ƛƧƳԼƲM ƑƠƦ ƬӇЄ ƇƦƖMƖƝƛԼԼƳ ƖƝƧƛƝЄ {ˢᵉᵐᶦ⁻ᵃᵈᵛᵃᶰᶜᵉᵈ ʳᵒᶫᵉᵖᶫᵃʸ} discussion

Prisoners who are suspects or have committed crimes will be sent here for a period before being thrown into solitary, lobotomized, or punished physically.

Zackary, not one for sitting in chairs, was perched on the wooden desk on the far side of the room, a cigarette lolling out of his mouth, his golden hair falling haphazardly into his face. The bosses had offered to give him a more durable metal desk but he had declined - the blood stains that adorned it made the place feel like home, and he enjoyed its splintering ability. When the door swung open, he looked up to see a coworker of his in the rectangle of light there. "Some kid from Horrifics attacked a nurse and ran for it. We got her though, boss said to bring her to you."

"Is it time to play already?" he asked, a smirk on his face, "And so early in the day... Send her in."

MC strutted in. One of the guards had been more than willing to oblige her desire. She could still feel it really. Her sharp gaze landed on Zackary. She thought through what she knew about this man from the rumors she had heard. After all, she had never before encountered him.

{1} The man enjoyed beating patients. One was no problem. MC liked a good fight. F*ck, she even liked getting beat up.

{2} Zackary was insane. Two failed to bother her either. She was surrounded by psychopaths.

{3} He was staring at her like she were some piece of prey. Three did bother her a lot. MC, naturally, was the best. She was a genius, and she knew her stuff. Everyone else, with Zackary near the top of the list, were the stupid ones. They always put her down.

MC quirked an eyebrow. An idea formulating in her head, she yanked off the white shirt of her patient's uniform. Under this, she had been wearing a black tube top that she had gotten from who knew where, but that met its doom with the top of her unifrom. "So, Zacky-boy, f*ck this sh*t."

Zackary took another long drag of the cigarette before exhaling slowly, a cloud of smoke surrounding him in a windowless room that trapped it all in there. He didn't move, his golden eyes staying locked on her for a few long moments, as he looked her over. F*ckable, but then again, she had gone and assumed that much by herself. She'd look better bruised; bruises were beautiful - they did say purple was the colour of kings, after all. He held out a hand in a beckoning gesture. "Come hither, kid," he said quietly. Clearly she was a fully grown woman, but it was the sentiment that he was implying. He was a self-proclaimed god after all. They didn't always bring them to Zackary, often the guards took care of the stragglers by themselves, but when they did, it was because the guards were really angry. He didn't know the girl's name, and he didn't care, because for today she was his punching bag. A pretty one too.

MC quirked an eyebrow and crossed her arms. Looking Zackary up and down, she commented, "I was well-nigh a decade old when you were a wee babe pissing and sh*tting your pants." She chuckled and shook her head at him. Sure, she was a masochist and she could see more than just lust in his eyes, but she was also incredibly stubborn. "If you want me so badly, mate, you could always come and get me yourself, take me right here even." She made a faux pouty face. She crossed her arms, something that not-so-coincidentally pushed her bosom up even more than her bra alone did. She slowly started to slide the white, utterly not flattering pants down her long legs. Raising an eyebrow at him, she smirked. "So, you're just going to watch as I take these off?" She still made no move to go any closer to him. "You going to watch the thong come off too? Watch the bra come off? Watch me slip a finger in? Or do you have something better? Voyeur."

"Impossible," he said with another smirk, puffing on his cigarette, "Nothing existed before I did." He tapped the end of the cigarette before leaving it resting between his fingers. He was a man of few words, most knew that, but he had the feeling that he was going to be here a while with this woman. Most patients didn't like being touched, most feared him as though he was a myth they'd always refused to believe in, they would cry, lose control of their bladders, beg for relief, but this one was of a rare breed. He could see it in her eyes that she wanted him to hit her, and so he would. His brand of pain was his own, after all. "If you don't want to come here, I could always throw things at you from a distance," he offered. He was making his position loud and clear - he was in control. Always.

((I know Elf left, but I was checking out the threads and when he said he's throw things, I thought, lol, Dollar bills!))

((I would like to claim MC. Could we continue this when I get her?))

Thou mayest have her.

((Okay. Now I must hear from Strike Lightning.))

Zackary sighed, pursing his lips at the dead man, heaped on the floor in a bloody mess. He'd killed another one; the Warden wouldn't be pleased, but as usual the man would get over it. It's not like it was intentional, the man just wouldn't stop laughing. He did the guy a favour, but of course now he had to explain again why he killed him. His usual excuse was that it was in self-defense. Fuck it, it wasn't like anyone gave a shit about this lump of meet.

