The Phoenix Colony

After adjusting to the light and awkward angling of the ship, Ben managed to get his mind straight, pencil out a few objectives, and begin to look at each one logically. "Number one, get the **** out of here, end list." he said to no one, trying to catch his breath. He couldn't breath well, something in the air, something out of the ordinary. Coughing some, he looked around, seeing what he had to work with. An upside down bed, and nothing else. "****," he wheezed, wiping the sweat out of his eyes, it was hot too, like a ****ing oven. Looking back down the hallway, he tried to figure out how bad his legs would be if he jumped it. I could maybe crawl out? . . . dammit! He looked away, trying to catch his breath.

"MOTHER!" screamed someone far away. "MOOOTHER! MOTHER MOTHER MOTHER!" He screamed more in a coarse voice. "MOOOOOTHER!"

"SHUT THE **** UP!" Ben screamed back, leaning against the floor, trying to think as he struggled with each breath.

"MOO- . . . mother? MOOOTHER!" returned the voice.

In a blind fit of rage Ben kicked the bed hard, stubbing his toe. "****!" he cursed, "**** **** ****ty **** shi-" He stopped, looking at the bed, steel framed, useless, but hanging from it was a billowy white cloth. "****!" yelled Ben triumphantly, grabbing the sheet, coiling it up and tying one end to the bed. It might not get him to the bottom, but it might get him close enough to jump. He edged one foot out of the door, meeting empty air and a shower of sparks. Taking a deep breath, closing his eyes and praying to God, he let the other foot over the edge as well, feeling his weight drag the bed frame as he slowly drifted down some 20 feet until a clinking sound of metal on metal sounded, him halting with it. In the darkness Ben could hardly see anything, but after another shower of sparks he could see the bottom of the hallway, precious ground a mere ten feet from his toes. Taking in one last, uneasy breath, he let go of he seat stained cloth and felt the soles of his shoes land on the steel wall with a click.

 

The blackness fades. Confusion, lights flicker. She has no sense of time and how long she had been out. Screams of agony and the unmistakable smell of burning plastic, electrical wires and flesh fill Raylene's ears and nose.

She groans and tries to move. Another surge of pain courses through her shoulder. She steadies herself and pushes her back against the wall and into a sitting position. With her left hand, she picks up her right hand and lays it in her lap.

"HELP! Is anyone there? I can't feel my arm. Please help me!"

 

"Awww look at little girl crying," said the man to Juan's left. "Don't worry, I'll make it all better once we get free. Then you can call me 'Big Joey'. Would you like that my girly girl? Huh?"

Juan slowly started to bite his lip. If he couldn't stop crying he was as good as dead. His free hand jerked away from a jagged piece of metal.

"Come on girly girl, cry for me," said Big Joey, "I love when ya cry."

Juan's hand wrapped around the metal.

"Whatcha got there girly girl? You wanna look in the mirror to make yourself all pretty for me?"

"I got'em next," said another voice from behind. It felt like everyone was laughing.

Juan pulled at the metal. Slowly it began to move.

Big Joey smacked Juan's backside. "That depends ... whatcha got for trade?"

The metal shard squealed as it broke free from the hull.

"Well gentlemen, we looks like I got an offer of three macks of smokes for girly girl. ANybody wanna make it four?"

The tears kept coming. Juan couldn't control his breathing. He couldn't breathe through his nose anymore. Heat krept up his face. He raised the metal his above his head.

"Whatcha doing girly girl?" asked Big Joey. "Ya gonna hurt me? Huh?"

"Aw hell Joey, he can't even see you. Why don't you give him some help. Marco!"

"Polo!" said Joey laughing so hard he was shaking.

"F*** you!" screamed Juan as he brought sharp, jagged piece of metal right down on his wrist. Juan Mercerdo dropped to the floor of the ship. His right wrist pumping blood. His body shaking in pain. "F*** you!!!!" He screamed between sobs as he crawled away.

 

Smith awoke to cursing. He tried to move but at the first slight movement his head pounded so he just looked and felt around with his hands until he recovered his stun gun. His eyes caught the shape of the prisoner he had seen in the door way lowering himself. Smith waited until the man dropped to the floor before speaking.

Once the man hit the floor Smith forced himself into a sitting position against the complaints of his head, straightened his glasses and raised the stun gun on the man. “How many people are alive in there?” He asked the prisoner gun aimed center mass. He could hear his heart beating in his head. He wasn’t sure how long he could stay awake like this but he had to get help for the other prisoners or they’d all be cooked alive.

