Hot Neon - Segment 01.5

// Hot Neon Segment 1.5: Ball and Chains

As if I didn't already feel like a piece of meat, the march through the worryingly-loud hallways of I-Block, as well as the low whistles, taunting whispers, and jeers of the women in their cells were enough to make my skin crawl.

It takes a few seconds before I realize that they aren't all leering at me with lustful eyes; some were glaring at me with hatred or contempt, though the catcalls I overheard were enough to tell me what the majority was thinking.

"Ooh! Fresh lady-meat. How sweet."

"Look at the tight little butt on her. Bet that's a real cock-squeezer."

"Purple hair? Wild. Like a pretty little peacock."

"Hey there, doll! You ever get lonely in lockup, I'll give you something nice to hold onto."

I ignore them all - best as I could, the wanton judgements of my body and looks, or the unsavory offers made by those who wanted to see more than just my face, or what my prison uniform would show. Well, so much for a warm welcome to the ward.

From the ground floor we went, up the concrete steps, parading me across floor two. Another tier of disgust and humiliation, and there are four of these in total. Great. Grand.

More of the same. Ugh. Girls like me could be such fucking perverts when they were all stuck in a single ward of one correctional facility together.

One girl even had her pants down around her ankles and was masturbating furiously while staring right at me. I glanced over at her, sprawled on her bunk with her legs bared, tugging her bloated, dribbling dick into oblivion, and she just blew me a kiss, shooting a wink my way.

"Fuck yeah, honey. Put a little swish in that walk. Can't wait for you to walk by again!"

The others cheered, lascivious. The woman in the next cell over snorted. "You're such a cockhound, Rat," she barked back.

The openly-masturbating girl, Rat, I presume, just met my eyes as I passed and licked her lips. "You ever want to have some fun, new girl, you just come my way and I'll drop a monster load right in your mouth."

Gross. I don't know how to respond to that, so silence seems the best option of all.

I'm glad the guards moved me along, though I cast a look back over my shoulder to one of them. "Are you really just going to let her beat her meat like that? Isn't it against regulation?"

My reasonable inquiry? Of course, met with a shrug of sheer indifference. "What a woman does alone in her cell, so long as she's following rules, is no concern of ours. You wanna entertain yourself to pass the time? Nobody's stopping you."

Shit. That wasn't reassuring. I didn't know how many girls were being forced to watch displays like this, or worse. My stomach knotted in disgust as I turned away from Rat, who smiled at me as she continued stroking herself.

Up to tier three. This was too much for me already. All the stares and comments, the lewdness, and now a whole crowd of girls hooting and laughing at a new inmate who just so happened to be the fresh face they'd been hungry for.

I tried to tune it all out and just look down at the numbers and lines guiding towards each cell. 3-1. 3-4. 3-6...

I got to 3-13, and one of the guards grabbed me by the shoulder, stopping my shuffle of shame. He looked me square in the eye. "You can stop walking now. We've reached our destination."

My heart dropped. They were taking me to my cell. And that meant my stay in I-Block was about to begin. A tap on his handheld, and the bars started to clack open.

"Rise and shine, Chains. New cellie waiting for ya. Time to move in."

I'm practically muscled into the cell, the bars clacking loudly shut behind me so quickly I'm surprised that they didn't smack my ass, like a horse herded into the corral.

The woman glances up from the book perched in her lap, and for a moment we just look to one another. She has probably a dozen years over me; I'd peg her for 33 to 35, but a graceful, youthful glow kept her looking younger than her age.

Her blonde hair hangs down her shoulders, falling over her bare arms where the sleeves of her jumpsuit end. The eye-popping orange fabric hugs tastefully to her toned frame, accentuating every curve and line. Strong. I guess there's not much to do here besides exercise and keep occupied.

She gives me a little smile, casting her eyes up and to the left in a sort of "I know, right?" expression. Then she stands, gently closing the book and tossing it on the bed beside her. I notice it's an old copy of Alice in Wonderland, a paperback that's seen better days. Who even has print books anymore? Prisons with very little tech allowed, I guess. That's mostly it.

Her voice carries softly, like wind chimes: "Well, hello there, darling. I take it you're my cellmate now, so why don't you introduce yourself properly, before we go any further?"

"Uh..."

