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Issui idly scuffs her foot on the wall of her little cement box. In hindsight? It might actually be kind of funny. She finally tears her way out of a supernatural pseudo-prison and immediately ends up... here. In actual prison. Is it actual prison? Getting dumped right into a heavy duty cell like this doesn't seem very legit, but it's more literally a prison than where she was before. So there's that.

The only thing currently breaking up the monotony of sitting in an overgrown coffin and feeling her hair grow is the daily visit from Warden Creepo with his slop delivery. Delightful. Good stuff, really. Mystery meat: not just for public schools anymore. She eats it anyway, mostly out of habit.

Yeah okay, the other thing that doesn't seem legit? That neck bomb they stuck her with. That's bullshit. Issui rubs at the injection site. It healed almost immediately, but she knows where the needle went in. That's not something you forget. And sure, it probably won't work right on her. But probably isn't good enough when you're gambling on whether your head's gonna explode. So here she stays, at least for now.

She makes them pay for bringing her in at least. She doesn't know for sure how many end up dead, but by the time they wrestle her still enough for the neck jab, they realize they have to cut her hair too. She leaves a trail of lopped off hair and guards struggling to breathe as they drag her to her shitty little cell. When they shove her in, she's got the world's worst pixie cut.

She doesn't know how long she's in there. Days? Weeks? It's hard to tell in the dark when you don't need to sleep much, but sleeping's the only thing to do. Her hair's getting long again, though. When they finally come haul her out into the shitty fluorescent light, they hack it all off again first thing. Rude. She ends up heavily cuffed and shackled too, because Issui is just not a team player.

She notes that they don't threaten her with the bomb, though. Maybe they don't have the authority? That fits with Creepo's yappy dog syndrome. He's a little fish. What's his name again? Greg? Fucking Greg and his two hundred teeth.

Greg and his inane clown posse drag her through a maze of hallways and shove her out into a shitty prison yard. What, is she supposed to stretch her legs? Do a little jogging in her heavy shackles? Yeah sure. Issui shuffle-staggers over to the far wall and leans against it a little awkwardly. There's even almost fresh air out here, how novel. She spots a couple of guys milling around across the yard from her. Issui angles her head so her hair will slide across her face and-- right. It's not long enough for that. Instead of peering out from behind a curtain of hair, she's got like... bangs. Shitty uneven bangs. Great. Thanks, Greg.


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don't forget, we're the bad guys

February 2017

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