 

Juan pulled off his belt and tighened it around his wrist. Using his shoulder to guide him, he crept closer and closer towards the heat. He stopped close to a small fire. He could feel the heat flowing over him in waves. He swallowed hard while trying to clench a fist that was now a good fifty feet behind him. The smell of burning fat hit his noise just before his lungs exploded with a scream.

 

“How many people are alive in there?” asked the guard, sitting down and pointing his weapon right at his chest.

Ben raised a hand to his head, trying to come up with a response, but his thinking was interrupted by an explosion somewhere above. "**** mister I don't know! Excuse my poor manners but when your on a sinking ship and running out of air please and thank you aren't exactly the top priorities."

"MOOOTHER!" screamed the voice again, somewhere above him.

"SHUT UP ALREADY!" returned Ben, lowering his arm back to his side. He sighed, another shower of sparks bringing even more heat to his already drenched face. He looked back to the guard and said, "Listen buddy, **** these people, the doors are open right? Natural selection and all that Darwin piss, if they get out they get out, you and me, we got to go, otherwise we're gonna end up like them." Ben pointed a finger up towards the voice. "And would you mind lowering that thing! I'm wearing a suit for God'sake, how threatening can I be?"

 

Smith couldn’t help but smirk at the mans response, he lowered the gun and pushed hard against the ground. “You’re right you should get out of here.” Smith said as he strained to get on his feet. He finally made it, sweet pouring down his face. He holstered the stun gun and looked along the back wall of the prison cells. “You should stay near the ship I’m sure a rescue ship will be along any day.” He added and slid along the wall towards the back of the female prisoner hold. He saw the faint outline of a damaged wall panel, it was bent out of place.

“Before you take off, mind helping me at least get into here?” He asked the man softly, putting a hand to his pounding forehead. “If we both pull on this we might be able to get it off, after that you can head on out.” Not waiting to see if the man was going to help he reached up and gripped the panel and began heaving back ignoring his head.

 

Allen woke to suffocation and darkness. He couldn't breathe. With his free hand, he clawed at his face. His raking fingers found purchase and pulled. A small screen came away from his head, the kind that was used to blind, deafen, and silence prisoners, the kind that were only used on the worst of the worst because of their inhumanity. It shouldn't come away from his face like that. They usually gave an immensly painful jolt directly into the nervous system if any attempt was made to tamper with it. They also didn't usually suffocate their host.

The screen came away, leaving him blinded, this time with light though, not darkness. He had spent nearly the last week with it over his head, and now even the dim light afforded him was overpowering. Allen however, was quick to recover. Pausing to take stock of the situation he had to admit to himself it didn't look good. He didn't remember it, but the ship had obviously crashed. He must have blacked out at some point. The reason why was obvious, he had hit his head on one of the steel bed posts. There was a dent in the screen that attested to that, it was also what had made it stop functioning. That screen had saved his life. He looked around and for the first time saw what the inside of his ship looked like.

Far below him, he could dimly see the bottom of the slope through the smoke and flame. At the bottom he could see someone. It looked like a person in a guards uniform. Allen started calling out.

"Hey down there! We need some help! If I die the President will personally take it out on your hide, and your families hide! I'm sure they told you about me when I came on board.

 

Ben, looking up with surprise, said, "Well tap dancing Christ, looks like everyone is starting to wake up! You better sit tight pal, or try and get out, either way really, deal with the problem at hand and all that, try the bed sheet if you must." and with that he turned to the guard, trying desperately to pull open the panel. He wasn't scrawny, but he wasn't a body builder.

"Step back friend," said Ben rubbing his hands together, "If three times a week with a personal trainer can't get this thing open it was a waste of money." He stepped back, giving Ben a little room. Gripping both sides of the vent tightly, hot air rushing out of the diagonal slits, Ben stuck one foot up against the "wall" and pulled. His muscles expanded underneath the arms of his suit as he tried to rip it off. One heave got a corner to give, a second heave to the rest off. Wiping off some more grease from his face, Ben said panting, "Money well spent eh?"

 

Raylene is blacking in out of conciousness. The circulation in her right arm is definately compromised, as the tip of her fingers are starting to turn blue.

Through the mesh screen, she can see hands gripping at a portion of the wall.

"Hey! In here....we're in here. Please help. My arm....."

Pain surges through her shoulder again and she relapses into darkness.

 

Smith stepped aside head spinning. As the strong man moved stepped up to the job. He walked over and looked up at the dangling man who had shouted something down. Smith’s head had been spinning to hard from effort to hear what was actually said. “Hang in there I’m gonna head up to the control room and set you all free.”

“Money well spent eh?" The man in the suit said friendly.

