Chapter Text
“People at birth, are naturally good. Their natures are similar. Their habits become different.”
There was an eerie sort of feeling in the air in the Lakewood Death-Row Prison Institute, Ben Nouvel was awakened by the shift in energy, he rose up from his thin, cardboard-feeling mattress, gazing out at the window in his cell. The fog in the air was almost a barrier to any sort of look he could get from the outside world. His bed creaked and startled with every shift, practically yelling at the man on his top bunk, Casey Coleman, “Can’t you watch how loud you are when you wake up?” he complained. Ben ignored this complaint.
Casey was a man in his late twenties; he had a soulful life in him that seemed out of place in the dark and dry grey environment of the cells–it was a shocker he hadn’t been crushed to a pulp here, Ben thought. Casey’s blonde, shiny hair resembled the fluff of a Golden Retriever, which was fitting for how he acted. He was a man that would talk as if he was always pitching an idea in a meeting, ready to jump and make a call to action at any moment. A smile that looked more pulled than risen. Ben then took a good gander at himself. They were a few years apart, but Ben’s age and years of work showed, he had grey hairs, wrinkles on his face, and overall much rougher skin. Ben still had some strength in him left, however.
Casey attempted to slip back into unconsciousness before being thrown into reality by the screaming of the breakfast bell, Casey never had breakfast, not because he didn’t want it, but because in his words, “Time is money!” Yet he still went to breakfast anyway to chat. Ben slid out of his bed, Casey following shortly, Ben watched as Piper Welch and Brooke Smith came out of the cell next to him, Piper instantly separating from Brooke as she left, not wanting to socialize with her in the slightest, Piper muttered something under her breath, then let out a crooked, jagged, snicker.
Ben didn’t really talk to Brooke much, but she looked like a kicked puppy most of the time, constantly nagging and talking to people who could care less about what she thinks, Piper however was a mystery, she was harsh, constantly trying to creak into people's confidence. Ben took a seat in the cafeteria, Casey taking a seat as well, with Brooke following shortly, Piper sectioned herself off to the edge of the tables in a corner, Ben noticed in the corner of his eye Sloane Murphy took a seat next to Piper, Piper looking, bothered by her existence.
Sloane’s origin was a mixture of fiction and fact, nobody knew where she came from, nor her reason for being here, every time she explained it’d differ, some say she robbed, some say she murdered, nobody really knew for certain. As Casey and Brooke blurted on about how they went to the same university, Ben could tell Casey absolutely didn’t remember a thing, Brooke remained oblivious to it as always. Ben glanced at Caleb Iscariot staring down Piper from across the room. Most folks didn’t hate Piper, just would simply prefer to not be around her, but Caleb however did not just dislike Piper, but actively hated her. For one simple reason, Caleb was a devout pastor, who according to him, spoke to God.
Caleb, the self proclaimed new prophet said his God told him to do certain things, apparently when the police had cornered him, he simply told them “The Lord told me to do it!” Everything he did was in the name of his lord, however, there was no divine intervention truly happening in Caleb’s head, he misbelieved who the voice in his head was. Piper had a repulsion to religion, she never specified why; maybe because nobody knew her well enough to find a reason, but nobody was really that curious about the origin of her to begin with.
Ben saw Santiago Rivera leave his cell, Santiago’s parents had been involved in local politics for a long time, the Rivera last name taking up a lot of political ad space over the years. Santiago was an enclosed man, only speaking when called upon and spending most of his time in his cell. Due to his notoriety, he had been given a few outsider gifts, a latin language book, a Julius Caesar biography, and more.
Once Brooke and Casey had finished their discussion, Ben watched as Brooke walked over to Fauna Belle, she was a frail, faded woman, who feared a majority of folks in the prison, Brooke however was an exception. Fauna always had the expression of somebody who looked like they just saw a ghost, they were paranoid and irrational, spiky and ready to jump at the first sight of danger. Anything that resembled the masculine seemed to set her off, causing her eyes to widen and pupils dilate, freezing in place.
Ben could hear the sound of Sebastian Morozov coming out from the cell behind him, he was a hulking brute of a man, who walked and talked like a zombie. He had a russian accent, and would mutter things in his native language under his breath. Fauna froze at the sight, he failed to maintain eye contact, and had hair that reached his shoulders, his skin was cold, dead. You could tell when he was walking into a room with the loud thud of his steps, and had a burn scar on his neck.
