated body of the Vault. Sometimes I wonder if it is the monster, or if I am. Did I built it, or did it build me? A redstone torch has gone out, smoldering where the inlaid lines of dust were overloaded. It's been awhile since I checked these circuits, it must have just given out. It is possible, player error in an otherwise perfect system. I should work on automating the maintenance checks. The door slides shut, sticks, holds, I can hear the pistons grinding as they work to keep obsidian blast doors in place. There are the usual tests, insert the keycard, open the door, walk through, door closes. All systems green. I should check the prisoner, after the perimeter, after the rest of the rooms. There can be no breaches. The prisoner is in his cell, he looks at me when I walk back, I do not look back. I need to check the doors.
time query (daytime)
11000
time query (day)
899000
Time mark, ten hours into shift. All systems green. The main cell block is empty. There have been no recent visitors. The prisoner is in his cell. I am watching him. It is unsettling to know he is watching me too.
time query (sunset)
12000
time query (night)
900000
Time mark, eleven hours into shift. All systems green. I know why he is watching me. We are both waiting for the same thing. The visitor, his only visitor. I know that he doesn't come for me, but he is here for my prisoner, and he wouldn't get to see him without my go ahead. This is the Warden's domain. He knows this, he respects this. Sometimes he shows up early in the shift, hour six or eight, today he is dragging it out. I wish he wouldn't. I prefer when we are alone.
time query (nighttime)
13000
time query (night)
901000
I don't know why I keep these logs. There is no one to read them. No one is double checking my work. The prisoner will never read them, his visitor isn't allowed to see them. There are no other guards, no other warden to hand these notes off to so we could keep this place running. Time mark, twelve hours into shift. All systems green.
time query (nighttime)
14000
time query (night)
902000
Time mark, thirteen hours into shift. All systems green. It's alright, being alone, I wouldn't want to share him. The prisoner is in his cell. He is sitting, with his back to the wall, staring at the floor. I will sit, and watch him for the time being, there is nothing else that would require my attention. It's beautiful, the way the light catches his hair, long now, it needs to be washed.
Quackity joined the game.
time query (nighttime)
15000
time query (night)
902000
Time mark, fourteen hours into shift. All systems green. The visitor is here. Redstone clicks behind obsidian walls, an early warning system, and the main way I am alerted to people who want to disturb this sanctuary. He is late, or maybe right on time by his calculations. I wish he had come earlier. I wish he hadn't come at all. There are too many things to do, let the lava down, the prisoner is yelling again. He is agitated as the wall descends, I think maybe he will throw himself in. It is my job to prevent him from doing things like this, he shouldn't hurt himself like that, he should stay in his cell. He should behave. The heat builds as the droppers click in unison, the obsidian absorbs some heat, but not all. We are used to the heat. We live with it. I clean the space, leave the tools for the butcher on the staging table and go to greet our guest. The prisoner knows what the visitations are like, I hope he will behave himself this time.
time query (nighttime)
16000
time query (night)
903000
Time mark, fifteen hours into shift. The visitor is far from patient. He likes to pretend we are friends. If he was my friend he wouldn't visit me while I am at work. He always asks if he can keep his things on him. He knows the answer. I will not allow contraband into the Vault, there are rules, and even the visitor must follow them.
<Quackity> Sam, how long have we been doing this?
<awesamdude> About three months according to the logs.
<Quackity> And have I given you any reason not to trust me, in three whole months?
<awesamdude> Your items in the chest, Quackity.
<Quackity> Of course, Warden.
There are rules here, regardless of what the visitor thinks about his time here, about my willingness to bend the initial rules for his schemes, there are rules. We will go through the checkpoints. I will check him for contraband, watch him respawn and wish he would try something that would justify the things I want to do to him.
<Quackity> Do you ever get out, Sam? See the sights, take the air?
<awesamdude> Not while I am on duty.
<Quackity> Are you ever off duty?
<awesamdude> no.
