Lenox didn't even glance back as she raised a hand and flipped the woman off.
Piper's eyes darted back and forth between the woman and Lenox, not sure she was really seeing the scene. Somewhere behind her, Rico laughed.
Despite their run in, Piper felt herself cheer the girl on. It was just her nature.
The enemy of my enemy...
The woman finally turned on them as if just noticing she had an audience. She seemed unfazed by the disrespectful gesture or was merely a good actor. Piper couldn't tell.
The woman must've read her stunned expression, not that Piper tried to hide it.
"Real peach, isn't she?" The woman said, moving closer.
"Oh yeah, a charmer for sure," Piper said cautiously.
Enemy of my enemy...she wasn't sure which side she fell on yet.
"A necessary evil,” the woman said, sticking her hand out. "Ava Delgado. Executive Director for MAX Corp."
Piper took the taller woman's hand. Delgado stood nearly 6 inches taller than her own 5'7" frame, though she’d be willing to bet if the woman ditched the towering heels, she'd only clear her by an inch or two. She'd seen it before, women trying to command respect in a predominantly male world by appearing taller, and acting twice as ruthless.
She was about to introduce herself when the woman jumped in again.
"Piper LaRue...and these must be your friends,” she said, motioning to Jason and Rico.
Piper's anger bubbled again. Friends? Like they were playing dress up or something.
Piper couldn't help but correct her. "Colleagues. Camera and sou—“
"Right, of course,” Delgado interrupted again as she seemed to look past them.
She was starting to see why the girl left the way she did. Piper didn't know how much longer she could keep up the polite charade.
Delgado stepped toward the office and held out an arm, motioning them in.
The three of them took a seat in front of the grand sweeping desk. The room was immaculate. Not a single speck of dust marred any surface. No clutter or mess, just a single Jackpad sat on the desk, it's screen dark, and a single interface pen perfectly aligned next to it.
On the dark gray wall behind the desk hung three frames precisely measured and spaced out. Not one thing in the office askew or out of place.
Neurotic much?
Piper eyed them closely. The left one, vaguely familiar to her, was a photo of Delgado posing casually with Billy Hash. Well, he was casual. He always was. But she was stiff and proper. Probably from the rod up her ass. She'd seen the pic before, on an entertainment news site or something, right after MAX launched Lockdown.
The picture framed on the right was of Delgado and the President of MAX Corp, another iconic photo splashed across the net.
The picture in the middle was a framed cover of NetFortune, the largest business e-zine on the planet. The cover boasted Delgado as the number one, single executive that drove MAX Corp to success and saved the corrections system—and millions of the taxpayer's cred. The woman was intimidating in person, for sure, but the cover hyped it up even more. A financial force to be reckoned with. Yet another mark against her.
Piper shifted uncomfortably as Delgado remained standing. No doubt, another intimidation tactic.
That shit wasn’t going to work on her.
With her back turned, Delgado swiped a finger over the top of the middle frame, then spoke.
"We've granted you and your team access, to show the public we believe in being transparent and open, as well as dedicated to protecting the citizens of this nation."
Piper could almost hear Rico's eyes rolling. He could smell bullshit a mile away, and Delgado was laying it on thick. It was one of his many talents, and the very reason, Piper loved the guy. Wanted to work with him on everything she did.
Delgado slowly crossed around her desk and leaned back against it till she sat right on the edge.
"It's easy to see the game, all the news and publicity. You forget that, once you cross in here, the game stops. The game is for the players out there, hundreds, thousands of miles away. But I assure you this is not a game Ms. LaRue. Not in here. In here, everyone is one step away from death. So let me be perfectly clear; if a staff member tells you to do something, you do it. "
Piper had to fight to keep from rolling her own eyes. She didn't need a sixth sense to know the woman was deliberately force feeding them trumped up reality like they were petulant children. She knew damn well it wasn't just a game. Why else would she be there?