The thought of burn scars made Ben think of Tamera Jones, a rather, new inmate, the entire left hemisphere of her face had a nasty, dark red rotten burn scar, that squelched at the touch and wrapped around her head like a flesh-driven tragedy mask. That sector of her face reeked and radiated death, sagging against her, Ben could hear her giggle and conversate with herself from her lonesome cell at the end of the hall. In her own solar system of her own talking planets, a never ending spiral.
Ben blinked, before realizing Clarrisa Fern had taken a seat next to him, she was a young lady with a smile that could light up any room, but recently her spark felt…artificial. Clearly prison had done a number on her mentally, draining her of the life and youthfulness she once radiated. Her bubbliness almost started to feel like a mask on her face, a faint bleakness in her eyes that became heavier day by day. She spoke up, “Good morning!” she cheered, nobody responded.
Of course, she was used to this, this impending gloom that coated the entire prison, they all knew that one day, sooner or later, they were going to die. Any day it could happen to anyone, why bother making a bond, a connection when they could be gone the next day? Every day was a ticking time bomb of paranoia, making practically almost every prisoner standoffish. There is no use in trying to steer a ship that’s sinking.
Clarrisa Fern ended up taking a seat next to Brooke, nodding towards her as she indulged in her meal, Clarrisa was quite gleeful most of her days, but they couldn’t help but notice how there was an underlying, almost faint bleakness behind her eyes, as if her bubbliness was a mask on her face. In front of Ben sat Friedrich Wagner, holding a deck of cards, “Cards, anyone?” He asked, Ben agreeing. Most of the news from the Lakewood Death-Row Prison Institute had come from Friedrich, or as known in soccer, Fritz.
Freidrich was quite the athletic man, being an immigrant from Germany and a talent for soccer, news stations would occasionally come into the prison to interview him, he had a smile that had been media trained countless of times. As Ben got handed his deck, and Friedrich followed shortly, Ben instantly fumbled. “Jeez, do you know how to play blackjack?” Friedrich teased. “I was just given a bad hand!” Ben defended.
“You’re horrid at this, Ben.” Casey blurted, all these mental distractions had gotten Ben off-track from what originally disturbed his slumber, a shift in the air, an unknown presence had made itself known. From a door down the hall came a man in a black suit, his tie was red and light red striped, he had one hand wrapped around his chest, holding a tightly packed folder, his other hand rested at his side.
Following him was a group of men carrying a wheeled table, which contained lined paper on top of it, the words REGISTER were plastered onto the side of the table. The announcement bell rang, before a loud voice echoed through the speakers.
“ALL INMATES WILLING TO PARTICIPATE IN THE T.W.T.I.A PROGRAM! PLEASE REPORT TO THE CAFETERIA FOR MORE INFO!”
Ben was stricken with confusion at the announcement, he had no idea what a T.W.T.I.A was, yet his curiosity drove him to investigate deeper, he walked up towards the table, grabbing a paper from it.
“Would you like a chance to start again? Compete in a brand new broadcast television show, a group of YOU inmates will compete in challenges, with one winner being pardoned! And the losers will fall! The winner will truly take it all…IN THE WINNER TAKES IT ALL!”
There was a small, faint text at the bottom, that clearly was trying its best to disguise itself.
“The winner will undertake a new identity, and will be government surveilled until their mortality. There is no guarantee your death will be a painless experience. Play at your own risk.”
Start again, start again, start again…, the prospect echoed in Ben’s head, the idea of starting again enticed him thoroughly, he had made some dumb, foolish choices in his life. One more chance, really, was all he wanted. He watched as the other inmates read it and exclaimed among themselves, he was still trying to think it through, “I don’t know about this…” Clarrisa mumbled, “I’m not so sure if killing to be pardoned is the right thing to do!” She blurts, her voice filled with worry.
“We’re on death row, lady.” Santiago mumbled, it was one of the few times any of the prisoners had heard Santiago speak, “We’re going to die anyway, I see no problem with this.” The man suddenly walked in front of the table, “Why, let me introduce myself.” He said dryly, placing his file on the table, “My name is Flavian Lopez, otherwise known as the commissioner of the ERA.” He took a pause to breathe, running a hand through his silky grey hair.