We arrive at the main cell, and I deactivate the wall, watching for a third time as the lava falls. The prisoner is in his cell. He has moved, pressed into the back corner with his hands over his head, face between his knees. He looks small there, weak. I feel a stupid, overwhelming desire to protect him. The butcher picks up the shears, his preferred implement and steps onto the bridge. The motions are practiced, easy. He knows what he is doing, I don't need to prompt him as he waits for the platform to activate, pistons pushing the bridge out and pulling it in behind as it goes. An additional precaution. The walls go up, the prisoner curls smaller. I think my hands might be shaking. This body is giving out sooner than expected, I will have to go home soon. I have gone through more bodies on this server, faulty circuits, poor materials. I can't be distracted.
<Quackity> We should go out sometime, you and I. There's this great new club, just off the strip. My treat.
<awesamdude> When you reach the far side the bridge will retract, call me when you want it returned.
The circuit completes, the butcher steps off. I recall the bridge. All systems green.
time query (nighttime)
17000
time query (night)
904000
Time mark, sixteen hours into shift.
He is screaming.
time query (midnight)
18000
time query (night)
905000
Time mark, seventeen hours into shift.
Sometimes the visitor is only here for a short time. He yells, throws things, waves his arms and puffs himself up. He'll use his fists, or kick the prisoner until he stops moving and then he leaves. I prefer when his visits are short, there is less mess afterwards.
Sometimes his visits are long, barely any time between one trip and the next. I have never let him sleep in the Vault. He's never asked, but I can see him thinking it when he walks out and bids me a goodnight as the sun crests the horizon. I wouldn't let him sleep here, that would break protocol. I sleep in the Vault sometimes, but that is my duty as her Warden, sometimes the work requires long nights and early mornings. It is easier to sleep here than to try and make it home on such short notice.
I imagine we will not be alone for a long time.
He is methodical today, slow, deliberate. He seems to relish pain. It is never the same sound twice. A whimper first, then a groan, a shriek or a muffled sob. I would think it was some kind of experiment, but it seems more an exercise in perpetual misery. I stand on the opposite side of a multi block gap, busying myself with writing logs, updating schematics and let the sound of shears splitting skin break over me. There is an unfathomable amount of blood, when I look up from what I am doing, red and rusting at the edges, splashed over black stone. I think he is working on the prisoner's fingernails, tugging them out of their beds one at a time, punctuated by a question with each yank. I wish he would stop screaming. I think about going over there myself, just to shut him up. I could do it. Quackity threatened to cut out his tongue, once. I understand the urge, now.
<Quackity> I can do this all day, Dream. We've got all the time in the world.
No permanent injury, that was our deal. I think the butcher might be stretching the definition of the term permanent.
<Quackity> You're no fun today, come on, don't you want to play?
I would have thought the prisoner was smart enough not to antagonize him. Apparently, I was wrong. There is no response, but the silence is response enough. If the visitor is looking for a show, a display of submission there is nothing else that will satisfy him. I gave him full access, jurisdiction to do whatever he wanted. The prisoner knows this, knows that he is at his mercy. I assume the prisoner is trying to save face, stubborn, as he swallows whatever noise is ripped out of him. It's muffled, nearly lot in the pop of lava. He is trying to outlast a hurricane, violent, percussive, predictable in its destruction. I do not envy him his position, maybe this time he will learn his lesson.
<Quackity> It's a special occasion, did you know that, Dream? It's a very special occasion, an anniversary. Do you want to guess? Hot or cold.
Our visitor has been getting more inventive with his torments. I am watching, not because I want to see what new torture he's invented, but because I need to know what state he will leave the prisoner in. I have potions, if he is good and asks for them. I think about leaving him like that sometimes, bleeding, sluggish and barely coherent. He can't escape like that, barely able to move, a whimpering, pathetic mess.
<Quackity> If you don't want to play, we can go back to the axe, Dream. Sam lets you get away with too much, not on my fucking watch.
<awesamdude> Quackity.
<Quackity> Do you have any fire res, Sam? I've got this great idea but this worthless wreck doesn't want to play.
<awesamdude> He doesn't have to play with you.
<awesamdude> No, get out.
<awesamdude> Of course, whatever you want.
<awesamdude> Only if I get a turn.
<Dream> Sam, please.
