2009-10-27: Convicted Comic Book Characters



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Date: October 27th, 2009


In which we revisit Gene, where he wound up after being captured and held under suspicion of terrorist activities, and meet Buddy.

"Convicted Comic Book Characters"

Otisville Correctional Facility

Otisville, New York

Orange jumpsuits.
Sleeping in the same room as your toliet.
Surrounded by killers, kidnappers, and thugs.
The irony that Gene was sent here in his attempts to fight such evil is not lost on him.

Thankfully due to the sensitive nature of his crime (and the fact that his imprisonment may not be exactly consitutional), few guards know why he is here and fewer inmates do. Endangering national security is one of the many vague rumors that go around, but when asked, Gene is often silent or attempts to redirect the conversation. He wishes to just do his time and leave, but that is never how prison goes.

Either from his time before, his stay here, or a combination of the two, Gene appears to have been in some scraps in one form or another. His left eye is swollen up, puffed up to the point where it's hard to see out of. His right hand is missing most of two of fingernails, covered by bandages for the time being. His forehead is heavily bruised as well, likely from his own attempts to defend himself.

For now, there is a rare peace, Gene calmly eating his food in the mess room. He has found a place of relative safety near one of the guards, though he is still careful, still determined. He will not die here. He will not be broken here… He will find a way. Somehow. As soon as he figures out what the heck this damn meat is supposed to be. He pokes it with his fork a few times, trying to move past the paste-like gravy to investigate what barely passes for a meal.

The peace is rare, yes, and it's also short-lived. As Gene tries to figure out the nature of his food (he may have better luck figuring out the nature of the universe), a ruckus rattles the right corner of the mess hall. Lucky him, it's the farthest corner away. Shouts ring out as a scramble of orange jumpsuits indicates a fight breaking out between some of the roughest inmates. At least seven men wind up attempting fisticuffs. It's hard to tell how the brawl started, or what it's even about — the bottom line is, it's chaos.

It goes on for a while, at least a couple of minutes until the guards try to intervene and shut down the violence level in the room. They… have some difficulty.

It's while the guards try to untangle the inmates that a clatter sounds beside Gene, a dish identical to his deposited roughly on the table. Boyd "Buddy" Santino sits down, seemingly out of nowhere. The man's dark brown wavy hair is as unruly as the scruffy beard he's starting to grow, a fitting match to his wild eyes. As he settles in, he eyes the brawl intently. He's breathing heavily, sweating, twitchy. He's not a huge guy, but he's wiry and has a rep for being … outrageous. A frequent trouble-starter. He promptly elbows Gene in the side without looking at him. "What's the neeeeeeews, G-man."

The brawl gets a glance up, but the young man adverts most of his attention downward, keeping the fight in the corner of his eye. While he has no vested interested in whoever wins, he does want to keep himself out of brawls as best he can. "It depends on what you're asking about," comes the swift reply, as disinterested in the man as he is the food.

"Oh is that how you play it, play it cool." Buddy's fast-talking voice has a definite New Yorker accent. He hunches over the table, eyeing the dissolving brawl and the mystery meat and Gene and the wall and inmate #27— he's a constant caged animal, looking for a way out. "Don't get smart with me, young man!" he fakes a parental tone and nudges Gene with his elbow again. "Hey? Hey? Don't get smart with me. You're a real brain, aren't you. Look at me while I'm talking to you!" Buddy has been convicted of many things. Sanity and manners are not among his convictions.

Kensington looks to his plastic fork for a moment. He can't kill a man with that, the prongs are too bendy. If they just let him have a radio… He wouldn't be having to worry about things like crazy psychos sitting next to him. Thankfully, he has learned a little about keeping feelings subdued, so he is able to hide most signs of concern or fear, only the slight tension in his shoulders showing that something is amiss. "Yes, I play it cool. Unless I get pushed over the edge, and then I play it like the Incredible Hulk." A brief glance is given toward Buddy, but he doesn't maintain it for long, merely moving a hand to his milk in order to open it. "Now, you here to ask for a personal favor or you just here to waste my time?"