Wiping his bloody hands on his trousers, he took out a cigarette and lit it up, slowly inhaling his burning death. He would leave the man on the floor for a while, let the blood pool a little bit. It was pretty, after all. Humans were so much more beautiful when they were broken. He lifted up his radio and called in to the office. "Marie, tell the Warden I've done it again."

"You didn't hear? You're always cooped up in those barracks... the Warden killed himself."

He severely doubted that, but he didn't reply, setting the radio down again. "The king is dead," he murmured, "Long live the king."

Although sometimes it would be considered odd that Rose didn't act as she usually did when they brought her up, but Rose was unusual. Psychotic and unpredictable, her reactions changed almost every time anyway. So the fact that she wasn't fighting as the other guards let her in now was no mystery. She raised an eyebrow at the man dead on the floor, studying it with detached interest. "There are much neater ways to torture and kill someone, you know." She said almost conversationally.

"She stabbed another guard. Again. We couldn't find the knife though." One of the guards reported, his grip on her arm tightening.

Rose patted the man's cheek in what could be considered a reassuring way if she wasn't who she was. "Of course you couldn't. It's because I'm much smarter than you." She smiled. Rose was not stupid enough to have the knife on her or in her cell. She glanced at the last guard as they started to let her go and back out, who had blood running down his arm. "You take care, you hear? Make sure to bandage that up nice. Wouldn't want you to die and rob me of the chance to do it again." The guard snarled before they all left. Quite casually Rose moved a strand of her golden brown hair from her face, leaning against the wall, staring at Zachary without a word.

Zackary nodded to the guards as they slammed the door shut. He ignored her for a minute, finished his cigarette and dropping it lazily into the ash tray. "I never could keep anything neat and tidy," mused Zackary, "I'm far too free-spirited for that." Free-spirited was pushing it a bit, but he cared little for what he was saying then. He opened his drawers, rooting round for a moment before holding up a long cable tie. He stood up and moved around the desk, leaning back on it, his golden eyes locked on hers, and then he lifted them in the air, waving them back and forth lightly.

"I hadn't planned on playing again so soon," he said, smiling, "So you got a knife in here, did you? I don't even want to know who you fucked to get that. As charming as that fact is, it is my duty to prevent it happening. You have to learn your lesson, don't you sweetheart? So be a good girl and come here so I can make sure you're safe and sound while I teach you some rules."

"Oh, it wasn't a sex thing. It was a 'I'm very good' thing." Rose mused nonchalantly, "I do believe you're underestimating me." She shook her head, making a tsking noise with her tongue. "Always a deadly thing to do. Going to get you killed someday." She advised, then smiled wickedly. "Or today. Depends on my mood and what you do to me."

She wandered around and over to his side, examining the tie. "Hm." She mused thoughtfully, running a finger along it. "Eh, not too bad." She said thoughtfully, cracking her knuckles. "Alright. Go ahead. Let's see if I can remember everything I was taught."

Zackary smirked. "I can't be killed. I'm the centre of the universe, princess." Whether he over-estimated her or not was irrelevant. She was not the first dangerous person to walk through the asylum, and he doubted she'd be the last either. Perhaps she'd be resourceful, he'd have to wait and see, but it was foolish of her. She would not be let out until she submitted; it was as simple as that.

Smiling at her threat, he took her wrists together, and sharply bound them together with the tie. He'd seen people get out of it before; a man two years ago, and he still remembered him now. Zackary had arranged to have him killed in shock therapy. So not giving her the chance to do it with a clear head, he grabbed the name plaque off his desk and swung it straight for her head.

Rose did not get to the top of the assassin predatory ladder by being slow. She could tell instantly that Zachary was dangerous, plus what she'd learned about him from Jackson. So her speed and reflexes definitely came in handy here. As quick as he swung the plaque, she was in motion.

She ducked the plaque with relative ease, whipping around and slamming her foot into him. She pinned him up to the wall with her foot on his neck, staring at him. It wasn't that she'd tried to, it was instinct to defend herself. "I do believe I warned you to not underestimate me." She warned. She waited another beat or two to make sure he'd learned his lesson before removing her foot from his throat and just standing in font of him silently, looking as if nothing had ever just happened between them.

"A challenge," he said with a smirk, unruffled by her attack, "I shall have you screaming soon, girl." With that promise he sunk his fist into her stomach. If she had, at all, figured he'd go easy on her because she was a girl, she was sorely mistaken. "I like my girls black and blue," he whispered in her ear. If she planned on fighting him, that was fine by him. Perhaps what she needed was a lesson in humility. He knew who this girl was; one of the other guys had mentioned her before to him, but he was never too interested until they were brought to his door.

"We're going to be in here for a while," he supposed, walking to his desk and lighting up another cigarette, "Do you smoke, darling?"