<Quackity> Shut up.
<awesamdude> I'll see what I have in the guard room.
The Vault is stocked with anything that a guard might need to keep its prisoner subdued or thwart escape attempts. Of course I have fire resistance. I just don't know if I want to give it to him, yet. Maybe I won't, just to see what he does.
time query (nighttime)
19000
time query (night)
906000
Time mark, eighteen hours into shift.
There is a brief period after throwing an ender pearl where the body becomes weightless, suspended in the void, before the physical comes crashing back and I am trapped in this wretched body again. It is weak. The smell in the cell is enough to turn this stomach, there isn't anything to throw up, but bile still crawls unbidden up my throat. The prisoner needs to be washed. I haven't needed to bother in several shifts. The visitor has taken to suffocation attempts, holding the prisoner underwater until he thrashes and only pulling him up when he goes still.
I was terrified, the first time he did this. I thought for sure he was dragging up a corpse.
The potions are industrial, manufactured to standard, they will last for most of the day if given in a full dose. The visitor takes the bottle, swirls it to redistribute the magma creme and examines it with a comically appraising eye. I don't think he knows anything about potions. His old fling knew something about brewing, but he's dead now isn't he.
What a pair we make, unloved, unwanted and towing dead weight.
<Quackity> You want a turn, Sam?
He takes a swig of the potion, dips the shears into molten fire and pulls them out when they glow white.
<Quackity> I thought he might like a visual reminder of who owns him.
The smell of burning flesh burns my throat. I thought that I was used to the heat, the dry air, the taste of cinders. I am numb to the scream, wordless, pained.
The aftermath fills me with a palatable rage.
LN branded into burnt, smoldering skin, red and angry around the edges. I should go back to my post.
<awesamdude> What is this accomplishing, exactly, Quackity?
<Quackity> Obedience training, I told him I wanted to play a game. What do you say, Dream?
<Dream> Whatever you want, please. I'll play, I'll be good.
<Quackity> See? All it takes is the right motivation.
<awesamdude> I'm going back to my post.
<Quackity> You're no fun.
I should return to my post. I should go back to the guard room and wait until the visitor is done. I am the Warden of the Vault. I gave him permission to be in here, to do whatever he wants. Why am I still standing here?
Quackity is heating the shears again, he has the prisoner by the hair, his back is smoking. I wonder where he is going to put this next mark.
<Quackity> Guess for me.
<Dream> The founding of your country?
<Quackity> Cold, very cold.
<Dream> Wait! Wait! No, Sam, stop him!
<Quackity> Quit whining, fucking cold. Try again.
One line, then another, a third.
<Dream> You were supposed to protect me!
Strike that from the record.
<Dream> You were supposed to protect me!
It's a W, pressed into the skin, red and blistered and covered in burn welts. That is us, two sides of the same coin. We are both stuck, orbiting this man. I can't leave my post, someone has to man this prison, someone has to ensure the prisoner can't wreak more havoc. Things have been quiet since he was removed from the server. If you cut out the rot then the rest of the plant can flourish. It is deserved, everything that happens to him is justified. He has hurt so many people. I cannot believe that he doesn't deserve this. I saw what he did to this server. I have to keep him here, I have to keep him in line. The visitor is good at that, he can force him where my hands are tied.
time query (nighttime)
20000
time query (night)
907000
Time mark, nineteen hours into shift.
The prisoner has stopped screaming.
It has been a slow back and forth, the sharp edge of molten shears pressed into soft, dirtied skin and pulled back after it begins to bubble. He isn't responding anymore, even when asked questions, when answers are demanded of him he just flinches, waits for the next mark. He was earnest early on, his guesses were coherent, then desperate, now they don't come at all.
<Quackity> Do you want to try guessing, Sam?
<awesamdude> No, I'm just here to make sure you don't kill him.
<Quackity> I'm smarter than that, don't fucking insult me.
<awesamdude> He's a mess.
<Quackity> He's just stubborn.
<awesamdude> How are Karl and Sapnap? When did you get together, again?