Fuck. Now what? I put on the most cordial smile I'm able, given the circumstances, and extend a hand. "I'm Pepper. You seem, well..."

"Not like most of the pervy bitches here, yes," she agrees, with a slight, self-effacing chuckle. "Don't let them get you down. Every day here is pretty much the same, and a novelty like you just reminds them of their more, ah, basic urges. It's not worth getting upset about."

That makes sense enough. I nod slowly, unsure of exactly what to say. She smiles sweetly, and I try to return it. I'm sure I fail miserably. I'm both soothed and intimidated to some degree. For a woman with such a gentle demeanor about her, she has build enough to pack a punch if necessary.

I can tell this better than ever as she puts a hand in mine with a really firm grasp, the reactive tattoos lining her arm - no, both her arms - glowing, shifting links of heavy chain that seem to loosen, then constrict around her forearms.

"And I take it you're Chains," I venture with a sheepish attempt at a laugh.

"Guilty as charged. I suppose that's a weak joke to make in a place such as this, but hey, humor is hard to find in prison." She pauses, motioning to the other bunk across from hers. "Have a seat, yes? I made the bed. A little housewarming gesture, if you would."

There are two bunks in the cell. One for us, one for the prisoner assigned to the other side. I do as she says, sitting down and swinging my legs over the edge of the mattress. It's hard. There's a single pillow, and a testing press with my palm confirms that it feels like a fucking brick. I don't want to think about the condition of the sheets. Let alone how long they've been in the laundry cycle, how many beds they've been on, what they've seen.

She slots a bookmark into what she was reading, producing a cellophane package of chocolate cookies. With her thin lips, her features almost delicate to belie her strength, she hooks the end of the package with her teeth and tugs it free. She holds it up in front of my face and offers it to me.

"Here. You've probably had a pretty awful day. If I could have baked you some cookies, I would have, but... well, we're locked up. Do I think it's fair they charge sixteen creds for these in the commissary? No. But I can share."

"Thanks. That's nice of you," I say, reaching out to take one as she leans forward, nibbling with me. "So, do we do like they do in the vids and have that whole 'what are you in for' bit, or does that not really happen anymore?" I don't have any real experience with incarceration to know what's fact and what's fiction, so I suppose I might as well just ask and look like the stupid newbie I am.

"Nah. That doesn't happen much, but sometimes what does take place is a real conversation. I mean, yeah, you can lie all you want, but when we start talking about our lives, that'll be the truth. And once we talk, that's how things are between us until either we die, or we leave." She smiles, drumming her fingers on her knees as she settles back into her bunk.

"Twelve years, I was a contract hitter for Bad Sector. Killed a lot, I mean a lot, of syndicate rivals. SCPD officers, too. Pretty much anybody my syndicate wanted dead. Sometimes I'd work solo, sometimes in teams, depending on who needed offed. I got good at it, fast. My boss used to call me his personal assassin because he said I always took care of business, and never fucked anything up."

My eyes widen a bit. She seems so tranquil, it's hard to imagine she's had a past like Rhino, like Jackal, like the other murderers I've known.

They were all cold-blooded killers, but I'm starting to wonder whether even they didn't feel remorse at times. Or maybe they did, but simply chose not to show it. Maybe that was the point of being in that position. "Did you ever, you know, regret it?"

Chains shakes her head. "No way. Not until later. I probably had about two hundred deaths to my name by the time I was twenty. When you kill that many people, there's no going back. Once you're branded as an assassin, there's nothing else for you. Even if you tried, they wouldn't give you the chance."

I sure wish I had my smoke-stick to take the edge off, or just offer her a puff in empathy. Maybe they'll have some for sale in commissary, assuming Sparrow has given me some credits for my inmate account. "Wow. I really wouldn't have expected somebody like you to be such a ruthless killer."

She offers up a slight shrug, lifting an arm to brace behind her head. "It was just who I once was. What I knew how to do. Now it's over. I've paid the price. I've done my time, and I've paid for every crime I committed. All those victims, they deserved justice. You want to know how it all came tumbling down?" she invites.

I cross my legs, smoothing out my top as much as I can. "If it's not, you know, something you'd prefer to keep private..."

