MarinaNova Asylum

I haven't seen any proof that I'm guilty of these crimes and I refuse to go along with it. [ Well, it's a beautiful day for an extremely irritated teenager to be making his voice known on the network, isn't it? That's a pity, because it's precisely what seems to be occurring regardless. Though irritated is a bit of a generalization over "very offended, somewhat confused and somewhat more frightened than anything else". ]

I'm supposed to be doing something very important, and I'm meant to be doing it right now, so if whoever brought me here would only listen to me- [ Adric breaks off with a short frustrated sound, because they won't be really listening, will they? Why should they? It's just so ridiculous to suddenly be somewhere different entirely when he was so close. When he speaks up again, it's nigh on pointing-out-the-obvious. ] It can't just wait. Whatever it is that you want, there's an entire planet at stake! Even a warden has to understand how unfair it is to take prisoners when they're trying to help people. And the Doctor might not even know.

((ooc; tagging at work, pardon my speed.))

[The voice that cuts across the network is abrupt, angry, and faintly accented – Mexican, for those with a good ear. (Though, that deduction is probably easier to come to when you spot the matching face.) It doesn't usually show, but Rictor's pissed, and he's not the only one in his team whose voice slides back into old habit when his emotions are riled.]

I want answers, and I want 'em now. What the hell is this place and who the hell is in charge? [No, he didn’t manage to catch the message droning on the communicator earlier, before anyone asks.] And whoever it was that brought me here is gonna freakin' regret it when I get my hands on you, hijo de puta.

[....]

[Oh yeah.]

And what the hell is this get-up supposed to be? I look like a freakin' Cheeto!

Good morning, inmates. Today is day [ 189 ] of the first generation. The weather scheduled for today is [ warm and sunny with clear skies ].

Your motivational exercise for today is as follows: [ Strangers are just friends you haven't met yet ]. Please take this wisdom to heart and use it to further your rehabilitation. Your emotional needs are important to us.

New inmates will be arriving in the facility shortly. Please be aware of this disturbance as you go about your day and help them get started on their [ rehabilitation ]. We value your cooperation.

Have a nice day.

(OOC: Kiosk requests will be handled by Conscienti unless otherwise requested!)

[Dawn has actually been in Sector Zero for about an hour and a half. She’s been combing through all the information provided on the headset unit. She’s had time to decide that this isn’t some wacky dream her subconscious has cooked up for her. Seeing all the people walking around her, all the detail in everything around her, she even pinched herself a few times. Nope, not a dream.

She flips on the video feed.] Hi MarinaNova Asylum… well, score one for the age of technology, I guess. And hey, I guess I didn’t actually have to study for that impending college algebra test of doom that was supposed to take place tomorrow morning. Time wasted that I’ll never get back. Like, who needs college algebra except for accounting or math-type majors anyway, right? If you graduated high school, don’t you already know all the math of the basic and necessary to everyday life?

[Her rambling ends there and she grows a little more serious, pulling her lip through her teeth. She is trying so hard to put on a brave face and not freak out.] So uhm… I’m looking for someone named Buffy. Short, blonde, usually has really nice shoes and maybe a pointy stick in her hand? [She presses her lips together, stopping herself before she can go on. If Buffy’s here, then everything is going to be okay. That’s what she knows as truth right now. And if Buffy isn’t here, well she’s on the verge of a break down in which there will be many tears and much freaking out.]

[Garak sits in the Winery in Sector 2, calmly sipping a glass of wine -- not nearly as good as kanar, but his options are limited -- and idly examining his device.

He had listened to the message from his so-called "jailors" with a sense of surreal detachment, and he's not sure if it's because of the peculiar circumstances or the pounding in his head. Or perhaps it's simply his training that detaches him from circumstances so he can deal with them.]

Who is in charge of this place? I'd like to have words with them. They call this a prison? Hah! They should be ashamed of themselves.

[It's perhaps early for drinking though not as early as the OOC post time would indicate but Zelgadis prefers this. Less crowds and noise at the -- whatever this place is called, it serves liquor anyway -- or so he hopes. He hasn't exactly been a social butterfly since his little rampage (or long before that, really) but today he might not mind someone to sit with, maybe. He doesn't want to talk about things, but he's not used to being left to his thoughts quite as much as he has been the last days. Quiet is a rare luxury he stops wanting when he actually gets it.]

[So here he sits at a back table, nursing his fourth (or so? Things are getting foggy) dark beer, his stone skin totally exposed because he loaned his cloak out to someone who needed it. He's waiting for someone specific but wouldn't shun some conversation. Just don't expect him to admit that.]

((OOC: After some encouragement I decided he's bar hopping a little, at the Winery and then at the Blood Shack because WHY NOT I love tormenting him. :D Feel free to assume he's at either of those places!))

[Just when she had feeling the irony of going through capture and murder attempts when she had wanted adventure, here was another situation. But at least here there were innocent people going through the same thing. She hoped.]

Hello? Was anyone else here just…taken? [That was a question everyone could answer yes to whether they meant it or not. But she couldn’t come up with a better way to ask it.]

…Because I wasn’t exactly expecting this. [Well, with all the other recent events, it didn’t stand out much either. She smiles ruefully.] Prison is a new experience. I’ve never even heard of some of the crimes I’ve been accused of. Though the others aren’t things I’ve actually done either. [Maybe one or two, but those weren’t on purpose. Or it was in a circumstance that excused it entirely. She couldn’t have been expected to stay with Tristan when he had captured her, even if it she had agreed to cooperate afterwards.] And this prison is very unlike anything I’ve seen. This thing I’m using to speak through…[She’s not sure if this is more or less disconcerting than her being in prison.]

I’m Yvaine. I’d appreciate your answers, if you can give them. Thank you. [Her smile is nervous and awkward.]

[Pepper could say she had somewhat of a GPS gift when it came to Tony, but she's been thinking for a couple of days about certain matters, and well, it was time to get his input on the matter. She slipped into his workshop, and headed straight for the couch. Some things are best said while sitting.]

Tony? I have something I want to ask you.

Wait! Don't— [The voice is accompanied by a view of… the sky. Apparently the person on the other end has accidentally managed to turn on the video function without even wearing his headset.]

Is that all you have to say? [The headset is turned in his hands, and now the camera shows his face: Thorgal was shouting that last part up at the sky, but now he lowers his gaze towards the communicator instead. It's a handsome face by all accounts, but boy does he not look amused.] I at least deserve a trial, don't I? How civilised, to deny your prisoners that. [And when there's no answer he turns back up at the sky – is it apparent yet that he doesn't know in which direction to voice his complaints?] I won't be collared like a dog! Do you hear me? What about my family? I demand to see them!

[But as it becomes evident that the wardens aren't going to answer him, the anger slowly seems to ebb out of him somewhat. After several seconds of quiet fuming he sighs before sitting down, running a hand over his face. He mostly just looks weary as he adds, quietly:] I don't understand. Who are you who knows my sins so well?

[A quiet groan.] Odin. [It's said much in the same way anyone else would say "God give me strength".]

[If someone would rather not play the basic information game with Mr Didn't Read The Brochure, they may catch him sitting on a random bench in Sector 1. He's still not wearing his communicator, but anyone close enough might still hear him mutter something about "why give me such expensive clothes?". As far as he knows red dye is expensive, okay.]