I watch his face contort, something like a snarl on scarred lips. He used to be pretty. If I hadn't been so preoccupied, I might have tried my hand. As it is, he's almost as ugly as the prisoner. He didn't know his place, and now he's a twisted, mangled mess.
<Quackity> Fuck off, this isn't personal. What's wrong with you? Why would you bring them up?
<awesamdude> I don't know that much about you, Quackity. I don't have many options for guessing.
<Quackity> Cold, I'm going to burn this fucker again and it's your fault.
<awesamdude> Quackity, it's late.
<Quackity> Guess again, I'm running out of viable real estate.
<awesamdude> Quackity. That's enough.
I reach for the shears, when did he get so big? The Quackity I remember was a candle in the wind, easily overpowered and easily swayed. This man is neither of those things, he is solid, powerful and he pulls back with force.
<Quackity> I'm not done here, Sam. I want to finish my game.
<awesamdude> Tomorrow, I need to patch him up. You're going to kill him.
<Quackity> It's just pain.
None of us are strangers to pain.
I look down at the prisoner, he's on the floor, crumpled, head held up by a pair of calloused, blood spattered hands.
<awesamdude> I'm going back to the guard room, call me when you're done.
<Quackity> I have to do everything around here.
I wish I could stay suspended in void space forever, but the wrongness of this body is quick to return as my feet hit solid obsidian.
There is no more screaming.
time query (nighttime)
21000
time query (night)
908000
Time mark, twenty hours into shift.
It is too quiet.
I wonder what is happening on the other side of the wall.
I should check.
I should let Quackity finish what he came here to do.
I hope he kills him.
I'm going to have to clean up whatever mess he makes.
I'm beginning to think I am irredeemable.
time query (nighttime)
22000
time query (night)
909000
Time mark, twenty-one hours into shift.
<Quackity> Warden, I'm ready to go.
<awesamdude> Stay in there, you're both my prisoners now.
<awesamdude> You can't leave me.
<awesamdude> I'll let the lava down.
It takes too long for the lava to retract, even longer for the bridge to extend. I can't see the prisoner when he steps onto the bridge. The visitor returns the tools without comment - sets them back in their frames to be cleaned and inspected.
We don't talk as he exits.
<Quackity> Same time tomorrow?
Quackity left the game.
time query (sunrise)
23000
time query (day)
910000
Time mark, twenty-two hours into shift. All systems green.
The Vault has gone back to it's usual quiet. Redstone ticks just out of sight, a perpetual clock that beats out the heartbeat of the prison's life.
I check the doors, ensure we are alone, before I go back to the main cell. It's always a mess, cleaning up after the daily exercises in misery.
First are the tools, they have to be disinfected, wiped down with water and weakness to clear off the blood, skin and bits of bone. Today they are mostly clean, burned off by the back and forth between lava and skin. Warden's Torment gleam when I am done with them, settling back comfortably into my inventory where they are supposed to rest.
There are conspicuous absences whenever the visitor is here, it is too loud and too quiet in one. I am too light and on edge, now, things settle back as they are supposed to be.
I wish I could shake the feeling that something was off.
Warden's Hammer is a little worse for wear, the lapis enchantments glow a fainter blue than when I handed it off. It will need to be repaired, strengthened. The blood on it takes longer to scrub off than I would like. It needs to be scoured, but eventually the water runs clear.
My hands itch, red and chapped.
My work isn't done.
My body is weightless, floating.
I land on the other side. The prisoner is curled in a miserable pool in the back of his cell.
<awesamdude> Sit up, prisoner.
He doesn't respond, I thought as much. He was sullen, discontent by the end. It is the same stubbornness that he has always possessed.
<awesamdude> Up. Now.
It is easy enough to lever him upright. His skin burns under my fingers, already peeling away from the welted burns that weep blood and a clear fluid. There is some amount of puss in there as well. The smell is worse now, sick and excrement mixed together with the unwashed body. I shouldn't care about the aesthetics of the work. The Vault is not a place that was built for comfort, the few beauties it had have been stripped. The prisoner doesn't deserve them, and I will not partake of things that my prisoner doesn't.
<awesamdude> Sit still. Drink this.
