Jailhouse Rock

All the men in John’s cell block were **** into an orderly mass and roll call was taken just before they headed off to breakfast. He didn’t hear any names he recognized, and guessed all the other inmates in his block were fakes, like most of the guards. That doesn’t make them any less dangerous, he thought, looking in front and behind at the line of prisoners headed toward what was assumedly the cafeteria.

The guards left no room for error or deviation as eight of them escorted the prisoners toward the cafeteria. It was a pretty long walk, though John didn’t see much on the way there. Lengthy, empty corridors with closed doors. Except that one! John realized with a start, peering through the only open door he had seen. A carpeted hallway revealed itself, a woman stepping out of an open wooden door. A female guard? Or some administrative staff? What I wouldn’t give for Advanced Spy right now. John had little time to linger, so he didn’t get much information.

The entrance to the cafeteria let them in right where they would line up for food, making it a smooth transition. A whistle was blown, and Glasses announced that they would resume these lines upon exiting. Their official allotted time for breakfast had begun.

Taking a tray and placing it on the metal surface in front of the food, John moved down the breakfast line. As he did, the workers on the other side spooned scrambled eggs and cream of wheat onto his tray. He was also given an untoasted piece of bread with butter, a cup of coffee, a cup of milk, and a cup of yellow but not quite orange juice. The similarity in both system and content to a middle school breakfast wasn’t lost on him. He stood for a few moments, waiting for Ixwich to get off the line and take his place at a table.

To John’s surprise, the man sat at a table full of the fake inmates. Ixwich looked happy to be there, joking around with the illusions around him. Uproarious laughter sounded from the table as Ixwich assumedly cracked a joke. I wonder how real these things are, John thought as he headed toward the table, stopping just short and saying, “We need to talk.”

“I don’t see a need,” came Ixwich’s cool reply as he finished his meager ration of cream of wheat. “From where I’m sitting, it looks like you may need to, but I’m getting along just fine.”

“This’ll be a lot easier for the both of us if we stick together,” John answered, setting his tray down on the picnic-style table that was bolted to the tiled ground.

“If you want to be so close to him, why don’t you just marry him!” blurted a deep, jovial voice from the other end of the table. At the end of the sentence, John felt a hand close around his entire head. “Besides, anything you can say to him, you can say to us. Isn’t that right, boss?”

“That’s right. I wouldn’t want my cohorts to think I’m plotting against them,” Ixwich agreed, leaving John slack-jawed.

How the hell did he become the ‘boss’ of anything!? We haven’t even been here for an hour! Wait a minute… John looked at Ixwich’s collar and noticed that the green light he had seen active on Hercules’ collar was dark. I thought the collars knocked people out if they were removed! I guess he hasn’t removed his, but… how? They’re blocking all our magic!

“Well, out with it then! What’d you come to me for?” Ixwich questioned, looking less and less cooperative by the minute.

“I hear you know a man who can get things,” John decided on, causing the inmates around him to all fall silent immediately.

“We better leave you two to it, boss,” the man who had a grip on John’s head, Eyebrows John decided to nickname him on account of his lack of eyebrows, released John and led the inmates to a different table.

“That was interesting! How’d you know that’d get them to leave?” Ixwich questioned, finally paying real attention to John.

“Saw it in a movie,” John responded, piercing a mass of eggs with his fork and slowly eating it. The eggs were totally unseasoned, and a wave of nostalgia hit him as he missed his mom’s eggs. “Seems like this place is a pretty real approximation of a prison. Down to the terrible food.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about! This food is better than what they serve at any prison I’ve been in,” Ixwich responded, downing his paper cup of what John could tell by the smell was pineapple juice. “Its security is more lax too. Well, more lax than maximum security prisons anyway. They probably rely on these collars to do a lot of the work.”

“Speaking of - your collar. Is it off?” John asked, thumbing his collar and looking at Ixwich.

“Of course not, it’s right around my neck, don’t you see?” Ixwich responded, and an illusion pulsed to life around John. The only notable difference was that the man in front of him looked more muscular and imposing, and the light on his collar shone as if on. An aura of intimidation radiated off him, though it didn’t much affect John.

Ixlius Ixwich tried to use Electrical Intimidation on you, but you were a high enough level to resist!

“Right. Of course. But if you were somehow to use your abilities to deactivate a collar - not saying you have the ability to do that - but if you did, what would it take for someone to get that favor from you?” John concluded, taking a sip of the watery coffee in front of him. He pulled a face at the flavorless brown caffeine.

