Fuck it. It wasn't working.
Knocking some heads around was the perfect solution. The only solution. Hell, she was already at The Tank, she might as well make things interesting and shakedown down some cells.
She watched the four officers diligently pulling on their vests and gear, and felt herself growing increasingly agitated with their excruciatingly slow pace.
It was half the reason the inmates didn't respect them. That, and all the damned gear. It just screamed fear. The ghosts could smell it.
Honestly, where do they find these fuckers?
It's not like they weren't protected. It was only a tier 3 prison. Safety protocols were in place. It was an organized shakedown, they had eyes on them, ready to step in if they needed it. Sure, there was the possibility of injury, but wasn't there at most jobs? The officers were just soft, spoiled, really. They had no idea what it was like to be in the real battle. To look death in the face and fucking spit.
Lenox leaned against the wall and chewed the end of the toothpick tucked at the corner of her mouth as she tried to channel her irritation and save it for the task ahead. She pulled a small flask from her pocket and took a quick gulp, loving the burn of the liquid down her throat.
"Whenever you ladies are ready,” she said, taunting the officers.
She smiled as a couple of the officers glared her way. She shrugged, took another swig, and replaced the flask back in her pocket. It was like watching children play dress up. Half the vests were ill fitted, two sizes too big or busting at the seams.
What a fucking joke.
The sound of velcro seemed to tear the air itself. When the crisp rip finally died down and everyone seemed adjusted, Lenox tossed the toothpick aside and turned toward the door.
"Now, we're talkin'."
Lenox shook her hands, loosing the stiffness that had rapidly set back in while waiting on the others.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a body move closer to her. Had to be a rook. Senior officers knew better than to approach her.
"Aren't you suitin' up?" A young officer asked beneath his helmet visor.
A couple of the other officers stepped away from them, looking uncomfortable as Lenox looked their way.
Lenox gave a short snort as she scanned the officer's name badge tucked partly beneath his impact vest.
Holy shit.
She couldn't believe her luck.
"Pusi,” she said, reading out loud. "Fitting. New here, Pusi?" She couldn't keep the amusement from her voice.
"I, uh...5 weeks,” the officer answered as he glanced around, looking confused.
Lenox smiled. It was too easy.
"Well Pusi, let me give you some advice. And this one's free of charge, Pusi. Vests and all shit…” Lenox tapped the rookie's helmet twice. "doesn't keep you safe. Fear and respect, keep you safe. Your instincts and reflexes keep you safe. Remember that Pusi." She couldn't refrain from using his last name again and again. It was just too good to pass up.
The officer's eyes widened as he glanced down at his half hidden badge, finally understanding.
The door unlatched and Lenox moved forward, pushing her way through.
"Good talk, Pusi." She called over her shoulder.
The poor bastard was going to be eaten alive.
"It's Pusitz,” he said after her.
"Yeah…don't give a shit," Lenox said with a laugh and disappeared through the gate.
Ch 9 Piper LaRue
Time seemed to bend backward. They’d checked into a shitty, run down motel twenty minutes away from The Tank, and still had hours to kill before even attempting to sleep. Jason seemed content to Jackout, playing God knew what through his Net-tech. Building farms, or cities, taking over other players clans, she didn’t know, didn’t really care as long as he was there when she needed him. She envied his ability to get lost in another world while her anxiety and excitement ruled her.
Rico had taken the van and went to scope out the local scene. She had a suspicion he’d only gone to check out where he might be able to get lucky. He’d definitely turned “hooking up” into an art form. He wasn’t as suave as he thought he was, but more often than not, he did pick up. She wondered if it was just his determination or pity that landed him success. Whatever the case, she didn’t feel like tagging along to watch.