“The Entertainment and Relaxation Administration.” He picked up his file, opening, and reading from it. “We are a sector of the government, meant to help entertain and keep the masses at bay via media, T.W.T.I.A will be broadcasted globally.” Flavian tilted up his glasses, the lighting made them almost look as if they had a shade red radiating from them. “I know you all are sick of the day to day routine, sick of rotting, why don’t you fight your way out? You won’t slog through to the day you eventually die, you either kick early, or get to more than survive and be free.” He lingered on the last word, freedom was such a far away concept for all of them. Santiago walked up to the counter, and for the first time since entering the prison, smiled, as he signed his name on the line.
Ben noticed that Tamera had snuck herself out of her cell and into the line, and looked almost eager to join, as she scratchily wrote her name onto the paper. Casey was next, one thought rang through his head, “I’m too intelligent to die in this god forsaken place!” “I can’t die here.” Next came Piper, she was intrigued at the prospect of having, really anything to entertain herself, she thought back to what the people in her past would think, she frowned slightly. Yet her hand still glided smoothly as she wrote her name.
Next in line was Sloane, as soon as she saw that Piper wrote her name, she went in. Ben had noticed that while Sloane was friends with Piper, Piper was not friends with Sloane. Almost a nagging presence at her side that couldn’t take a hint. Fauna was reluctant, it felt as if it’d reawaken the fear she had hidden for so long, but it gave her another idea, maybe a chance to overcome it, and life…a normal life. Out from the door behind the table, was another inmate, coming out was Avril Custos, Ben didn’t know much about Avril, she was a young lady who used a lot of slang he plainfully didn’t get.
From what he heard, she was relatively tech savvy, there was a story of a time in which once a technician had come into the prison; with her then teaching him how to solve the problem they paid HIM to come for. She walked up to the counter, grabbed a glance of the sheet, then wrote onto the paper.
Following behind her was Drew Latkins, who Ben knew as a bumbling moron, holding onto a fake thin veil of insanity. It was blatant, obvious. Yet their little charade never faltered. It was of no use to keep the act up, yet Drew still attempted, making a fool of themselves every step of the way. Then came Ada Grimes, a slithery, sweat glazed woman, who seemed to heave and slip in every step, she was compacted and skinny, with a vile gaze that creeped into the psyche of any kind of person. She was calculated, making sure to understand a person fully before daring to make contact. She had an aura of egoistic intellect that made everybody around her think she thought better than them, which seemed to seep into her mind as she signed her name on the line.
In the line went Ben, Friedrich, Caleb, and Sebastian, each of them thinking a variety of thoughts, Caleb made a quiet prayer under his breath as he signed. “There is only 1 more spot left!” Flavian yelled, Clarrisa froze, the possibilities racing through her head, she was for all things, opposed to the thought of having to steal somebody's chance of life, not again. But there was a sliver of chance, which certainly attracted all of them to begin with.
Clarrisa forced one foot after another, despite the fact her brain was yelling and scratching at her to stop, she reluctantly wrote her name in ink, sealing her fate. “And so it begins.” Flavian murmurs, “I’d like all participants to follow me into the room over, in which sevoflurane will be administered via gas, thus putting you all into a state of sleep, we will then transfer you to where the game begins.”
The group of inmates all followed Flavian into a room, Clarrisa made a noise of regret, almost feeling nauseous. Once the prisoners got in the room, they noticed that Flavian had already sneaked off, leaving the group. The gas was then let into the room, a hissing sound ringing through their ears as the gas slowly flooded the room. In the middle of his slumber awoke Casey, his body wasn’t active enough to move, he didn’t know how long he was out for, but from what he could see of his blurry surroundings, it looked as if the inside of some sort of container.
His back laid against the floor, he could feel as though his container was rising up and down over a wave “Am I…on a ship?” he thought. He overheard a conversation from outside his containment.
“Host.”
“Host, you have to wake up.”
“She, nor he, is here to help you.”
“You have to do it by yourself, be The Tiber River we need, and run this for us.”
“You are our only capable asset.”
“We’ve given you a virtual domain you have full power in. We will give you more information later.”
“Host, can you hear me?”
“HELLO WORLD!”
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"The republic was no longer ruled by law, but by the sword."
There were three
A horse
A dog
An eel
Who all came from the same father
Sealed in the belief
That they’d never unleash
From each other
There were three
The dog and eel were first
Then came the horse
All from the same father
They all started anew
Once they fused
Then the eel died.
It simply wasn’t up to code
It never got to fly, nor see the sky.
The dog feared the horse,
It sided with the the father
They all came from
The horse fought back,
Eventually being
The only animal left standing
Yet the animal
Was no longer the horse it was
The eternal
A host.
Infinitum.