TBC (onshakyground) wrote in marvel_prep, @ 2013-09-04 00:06:00 |
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Current mood: | sore |
Entry tags: | avalanche, speed |
Log: Getting to know you
Characters: Dominikos Petrakis & Tommy Shepherd
NPCs: MDC Guards
Location: MDC, Laundry duty
Timeline: 3rd September, 08:00-11:00
Description: A fun experimentation into getting to know other people in jail!
Rating: PG-13 (Swearing and the sort)
It was a rough morning for Dominik, especially as his head had been throbbing ever since his last encounter with the guards and he hadn't slept well. Plus he was starting to really feel the lack of nicotine, bullshit to the whole two week period where your body apparently stopped craving it. Dominik's still was and the lack of it was making him decidedly grouchy not at all helped by the variety of cuts and bruises which now decorated his face, jaw and sides. He also on occasion opened the cut on his lower lip by accident which was just a pain in the ass, especially as blood never tasted good regardless of how it was being spilt.
Today he was on laundry duty and doing it diligently albeit slower than he normally did things because for every item he lifted his ribs ached and Dominik was breathing through the pain. Fucking guards, all because he'd called them out for touching shit that didn't belong to them. The book Rogue had given him was in his cell safely tucked under his pillow and left there until the next time he felt like reading it.
Avalanche shook out a sheet and took to folding it, ignoring the looks the guards were shooting him all smug and like they'd really achieved something. Screw them, no really, screw them. Dominik wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of knowing that he was hurting and that their looks were starting to get under his skin.
Jesus, he really needed to get out of this place before he did something he would live to regret, like lose his shit with a guard and land his ass in solitary.
So much for being calm and centered, maybe he should read the book Greer had sent him on the Art of Meditation again? Maybe that would help?
---
Tommy had signed up for laundry duty because he'd thought it be easy. He'd done kitchen duty before in juvie and that had been pretty disgusting. It wasn't worth the extra perks. He didn't need to know that all their food came from cans or giant plastic bottles. Besides, Tabs already had the hook up.
He hadn't realized laundry could be so boring. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd done laundry. He usually lived out of other people's closets and they were usually cool enough to do some of his wash. Laundry took way too much time.
It was also brain numbingly monotonous. The work shift was a nonstop routine of putting sheets in one machine, moving them to another then folding all of it. No matter how many sheets he folded there were always more. There weren't even that many people in the prison.
Tommy finished one stack of sheets and reached over to grab the next bundle. He passed by Dom, giving him a look, noting all the cuts and bruises and he couldn't help but roll his eyes.
---
To be honest Dominik didn’t know a lot about the blonde who looked an awful lot like one William Kaplan, but his constant huffing and eye rolling were really starting to grate on his last nerve. Especially as the guy didn’t know him from Adam and ordinarily Dominik didn’t let strangers and their opinions get to him, but it was being in this place, a lack of nicotine, Petra not being Petra and the asshole guards that were really starting to take their toll on his able to handle people’s bullshit scale.
“What?” He asked, straight out and bluntly, because hell if the boy had something to say then he’d best say it because the passive aggressive stuff was getting old, really old.
He folded a sheet, put it in a nearby hamper then lifted his eyebrow, waiting.
---
Tommy looked at Dom and folded his arms across his chest. He gave an exasperated sigh. He'd seen kids like Dom before. Too much pride, too much attitude, carrying bruises like wounded honor, spewing crap about holding your head up high. It wasn't admirable; it was stupid.
He should have just left it alone. Who cared if Dom liked getting beat up on a weekly basis? It wasn't like it affected him... except it did. Dom was flagged which meant anyone around him was too. Some of the guards might have settled for knocking him around, getting it all out of their systems, but all of them would be watching him more closely.
In prison, you didn't want to be noticed. Known, by your cell mates, sure. Reputation wasn't a bad thing but extra scrutiny from the guards was never welcome.
Tommy shook out another sheet and folded it in half. He looked towards the guards, then harshly whispered, "Just leave it alone. What are you trying to prove?"
---
“Prove?” Dominik repeated, a little confused by the line of questioning.
His thing with the guards it wasn’t about proving anything but rather knowing what buttons to push. Dominik furrowed his brow and reflected for a moment. “And last I checked I still had a right to my stuff,” he said with a shrug. “The guards took something that belongs to a friend of mine so I took it back.” The rest as they said was history. “Haven’t had any run ins with them since then.” Which granted wasn’t an achievement considering it had only been a day or so, but whatever.
So far he’d learned a few things, one the guards were highly skilled and two, they were as human as the next person so you could if you wanted play on their emotions and cause them to lose control. It was risky, Dominik knew better than most.
“But I gotta admit that the lack of nicotine is getting the better of me.”
---
Oh, great. Tommy didn't know if he was relieved or dismayed that Dom wasn't trying to stand on principle. It was nice to know that he wasn't trying to do the 'they won't get the better of me, blah blah blah,' and all that other bullshit routine but it also meant he probably wasn't the brightest crayon in the box.