Time still hadn’t moved and she found herself growing more and more agitated. She needed a distraction. Pulling up her contacts she cycled through the list. Who would kill time with her? A smile touched the corners of her mouth. Kesta was always down for a pointless chat session. A fellow artist, her actual work hours were sporadic, if not, nonexistent. It made her the perfect best friend. Always there if you needed to talk. Well, if she wasn’t entertaining someone in the bedroom.
She glanced at Jason still lost in his fantasy world and pushed herself up off the bed. A little fresh air would do her some good, and allow her some privacy. She pulled open the door and stepped outside as she opened a link.
Like she knew she would, Kesta answered almost instantly.
“What up bi-otch?”
“You know, that’s not really a term of endearment,” Piper said with a smile. God, it was good to see her.
“Shut up, it is for you,” Kesta said.
A moment passed and Kesta told someone to “go”. The viewing frame didn't reach far enough to give her a view of Kesta’s guest.
“Who was that?” Piper asked though she already had a good idea.
“No one. He’s leaving.”
“What’s his name?” Piper pried.
“Paul, or Peter, or something. Doesn’t matter. Like a limp fish.”
“Gross.”
"Yeah, you...out," Kesta said.
"Oh shit, he's still there? Did he hear you?"
“Yeah well, I wouldn’t have had this problem if you’d just let me tag along like I wanted,” Kesta said.
“Don't put that evil on me. Besides, I don’t think this is really your scene.”
“Is there alcohol?” Kesta didn’t wait for an answer. “Then it’s my scene. Besides, it’s not about that, it’s about getting away for a bit. Shit here is just getting…stale, you know?”
“You mean you’ve run out of fresh meat.”
“I mean, I’m fuckin’ bored.”
Piper smiled, she really wished Kesta was there with her but she meant what she said. Kesta would’ve been over it as soon as she got there. She was a city girl through and through. Piper couldn’t see her slummin’ it in the backwater.
“It would’ve been just like old times. You go do your thing, I have some experiences, create great art, we meet up and wreck the town at night.”
“That does sound amazing,” Piper admitted.
“Good, it’s settled then. I’ll come visit.”
“You know I’d love that, I really would. It’s just not a good time. These people are very secretive and touchy…they almost didn’t let us in! Made us wait in the damn parking lot for hours.”
"Just unleash the inner bitch I know is in there, and tell them how it's going to be." Kesta almost started to sound a little whiny. She knew that irritated Piper.
"You know I'd love to see you and show this swamp trash how it's done, it's just not possible right now. I really need this, Kes."
"Yeah, I know. It just sucks. I miss the hell outta you."
Piper let out a sigh. "I know, I miss the hell outta you too. I promise, after things settle, you can come out."
"Fine. Now, tell me about this place."
Ch 10 Piper LaRue
It was the first day they'd actually get to film and Piper was nearly vibrating with excitement. She hadn't slept more than an hour at a time. She wasn't typically a morning person, but the thought of getting started was too much to ignore.
She stepped out of the shower and quickly wrapped a dingy, white hotel towel around herself before moving out of the tiny bathroom. Neither of her crew-mates batted an eye as she moved into the room. It w
asn't the first time they'd all shared such close quarters, and they were in for the long haul.
She took an extra towel and started wringing out her shoulder length hair as she glanced at the TV. The screen instantly caught her attention.
"Hey turn that up,” she told Jason as she rubbed the towel over her ear and hair, wiping away the moisture that dripped there.
Jason groaned at the inconvenience of having to move the two feet to find the remote. He’d made it abundantly clear he’d never stayed in such primitive conditions. “Practically camping”, he’d called it when they’d checked into the seedy motel. Looked for twenty minutes for a “pair” button on the TV before getting frustrated. Rico had grabbed the old fashioned remote and tossed it to the guy. Probably the first time he’d ever seen such a thing.
He clicked up the volume and laid back against the pillows again with an exasperated huff.
Piper rolled her eyes and smiled as she turned her attention to the screen.