"Neither, I'm here to drink your milk." Buddy drops his own hand down on Gene's milk and attempts to draw it toward his tray, instead. Is this prison or a school cafeteria? "I've got brittle bones, I need my calcium." Glistening eyes shoot to the corner to watch the guards haul away some of the men. "Personal favour, a frickin' personal favour!" He picks up his own plastic fork and gestures with it in huge arcs. "Fshhh, listen to 'im with this crap! No but really, I have a personal favour to ask."

"Get your own milk," Gene states firmly, trying to keep his milk in his possession. He doesn't look at the man unless he keeps fighting for the milk, in which case the once meek young man gives a death glare to 'Buddy'. "I only trade, never give when in the slammer. Now what's the favor?"

The milk may be beyond his grasp, but Buddy holds a grudge. Despite hit moniker, he doesn't look like anyone's friend. He slams a fist down on the table close to Gene's meal and grabs for his arm. His wild eyes manage to focus, albeit shiftily, on the young man. "Okay, Incredible Hulk. There's a big payoff," he hisses. "I've been watching you," he confesses darkly. "You act like you don't pay attention to anythin' but I know you do, Gene-IUS, I know you do. What I can't figure out is what you're in for. POINT IS, your cell's close to mine, right. You can seeeeeeeee." Buddy drills his thumb against his temple. "I think Torres is using my toothbrush while I sleep. And if you can't trust your cellmate who can you trust."

"If you want to get into a fight, keep holding onto that arm for another ten seconds. You want to feel someone up, try that guy down two tables over." With the clear countdown given, Gene continues on still not looking at Buddy dead on. The corner of his eye, however, is now on him, as the fight no longer the most dangerous thing for Gene to deal with. "As for your personal favor… I'll see if he's using your toothbrush while you're sleeping. Now, what do I get for helping you out. And before you offer it, I don't want the meds you're obviously cheeking."

Buddy lets go, but jabs Gene in the arm repeatedly with his finger as he talks. "That is the last thing I wanna hear! I'm tellin' you right now, if you do this for me, this one, little freakin' thing a MOUSE could do— !!" Mr. Santino's voice starts to escalate. He leans in toward Gene pointing at him with his plastic fork. It's prongs, like Buddy's mind, are crooked. He hushes up, but he's no less intense and adamant. "Oh, you agreed. Well listen, Genius. If you do that, if you tell me if that jerkoff is snatching my dental hygiene apparatus, I mean God, who does that, it's sick, then maybe, just maybe, I'll let you in on my plans. I don't take any meds by the way— " His eyes shine. "I need a clear head to pull this off." He starts laughing as if he made a joke, then claps Gene on the arm as if they're pals and starts digging into his dinner.

The body tenses, Gene prepares himself at the poking. He readies himself to pull a Mike Tyson, make people fear his dental hygiene if they mess with him. But then Buddy decides Gene is friend and not foe… And the Geek God relaxes. Faintly. "Right, plans. Sounds good," Gene states dismissively, merely going back to his food. The 'job' shouldn't be too much of a problem. Considering he isn't used to sleeping on anything but his ultra comfy beds, staying up hasn't been an issue for the young man. Not that getting the truth necessary matters with a guy like Buddy, but principals are principals.

Oh, it matters. It matters. "If you DON'T, then as soon as you get out of this hellhole, I'll find you and sell you as a drug mule." It's as casual as Buddy gets. Threats are casual. He pokes at his food instead of Gene. "It's so hard to find people to trust nowadays, you know— what do you do, anyway?" He slides a narrow-eyed gaze at Gene. "Besides pretend to be a comic book character."

"I am a comic book character… Yatta!" Gene raises a fork in the air, though Hiro's boyish energy is replaced with Gene's tired sarcasm. While Bruce Banner got locked up a lot, it was at least in isolation. The young man isn't sure being locked in some dungeon was better off than being around Buddy. Right now, it's leaning toward dungeon. "Either way, I used to work on computers and stuff. Used to work for the NRA a little, but that was mostly volunteer work." There is a short pause before he asks the question that Gene knows he will likely regret. "What about yourself?"