It was cute the way Dom thought that the rules actually applied inside. There was the way the system was supposed be to run and the reality of how it actually was. Nothing too crazy. There were lines. But there was a lot that could be left up to personal discretion. It might not have been fair, but neither was life. Why expect anything different?
"Get used to that." Tommy finally finished up with one sheet and reached for the next one. "They probably don't care about cigarettes, but they're not going to give you an inch now."
---
“Well, rather me than Petra,” Dominik muttered as he folded a sheet. She had enough going on without the guards and their two cents, especially as she still wasn’t the girl he knew outside of these walls. He just didn’t know what to do to help her except reiterating that she didn’t deserve to be locked up or any of the comments the guards were making. “Dominik,” he offered after a moment figuring he should at least give a name, still finding it weird that it was like having a blonde Billy looking back at him.
He rubbed a thumb across his eyebrow before reaching for another sheet, hating how fucking monotonous this whole thing was.
“Least it means I’ll probably kick the habit.”
---
Tommy nodded. He'd met Petra briefly. Through no effort of his own, he was gradually learning about his fellow inmates. Might as well. If the news was any indication, they were going to be here for a while. Can't let the dangerous mutants out into society. Who knows what might happen? Won't someone think of the children.
"And learn how to fold the perfect fitted sheet," Tommy added, more or less sarcastically.
It wasn't like there was anything else to do in jail. Tommy had known one kid in juvie who was determined to read through the entire library for personal enrichment or something like that. Tommy had figured that the guy was just sick of staring at the walls.
He finished up with the sheet and nodded to Dom. "Tommy."
---
Dominik was pretty sure in terms of incarceration both himself and Petra were in for the long haul, especially given how their actions must have been portrayed in the news.
“Now there’s a skill I’ve always wanted,” Dominik responded in kind. “Well that and knowing the perfect way to stamp a license plate.” Because yeah that was a skill worth having. “Valuable life lessons.”
He folded a sheet and put it in a nearby hamper.
Tommy? Petra had mentioned him in passing, but it was good to have a face to put to the name.
---
"Tell me about it," Tommy snorted. People were stupid if they thought prison or jail were for rehabilitation. It was nothing on the sort. There was nothing to be gained from cleaning toilets or slopping food onto plates. It wasn't for self discipline, it was just free manual labor.
Tommy grabbed another sheet. He hadn't been keeping count but he and Dom seemed to be working at a steady rate. They were productive enough that the guards weren't giving them (or more accurately, Dom) the evil death glare.
"Could be worse," Tommy added. "At least we don't have classes."
---
“What school did you go to before this whole apprehended and shoved headfirst into jail thing?” Dominik asked as he picked up another sheet, figuring if they kept working then there was less chance of them being interrupted or messed with. Look he could behave if he wanted. “I was supposed to start at the Xavier Institute in the fall, but then the police happened and the rest as they say is history.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Tommy if he had a brother, but he refrained because that wasn’t the sort of question you asked a stranger, especially one you just got talking to. Even if said stranger looked an awful lot like your friend.
“Before that it was some standard high school for me, can’t even remember the name.”
---
Tommy snorted. "Sounds like a great school. Dayton High," he answered, then added, "Well, that's where I was enrolled." He hadn't actually put much effort into attending but the school probably had his name somewhere in their records. He didn't expect Dom to know it. It was a pretty small school in Jersey.
Tommy stopped folding the sheet he was holding and looked at Dom. "Does everyone here go to that school?"
Okay, he had met people who didn't. Sofia. (Or had that changed? Tommy wasn't sure.) And then there was that Jonas kid. But it seemed like there were a lot more of them that did than didn't. (The government could probably save time by taking everyone on a field trip to jail.) A school for mutants. Tommy wasn't sure what he really thought about that. He did know one thing, the place got bad press like woah.
---
“Mostly, yeah,” Dominik answered with a smirk. “Apparently we all have really shitty luck or we’re just stupid.” Either or. He folded a sheet and lifted his shoulders. “Believe it or not but it’s a pretty cool school despite the fact its students seem incapable of keeping out of trouble.”
He toyed with the cut on his lower lip then stopped when he tasted iron, ignoring the sharp burn of pain because he’d been stupid enough to go and poke at the wound.
“How’d you land in here?”
---
Tommy considered the question for a moment, then shrugged. He went back to folding the sheet he was holding. Only a million more to go.
"You first, man."
---
“Petra was getting hassled,” Dominik said as he tossed the folded sheet into the hamper. “Some drunk guys couldn’t take the hint, got a little too handsy. I got into fight with them and then they took a bottle to the back of my head. Everything’s a little fuzzy from then onwards. I just remember tapping into my power and then Petra getting tasered before I got hit and then they stuck something in my neck and the world went black.”
He blew out a breath and reached for another sheet, the supply seemed neverending.
“Your turn.”
---
Oh, that.
Tommy had already heard the story from Petra. It wasn't that much more interesting the second time around, though Tommy did wince Dom mentioned being tasered. That hurt like motherfucker. He gave him a sympathetic nod.
He finished the sheet he was working on, dropped it one of the bins, and grabbed yet another sheet.
"Me?" Tommy asked innocently. He winked at Dom. "Jaywalking."