“If you haven't jumped on board the latest hit, Lockdown, you might find the competition too tough to crack these days. For the second week in a row, it looks like the game's top gang is clearly ruling over the highest level in the top tier facility known as MAX..."
Piper watched fixated, forgetting her dripping hair.
"Leaderboards show the Maim, Murder, Kill gang hold the number one spot again. The gang claims to control more than 33% of the underworld operation on the inside. And while it looks like Brock Murphy is still leading MMK, all eyes are on LeSean "Grimm" Combe as he quickly gains power. And most players are wondering how long before Grimm makes a move for dominance."
The news cast cut away and a trashy commercial popped on, advertising the latest craze of the new DreamVR system.
“I can’t believe the shit they’re trying to hock these days. No talent hacks,” Rico said, tossing a piece of the breakfast bar he was chewing on at the screen.
Piper ignored his rant as she turned back to the mirror behind her and finished drying her hair. Her mind raced with possibilities. Grimm vs. Murphy, the battle for the crown. That was the kind of shit she wanted to catch. The kind of stuff the public wanted. She could provide a never before inside look at Lockdown. The publicity was built in. It was perfect! She'd only have to sit back and watch it catch fire. She'd finally have another hit. The taste of money burned into her soul. Maybe it was shallow of her. But she couldn't fund her other, more noble endeavors, without cold hard cash. And there was a mountain of it just waiting for them to reach out and take it.
She made a mental note to ask Delgado to get her inside MAX. She had to try and get in before this Grimm guy made the leap. Or before someone killed him.
Ch 11 Anthony Ortiz
Ortiz held up a standard issue lightweight impact vest. He'd purposely dug out the older Gen gear, and blown off, probably a year's worth of dust. He just didn't see the point in giving the vultures some of the newer vests. It's not like he was putting them at risk, the vests were fine, they'd serve their purpose. They just hadn't earned the nicer ones. No, the new vests were for those serving on the corrections force, risking their lives day in, day out, just trying to make an honest living. It’s not like the film crew would be in any real danger anyway.
He held up one vest and explained how it fit under their clothes then handed one to each of the documentary crew.
"And this will keep us safe?" Jason asked skeptically as he held the vest up awkwardly.
"It won't stop pain. It will hurt like hell if you're hit, but it will stop nearly any projectile and, most importantly, it will stop most shanks." Ortiz said, relishing the way the guy's face drained of color.
"Most?" Jason's voice wavered slightly.
"These players are very resourceful and very competitive." Ortiz left it at that. No need to go into the nitty-gritty details of how everyone wanted to kill you on the inside. They'd find that out soon enough.
"And what if they go for somewhere this fancy vest doesn't cover? I don't know, say...my fuckin face?" Rico asked.
"Pray, you find a girl that loves you for your glowing personality," Ortiz said.
Rico glared his way.
"It shouldn't be an issue. You will be escorted by an officer at all times. We will do our best to keep you safe...and pretty." Ortiz looked right at Piper.
Their eyes met only for a brief moment but he saw no fear there, and that surprised him, though he'd never let them see that. He'd see how tough she was once she was inside with the animals.
"Ok, one last thing, and probably the most important. This..." Ortiz held up a gun metal gray wristband. "is a status band. Every inmate has one. It will let you know which inmates are in play."
Ortiz clicked a button on a small remote and the wristband lit up, blinking red then yellow, and finally green.
"You will only be permitted to talk with inmates lit green. Greenlit bands mean the inmate is under his own control. If a player logs into Lockdown and connects to his avatar, the light will blink yellow." Ortiz clicked the button again and the band instantly started to blink yellow.
"You will have 30 seconds to get as far away as possible. Once it lights red..." Ortiz held up the band as the color changed again. "The inmate is ghosted and the player is in full control. And they have paid a lot of money to be able to do so. So damn near anything goes."
“Thirty seconds, that isn’t a lot of time,” Rico said as he looked over his vest, double checking it was solid.
“That’s why you run,” Ortiz said without humor.