"Warden Malone is in charge. You will work with him if I'm not available. I will be working from here for the duration of your filming, though my duties may call me away on occasion. In my absence, Warden Malone is the final word."
The conversation seemed to naturally lull and the three stood, figuring it was their cue to leave, but as Piper took a step towards the door, Delgado straightened and started up again.
"I know about the last little film you made, Ms. LaRue. And let me be clear. There will be no false portrayal or scandalized footage here." Delgado crossed her arms. "You've been given the opportunity of a lifetime, many would kill for it. An exclusive that could make or break your career. I trust you won't piss this chance away with lies and slander? You're here to show how the system works and how it's keeping our citizens safe. That is all."
Piper stared the woman down for several seconds. She could feel the rage bubbling at her core. Who the hell did she think she was?
She wanted to say something. To point out that she had a career. That her last documentary was more than a "little film". Fergus Inc. had it coming. If they hadn't been doing the public dirty, they wouldn't have had anything to fear.
It seemed fairly clear from Delgado's speech that MAX Corp was hiding something. And she'd find it. She wanted to flat out ask the self-righteous bitch but Rico's calm hand on her wrist helped temper back the emotion and put her rage in check.
Better to keep her calm now and strike later. Let Delgado think she was playing her game.
Rico pulled her along and they headed back out into the lobby. From her office, they heard Delgado's voice call after them.
"Warden Malone will be in later, until then, I'll have one of our officers escort you around. Let you get the lay of the land," the woman said before pushing her door shut in their faces.
Ch 4 Anthony Ortiz
Ortiz was less than thrilled when he was summoned to the admin building and told to escort three documentary filmmakers around. It made him feel like even more of a glorified babysitter. At least with the inmates, there was a hint of danger and a sense of pride knowing you kept hardened criminals locked up. Not that duty had anything to do with his employment there. Still, in his line of work, you had to grab and hold tightly to any motivation you could. It was easy to lose hope, to lose yourself and crush your faith in humanity with it.
They should've never let these amateurs in. Someone could be killed. Outsiders never took it seriously. The public, never took it seriously. It was like, as soon as they realized it wasn't MAX, that it was considered a "lesser" security prison, they automatically thought it was child's play. That it really was a game. But the fact was, The Tank was far from minimum security.
He could practically see it wash across the crew's faces. Could almost pinpoint the exact moment it happened; when he told them it wasn't MAX, Piper looked disappointed. They all looked disappointed.
"What about that guy from the commercials? Gruesome, or whatever. That's who we need to see,” Piper said as Ortiz led them down a long hallway.
"Grimm,” Ortiz corrected her.
"Yes, him! That's what they want to see."
Ortiz gritted his teeth. Clearly, the art yuppies he had to babysit weren't taking it seriously at all. And why should they? They'd never had to lock themselves in a cell and pray the staff would regain control before an inmate got them. It didn't matter if it was a "lesser" security prison; assaults on staff still happened. Yes, safety meas
ures and precautions were taken, but injuries—serious ones—were still obscenely frequent. Not to mention the violence and trauma you witnessed. He'd seen things that would haunt him the rest of his life. Seen grown men piss themselves and leave mentally fractured, or worse. No matter how much training MAX Corp put them through, it could never fully prepare them for the scarring reality that happened inside.
They’d find that out soon enough.
Ortiz stopped outside the heavy security door leading from the fortified admin offices.
"Beyond this point, we're in their house. Active gaming is happening every day, every minute. If an officer tells you to do something, do it immediately. It could mean the difference between life and death." Ortiz took the time to look each one in the eye, hoping his warning would sink in.
The short muscled Latino rolled his eyes again.
God, he wanted to punch the prick.