“Defainatly.” Smith replied and then he heard the woman call out. “Hold on tight and brace yourself so you don’t just fall on your head when you get released I’m heading for the control room now.” Smith called and turned to look at the man in the suit. “The names Chad, and I owe you one.” He said and looked up the walkway. “You should go on and get out of here, I’ve got to get to the release.” He added as he put a hand up to his head. If he passed out on the way up to the release he was done for, he’d slide down and smack his head again and end up in a coma. He gritted his teeth and reached up the slope and grabbed onto some damaged flooring, “Just like rock climbing.” He whispered to himself and began the long trip up.

 

Cull had been sleeping when it had happened. It was the most sleep he’d had in the past six days. When all of a sudden the ship had slammed into the earth as if I were being controlled by a rather destructive four year old paying cars in a sand pit. The force of the impact had thrown him from his bed and against the neighbouring metal wall. The face plant giving a nauseous cracking sound. As he came off the wall and rolled across the floor and beneath the bunks a slick trail of blood from his nose followed after.

“****” he shouted as he caught the railing of the bunk. He gasped as a sharp pain rocketed from his nose to his skull. He wiped the blood that was in the corner of his eye and spat out a chip of tooth. He looked out from under the bed, their were crumpled bodies still rolling lifelessly about the floor. He froze, what had happened. After a while he ventured a peek from beneath the bed ahead of him the doors of the lock up were open. Cull shuddered, then shook his head as the pain tore at his skull once again. After a while he let his grip relax then dropped down from the bolted down bunk then stumbled about before gaining balance.

From the ground he could survey the room. In the room amongst the bodies a man was moaning. The they started low then began to gather.

“Moother,” he cried. The chant continued and Cull sighed.

“Shut the **** up.” a voice snapped. The mummies boy continued. Something shifted about on metal and a man disappeared through the doors now located at the bottom of the room. Cull looked around for his own way to escape. The man screaming mother continued to serenade Cull and he swore under his breath thinking to grab the bastard and choke him for a little piece and quiet.

“Hey,” he finally shouted, “are you f***ers just going to leave us here or what?”

 

Oh, my God…

THUD

Where am I? What…

THUD

Oh, Christ, my head, my fu*king head…

THUD

Owen forced his eyes open, only to find he couldn’t see a thing. Everything was industrial gray. Oh God, I’ve gone blind! I’ve… He jerked up in panic. Directly in front of him lay a body. His own face had been pressed into the leg of the dead man’s jumpsuit, blocking his vision. As his senses began to return, he realized someone was screaming. Several someones, in fact. He pushed himself back on his haunches, his eyes trying to focus as he stared at the body of Gary Tosier, who was impaled on what looked to be a cot leg.

“Oh, gross.” He muttered. A wrenching noise made him jump, and he whipped around to see one of the guards scurrying up what used to be the ceiling of the ship. He shakily pushed himself onto his feet, gingerly avoiding the late Gary Tosier.

 

As Fox clings to her bed, she becomes very frustrated. She could feel the heat of the fire and there was very little light. "S***, what the hell can I do to get out of this." thinks Fox.

She remembers back to when Lonan was teaching her to fight. She was 11 and he was 20 at the time. They were practising hand to hand combat. Ofcourse he would beat her every time they had a match. Every time she was knocked down, she would get right back up. However, each defeat came quicker, as she became more angry and frustrated. During the final match, Lonan told her "Only a fool allows themselves to be consumed by anger and frustration. They will only cause you to make mistakes." as he patted her head. He then got some icecream for her. She looked up at her new found big brother and said "I promise, I'll never let myself become too frustrated ever again. Do you think that someday I can save my dad?" Tears started to stream down her face. Lonan says "Hey, rebels don't cry. When we're confronted with a bad situation, we find a way to succeed. If you become strong and smart enough, maybe someday you can save your dad." The little girl hugged Lonan "I hope that your right."

"I wonder how dad is doing. He has been in prison for nine years now." thinks Fox, "Ok Lonan, I'll stay calm and think my way through this situation. First, I will need help." Fox calls out, "Is there anyone there, we're trapped in here."

 

“Hey,” he finally shouted, “are you f***ers just going to leave us here or what?”

"I am, sorry about that but I wouldn't know how to free you, besides I got my own ass to look after." Ben called back at the voice, coming from the direction Chad climbed to. "You don't owe me **** Chad," he said to him, smiling a little. An odd thing to do in such a situation? Yes, but an odd situation such as that one called for odd things just like that, you might die, so you might as well die with a smile on your face. "Just pay it forward." he called before looking for a way out. He stopped suddenly, remembering something. "Chad!" he yelled, "The names Ben, Ben Freeman, thats the name to ask for if you get out of this!"