He looked each person in the eye.
"Avoid any red light you see. And remember that just because an inmate is green, doesn't mean he isn't dangerous. Or that his status couldn't change in an instant."
Ortiz stepped out of the room and let them change. It took longer than he'd expected. He imagined them fumbling with their vests. Shaking, nervous hands, tightening the velcro straps. He smiled and folded his arms across his chest as he leaned against the wall.
Good, let them sweat, fear was their ally. Their savior. It might help keep them grounded, keep them safe.
Once they finally emerged he led them out into the prison yard. They had barely made it a few yards when Piper stopped and asked if they could get some footage.
Ortiz nodded and stepped aside. Pulling out a cigarette he lit up and watched the three shuffle around getting various angles of the yard.
His smoke burned down, the heat almost scorching his fingers, and he found himself tapping his foot. The yard couldn't be that interesting. They were alone. Even on the other side of the towering fences, there was nothing but empty, dead space.
He blinked and focused on the retinal display always laid faded across the top left corner of his vision. 10:46. Inmates wouldn't be shuffling out into the yards for another 20 or 30 minutes.
He really should invest in the newest upgrade, get rid of the outdated display, but he couldn't quite justify the cred cost. And with any luck, after a year or so, time wouldn't matter, not where he was going.
He flicked the cigarette butt and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He thought about lighting up another, but again, the cost stopped him.
"Okay, so we'd like to talk to some inmates and some guards," Piper said as she moved closer to him.
"What did you have in mind?" Ortiz asked.
"I want an up and comer, someone rising through the ranks, seeing a lot of playtime. And then a few others ranging the spectrum. One not being played if possible."
Ortiz thought a moment and Piper started up again.
"And a guard. A couple of them. A newer one, and another that's spent some time here."
He nodded. "There's Pusitz, only five weeks in or so. Or Mathis, he's a little over six months. As for anyone longer...Vega or Jenkins."
"What about you?" Piper asked, catching his eyes.
He considered it a moment then shook his head. "I'd rather not."
He needed to stay focused on the job, he had a plan, and it didn
't include 15 minutes of fame or dying because he was distracted.
"Come on, you'd be great." Piper pushed.
He ignored her.
"As far as inmates go, Lucho is what you're looking for,” he said. Better to get her off his tail. "He seems to be the rising star. Lots of play time, quickly gaining rank, even though he's fairly new. When shit goes down, you can bet he's apart of it somehow."
Piper seemed to light up and out came her Jackpad. "Lucho?"
Ortiz nodded. "Carlos Hernandez. Goes by Lucho in here."
"And what's he in for?" Piper asked without looking up.
"Assault with a deadly weapon, kidnapping, and attempted rape," Ortiz said slowly.
He was curious how she'd take the list. If she was shocked by the knowledge, she didn't show it.
"That bad enough for ya?" He probably shouldn't have said it, but couldn't stop the words as they fell out.
It was still a game to her. A meal ticket to fame.
If she was offended she didn't let on. Girl had quite the game face. That, or she truly was lost in it.
He studied her closely a moment, trying to decide which was true.
"Perfect," Piper said still tapping away on her tablet. "People will love to hate him."
Ortiz bit his tongue. Was she really so cold?
"Okay, who else?" Piper asked.
Ch 12 Piper LaRue
Despite all the raw footage they'd covered in the first five hours of shooting, Piper still felt restless. The process wasn't moving fast enough. She could see the big picture—the finished masterpiece—but the actual realization was painstakingly slow. Five hours in, and she still hadn't talked to anyone. Not one soul.
Ortiz had walked them around and they'd captured some great shots, but nothing mind-blowing, not yet.
Ortiz led them back to the officer's break room lounge while he took his lunch. It looked like his time with her, at least for that day, was up. She'd have to find another officer willing to escort her around. Better yet, one that might be willing to talk.
Gaming The System Page 4