Ortiz knew he wasn't taking it seriously; Rico, he thought he remembered the guy's name. He wanted to shake the guy, tell him how stupid he was but knew he'd only be wasting his breath. Rico would find out soon enough. Ortiz just hoped his stupidity wouldn't land him face first in the dirt or get Ortiz himself, sent to the med wing. It was one thing to fall for a fellow officer, but quite another to go down for some punk looking to line his pockets and get famous.
The thought twisted his gut. If anyone should be lining their pockets it was him. Him! Them. The guards. Doing the shit no one else could or would do. Maybe they were crazy?
Ortiz touched his ear and heard the familiar light crackle of static.
"Control, we're ready to leave Knox,” he said to the officer in the control room.
"Copy that,” a voice said in his ear.
"Knox?" Piper repeated looking over at Rico.
"Like Fort Knox," Ortiz answered flatly.
Rico made a face at her and she smacked his arm.
Ortiz shook his head and waited patiently for the hiss and creak of the mechanical latches being released. Seconds later, an obnoxious buzz signaled the door was safe to open.
He pushed and held it open for the others to pass through. Rico's eyes darted around as he walked through and Ortiz gave the guy a smug smile. They hadn't seen anything yet.
Just you wait.
The door slammed behind them and the locks slid back into place. The three jumped in unison and Ortiz's smile widened.
"Congratulations, you've taken the first step to hell."
Ch 5 Piper LaRue
The corridor was long and narrow. Barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side. Dull, graying concrete stretched ahead to another ominous door. The dim lighting didn't help the heaviness in the air. Even sound itself seemed trapped, unable to escape the concrete walls. You might have heard a pin drop, if it weren't for the incessant buzzing, of the ancient tube bulbs overhead.
Any luxury stopped abruptly as soon as they passed through the door. She found herself wondering what the rest of the prison would look like. A hum of excitement started in her core and buzzed outward. This was more like it.
Again, Ortiz spoke to some unseen entity and the door in front of them unlatched then buzzed. The officer ushered them through and they shuffled into a bland lobby as Ortiz shut the heavy door behind them.
"That..." Ortiz nodded towards the hallway on their left. "is the officer's wing. Break room, restrooms, lockers, and beyond that, the control room. The Tank is under 24hr surveillance."
Ortiz veered right, leading them down a long corridor. He glanced up at a small, black dome tucked neatly above a door and asked Control to open it. They heard a click and the door released, letting them through.
They walked silently through another stretch of hallway more bland and drab than the previous. It was significantly older, showing signs of wear and discoloration. A few doors set throughout the corridor looked relatively low security. Nothing like the heavy, vault-like doors from before. Piper found herself wondering what was behind each one. What juicy secrets they might hold.
Ortiz led them out one more heavily secured door and she was shocked when they stepped outside. Her hand shot above her brow shielding her eyes from the sudden bright intrusion.
High chain link fences, double rowed, lined a faded and cracking sidewalk that led to an ominous building a short distance ahead. Several other buildings loomed in the background beyond the first.
It felt like something out of a movie. How old was the place? A 100, 200 years old? Was it safe? Did anyone really care? She knew they were criminals, but damn, what about basic human rights? The place couldn't be up to code. There was no way. She mentally tucked the thought away. Her running tab of dirt on MAX was coming along nicely. She had no doubt it would only grow from that point on.
It was damn near impossible to ignore the double-stacked rows of razor wire topping the fences. She knew inmates had escaped—a lofty, much sought after goal for the players in the game—but she just couldn't wrap her mind around how it was possible.
As they walked, it wasn't at all how she'd imagined it in her head. She'd expected a line of shouting, curious criminals out in the yard. Throwing up gang signs and glaring them down. Definitely, the sort of gritty, dark portrayal often seen in the media. Inmates whistling and spitting vulgar comments their way. Some creepy low life, staring at her beyond a fence, licking his lips. Instead, the yards were eerily silent and vacant.
"I thought inmates got yard time?"
"They do, but we're on lockdown. We had an escape this morning,” Ortiz said.