Looking away, he thought frantically How do I get out of this now? He was a tad calmer now, just talking with others, seeing people could make out fairly well, it eased his nerves. Less pressure meant a clearer mind. Ben examined the situation at hand. It was dark, darker than anything he had seen, occasionally brightened by sparks. From what he could make out the hallway he had managed to get down split into two, each running the length of the ship. One of the unforgiving tunnels was littered with burning wreckage, un-navigable, the other was just too dark to tell. Sighing, Ben began to walk along the wall into the mysterious blackness, where only God knew what awaited him.

 

“Well **** you too,” Cull shouted back before looking around. It was fine if he wanted to be an ass he could be just that. He’d seen how the guy had gotten out all he had to do was follow suit. He tired his best to copy what the man had done. But some how on the way down he’d managed to buckle up at torn his shirt. The friction had burnt into his arm and he swore in pain. When he finally managed to drop down through the doors. The hall looked empty, everyone was more worried about themselves then a little team work. He guessed he was no exception. He shivered, it was creepy outside of the holding cell. The electrics shot sparks here and there and they cascaded down every now and then Cull had to dodge them to avoid the angry little burns they caused. He spotted a man when the sparks rained down again giving away little dribs and drabs of the hall. He was using a wall to lead him and Cull hurried to catch up with him. Then hung back a little wondering if it was the same ass**** that apparently couldn’t help him before hand. It would be best if he just hung back a little and followed the guy.

 

Allen heard the voice calling from below to hang on, but he didn't trust him. He wasn't still alive because he trusted easily. Reaching up, he grabbed the tether with his free hand and pulled, taking some of the wieght off of the other arm. The stuck arm didn't hurt that much because the unnatural position over his head and his body wieght hanging from it had caused it to loose feeling, well it didn't hurt untill the circulation started coming back.

Once his arm was in working condition again, he grabbed the tether with it and let go with his good hand. Kicking his legs back and forth started him swinging, while he reached out with his good hand for the bed frame. It was a good thing they were welded to the floor, as it was he hoped it would hold.

He made it without much difficulty and actually had to climb up the bed because he had so much slack with the cable that he was just below the bottom end of the bed. It shrieked and shuddered with his weight and he could feel the remaining welds holding it to the floor trying to give way. Allen took as much weight on the tether as he could and climbed to the top end of the bed closest to the wall where the tether was attached. Gathering the slack in his hands he tied it around the bedframe in between the top and bottom bunk with a knot that wouldn't slip. He closed his eyes, said a small prayer and jumped. There was a screech of tearing metal.

 

Smith pulled himself up the slop slowly and steadily, mentally making a note as he went to remember Ben. His mind coming dangerously close to blacking out again several times before he made it to the top. Their he finally rested. Looking up at the door into the control room. The emergency light still on above the door meant that it should still work.

He reached up and hit the switch… one of the door halves opened the other stayed still. “See lucks still on my side.” He said and leapt up from his perch below the door half way into the room. My head spinning again. “I’m sure I could though of a smarter way to get in here.” He said to himself as he somehow managed to pull himself into the room. He paused catching his breath again before walking over to the panel. Now comes the easy part. “HEY!” He shouted down the hallway. “Your about to be let go hold on to something!” He yelled at the top of his lungs and then keyed in his ten digit safety code and struck “release all” on the panel. Their was a beep of confirmation and he heard someone yell as their restraints let go. He obviously hadn’t heard Smiths warning.

With that done he walked over to the other side stepping over the open doorway and stopped in front of the weapons locker. “See, everything turned out fine.” He said and keyed in his combination again to open it. He reached in slung a combat shotgun over his shoulder, pocketed as many shells as he could, grabbed and assault rifle popped in a mag, slipped two more into his belt hoping they’d stay, closed the locker and walked over to the edge of the door and sat down looking through the hole to the prisoners below wondering how many would be ok.

 

The tunnel was dark alright, no sparks to even light it, but it was hot. If felt like stumbling through Dante's Inferno on a dark night, whats worse, with the ship all topsy turvey the hall way was weird. The wall was the floor and the floor and ceiling were walls, and what used to be doors were now pits of death, dropping unknown distances into hard steel. Ben had gotten the idea to crawl along on all fours, slowly and carefully, each time his hand hit nothing but air, he get back, take a running start, jump, and pray for the best. Three times he had to do that, and three times his feet landed on solid ground. Ben heard something behind him though, moving, footsteps. He had never been fond of the dark, a superstitious man, always afraid of what might be there. He wasn't afraid of ghosts behind him though, he was afraid of murderers, the scum sucking bastards who deserved to be on the ship, people who killed people like Ben for kicks.