“I’d need to be really buddy-buddy with whoever I was going to do that for,” Ixlius reasoned, his illusion slowly fading from John’s view. “He’d need to gather some intel for me, maybe a few materials for a little thing I’ve got in the works.”

“What do you need?” John asked, swallowing the bread given to him in as few chews as possible. Even with the butter substitute, it was hardly appetizing. Wait a minute, why am I actually eating this stuff? I can eat whatever the hell I want when I get out of here. With that in mind, John slipped the scalding coffee into his inventory.

“Now that’s an interesting skill. I could use a pocket dimension user. Take mine too.” Ixlius observed, sliding his mug over to John. Glancing around, John pocketed Ixlius’ coffee as well. “Take my tray. I can get out without it.”

Ixlius got up and stretched exaggeratedly, blocking the only attentive guard’s view of John while the Gamer popped the tray into his inventory. “I’ll talk to you again at lunch. For now, stay quiet.”

Ixlius went over to the table with his men, arms out as if he were carrying a tray. Across the room, John saw Glasses whispering to the baton-happy guard, Happy, John decided since the man seemed dedicated to making their tests miserable. John handed in his tray just as the guards whistled for the inmates to line up again. All the other inmates quickly got up and put their trays away before getting into the groups they had arrived in.

As he lined up, John felt a jolt surge through his wrist and rubbed it painfully. Directly under the wiry black band that was tattooed there, a red dot faintly glowed. Looking at it intently, he noticed it pulled ever so slightly in Ixwich’s direction. He pressed down on the dot, but nothing happened. Well that’s pretty damn annoying. I guess it’s kind of useful since I’ll know where he is, but it won’t do me any favors in a fight.

To his surprise, the pulling settled down to nearly unnoticeable as Ixlius joined their line. John looked at the guards apprehensively, He’s probably got them under some sort of illusion, but he’s still being awfully bold.

The trip back to his cell was an uneventful, single-file march. He hoped to get another peek through the open door, but it was now closed. As he was settling down to meditate, John heard someone faintly calling his last name. Listening more intently, he realized it was Ixwich, in the cell next to him. The pulling on his arm toward the wall confirmed this.

“How did you manage to get into the cell next to me?” John questioned. “And how do you know my last name?”

“I heard our instructor talking to you,” Ixlius responded, ignoring the first question. “I’ve got a plan to help us escape, but I need you to cause a distraction when we get sent out to the yard. Should be about an hour out from now. Do that, and I’ll take care of your… collar problem.”

“How do I know you’re not just going to run off when the guards are distracted?” John accused, back against the wall.

“Looks like you don’t, kiddo. If it reassures you any, think about it this way: You’re much more useful to me with access to your powers than without them,” the man who actually had previously been a convict persuaded him.

“I guess that makes sense. So I rile up the other prisoners, you’ll turn my collar off, then what?” the Gamer asked, sitting on his bunk now.

“Guard’s coming. We’ll talk more later,” his fellow applicant concluded, and not a moment too soon as Glasses walked by their cells. The guard looked intently into John’s cell, who did his best to be as inconspicuous as possible, simply facing the the opposite wall with his eyes closed.

His cold, barren surroundings were a new experience. He had been through combat and hardship, sure, but when all of it was over, he was more or less always in a... comfortable environment. The metal he sat on and the concrete beneath his feat were a stark contrast to it, and he had to get lost in his thoughts of escape to find sanctuary from this perhaps currently not hostile but certainly unfriendly environment.

I’ve got three - maybe four - of the guards identified, and I know the voice of another. That should leave three others. They’re constantly on patrol, and I have no idea what the yard looks like. Ixlius has a plan… but I don’t exactly trust him. Still, I don’t really have another option. There’s one other male applicant, but he was probably in Ixlius’ cell block… assuming there are only two male cell blocks. I really don’t have a lot of information here. John sighed in frustration, trying to form a mental map of what he knew of the prison in his mind, combining it with what he remembered of the model their instructor had shown them.

There’s only one way out of this cell block, so maybe I’ll get more information on my way to the yard. When we were going to breakfast, we took three lefts down some long corridors and entered a double door. The hallways were pretty sparse. Few doors and fewer open. But there was one… and the part of the building it showed was considerably nicer. Administrative offices maybe? If that’s the case, it’s pretty likely that it connects to the women’s prison in some way. Especially because of the woman I saw… And so, John shirked Meditation in favor of going over the little information he had as if rearranging an incomplete deck would allow one to successfully play Solitaire. Though he wouldn’t be able to play Solitaire so to speak,