Two Fists

Participants:

helena_icon.gif shard_icon.gif

Scene Title Two Fists
Synopsis Helena and Shard get to know each other and are totally becoming BFFs!
Date February 26, 2009

Moab Prison Facility - Yard


"Shard, do Two Fists, Two Fists!"

It didn't take much time for it to get old. All the requests, all the hype, all the conversation. It can wear a man out, all the attention that he has acquired. A group of orange jumpers are huddled around one of the newest inmates who most everyone knows the name of, if they didn't before, they most certainly do now. You don't have to listen to rap music to have heard about the games he played on a national stage.

Plopped next to the fence at yard time, the former superstar is trying to gently ward off a group of inmates seeking his attention. "Fellas, fellas, give a man his rest. We got plenty of time for introductions and what not." Vincent says tiredly, letting his hands dangle in his lap as a few of the inmates start to respect his wishes and draw the small crowd away.

Helena has managed to avoid Madison's clutches today, so her hair is pulled back in a simple ponytail. She's in her usual spot by the fence, one hand curved into the links, as she gazes out over the men's yard from the women's side. As usual, her targets are a scarred face and a thatch of red hair, neither of which makes an appearance. She bites her lip, closes her eyes. Cat got message to her, and that means they're coming. She needs to be ready.

"So what did you really do?"

Come the gravelly words from the man sitting against the fence. He's staring at the ground afore him, but the crowd has dispersed and it may be unclear as to who exactly he's talking to. But his words are loud enough to be heard by Helena. Stretching one leg out the man hugs the other knee to his chest with one arm as he presses his head back.

"What do you think I did? No wait, don't answer that, because like every other male here, your first answer will be prostitution." Helena rolls her eyes, rising to drift over closer to him from her side of the yard. "I did exactly what I said I did. But you've already been told I'm crazy, so is there any point in my filling you in on the details?"

His mouth starts to open when she asks the question, though his words are stalled when she decides it best that he not answer her after all. Closing his mouth the man still does not look behind him as she speaks. He simply lets the back of his bald head rest against the links of the fence. He gives a little 'hm' at her educated guess of what his first answer would be. "Prostitution gets you in the freak-yard, now?" Good to know.

"That sounds like a lot of hostility, shorty. None of your friends here talk to me like that." She's actually the first one not to try and kiss his ass straight off. Except for Canfield, who just seems like the walking dead. Maybe she is crazy.

"Does it really matter who you were before you got here? I'm told you're a rap star, and I'm not a rap kind of girl. Big surprise, right?" She shrugs. "Why did you get tossed in here? Did you neglect to laminate your reg card in gold and diamonds?"

"Aren't you a walking contradiction." Shard comments with a click of his teeth. "Yesterday it's all about your name, and how you don't belong here, and now your identity outside of this place doesn't matter?" A little grin winds up his lips. "You should get your philosphies aligned, girl." He suggests, still looking straight ahead.

"Yeah that's exactly what I did." He mutters. Closing his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to endure the memory of what he actually did to get here. Trembling for a short moment his eyelids slide open, a ragged breath let out. "No trial. No Miranda Rights." He gives a shake of his head. "This place is pretty sketch."

Helena smiles. "My name matters. Whether I was a pretty pretty princess or a streetkid runaway before I got here doesn't. My philosophy is in good working order, thank you." Then with a shrug, "Ever heard of Phoenix?" Their youtubes were pretty well known, but it might still be obscure for a non-New Yorker.

"Right. That's real good kid, you're gonna inspire a lot of people with that stuff." He comments dryly, waving a hand in front of him as if shooing off a bug. "Alright, you can have your good working philosophy, just.." His hand waves again. Then to her question he gives a little grunt, "Yes ma'am." He answers simply enough. "Pro-Evolved terrorists."

"Phoenix has never killed a bombed any locations or killed a single innocent average citizen." she says. "And yet you call them terrorists. Don't confuse them with PARIAH." It makes her wince a little to have to name her old organization as such, but it is what it is.

"Listen girl. You come out here, say my reg card is gold studded or whatever, assume I'm going to call you a prostitute, and just have a bad attitude towards me in general and expect me to be in awe of you and your special little club?" The man goes to push off his knees as he slowly goes to his feet. "Maybe I'm just used to respect. But I'll give it when it's deserved, and Joan, you're not being very polite~." The last bit is said in a sing song voice. "The government labels Phoenix as terrorists, don't they? And I'm a good law abidin' citizen. I believe what my government tells me." It's said dryly, with extra sarcasm ladled on.

Helena gives a non-committal shrug. "I didn't say I expected you to be in awe of me or anyone else." she asks. "You asked why I was here and I've told you, and I made the crazy-ass assumption that you'd actually like to not have misinformation for a change. Because you believe what the government tells you." She echoes his last statement, unable to keep from grinning.

"Vincent." The man says gruffly, though he doesn't offer his hand to the fence or anything like that. He eyes her for a moment. Though beyond his own introduction, doesn't give her much else to go on. "Nice outfit you got there, where do you shop?" The male inmate says. It's odd, having a female to talk to while being on the inside. He would expect that would cause more problems than it was worth but these 'inmates' are not hardened criminals. He doubts many of them have seen much time on the inside as he has. Idly he wonders how the boys at his old prison would have reacted to women on the other side of a fence.

"Quality Felon Discount Thriftshop." she says wryly. "You?" Then with a faint smile, "You don't want me to call you 'Shard', then?"

"Up to you baby. You're obviously not a fan of my work." The man lets out, eyeing her dubiously. "Usually, this is where you tell me your name." Though his eyes wander down to her chest for nametag purposes. Then they work their way back up to her own eyes. "Dean. Kind of masculine, you must hage your parents." The man says, once again, dryly.

Helena points to the part of the tag that has her first name on it. "Helena." she enunciates. "You're very judgemental for an artist." Her smile is a touch gleeful though, so maybe she's kidding. "Dean's my last name."

A little smirk winds up his lips. "I was kidding." He explains after a moment. Giving a shake of his head. "So, what can you do, Joan?" The man goes to turn his back to her now, leaning aginst the chainlink heavily. "Shoot fire out of your fingertips?" He asks with boredome in his tone.

"I could control the weather." she says, her tone only taking on a slightly bitter inflection. "What about you?"

A little chuckle is let out through his lips as she asks the question in return. Shouldering uphe shoves off of the fence, letting his hands dangle in front of him. Pivoting a bit he goes to eye her for a moment, a lazy grin cemented on his lips. After a long moment of just staring he lets out another laugh before turning and waving a hand at her as if he was leaving her.

Stumbling a few steps away from her and the fence, the man goes off towards the rest of the yard to play with the boys. Though her question really got him laughing. Finally right before he leaves earshot he calls out to Helena.

"I don't know."


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February 26th: The Missing Intern
Previously in this storyline…
Monsters

Next in this storyline…
Present Tense

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February 26th: Everywhere You Turn
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