Crawling forward, he felt his hand hit nothing again. Sighing and wiping more sweat out of his eyes, not that they'd do him any good in the dark, he stood up, backed up as far as he felt safe, got a few good steps in and jumped over the canyon, just as his feet hit he heard another noise, leather on metal, shoes on the wall. Ben's head jerked backwards, his eyes wide with fear and anger, trying to capture as much light as possible, trying to see his stalker.

"Who's there!" he yelled in a harsh tone, grease dripping from his chin as another rush of air seared his face. "Who's there, speak up now!"

 

Name:Chrystine Waters
Type of Character:Minor Offender, vandalising government property
Gender:F
Age:17
Appearance: 5'8", Auburn hair, stlyed into dreadlocks that carress her belt line, green eyes. Having been abruptly detained, she has not been properly registered, as a result, she is atill wearing the worn blue jeans nad volleyball jersey she committed the crime in
Resuts of Genetic Alteration: with one observation, she can mimic your actions, and your voice, if spoken clearly / down-size is she has to keep mimic anyone person to a minimum, otherwise, she loses herself to that person (minion style) Another alteration is that her cat like mannerisms become more defined, this may be either positive or negative, only time can tellVocation/Skills:unemployed/ cooking, quick learning, observant, knitting, and various crafts
Personality:short-tempered yet patient, determined, and nurturing
Background: A hardworking student, the incident that got her into this mess was the result of peer pressure. If her guardian, a foster-borg, were to learn of her predicament, she would be relocated to her paternl home, a place she loathes. She is has a natural distrust for those named "John" but can forgive them easily.

 

The bed tore free of the floor and started falling, but not for long. With a massive jerk it stopped and started swinging crazily, stopped in it's fall by the tether tied to the frame. Apparently the government put a lot of money into those tetheres.

"Son of a Bitch," he swore under his breath. He never swore out loud because the times when you really needed to swear there was always an enemy around, and you would probably give away your position.

Allen grabbed on to the frame of the bed and looked around, trying to find some way out of his prediciment, at least he wasn't hanging by his wrist anymore. He rubbed his shoulder and wondered that it wasn't seriously injured. He hadn't even dislocated his shoulder.

Far below, he could see the mesh seperating the two sections, and just below it on the wall, the doorway into the corridor. The view was different though, he couldn't see the guard at the bottom, it seemed he had left his position, or else just moved to where Allen couldn't see him from this angle.

Suddenly the tether detached from the wall and the portion around his wrist fell off. The bed plummeted through the air.

"Son of a Bitch!"

 

The shackle released from Raylene's right wrist during a period she was unconcious. The tilt of the ship caused her to slide from sitting and down the slope of the floor. The movement of the slide arousing her.

Looking around, she can see 2 other women, free of their restraints.

"Can one of you possibly help? I can't feel my arm anymore. I don't think I can stand."

 

Fox hears the click as the restrant opens. While keeping one hand on the bed she ties the end of the sheet to the bed post and carefully lowers herself down. She heard someone talking "Can one of you possibly help? I can't feel my arm anymore. I don't think I can stand."

Fox went over to the woman and put the woman's good around around Fox's shoulder. Fox looks up where the mesh used to be and says "Ok, we need to figure out a way to get upto the hall."

 

"Who's there, speak up now!" the man from before asked. Cull couldn’t help but snicker it served him right and Cull hoped he was scared stupid.

“Alright,” he finally managed stepped out of the shadows and letting himself be seen. “Serves you right for leaving me to get myself out before, that wasn‘t very sporting of you.” Cull glared at the man then let his features soften. “I‘m Cull Brackwell”

 

Reva’s muscles had begun to tremble by the time the vent had opened somewhere along the wall below her. She could see a man’s face peering through it and wondered if it was the guard with the glasses she’d seen most often in the observation window. She couldn’t tell.

Other than that not much happened. A few of the women below tried to climb up to the vent. The others who where shackled like herself continued to wait. One blonde-haired woman’s shoulder was obviously dislocated and she kept blacking out from the pain. Reva winced in sympathy.

There was a shouted warning and the restraint at her wrist sprang loose. At the same time the mesh wall that separated the women’s quarters in two rolled up to the ceiling.

Reva looked along the floor to the vent and swung hard from the strut before letting go, trying to steer herself with hands and feet during the slide down the floor so that she could actually angle up toward the vent. She just managed to grab the edge of the opened vent with one hand and scrambled through it, thankful that the leg shackles had released and dropped away as well.

She looked back through the hole at Fox and the blonde woman.

“Can you slide her over to me?”