"Oh no, it's fine. See, Bad Sector had a rough, rough run-in with this certain judge. Tough on organized crime, had dreams of cleaning up Sunset City, you know, making it safer for everybody. So when the syndicates started getting their asses handed to them in court, they decided to take him out. Sent a hitter, yours truly, to clean up the judge and get rid of any evidence. Him, wife, kids, whole family. Really send a message, you know?"

She sighs wistfully, pulling her book into her lap. "Guess word got out. I came armed and ready to do my job, and then suddenly everyone had guns pointed at me. The judge wasn't around. No family there. They were in hiding. A bust. Can you believe that? And then, they brought the hammer down on most of Bad Sector in the coming weeks, bringing down most of the house of cards."

She pauses to take another bite of cookie before continuing. "Mm. I prefer peanut butter, but all they had was chocolate chip. Ah, well. So, long story short, I didn't get any arrangements to get released before sentencing, and they smacked my ass with five decades. Five goddamn decades! No recommendations for parole. Threw my life right away, whatever one I had when I was a young devil, a little mongrel full of spunk. I was stupid back then, and I didn't want to be fixed."

She laughs bitterly. "Well, I guess technically I was fixed, even if I didn't exactly plan on it, but still, what a joke."

I shake my head. She must have been pissed when she found she'd have to serve out her full sentence. Can't say I'd blame her. That's one long term. "You might still make it out. I mean, you may be a little old lady by then, but there's still a chance."

Her lips twitch upward. "Yeah, well, that's the thing about hope. It's easy to lose sight of it when your life gets turned upside down." She taps her finger on the cover of the book, pursing her mouth in thought. Then, after a few moments, she turns toward me again.

"You know, before I got locked up, I don't think I'd really read since I was young. But now... I love books. It's an escape, something beyond the bound imposed on us in this place. The library here isn't too bad. There's plenty more where these come from." Her eyebrows raise a touch, and she looks at me expectantly. "What kind of books do you like to read?"

"Uh...not much. I guess I stared at a reading unit a little bit, now and then, but never actually sat down to finish a novel or anything," I conclude. Not many take an interest in reading any more, and I'm definitely among the crowd that would prefer other pursuits.

"Oh, if they'd just carry reading units. Old physical books are all we get here, but hey, it's a prison, not a resort," she chuckles. "I've had a lot of time to expand my mind, do soul searching... I found that books helped me understand myself better. My past, my crimes, everything. Helped me realize who I am now, instead of trying to pretend otherwise. Did you ever find yourself in a situation where you wanted to forget who you used to be?"

Jeez. Talk about a hard question. "Maybe just wanted to forget who I was. I used to push chems for some little creds. Then, I started to go into the deep end with syndicate work, and I did some things I'm not proud of. That's why I ended up here. Bank job went bad, we fought off a Storm Team, and most of the crew died."

She whistles, and the soft gray of her eyes, perhaps once icy but now warm, light up in surprise. "Storm Team? Wow. You must have really been poking SCPD in the eye. I imagine your syndicate is working to get you free from this hellhole, assuming you're that kind of big gun. I take it you'll be going right back to the old life when this little stint is behind you, huh?"

My shoulders stiffen. "That depends on whether I survive the next few days, or weeks, or however long it's going to take them to pay off the right people. If I do, then sure."

Chains just nods, but I feel there's some slight disappointment in her expression. "A shame. You seem like good company so far, and I think you'd do well if you applied yourself in more productive ways than blowing off steam on drugs. This place is supposed to be helping us change our lives, after all."

I snort a bit, unable to believe that particular line of bullshit. "It's not a rehab center, Chains. It's a fucking prison. Sorry. Got a bad mouth most times."

But she shakes her head, smiling gently as she returns her attention to the book in front of her. "No, no, I understand. The life is often like that. To say nothing of the chems, the drinking, the sex. All part of the culture." She shrugs, tapping her fingers against the page.

"Anyway, I could talk about books all night, but I'd probably put you to sleep. What would you rather hear about? Maybe the food? We only get three meals per day, which sucks, but the chef here tries his best. I'm hoping we'll be getting rice again soon. I've come to miss it when it's off the menu."

At least she's not aggressively pushing to get down my pants, or to get me down hers. That's something, I suppose. For the moment.

The rest of the conversation goes smoothly enough, and I learn a great deal more about the prison and its inhabitants. As she talks, though, I notice she seems to hold herself slightly apart from everyone else, and doesn't join in on the drama or cliques that seem to be as prevalent as she claims.