"Oh, I've been told that before." Rose smirked, watching him. She flinched slightly at his punch, but not a lot. It wasn't pleasant, but she'd been through far worse. "And yet here I still am." She mused, waiting patiently.

"I find it foolish to be dependent on something else for anything." she said flatly, shaking her head. It was her brother that smoked to go with his bad boy image. She took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders back to get ready. With the same air of casualness she had before, she leaned against the wall, still studying him. "I do agree that we will be here for a while, though." she said absently. "I bow to no one, and I never will."

He chuckled. "You worry far too much about things like that. Cigarettes aren't about dependency at all; they're barely addictive. They're just nice." Zackary rarely ever denied himself anything he wanted. Regardless of the consequences, and he cared little for his physical health. If ever anyone was immortal, it was probably him.

"I notice your face is fairly clear," he told her, "You have a pretty face, reminds me of someone I once knew. I loved her, so of course she's dead. What was it Oscar Wilde said... 'Each man kills the thing he loves'." He smirked. "You don't mind if I draw on your face do you?"

"Even if I said I didn't, you really think I'm stupid enough to think that would stop you?" Rose smirked slightly, quirking one eyebrow at him. If it had been Jackson that said that, she may have explained that they knew her looks would be a big advantage to an assassin, so even in her pain training they left her looks alone. Because Jackson, though she did not like him, was smart and he had promised to return her loyalty. Zachary was just flat crazy, and she owed him no knowledge.

"And I may reminds you of someone, but I can promise I am not her. I am alive. I do not love. I am not loved. And that's never been a problem for me." She smirked slightly, brushing a strand of her hair out of her face.

He arched an eyebrow. "Oh?" he cooed, "And if I picked up my radio now and ordered them to put your brother in a straight jacket and whack a pin through the back of his head, you would be okay with that?" Of course she wasn't her; Zackary had beaten her to death after she'd exploded in jealousy. This girl would behave, he was fairly confident of that. Zackary was always in control, he made sure of it. He picked up the radio and dangled it lightly as though he was considering it. "I am very good at drawing though, I always was very artistic. So here's how my games work, I beat you, you cry, you apologize to whoever you fucked off. You resist, I flay your face and pin it on my wall. Basic rules, of course, I'm a man of simple pleasures."

"I don't cry. I don't apologize. Everything I do has a purpose. I will not change my mind about one of them. I can't feel sorry for it either. I can't feel guilty, or shameful. I don't feel, and the sooner you realize that the sooner you can get your mind out of your ass and send me on my way without touching me." Rose said calmly, looking up from examining her nails.
"And you really think Axel will be taken that easily?" She snorted slightly, shaking her head. "Go right ahead. Neither of us will break that easily. Axel knows how to take pain. I know how to take pain. Things happen in the line. One of us gets hurt. Facts of life."

Slowly he began to laugh. "You think I care whether you feel or not? No one feels here; everyone's fucking crazy. Do you think I care whether you learn your lesson? Honestly, kid, I just want to fuck you up, and the sooner you realise that, the sooner we can get on with it, because my fingers are getting itchy now. You're not playing the game properly, sweetheart. I'm sure he'd cry if you were killed, but you wouldn't return the sentiment, would you? How cruel, I simply can't stand for it." He held out his hand, not a single weapon in sight. "Come," he said, his eyes sparkling, "We'll begin now."

"Oh, I knew that before I even walked in here. You want me to not do what I'm supposed to. I know your type like the back of my hand." Rose smirked, pushing off from the wall and walking around him in a circle. "So. I'm cruel because I can't feel emotions? Tsk tsk. By all logic, I am incapable of being cruel. I can't enjoy other's pain like you do." She shook her head, stopping in front of him and spreading out her hands. "I am not going to play your game, Zachary Rivaille. I am not in the habit of giving in to people. Besides, you are going to enjoy causing pain to me. So isn't this just a win-win?" She said in a falsely sweet voice.

Adrian smirked. He liked her. He'd like her better dead, but still, he liked her. Stepping forward, he kicked her straight in the pelvis before taking out a small carving knife. "I hear your name is Rose," he said lightly, "I can't draw roses, so we'll have to choose something else... Let me think... Oh I know. I know just what we can draw. I'm told the technical term for this method is scarification. You've been trained for pain, I can tell, so you'll be able to keep still. Wouldn't want to make a mess, now would we?"

"I don't know..." Rose glanced pointedly at the body. "I kind of think you do want to make a mess." She smirked. But though the kick didn't really effect her, she allowed him to knock her to her knees. Because she knew that she could handle it, and she knew that it would be worth it to get what she was here for. When Rose had a job to do, she would do anything to finish it. Including this. "Anyway, at least make it something you can draw well." She shrugged patiently, bracing herself.