Piper shot Rico and Jason an excited look. Finally, something matched the vision she'd had in her head. Something her future audience would want to see; pay to see.
Rico silently mouthed a mocking "ooh lock down", and she punched him in the arm. The last thing she wanted was to get booted out because they weren't taking it "seriously". They’d already had a hell of a time even getting a foot in the door.
As they neared the building, Piper could clearly make out the big black "D" that marked the outside wall.
"D-block," Piper said more to herself than anyone in particular.
She'd read a few gaming articles in Jacked before being given the go ahead. She'd wanted to be at least somewhat prepared for the structure and feel of the game before filming. The key was to be informed but not influenced. A delicate balance for sure. Something she'd found increasingly difficult since her last film.
Ortiz nodded. "D-block is the lowest level here, they progress risk wise on up to A; where we house our most violent inmates."
Violent, she liked the sound of that.
They hit a gate just outside D-block and Piper noticed the packed key ring only after Ortiz reached for it at his belt.
"Little archaic isn't it?" She asked.
Ortiz shook his head like he was confronting an ignorant child. "Old school, yes. Used to have chips." Ortiz said holding out his arm and wiggling his fingers. "Lotta officers came out missing their hands."
Piper studied the man trying to determine if he'd made it up. Or, at the very least, exaggerated the tale. Something behind the officer's eyes told her he wasn't joking.
Point taken, your job is tough.
Though she'd never tell him that.
Once inside D-block, they passed through a long corridor before stepping out into the open Block housing all the cells. Two inmates to a cell. Stacked four high. Well, almost open. A wall of chainlink on top of three foot high cement divided them from the actual cells. Still, it allowed enough visibility to feel like you were really on the inside, rubbing elbows with societies deadliest criminals.
The noise was incredible. Inmates shouting, banging anything they could against the bars. She wondered if it was always like that, or if the roar was because of her crew. Hell, maybe it was having a decent looking woman on the block? Someone other than the trolls that worked there, she didn't know.
Piper fought the urge to cover her ears. Never show fear. She remembered reading that somewhere. She'd alw
ays thought it a myth. Movie scenes of a new inmate slamming a lunch tray across some muscled brutes face flashed at the back of her mind. But standing there, surrounded by shouting, violent inmates, she saw the truth to it. They'd smell fear and eat you alive; some probably literally.
Piper shivered.
"Keep moving, Ms. LaRue,” Ortiz cautioned her.
Still stunned by the craziness of it all, she barely nodded in acknowledgment. Jason placed a hand gently on her arm and led her forward. She'd have to remember to thank him later.
They walked the length of the block and she found herself quickening her pace. They were nearly to the far gate when the last cell caught her attention. A large, menacing looking inmate had his slightly smaller bunkie pinned against the bars and was mercilessly pounding the holy hell out of the guy. The awful cries from the smaller man, paired with the sickening thud of each punch, knotted her stomach.
"Oh my god!" Piper said as she instinctively moved closer to Rico.
She glanced to Ortiz who seemed unconcerned as he casually radioed Control.
"Aren't you going to do something?"
Ortiz glanced into the cell then back to her. "Called it in."
"He'll kill him."
"He'll kill us if we try and stop it. They'll send a geared up officer, or a Reaper."
"A Reaper?" She thought the term sounded familiar but couldn't quite place it.
That was the danger of front loading too much research, she tended to blur all the facts she learned.
"If we have one available."
"I'm sorry, what's a Reaper exactly?"
She swore he rolled his eyes. A flash of irritation burned in her chest. She shouldn't let it get to her, how many times had she been guilty of the same thing?
"Reapers are like our special ops. They handle everything from cell searches to riots."
"And you don't always have one on hand?"
"They're around. There's only a handful, so their plates are pretty full."
"So how do you know if one's available to help?"
Ortiz paused and looked her up and down. "Oh, you'd know. Hard to miss. Real assholes."
Gaming The System [Book One] Page 2