In fact, she even says she feels awkward around many of the other inmates, but I can't quite put my finger on why. Maybe it's just because she's found some inner calm, and most of the others seem like pack animals in heat. Maybe that's part of it.

"So, I came walking in, and there was this girl - Rat, I think she was - just beating her dick like it was the last one left in town. I guess that's... acceptable here," I murmur. I don't know if that only extends to cranking one out or if it includes some certain other things, but it's still a bit surprising.

Chains just giggles. "Well, you can't put so many of us in tiny cells and expect us to keep it zipped up. Certain urges like those are difficult to resist, especially when you're cooped up for hours upon hours every single day. I indulge, myself, every so often. Not a regular thing, mind you. But..."

Her smile softens. "I will do my best not to disturb you too much, if I can help it."

I put my palms up in as dismissive a gesture as possible. "We kinda live together, I guess, and privacy isn't exactly an option. I get it. I'm not, you know, interested in stuff like that. Just... don't make me watch."

She laughs lightly. "Oh, dear. Are you really worried about that? Obviously, there's a lot of illicit screwing happening out here. Hell, half the girls in here are probably doing it right now. Any port in a storm, or what have you. That said, I'm not trying to seduce you, if that's your concern. I'm just saying that, if nature compels you to fix certain needs, that's fine by me. It happens. I won't judge."

I nod. I suppose that's one slight upside, one small glimmer of hope, at least. Should I get to feeling antsy, I can address it in some degree of comfort, relatively. "Okay. Thanks."

Chains smiles softly, and turns back to her book. "We're all grown women here, albeit ones with some extra between their legs. Let's try to act like adults. Okay?"

***

It's my first night in this facility, and as with all the other women in the block, we're lined up and led through the halls to the cafeteria. I guess this is going to be my first dinner behind bars, and as we walk, we're spaced out such that I feel like nobody's listening too hard to Chains and I.

"You know, you're a pretty decent lady, but I just have to ask something," I murmur, trying to sweep my sharp purple hair into some semblance of order.

She hums, rolling her neck, muscle and freckles - defining traits, likely, of much of her body. "Yeah, okay. Ask away."

I figure now is as good a time as any to ask. "Why, exactly, are you being so damn... nice to me?"

She just smiles, a soft half-smile. "That's simple, kid. You're brand new. It's plain to see from a glance that you're fresh in the system, still adjusting, still learning how things work around here. No offense, but newbies like you shouldn't be alone."

I blink. I probably know why that is, but I think I'd rather hear it from her. At least I'll know if I had the right measure, then. "And why not? I'm not exactly here to make waves."

A little chuckle spills out of her. "These girls here? They'll single you out. Try to take advantage of you. Probably try to get you in debt to them so you'll do them some favor they want later on. Or just outright bully you. One way or another, you need protection, or someone who'll look after you." She shrugs. "Not everybody is as kind as I am."

Yeah, like I didn't have proof enough of that when I marched in front of everyone, or when I've tried to ignore the women eyeing me up when they think I'm not looking. Whether that's my butt, my little breasts, or between my legs. I can almost feel the wandering gaze, and I can't stand it already.

I nibble on my lip, pensive. "I didn't ask for anyone's protection."

She just gives me a pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry, sweetie. There's no obligation. I'd rather give you the helping hand I wish I'd had when I got locked up than to see you end up like some of these others."

My mouth opens, then closes. I've never been very good at accepting compliments, but I find myself nodding anyway. "Thanks. And thanks for keeping me company, I guess."

It goes unsaid, but I imagine it's not unheard of for some of the long-time inmates to have their way with people new to the system. The odds are high that I might wind up raped before my trial date comes. I'd prefer to avoid that. If she can help prevent it, I'd much rather stay in her good graces.

Chains doesn't seem the type to commit such a hurtful act, and I'm starting to feel like I've kind of lucked out by getting her for a cellmate.

I doubt she has a whole lot else to do besides read books and meditate when she's in her cell, and she's a little bit older and more settled down than most of the other women here, so I can only assume she's less likely to try to get with me than say, the girl in the cell next door, probably near to my age and with a roaring predilection to squish her dick into whatever warm hole she can find.