((If you actually want to, knock yourself out xD I found this and I feel Rose could pull it off xD
(view spoiler)[ (hide spoiler)]))

((Omfg she definitely could, that looks so cool))

Zackary had done it a thousand times before, and so grabbing her hair he pulled her head back, putting his knee over her shoulder so that she couldn't wriggle away from him. He smoothed the hair from her face gently, finding the action ironic before he took the little knife to the top of her forehead. He was good, very good, and he personally thought people should thank him for his elegant designs, but they never seemed to. They just screamed, and oh how he craved that sound.

This girl wasn't screaming, but pain didn't get much more painful than this. He knew she would feel it, and that was enough. He began to hum softly, as though he were completing a household chore, his golden eyes intense with concentration.

((It's in his back pocket, the key))

((Goddammit. I really want her to go for the key but I don't want him to like slice her face of since he has a knife right above her eye xD. DILEMMAAAAAA))

((I didn't even think about how she was meant to actually get the key hahahaha, I suppose you could try and ninja it out, but she's still cable tied. Maybe when he's finished and frees her she could go for it, I don't know))

Despite her practically unbreakable nature, Rose sucked in a breath as the knife touched her skin. She didn't move away from him, though all her muscles tensed and tightened up. She forced her breathing to remain steady, slowly in and slowly out. If she was honest, she'd always had both a better and harder time in the pain endurance portion. Emotionless, yes. But that meant it was harder for her to focus on something to distract her. She combed through her mind, trying to find a good, distracting topic. For a while she entertained herself remembering some of her favorite assassinations, but this hurt too much for that to last. At last her thoughts turned to more recent memories: How and why the hell she was in this situation. And that gave her the focus she needed: The key. She closed her eyes, picturing the room and imagining where someone like Zachary would hide it. Being as psychotic as her, it wasn't as hard as it usually was. Unfortunately, that meant she knew where it was. He had it on his person. Goddammit.

Zackary reached forward, and pulled off the finely cut skin, resting it on her shoulder as he set to work on the next portion. Her skin was softer than he'd anticipated, so the knife slid through the flesh fairly easy. Curves were more painful, so he took his time with the curved edges and the circles, the sadistic smirk never leaving his face. It was a shame she felt nothing when she inflicted pain; it was incomparable. Little pieces of skin were falling off now, but the real pain would be when he retracted his steps, making sure every inch of it was smooth and clear cut. After all, she was his canvas and he didn't want his work to be an embarrassment, especially if she would be walking around wearing it. He rarely ever used his flaying tactics, but this was not an ordinary customer. "Lying so useless, they start to holler, 'Hey get up you worthless circus monster'... That's all this place is, a circus."

Though even Rose wanted to beg for him to just hurry up and finish, she was both too proud and too stubborn to ever even consider actually doing it. Plus, there was the fact that saying that would probably piss him off so he would go slower, or screw it up on purpose. Despite his insanity, she could see that he did take a twisted sort of pride in his work, and that did help somewhat. She knew he wouldn't screw it up on purpose then.

He traced over each and every inch of it once more, before taking a step back. He smiled. "There," he announced, "Perfect." He pulled out the mirror from his pocket and held it out to her. "And when you look at it, petal, always remember the pain I gave to you." He reached down and cut her cable tie. "In future, princess, don't stab my men. They might not be as merciful as I am." He threw the knife and it lodged itself in the head of the dead body. He hadn't intended to throw it that hard. He was in a good mood; two hits in one day.

"My name is not princess. Nor is it flower." Rose said nonchalantly, rising to her feet. "And I will do whatever I please, no matter how much you try to threaten me." She said flatly, watching him. She stalked over to him, and quick as a wink had the knife twisted around to his throat, the edge of the blade slicing in just enough to draw a thin line of blood. "So don't even try to threaten me." As she spoke, she deftly removed the key from his pocket, replacing it with another one (back-up key to the Warden's office). She knew that it was natural survival instinct to be focused on the cause of danger. It worked on everyone, unfortunately including her. And now she had the key, which she had tucked into the rip in the hem of her sleeve now. "So do that, and we'll be best friends." She released him and back to the door, waving at him before pushing it open. "And so I bid you adieu." She said mockingly before starting down the hall back toward her brother and Jackson.

((Want me to go post at the lounge with her now?))

Jackson simply laughed as she attacked him. He had no doubt she would do exactly as she pleased, but then again he liked seeing the stress of the other guards, and he liked their dependance on him. It made him feel in control, and control was what he lived for. As she stormed away he leaned against the doorframe. "I had fun today," he called ominously, "Come play again soon. You really do look so very pretty now." He wondered if pride would deter her from going to the nurses, just as it had deterred her from crying out, but just as quickly, he pushed the girl from his mind and retreated back into his office, lighting up a cigarette again.

((Yessss))