The prisoner needs help drinking, fire resistance to help with the heat pouring off of his blistered skin, and then health to pull him back from the edge. His saturation is low, I can see it in his eyes, glassy, unfocused. He can't look me in the eyes.
<awesamdude> You keep being difficult.
Normally I would bind his injuries, but there is no difference between injury and player now. I set him down on the ground and begin the slow process of tidying. It is easy to set things to rights, there isn't much in the cell, nothing but the bare minimum. He doesn't need luxuries.
<awesamdude> I don't know why you're so stubborn. If you gave him what he wanted he would leave.
I have to tend his wounds, dab cool water over the burns, dab them with awkward potion and then again with a diluted regeneration potion. In his state the full effect would do more harm than good, healing things into a state that is just perpetually broken. I don't know why I bother with doing it this way, it takes longer, it is more tedious. But I will do it right. That is my duty as Warden, I must look after the prisoner under my care. Even if he is loathsome, I am doing good work, keeping him here, away from prying eyes.
<awesamdude> I told him he could do whatever he wanted to you. Pathetic. Crying won't help.
I hate when he cries, clear liquid dripping out of blue eyes that have gotten clearer since the potions were administered. It takes the edge off, dulls the pain. I've thought about taking them, but there's no use wasting resources on a faulty body. I will use this one until it becomes unbearable and then the next will be better. This one is weak, I can feel the affection it has for the prisoner working as I set him on the edge of the pool and splash water over his skin, some of it is untouched, and the filth washes away. I have to change out the water three times before he is clean - hair back to the ashy, pale yellow color and face clean enough that I could recognize him from before. His lips are split, there is a new scar across his cheek. It is an ugly cheek.
<awesamdude> You're a mess. I give you water, a uniform, and you can't even keep them clean.
His hair needs to be cut. I take out the shears and see him flinch, a full body tremor that results in a coughing fit. I don't visit him to hurt him, whatever punishment he earns is justified. I pull his head back and begin on his hair, snipping at the ends, up and over his shoulders until it is close cropped against his head, careful of his ears. The top of one is split in a jagged line, the other is missing a chunk out of the earlobe. He sits, stiff, holding himself up as best he can while I work, turning his face at the end so I can work on the scruffy beard that is trying to grow in around his jawline. When I am done he looks better, more presentable. I sweep the hair off the edge of the platform and into the fire where it curls and bubbles. It smells sharp, acrid, something of a body burning.
<awesamdude> What do you say?
<Dream> Thank you, Warden.
At least he is polite now. Pain is an excellent motivator. I move to leave.
<Dream> Wait, please-
<awesamdude> What is it, prisoner?
<Dream> It's going to wear off, it's going to hurt, I can already feel it. Please, don't leave me like this.
<awesamdude> What do you want me to do about that?
<Dream> May I have another potion?
<awesamdude> No.
<awesamdude> Is that how you ask me for things?
<Dream> May I have a potion, please?
I give him the health, it is easy enough to fabricate them and if it will keep him quiet then it is worth the expense. He drinks it, I won't let him keep the bottle, I don't want him breaking it and hurting himself. I don't want him getting ideas.
<Dream> Thank you, Warden.
<awesamdude> Is there anything else, prisoner?
I don't expect him to answer, maybe to beg, or go back to the sullen quiet that exists when he is being stubborn. I prefer him like this, quiet, polite, asking for the things only I can give him. I wish it could be like this all the time.
<Dream> What did he want? The answer?
I should check my logs, confirm the suspicion I have. I don't need to, the ever present ticking of the Vault is reminder enough.
<awesamdude> It's been three months, prisoner.
<Dream> Oh, I thought it was less than that.
<awesamdude> I wish it was.
<Dream> I'm sorry, Warden. I wish I could be good.
<awesamdude> It's in your nature, prisoner.
time query (daytime)
24000
time query (day)
911000
Time mark, twenty-three hours into shift. The prisoner remains in his cell. Pandora's Vault remains in good working order.
The prisoner is laying in his cell, staring at the ceiling, I can count his breaths. It is just us, the tick of redstone in the walls a constant company.
All systems green.