"…I'm sorry, I forgot to listen. All I heard was neeeeeeeeerd, forget I asked. What are you, some kind of suit?" Buddy snorts derisively. "I'm a jack of all trades, monsieur. I'm a comic book character too, I'm the friggin' Batman." His fork bends at that juncture, prongs going every which way. He was too vicious with his prodding of the mystery meat. "Useless PIECE OF CRAP!" he rages and shoves the entire tray off the table onto the floor with a clatter, eliciting a few shouts and a 'Buddy, not again!' from a guard. "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!" He leaps to his feet. "CAN'T GET ANY DECENT CUTLERY IN THIS JOINT! ANIMALS!"

There is a long pause. He fights it. Gene really really does. But Buddy threw down the gauntlet and Gene can not let it go. With his best dark brooding hero impression, he merely replies, "No, I'm Ba-" Before he can do his fun little injoke and get SOME enjoyment of this prison, Buddy has to go crazy. At least he is being crazy around Gene instead of at Gene. "I have no idea how you got medium security. I'm guess Arkham was full," he states, mostly to himself.

"Just because I have high standards you think I'm a murderer?" Buddy, still standing, points at Gene. "Serial killers are the most meticulous people I know," he says matter-of-factly. Don't analyze. "And don't think I didn't hear that. You said it yourself, Genius, you're the Incredible Hulk, you can't hog. Batman is spectacular because you can't friggin' see him comin' and he's the goddamn Batman. He can breathe in friggin' SPACE, MAN. IN SPACE. Never forget that." He hops away from the table but continues to point at Gene; in fact, he leans down and basically breathes on his neck, whispering coarsely. "Watch your baaack, man. Torres is a shifty little rat. You've heard the rumours about what he does to people who give him the eye. But you scratch my back, little fella, I'll scratch yours."

"When I'm in prison, I'm Hulk, when I'm out, I'm Batman. Besides, Batman is a human, Hulk is an alter ego. I can have the normal operations of Batman, but when I forgo reason for eating a man's eyeball, I go Hulk. Like Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde… If the doctor was also a genius and could kill you with pen lasers." While maybe having a hint of truth, it is clear that Gene doesn't understand the idea of 'tough guy' act. Hopefully, he won't be in prison long enough to perfect it. "But let's just keep cool for now. If we don't play it safe, how are we going to get out on good behavior?" Because they always let out suspected terrorists for good behavior! …Okay, Gene is reaching for hope too, but it's better than waiting to see if when the prison is doing their own rendition of Thriller.

Buddy eyes Gene. He eyes him for a long time, moving as much as a statue. Eyes. "…When I get out. It'll be on my own behaviour." The look he shifts from side to side is overplayed, theatrical, but he doesn't even notice. The cagey man starts to stalk away from Gene; he points at his own eyes and then at the Incredible Hulk/Batman/genius and backs away. He backs straight into another inmate walking past. "JESUS CHRIST! Let's go! Are you try'n'a start something you waste of SPACE!! I want to f— oh hey Torres, what's up." He pounds his chest. "One love." On that, Buddy winks at Gene and heads off through the mess hall.

A quirked brow (from his unbusted eye) is all Gene gives Buddy for the entire display until the man is heading back toward his cell. Only a few minutes until he is asked to go back himself. He looks up to the sky, clearly looking to the Big Guy Upstairs. "I know you have a Master Plan and you don't like people telling you how to do your job like Job did… But um, I humbly suggest less prison time and more smoking hot girls asking me to join them in bible study." With that, Gene goes to take his tray away. He tries to take the fork with him. While it may be plastic and flimsy, if he can file it down some, he could have a shiv. And if movies on prison taught him anything, shivs are important. That and gang colors, but Gangsta Gene sounds like a recipe for (phat) doom.

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